AlbusScorpius

On Your Side

Chapter Seven: Flying

A/N: Need to stop writing the chapters before finishing the ones before. And update more regularly.

He stared at the pot in the corner of his room, slouched in his chair with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together pressed against his mouth. He tried his best to ignore the sweat that was beginning to trickle down his brow, the room being abnormally humid. He was not warned of the heat that the plant was going to make his room such an unbearable temperature. It had barely been a week since he planted it and it was beginning to give him a headache. He was going to have to find a way to solve this problem before he threw it out the window.

Standing, he wiped his brow and discarded his shirt, finding a thinner one before moving out of his bedroom and into the main room, enjoying how large his quarters were as a Professor. He moved to pour himself a drink of water, mind mulling over his plans again. His grandfather had told him to raise the plant in his room for at least a month, possibly more, until it was ready to be moved. In that time he would need to find a place to move it to.

But it was the man who gave him the food for the plant that was bothering him. The odd coloured eyes, scarred skin and twisted face. His mouth had been pulled into a sneer for the entire visit, and the panic and accusation in his voice when Albus and Rose had appeared was clearly evident. He had accused Scorpius of something that would ruin him in his grandfather's eyes. He had no relationship with the Potter and Weasley children, nor with anyone else in their family, but he had been accused of something merely by knowing who they were. And it was a good thing too, else their little conversation continued and they would've been caught.

Sighing he enjoyed the slight chill being outside of his room provided, slumping on the long cream couch that had been provided in his room. The furniture seemed to be enchanted to reflect the occupier's tastes, though he wasn't sure if that was a good thing, considering how light his rooms seemed to be. No one had seen his rooms however, the only teacher he talked to willingly during his first few weeks had been Blaise Zabini, and that was only because the man was practically his uncle growing up. He was pretty sure his father would be inquiring about his wellbeing; he would be slightly nervous about it after it was Lucius to suggest the position. His father didn't seem to trust his grandfather at all.

Scorpius jumped out of his skin as there was a knock on his door, spinning on the cushion slightly to look. He rose warily, expecting to see Blaise behind the portal as he opened it, having to look down instead of up, eyebrows rising in surprise at the person fidgeting nervously.

"Mr Potter," he greeted, not bothering to hide his shock as he used one of the regularly changing names for the boy. "Can I help you with anything?"

An amused smile spread across the nervous face, green eyes looking up through long lashes. "What time is it, Professor?"

The man frowned, pulling out the pocket watch he was so fond of, eyes widening as he stared at the long arms pointing at six and two. Two thirty in the afternoon on a Saturday. Well after lunch. "Oh, Albus, I'm so sorry!" he apologised quickly, looking up and flushing in shame. "I didn't even notice the time- thank you for seeking me out."

"It's not a problem," Albus shrugged, attempting to appear nonchalant. "Professor Zabini was the one who suggested you would be here, he found me lingering round your classroom," he grimaced slightly. The Potions Professor had also taken away points for lingering absentmindedly and not putting more enthusiasm into his learning. "Are we-is it cancelled today? Our extra class?"

Scorpius sighed, running a hand through his hair for the tenth time that day and stepped back, opening his door to the student. Green eyes looked slightly puzzled for a moment, but the boy entered, seeming a little bit pleased about being invited into Scorpius' rooms, looking around and admiring the living area, turning as the door closed with a pleasant smile on his face.

"Do all the Professor's rooms look like this?" he asked.

The blond man shook his head, approaching the boy and gesturing towards the seats. "No, the rooms change depending on the occupant. Would you like something to drink or eat?" he grimaced inwardly, realising that this meant he had skipped lunch.

"Just a drink, if that's okay. Pumpkin juice."

Scorpius nodded, disappearing into a room behind the couch, reappearing a moment later with two glasses, offering one to Albus. The boy took it with a thank you, gulping eagerly as the older man settled into a chair, watching him curiously as he swirled liquid round the glass he was holding instead of drinking it. There was a slightly awkward silence, the blond man wondering just what he planned to do after inviting a student into his rooms, Albus too busy taking in the pleasant surroundings and light room.

"Do you have the time to take the class tomorrow?" Scorpius asked before taking a sip of his drink.

The usually relaxed boy nodded, perched on the edge of his seat. "Yeah, I do. I have Quidditch practice in the morning though, until lunch time. It usually drags on a bit."

Nodding, the older male tried to remember that piece of information, turning to look around the room, hearing the couch sigh slightly as Albus relaxed in it. "Then you should come see me when you have finished practice. I'll be in the Transfigurations classroom; we can head to the seventh floor together."

The dark haired boy nodded with a grin, pleased to hear he would see his Professor both days. "That'd be great."

"Are your practices going well?" Scorpius asked, raising a brow. It was the first time the boy had mentioned it, surprisingly. Albus seemed to be perfectly happy telling him about his day-to-day activities as small talk during their lessons, though Scorpius admittedly didn't discourage it as much as he should have.

Green eyes danced with mirth. "Of course! I might not be as good as my mother, but I'm not that bad. There's no way anyone will be beating Gryffindor this year, our new seeker is outstanding," he said with a large grin. "Seriously, Hufflepuff doesn't stand a chance."

"Did Hufflepuff have a good team last year?"

"Yeah, they did. Their captain's ruthless, and loud. Nothing like what you'd expect a Hufflepuff to be. Hardworking though, you can definitely give her that," he said, now completely relaxed into the couch, no longer taking small sips of his drink but large gulps. "We have our first match in a couple weeks, though I imagine you know that," he said with a sheepish grin.

Scorpius shook his head however, smile decorating his face. The boy really was amusing. "No, I don't believe I did. I've been far too busy with all this marking teaching requires; I wasn't quite prepared for such a large amount of work."

"You'll still be coming to the match though, right?" Albus asked, flustering slightly at how dire his voice sounded. "It's against Slytherin; that was your old house, wasn't it?"

A slightly wicked smirk crossed the pale face. "I can't promise I'll be cheering for you."

"Did you play Quidditch at school?"

The blond man pursed his lips slightly, looking into the glass. "I did not, no. Quidditch was never a favourite thing. I, ah," he flustered guiltily. "I skipped all the flying lessons in first year. Managed to wriggle my way out of them all."

Albus gaped at him. "How?"

"It wasn't easy," Scorpius said with a slight chuckle at the memory. "I forged a note from the nurse for a few months, the flying instructor seemed happy with it, especially after they had a slight falling out over misplaced property which I most certainly didn't have anything to do with," he fought back a grin at the astonished look on his companion's face. "Eventually they worked out their differences however, and it became apparent I was about to be caught. With one week till Christmas I decided to avoid the lesson by breaking my ankle."

"You broke your ankle to avoid flying lessons?"

"I did not enjoy the idea of being held up by an old, tattered piece of wood and a few bits of straw, thank you."

Albus rolled his eyes at the statement. "It's perfectly safe. I know; I've been doing it for years."

"Doesn't change the fact that it's unpleasant."

Downing the rest of his drink, Albus stood with a grin and planted his hands on his hips. "Every wizard needs to learn how to fly."

Scorpius scoffed. "Apparently they don't," but as he raised his glass to his lips he realised exactly what the Gryffindor boy was planning. "I refuse."

But Albus merely chuckled at the horrified expression. "Come on, Professor, it won't do if you have gaps in your knowledge."

"My inability to fly is not a gap in my knowledge. Don't you have friends to run about with?"

"No, they're all busy; I cleared my day so that I could finish Conjuring."

The blond man felt suddenly guilty, though the idea that he should feel bad about this fact was ridiculous. He looked up at the excited face and sighed, putting down his glass and standing reluctantly, rubbing his shoulder slightly awkwardly. "Excuse me a moment while I find something more suitable for October weather," he muttered, heading towards his bedroom, missing the cheeks that turned a slight pink and green eyes that raked over his body. As soon as he opened the door he grimaced, hoping that his guest wouldn't be able to feel the boiling temperature of his room from where he stood, though Scorpius wouldn't be surprised.

As he exited, dressed in his usual dark attire, he saw Albus sitting back on the couch, standing with a jolt as he closed the door behind him. Scorpius gestured towards the door that lead into the hall, and followed the student out.

"So you've really never rode a broom before?" the dark haired boy asked as they were making their way across the grounds.

"Never. No wait, possibly when I was a small child. I had a toy broom, I'm sure of it. I fell."

"Did you hit your head on your fall?"

Scorpius' brows rose, surprised that for once the boy didn't look ashamed for his sass, adding to it with a grin instead. "Don't be cheeky, Mr Potter."

"Sorry Professor!" he practically sang, not an ounce of sincerity in the words. The older man found he didn't mind, surprisingly.

When they finally reached the empty pitch, thank goodness, and got out a couple of brooms, and were finally in the centre of the pitch, Albus held his broom cheerfully, clearly eager to fly, or to teach someone to fly, or both.

"You never had your first lesson then?"

Scorpius shifted. "I did attend the first lesson, I hadn't quite finished making sure property was misplaced enough to cause animosity- not that I did it."

"Of course," Albus drawled, clearly not convinced. "Did you manage to get your broom up?"

"Eventually."

"Then you'll be able to mount it properly," Albus concluded, swinging a leg over his own and gracefully lifting into the air.

The blond copied his actions, wobbling slightly as he rose; broom clearly not steady.

"Just relax, Professor. It's not going to hurt you if you fall, your feet will touch the ground first."

It was a very good point; they were barely six inches off the ground, though Albus was steadily gaining altitude. Scorpius took in a deep breath, looking into the unique green eyes and following, feeling himself become steady. The younger boy gave him a winning smile.

"See, you're fine. No falling."

"I'll deduct points from you if I fall," Scorpius threatened, relaxed but not happy. "I swear, if we were meant to fly we'd have wings."

Sniggering, the boy started to move backwards, giving his teacher an expectant look. "Of course, Professor. We can quit at any time."

Sighing, the blond followed shakily, forcing himself to remain calm as he nearly strangled the broom. There was no way they could quit now, not when Albus was having so much fun. "No, no, I'm fine. Keep going. Every wizard should learn to fly, that's what you said, isn't it?"

That grin was infectious.

"I can't believe you don't fly," Albus muttered, still amazed by the confession as they slowly began to make circles round the centre of the pitch, still facing each other, gradually rising. "What do you do during family gatherings if you don't fly?"

"I drink wine and attempt to block out my cousin's insistent rambling about Merlin knows what," Scorpius muttered, feeling slightly too relaxed now. But he hadn't felt so at home since he arrived to the school. There was only so much company his father's friend could give him; there was almost twenty years between them, and he knew anything he said might be recited back to his father. "She's a lot younger than me."

"Sounds like great fun," Albus joked, tilting back on his broom. "There are enough of us to have two full teams during family gatherings. It's a popular choice of activity."

"I can't imagine why."

The dark brows pulled together. "Your aunt is a lot younger than your mother too then?"

"No, my aunt is older than my mother. My mother was-!" he choked on his words, gripping the broom slightly tighter. "Rather young when she had me."

"Don't hold it too tightly, it's not going to kill you," Albus joked, though there was a slightly sympathetic tone to his voice.

Scorpius scoffed. "It's not going to kill me yet."

"It will if you keep choking it like that."

Smirking at the statement, pale hands softened their grip. "Your mother plays Quidditch professionally, doesn't she?"

"She does, or did; she's a sports writer now, for the Daily Prophet? She misses it, I think," the boy looked almost sad for a moment. "She quit to raise us, when Lily was about three and became a little devil. Says she's far too content with lazing about to go back to it now."

"I imagine it requires constant upkeep."

"Probably," he shrugged. "I never fancied the idea of professional Quidditch player," he grinned again, earning a pleased smile from Scorpius. He preferred it when the boy was happy. "Much to focused on following in my father's footsteps. Do your parents play Quidditch?"

"My father was a seeker when he was at school I believe," Scorpius replied. "My mother," again with the sensitive topics. He glanced at the curious face, shrugging it off. "My mother doesn't do much these days. She stays in her room mostly."

"Is she ill?"

A wryly smile greeted the question. "Ill in the head maybe. She's constantly living in regret, always complaining about one thing or another. Her sister seems to enjoy tormenting her rather than comforting her, and when my grandmother died all she really had left was my father to lean on for support. He couldn't do everything."

"I'm sorry," Albus said, emotion pouring from his voice and face. "I don't mean to make you talk about it if you don't want to."

"No, it's oddly refreshing," Scorpius replied. "I don't talk about it much."

"Problems should always be talked through," a faint flush crossed Albus' face at his next words. "What does she regret?"

Scorpius seemed to find the question more amusing than offensive. "Now that is a personal question, Mr Potter," he teased slightly. "She regrets my being born. She was still at school when it happened. Was unable to take her NEWTs because of it. Had to drop out and marry my father before it became too obvious that she'd been knocked up."

"How could anyone regret having their child," Albus questioned, scowling at the thought. "You're a talented, attr-!" he cut himself off, probably remembering where he was and who he was talking to. "It's just wrong."

"The compliments are appreciated," Scorpius said with a chuckle. "But I have long accepted that my mother no longer processes things normally. We were a happy family, once, but the strain became too much. There is no need to feel pity for me, what's done is done. It's hardly my fault I was born, and my father tries his best to make up for my mother's lack of nurturing. He's more than I could ever hope for."

"You admire him."

"I do. It appears we have something in common then, when it comes to who are idols are."

Albus beamed proudly, and Scorpius felt a strange twinge. "I don't mean to scare you, Professor, but you might want to avoid looking down if you're afraid of heights."

The fine brows pulled together in confusion, glancing down slightly nervously, knuckles turning white as he gripped the broom with wide eyes, realising just how far they were from the ground. The broom dropped sharply, Scorpius letting out a yelp of fear as he willed it to steady, scowling up as Albus started to laugh, a hand clapping over his mouth to try and stop the giggles.

"I'm sorry, sir," Albus apologised, shoulders still shaking slightly.

"So you should be," he debated taking points from Gryffindor, but sighed and changed his mind, moving closer to the boy.

"You're a lot better at this than I thought you would be," the smaller boy admitted. "I was half expecting you to fall as soon as we started."

"I'm not entirely incompetent," Scorpius said, shooting the boy a half-offended look. "I would appreciate it if we descended now."

"Do you not want to fly properly? A little faster? Instead of just following me in slow circles?"

"No, I do not. I'm satisfied."

Chuckling, Albus relented, dipping his broom and heading towards the ground with little warning, laughing as Scorpius protested at being left, expecting to be gently guided as he had been before. The man wasn't entirely incompetent however, and in his slight anger managed to follow Albus with some speed, not really noticing until he almost collided with the floor, Albus shouting instructions to slow and straighten his broom before his feet touched the ground, dropping gradually. So he did. And he survived, miraculously.

"Well, you appear to have done something Madam Hooch could never do," Scorpius said, brow twitching in amusement. "You should be proud."

"Was that the old flying instructor?" Albus asked, taking the brooms and heading towards the shed where they were kept. Scorpius nodded, remembering that there was a new flying instructor now. Needless to say, he had no reason to seek them out and start a conversation with them.

"Your entire family play Quidditch then?" Scorpius asked conversationally as they exited the pitch, finding himself oddly curious about the boy.

He nodded. "Most of them, Rose and her mother don't, and Rose's brother is much more interested in Muggle sports, so sometimes we play those."

"I don't know many Muggle sports," the Professor said, resisting the urge to scrunch his face up.

"You might prefer them," Albus joked, a twinkle in his eyes. "You get to stay on the ground."

Scorpius smirked. "That does sound much better, I must admit."

They continued to chatter as they headed towards the school building, Albus doing most of the talking, retelling glorious stories of his family and their many adventures. Scorpius could tell there was certain family members the dark haired boy admired, like his father, and his cousin Teddy, who apparently wasn't actually his cousin, or his brother James, who had graduated the year before. Scorpius seemed to remember the eldest Potter child coming to school before he finished. He knew of Teddy, he remembered Teddy. Before his Grandmother died he met Teddy. But when she died, Teddy's Grandmother stopped visiting them, and he didn't see the boy again until they were at school, sorted into two different houses with different friends.

Stopping in the courtyard, the taller man smiled slightly awkwardly, patting the boy on the shoulder and nodding his head. "Thank you, Albus," he said, honesty in his voice, not quite believing what he was about to say. "I really needed this. Not the flying lessons, just the company."

"Well, the other Professors are all very old," Albus joked, sobering for a moment. "I'm glad I could help, Professor Malfoy. It's the least I could do."

"I best be getting back to work. And I hope you've finished all your homework for next week," a glint came into the grey eyes as he smirked. "I certainly know you have several inches of parchment due for your Transfiguration homework."

A bright flush decorated Albus' cheeks as he stuttered incoherently, not even having started on their homework.

Chuckling, Scorpius moved away from the boy, heading into the building, leaving Albus in the courtyard. "Have a nice evening, Albus."

Lucy was in the Gryffindor dorms when he finally located her, lounging the edge of his bed upside down with a magazine in her arms, one leg over the other bouncing slightly, flicking through the pages leisurely. She flipped her legs round and moved into a lounging position as she saw him approach, an eager look on her face, the kind she always got when she was fishing for gossip. Albus rolled his eyes, lying down next to her as she tossed her book onto the bedside table, stretching her legs and resting her elbow on his pillow, palm against her cheek.

"Come on then, how was it?" she questioned. "You're certainly back late."

"You really shouldn't sit like that in a skirt, Lucy."

She scoffed, rolling her eyes and poking him in the side. "I have lovely legs; now don't try to change the subject. Have you finally finished Conjuring?"

"No, we're finishing it tomorrow, we didn't have class today?"

A fair brow rose. "You didn't? What did you do then?"

"We went to the Quidditch pitch," Albus said, grinning at the memory, only slightly bashful. "I taught him how to fly. Can you believe he doesn't know how to fly? Or didn't anyway."

Lucy sighed, a look of bliss crossing her face. "Oh, that's so sweet! Just like out of a romance novel!" her next sigh was slightly tragic sounding. "If only he wasn't your Professor."

There was a sharp stab in Albus' stomach, but he pushed it away and laughed instead. "Have you ever seen the Professor's rooms? They're huge!" he said, grinning at her awed look. "I was loitering outside of his office because he'd forgotten we had class, and Professor Zabini directed me to his rooms. He invited me inside and got me a drink."

"Does he wear those conservative robes in his rooms too?" she asked excitedly, biting her lip.

Albus flustered at the memory of what the man had been wearing. "No, he doesn't. He wasn't wearing robes," he bit back a grin. "He looked like he'd been sweating or something."

"Oh! Al, why didn't I come with you?" she squealed, poking his side again, making him giggle. "Come on, what was his rooms like? Tell me all the little dirty secrets you might've found."

"There wasn't anything, really," he said, shrugging. "I had a drink, he changed- in a different room to me," he added at the look on her face. "And then we went to the Quidditch pitch," chuckling slightly, Albus turned onto his side, mimicking his cousin's position. "He was kind of cute. It was weird, seeing him out of his comfort zone. Nice."

Lucy's face changed, dropping from giggly to sympathetic. "Oh, Al," she ran a hand through his hair, smiling sadly at his confused look. "You don't just fancy him anymore, do you?"

"What-what are you talking about?"

"The way you talk about him," the girl was still talking softly. "You really like him."

Albus felt his breath catch in his throat, mouth opening and closing, trying to find the words to deny it.

"Oh, sweetheart," she said, pulling him against her and sitting her chin on top of her head.

The boy leant into his cousin, gripping her shirt and feeling his heart break in two. "I'm so screwed."

ARGH ENDINGS! I liked this chapter though. AND LOOK HOW QUICKLY I WROTE IT? I'd like to thank all the favouriters and the alerters, I do enjoy those emails telling me about you all. Reviews are very very much appreciated though.

Sorry about the change of preview in the last chapter, I preferred what I'd come up with in this chapter and so I changed it because I'm GOD and can do that (of this story anyway)

Hope you enjoyed it!

Thanks ~

Kivea R.

PREVIEW

"No, it's nothing, I swear."

"It's clearly not nothing, Albus."

"I-it's-you won't like it."

"You can trust me."