His pledge pin bit into the soft pads of his palm as Al clenched his hand around it. He'd been carrying it around for the last three days, seriously considering whether to chuck it in the bin or put it back on his tie. He was still fifty-fifty on that decision.

For the past few days, he'd been given strange looks by Skulls members and other pledges for daring to remove the pin, but to his surprise, no one reprimanded him. He wondered if everyone could sense just how close he was to calling the whole thing quits, and they didn't want to add any undue pressure, just in case.

Or maybe they were just happy he was considering dropping out. Who knew for sure, as the whole bloody organization was one big, festering secret?

After his conversation with James, Al had returned to Hogwarts with a lighter heart, still indecisive on a number of issues, but at least feeling as though he had someone to fully confide in should he have need. That tremendous burden he'd carried around for years seemed somehow less than before, and it was a good feeling.

His near-euphoria came crashing down moments later as he passed through the Viaduct Courtyard on his way back into the Entrance Hall. There, bundled up against the cold and hanging out together, were Brick Flint, Delilah Vaisey, Violet Zabini, and Scorpius Malfoy. Flint was sitting on a bench talking with Vaisey, while Slytherin's Prince was standing behind them, engaged in a heated snog with Vi as he pinned her to the column with his bigger body. Steam rolled off them from the heat they generated, and their breaths escaped as white, puffy clouds that encircled them as they kissed.

Witnessing the scene made Al's step falter, and his heart seize in his chest.

He'd known Vi was Malfoy's sometimes-girlfriend, and over the years, he'd seen them do more than just kiss. When he'd assumed Scor wasn't into guys, he'd been able to put public scenes like this one in their proper perspective, and not be so hurt by them. However, since that night they'd passionately embraced in the second floor corridor's hidden nook, everything had changed. Now Albus knew that Malfoy was into men, too – into him, specifically. So, observing the man he'd been locking lips with not that long ago in a passionate embrace with someone else caused an eruption of emotion from Al that he hadn't expected: anger, jealousy, betrayal, pain. It all melded together inside him until he felt ready to burst from the hurt.

Instead of causing a scene, though, he'd used that excess energy to fuel his footsteps onwards into the castle, to get to his common room, and into his empty dorm. There, he'd shucked his jacket and hat and scarf, throwing his boots against the wall with violence, and then he'd sat on his bed, trembling, with his head in his hands, trying in vain to stop the hateful tears that sprang to life in his eyes.

Since then, he'd been in protective mode, closing himself off to the world. He'd spoken very little, eaten even less, and spent most of his time trying to decide what it was he wanted out of life, and what he expected from himself. He went to class, turned in his homework, but his heart wasn't in any of it. He felt… severely diminished, and wondered if this was how Mac felt.

Approaching Greenhouse Three, he opened the door and found Professor Longbottom spraying some purple concoction all over the baby Mandrakes. They cooed in pleasure as the special fertilizer sprinkled over them.

His instructor turned at the sound of the door opening and greeted him with a cheerful wave. "Ah, Albus, hello! 'Fraid there's nothing left to do here today. I'm just finishing up the last of the watering."

As part of his pledge requirements, Al had to volunteer at least three hours a week helping out one of the professors, as mandated by the Headmistress for all non-academic clubs that had a membership period. He usually preferred to work with Professor Longbottom, as he tended to learn more outside the classroom than in it when it came to apothecary ingredients that could be harvested from the plants around the castle. Since he found a peace in working with plants, he always sought out the Herbology teacher first for all extracurricular volunteer opportunities.

Disappointed that he would find no temporary distraction from his worries, Al sighed. "Nothing at all? Not even re-potting?" That was the worst chore in the greenhouse, as some of the soils used were mixed with manure of varying types, but he'd take it – especially today, when his mind needed the calming chore of working with his hands to quiet his restless mind.

His professor shook his head. "Sorry. No re-potting until May." He gave him an encouraging smile. "By then you'll no longer be a pledge though, so I suppose you won't be coming here anymore to help tend the plants." His gaze dropped to Al's tie, and the smile fell. "Where's your pin? Didn't lose it, did you?"

Shame at letting down his favourite teacher flushed through him. Professor Longbottom had gone go on and on with his praise when he'd found out Al had received his bid to pledge the Skulls this year.

He shook his head and held his hand out and opened it. The pin lay in the centre of his palm. "Didn't lose it. I just… I'm not sure anymore."

"You're not thinking of throwing in the towel, are you, mate?" Orin Longbottom asked, startling him. The Gryffindor son of the Herbology professor – in the same grade as Al - came into the room from where he'd been hovering around the door, a concerned expression on his face. His Skulls membership pin flashed from its seat near the top of his tie. "But you can't!"

Professor Longbottom frowned at his son. "Orin, don't push. I'm sure young Albus here can make up his own mind. He's perfectly capable." He slapped a good-natured hand on his arm. "If the Skulls isn't your thing, Al, then you make the right decision for you about what is – and don't let anyone tell you differently." He glanced over at his son with a censoring expression.

"But-" Orin made to argue, but was cut off by Mac's arrival.

"Just thought I'd check up on our pledge and see how he's doing," he cheerfully announced. He sauntered up to them, throwing a knowing grin at Al, and then turned his attention to the teacher. "Potter's fulfilling his requirements, right? He's not any trouble?"

"Oh, Al's been a brilliant help this year," Neville Longbottom stated. His hand on Albus' shoulder squeezed in thanks. "No problems whatsoever."

Mac rubbed his hands together. "Excellent. Do you need him this afternoon?"

The Professor shook his head.

"Good. Then I can borrow him for a bit," he stated, reaching out and grabbing Albus' arm, tugging him back the way he came.

Before Al could so much as lodge a protest at being manhandled in such a manner, they were out of the greenhouse and back inside the castle. Mac stopped hauling him about as they crossed over into the Charms corridor.

"So, why have you been avoiding me for the last few days, and what's this about you turning in your pin?" his roommate asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the opposite wall from Al.

Al took up a stance mimicking his friend and glowered at him. "That was a private conversation."

Mac rolled his eyes. "Look, we're friends, yeah?"

"Still doesn't give you the right to eavesdrop on me."

Mac looked both ways down the corridor and then grinned at Al with a naughty smirk. "Albus, I've been eavesdropping on you since we first came here and we were sorted into the same House."

"Sounding a tad stalkers there, Mac," he half-jokingly warned.

His friend flipped a nonchalant hand through the air. "Come on, Al. You're the son of the most famous wizard in history. When are you going to get it through your thick head that you're in a class that's different from the rest of us, and are going to be scrutinized more closely by everyone around you as a result?"

Al's tiny bit of growing humour faded, and he fervently shook his head. "My father's life does not dictate mine!" he growled.

The moment the words left his mouth, he knew them for the lie they were, and he hated himself for not having the courage that Jamie had promoted to do something about it and change his destiny. It was just so hard to imagine letting his dad down, though. He worshipped the man. The thought of his disappointment was almost agonizing.

If only he'd been more Gryffindor…

His brother was right: Albus would forever be measured up against his famous father so long as he continued to walk the path he'd set for himself.

Frustrated, he clenched his hands… and his pledge pin bit into his flesh. A sharp ache bloomed.

"Fuck!" he hissed and opened his hand to see if he'd broken skin. No blood. Well, at least one thing had gone right this week.

Mac crossed the space between them and took the pin from Al's hand. He held up the bronze key-shaped piece of jewellery. "This pin means more than you can possibly imagine, Al. You received it because someone didn't see your father's worth in you, but your worth as an individual. To them, you weren't just Harry Potter's son, but Albus Potter, a wizard in his own right. I can't tell you anymore, but… please don't give it up. I think you really could bring something unique to the Skulls."

Albus sighed, tired of the debate. The idea of giving it up had been foolish to begin with, anyway. If another generation of Death Eaters was being groomed, and he'd turned away from exposing that knowledge in advance, he'd forever blame himself for any wrong-doings committed by the group later.

"Okay."

His roommate stepped closer, pulling his tie up and replacing the pin where it belonged between the yellow and black stripes. Al leaned passively against the wall, tuning out Mac's magical aura. Tilting his head up to stare at the ceiling he pondered on why only Scorpius seemed to be able to batter down at his will now…

As if summoned, Malfoy turned the corner right at that exact moment. He stopped so suddenly at the sight before him that the bottoms of his shoes squeaked. For once, it appeared that Slytherin's Prince had been taken by complete surprise. The dumbfounded expression on his face might have been comical had the situation been different.

Al drew in a low, hissing breath, realizing how this setting must look.

Bloody hell.

Mac looked over at the interloper, paused for a moment to consider him, and then turned back to Al, unfazed. "There. Your pin's back in place. Now don't take it off again." With that, he dropped the tie and stepped back. "Just remember what I said, yeah?"

Albus nodded.

"Come on," Malcolm encouraged, tugging a bit on Al's sleeve, "let's go see if we can't talk that pussy, Corner, into betting on a game of wizard's chess. I want to see you thump him for another five Galleons."

"Sure."

The two of them continued on down the corridor. As they passed Scorpius, Al's heart took off like a little bird trapped in a cage, and his mouth went dry. Malfoy ignored him; he was too busy glaring at Al's roommate.

For his part, Macmillan seemed oblivious to the resentment directed his way. He patted his fellow Skulls brother on the shoulder in a friendly fashion, and murmured in greeting, "Aye-up, Malfoy!"

They kept going, and Albus did his best to keep one foot moving in front of the other, attempting to ignore the backlash of anger that rolled over his aura from Scorpius' direction.

X~~~~~X

"Sometimes, I really hate you."

Albus looked over at the throne, where Scorpius lounged. His expensive woolen suit was getting wrinkled as he slouched, cross-legged, in the oversized chair and stared broodily at Al.

"Goes both ways," he told Malfoy with a shrug. "There are times I want to kick you – hard. Other times…" He left the thought open.

"You want to fuck me into the floor," Scor finished for him with a knowing smirk. "Comes with being a Malfoy and a Potter, I think."

Al had never considered such a thing before. "Do you think our fathers felt this same way at our age?"

Slytherin's Prince lost his smirk. "Earlier, maybe, but by this time, they were too busy fighting a war."

When he sat up straight, with shoulders back and chin up, the lazy, dragon-like attitude was instantly replaced with that of the haughty patrician. A long, black cowl covered him from head to toe, and above his breast, his Skulls pin gleamed.

"Some things are inevitable, Albus. I'm the eldest Malfoy son, and some responsibilities, I can't escape – not even for you."

Al shook his head, desperate, and approached the throne, holding out his hand. "You can. We both can. Jamie was right: we both just have to have the courage."

Scorpius only stared at the outstretched gesture, uncertain. "I'm… afraid."

"Me, too."

He woke up in his bed, not sweating or shaky, but amped. Did the vision mean what he thought it did, or was it a product of wishful imagining?

He lay under the covers, staring up at the black curtain over his head until dawn, and turned over and over in his head every symbol from the dream and every word, looking for answers.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Author's Notes:

Please review!