WARNING: this chapter contains depictions of a sexual nature. Steer clear if this sort of thing bothers you.

Chapter 8: When I Mess Up, I Go Big

~Albus~

Scor was avoiding me.

No, that wasn't right. He wasn't avoiding me, exactly. He was avoiding us. All three of us.

No, that wasn't quite right either. I didn't know that he was avoiding me – us – but it certainly seemed that way. He was probably just swamped under schoolwork. Scor had told me a couple of weeks ago that he was going to have to knuckle down because his father always set up a succession of meets and parties to attend over his holidays and he wouldn't get much time to study. But even accounting for that, I swore he was avoiding me. He didn't approach me out of class and barely talked to me in class either. Not even in Alchemy, which was usual his stage for spontaneous and opinionated discussion.

He even skipped our catch up on Sunday night. Our little group seemed unexpectedly small in the comfortable confines of the Niche. Even after such a short time with a fourth member, it felt odd returning to what was arguably more 'normal'.

I asked Rhali about it. She looked at me blankly for a moment, only a slight downturn to one side of her lips, quirking in a way that told me she suspected something in particular was going on but wasn't quite sure. Whatever suspicions she held, however, she kept to herself, only shrugging and claiming that she'd always seen it coming and that maybe he was just going back to his little Raven's nest.

I didn't like the thought of that.

Ozzy didn't have a clue. He was as oblivious as I was, I could tell, even if he is admittedly quite good at pulling the wool over my eyes for fun at times. It heartened me to know that he at least was even a little bit as upset as I was about the whole situation. We'd come to like Scor's company – and by we I meant Ozzy and I; I was still uncertain of Rhali's standing on the subject, but suspected she probably quite liked him too – and it hurt a little to have him up and leave the relative newness of our friendship without a word.

It really hurt, actually. Rhali had half convinced me it was going to happen eventually, but I didn't realise quite how much it was going to until it actually happened. Because I really, really liked Scor.

It was more than just as a friend, too. I wasn't not stupid; I could see my attraction for what it was. And it went further than Scor's resemblance to Mitch; the Muggle boy I'd dated in the summer before fifth year looked a little similar in terms of colouring, but their builds were different. Mitch had been tall and broad, the sort of heaviness that arose from the intense swim training he did. He was seventeen at the time, which yes, I know, slap on the wrist Al, but it's in the past.

Scor was nearly the same height as Mitch, but less bulky, leaner, with the typically lighter build of a quidditch player but with sufficient upper body strength to accommodate his Beater's position. Scor was paler, too, with lighter hair, almost white in the summer but darkening slightly as winter descended. And he had a straighter nose, because Mitch had broken his when he was thirteen. And his eyes were a lighter shade of blue. His fingers were longer, more slender, with perfectly manicured nails that could have been charmed. And…

And I spent far too much time staring at Scorpius Malfoy. I couldn't help shaking my head over it. It was just a shame he was straight; the world knew about how he'd dated Winona Winfrey.

I'd known I was gay since I was thirteen. Definitely, unshakeably and unequivocally gay. I'm not saying that I just woke up one day and realised. No, it took Lily dragging me along to one of her friendship 'gatherings' and setting me up with one of her summer friends, Katie – a quiet, round-faced brunette who wore an almost constant blush – for me to reach that conclusion. Lily had been mad at me when I'd 'broken up' with her, almost as mad as when she'd found out I was a junkie. Until I'd told her I was gay, and she'd deflated just as quickly as in the previous instance. Lily was like that, quick to spark her anger and quick for it to diffuse. Exactly like James, except James usually got in a clobber around the head or two before calming.

So yeah, I knew I was gay, and I knew I was at least a little attracted to Scor, And the more I thought about it, the more I realised that my attraction ran deeper that just the physical. Because I liked being with him, I liked working alongside him in class and, surprisingly, I liked actually talking to him. He was one of the few people that didn't make me want to zip my lips shut, lock them and throw away the key if not to abruptly start to my feet and hasten from the room.

It hurt that Scor had closed that door on me, on our friendship. And it bewildered me that I didn't know why.

I didn't deal well with change. I dealt even worse with stress. It was what got me onto taking Harproot, for starters, and it was what kept me going. And though I had my freaking out under such circumstances largely under control – and I did, really – little things could set me off. The boy I fancied suddenly giving me the cold shoulder when I'd thought we'd been getting along swimmingly was one of them. That, on top of the absolutely incredible amount of classwork we were receiving at the moment, and it was a struggle to keep myself under wraps. I wasn't a big studier, but I didn't want my life to get flushed down the toilet because I don't put even the bare minimum effort into my work either. So I tried, I really did. And if I visited the Niche a little more often than just every Sunday with a folded leaf of Harproot, well… it's not like Scor was around to tell me off or anything.

Which was what found me, two days before the end of term, slipping out of the sixth floor corridor and heading down to the Great Hall for dinner with an induced relaxation and a sleepiness that had me yawning for bed before it was even seven o'clock. I wandered through the double doors, smothering another yawn behind my hand, and dropped myself down onto a bench at the Hufflepuff table, scanning the table with mild curiosity for anything on that vast buffet that appeared vaguely edible. Within moments, my plate was decorated in an eclectic assortment of falafel, roasted capsicum and spinach, boiled cauliflower and a trail mix with sultanas that I have no idea as to why it was even on the table. Still, it went oddly well with the spinach, so I couldn't complain.

The Hall was sparsely populated, most of the students having already eaten and drifted off to their dorms to pretend to study while actually gossiping with friends behind raised hands, as though they thought anyone would reprimand them for not finishing their essays with the promptness of, say, a certain Ravenclaw prefect. Rhali had already left, and Ozzy spared me a wave as he too departed the Hall, which I returned too delayed for him to notice. I stared blindly before me as I speared pumpkin seeds with my fork – quite a feat, actually; they're tough little buggers – and pulled pistachio nut shells from my teeth when I hadn't even realised I'd eaten them.

A tap on my shoulder drew my attention from the final crumbs of my falafel and I glanced hazily over my shoulder. The Harproot was a bit more of a blanket over my mind than usual, probably because I'd been using it more lately and wasn't yet adjusted to the additional consumption. I blinked with widening eyes as I raised my gaze to meet Scor's.

His face was blank. Rigid and angular, as though he was struggling to keep it that way. As I stared at him, I noticed a slight twitch quiver along his jaw.

Was he… angry with me for some reason?

Before I could further pursue the thought, Scor spoke. "Have you got a minute?"

"What?"

Scor glanced awkwardly to the side and shifted slightly on his feet. That was weird; Scor so rarely actually showed any signs of awkwardness. He appeared so confident all the time that in that moment he may as well have held aloft a sign depicting the words 'um… well… ah…' in capital letters. I knew Scor always liked to appear confident, even if he didn't actually feel it.

"I was just wondering…" Scor paused, clearing his throat. "Have you got a second? I'd appreciate taking a moment of your time to talk to you about something, if that's alright with you."

That sounded a bit more like him. Still that weird awkwardness, but he was being courteous, which was about as 'normal' as Scor got. Nodding, I abruptly stood and stepped over the back of the dining table bench.

"We don't have to go now if you wanted to finish dinner," Scor hastily took a step back, unnecessary concern on his face.

I shook my head. "No, it's okay. I'm all done. Except…" I took half a dozen steps down the table and reached over a fifth year's head into the fruit bowl, plucking an apple from its fellows. "Yeah, I'm all done." And taking a bite out of the apple I followed Scor out of the Hall.

That brief walk was a little uncomfortable, and it was a feat in itself to appear nonchalant to Scor's request, as though we'd hadn't barely spoken a word to one another in over a week. I didn't know where we were going, so just followed Scor's lead, nibbling my way through my apple. Not that I think Scor had much of an idea either, from the pause he made just outside the Great Hall. He glanced both ways briefly before starting off to the left. I followed right behind him.

Neither of us spoke as we ascended stairs, turned corners and walked down corridors until Scor apparently decided that three turns and four floors was enough walking for one night. He stepped through the first door available. I'd never seen it before and, unsurprisingly, it was an empty classroom. There were so many classrooms in Hogwarts; it was actually a little excessive. This one looked unused, and probably had been for several hundred years or so given the archaic desks and stagnation of the air. There looked to be too few seats to host a class of any exceptional size within, too, unless regarding sixth and seventh year subjects exclusively. An unused, useless classroom.

It was dim within, with curtains across the windows and only one slightly opened to reveal the last sliver of evening light before the sun fell below the horizon. Too dim even to illuminate the dust motes I could smell in the air. I idly walked the length of the room, tossing my apple core into what I assumed was a bin beside the teacher's desk, and turned back towards Scor.

He looked very serious, propped as he was against one of the desks with his arms folded. Ominously so. For a moment I wondered if someone had died. Or maybe his chattering water lily was wilting; he'd seemed a little concerned for its welfare not two weeks ago, but I'd had a look at it and gave it a bit of a nudge in the right direction. I decided to wait for him to speak first, as was usual of our conversations. It's not like I felt comfortable enough to voice any thoughts anyway; my heart had picked up pace in my chest as it often did when I was confronted by an unforeseen situation and I was surprised Scor couldn't hear it.

Finally he spoke.

"Are you… seeing Oscar?"

"Ozzy," I corrected as usual. Then the rest of his words registered. "Wait, what?"

Scor wasn't looking at me, his face fixed in that deliberate blankness again and eyes trained on the floor at my feet. "You and Oscar. Ozzy, whatever. Are you two seeing each other?"

Maybe it was the effects of the Harproot, but I was having trouble understanding what Scor was saying. "What, like, dating? Are you asking if I fancy him?"

Still avoiding my gaze, Scor nodded slowly. His jaw twitched again.

I couldn't help myself. It was just so incredibly unexpected and so far removed from reality that I felt mirth bubble in my chest to replace the tight nervousness. Before I could stop myself, I was shaking in a fit of giggles. It was a good thing I was leaning against a desk myself, because I doubt I would have been able to retain my footing otherwise.

At least it served to raise Scor's gaze from the floor. His eyebrows crept upwards, surprised, before dropping again in a frown of annoyance. "What's so funny?"

I struggled to get a handle on my amusement, arms wrapped around my belly to crush a stop to the beginning of aching muscles. I gasped, breathing heavily in between hiccups of laughter, and fought to calm myself. "No, no I don't fancy Ozzy. Never have and I sincerely doubt I ever will. And I also doubt very much that Ozzy fancies me either, except maybe for the fact that I look a little like Lily."

Scor's annoyed frown became bewildered. "What, you're not dating him?"

I shook my head, trying and failing to smother another snort of laughter. The thought was hilarious. "No, I'm definitely not dating him."

"But then…" Scor only seemed to become more confused with my explanation, his mouth sitting open slightly as though about to speak but words failing him. It took me a moment, but slowly I realised there was something very big that I was missing.

"Why do you ask, Scor? It's kind of out of the blue. Why you would think that?"

Scor fidgeted. Again, for the second time that night. Yes, he was definitely uncomfortable. "I was just wondering."

"Yeah, I got that. Why would you possibly think that, though?"

Astoundingly, what looked like a flush crept up Scor's cheeks. He was embarrassed? "I just assumed… seeing as you…"

"Seeing as I what?" His tone was weirding me out a little.

"Seeing as you were sleeping with each other."

Silence hung between us, suspended like a glass Christmas bauble awaiting the faintest wind to knock it from its perch and shatter it across the ground. I was stunned. Not because of any fallacy of Scor's words, but… "Y-you… wait, did you… what? When did you –?"

The flush had suffused Scor's face, spreading from the light brushing of his high cheekbones across his nose and darkening his ears. I would definitely found it utterly adorable if I wasn't quite so unhinged. "Um… Last Saturday. I was looking for you to ask you something and… in the Niche…"

Any amusement I felt was abruptly washed aside in mortification. Someone had seen us? No, not just someone but Scor? Scor had seen Ozzy and I, walked in on us fucking each other last week? Scor, the boy I was slowly realising I had a whopping big crush on, had – "You saw us?!"

I wasn't sure whose flush was brighter, mine or Scor's. It felt like mine, but there was barely a hint of whiteness left on Scor's face either. He pushed himself up from the desk, holding his hands out in a cautionary gesture. Or perhaps it was placating. Pleading? I wasn't not sure which. "It was an accident, I swear. Entirely accidental. I didn't mean to…"

His words trailed off as I closed my eyes and buried my face in my hands. I always told Ozzy we should charmed the door locked but no, he'd always replied that it was hardly necessary because no one came up to the Niche during the day and no one came up at all except our little friendship group. Why was it so hard to put a bloody Locking Charm on the door? It took two seconds!

I moaned, hunching my shoulders and fighting the urge to sink to the floor in a puddle of embarrassment. Scor's words – for he'd started speaking again – slowly trickled back through my shell of humiliation like a distant call. "… honestly didn't mean to intrude, but I figured that would be one of the two places you'd be, and we've never really needed privacy there before, even when you brought the Happy Gum or Harproot and I know I should have knocked and I'm really sorry about that –"

Scor was rambling. He was rambling in stutters and stumbles, and it was so far removed from his usual flowing speech that it actually helped me to get a feeble grasp upon my own composure. Sliding my hands slowly down my face, I peered through my fingers. "I am so, so sorry about that."

Stumbling to a halt at my words, Scor took a step back. It was only then that I realised he'd crossed the distance between us, nearly halved it so that barely two feet remained. He shifted – uncomfortably again – and fought for casualness in propping himself on the edge of the nearest desk once more. "It's… it's alright. I should be the one apologising."

"No, you really shouldn't," I said, shaking my head. A difficult feat when my shoulders still threatened to crush my ears. "I'm the one who should be apologising. And not just because you, um… walked in on us. I mean, I'm pretty sure Rhali knew why we were going to the Niche so she wouldn't have come up, but we should have told you –"

"Wait, Rhali knew?" Scor had stilled. The flush still stained his cheeks, but he appeared to be recovering slightly from his bout of embarrassment. Lucky him.

I shrugged tightly. "I don't know. Maybe. She sort of just… knows things like that."

"So she knows you fancy one another?"

Slowly, I dropped my hands from my face, my shoulders dropping just slightly. My cheeks still felt blisteringly hot, but I struggled to ignore the heat. A difficult thing to do, and I'm pretty sure only the Harproot still lingering in my system steadied my gut enough to prevent a reflexive purge of anxious embarrassment. It was working wonders in calming me down. Or maybe that was just Scor's continued gentle wariness. "We don't fancy each other. Seriously."

"But then…?"

"Look," I sighed closing my eyes briefly as much to steady myself as to avoid Scor's baffled expression. "It's kind of weird, so please don't judge me too harshly for it, okay?"

"Judge you? Why would I judge you?" The confusion was clear in Scor's voice.

I opened my eyes once more, took a deep breath and released it in a huff. "Okay, so, I'm gay. About as bent as a right angle, Lily always says. Ozzy's bi; swings either way. He's got a thing for Lily, but he's never going to make a move. I mean, never. Says he never will, and that he doesn't want to either – which is bollocks, but whatever. He says I sort of look enough like her that, well… I mean, I haven't got a boyfriend at the moment, so as a sort of compromise, when we sometimes use Sparkies…" I held up a hand in a "well, you get the gist" motion.

Scor frowned. "Sparkies?"

I rolled my eyes, the familiarity of Scor's blissfully ignorant words slowing my racing heartbeat just a little further. I flapped my hand at him. Of all the parts to focus upon, Scor picked the briefly mentioned drug. He really was a prefect, through and through. "Yeah, it's… it's a home-grown."

"Unsurprising."

"Well, you know me. Always try to play it safe." I attempted light-heartedness but I don't think I managed so well. "You grind it to a powered and mix it in a solvent. Just water will do, but a lot of people put it in alcohol or energy drinks."

"What does it do?"

I licked my lips, fighting back a returning wave of embarrassment. "It… sort of lowers your inhibitions."

"Sort of like Happy Gum?"

"No."

"Harproot?"

"No, not like that either."

"Jojo Beans?"

"What is it with you and your fixation with bloody Jojo Beans?" I sighed, exasperated, but nodded my head regardless. "But yeah, a little bit more like that. But not those kinds of inhibitions. More like, um… sexual ones."

Scor stared at me blankly again, but not the hard blankness of before. This time I was more strongly left with the impression of his brain short-circuiting. "Why would you take that?"

I shrugged sheepishly. "Other than the incredible orgasms? It does feels kind of awesome." I was gratified by the flush that returned to Scor's cheeks. It felt almost like a triumph and dampened the desire of my own cheeks to burst into flame. He should be at least as embarrassed as me by this conversation.

"So you're, what, relieving your… sexual frustration?"

I cringed at the almost clinical terminology. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"And you don't actually fancy Ozzy?"

I pursed my lips, shaking my head. "You make me feel bad saying it like that, but no, I don't. He's my friend; and though we fuck each other," I cringed again, even though they were my own words, "I don't think I'd ever see him like that."

"And he doesn't fancy you? At all?"

I shook my head again, frowning slightly. I wasn't sure what to make of the slight rise in his tone. He sounded really confused; maybe a little angry but mostly just very, very bewildered. "No, he told me nearly two years ago that he fancied Lily. He says I look enough like her for us to manage a physical relationship."

Scor suddenly frowned, his eyes flashing and something like a growl escaping his lips. "What the hell? That bastard!"

I blinked, drawing away from Scor slightly as his lip curled and he leant forwards. "What the hell was that? Since when do you swear?"

"What, so you're just letting him use you like that?"

"Hey, Scor, calm down. Seriously," I flapped a placating hand once more. Weirdly, Scor sounded really angry in that moment. "You are reading way too deeply into this. It's not like that. I mean, I'm using him as much as he is me." Which sounded really bad, but hey, the truth can be harsh.

"But you just said he's fucking you because you look like your sister!"

"Oi, language!" I couldn't help myself; I felt like a scolding older brother. Scor didn't swear – ever – and he'd just done so twice in three sentences. I could run rings around him with my own cussing, but for some reason it didn't sound right coming from him. "And no, that's not entirely correct. For your information, he did fancy me when we were twelve."

Scor froze and narrowed his eyes. He glared at me but I got the distinct impression he wasn't actually glaring at me. "I thought you just said he didn't fancy you."

I threw both arms into the air. "Bloody hell, there's no winning with you, is there?" As Scor only continued to glare, I shook my head. "No, he doesn't. That was nearly four and a half years ago, Scor. Ancient history." Scor still didn't say anything and in the awkward silence that ensued a thought occurred to me. "Does it actually bother you?"

"What?"

"Me and him. That we're sort of together. I mean," I paused, struggling for words. "I know your family's a bit traditionalist and might be a little uncomfortable about homosexual relationships or something, or… or casual relationships, but it's really not that uncommon nowadays –"

"Wait, you think I have a problem with two bloke's sleeping with each other?" Scor raised a stalling hand, his brow furrowing fiercely. I shrugged, raising an eyebrow. He'd sounded angry and almost personally affronted. How was I to think anything other than that he didn't take same-sex relationships as an insult to his perfectly straight little world?

Scor reassured me a moment later. "No. No, I do not have a problem with homosexual relationships. Not at all." He paused, and continued nearly under his breath, "really, really don't." It sounded like he was talking more to himself than to me, though whether to coach himself into believing it or for other reasons I wasn't sure."

"Well then, what's your problem?" I tried to keep the slight annoyance from my voice. I wasn't entirely certain that Scor didn't have a problem with it, despite his words, and that irked me. Mostly because of my own little – big – crush, true, but for moralistic reasons too. Of course, it was for other reasons. It was.

Like a flicked switch, Scor flipped from affronted, apparently on my behalf, to wincing in embarrassment once more. "Nothing, I… nothing."

But that got me curious. "What? What is it?"

"It's nothing."

"Scor, you're killing me. You can't leave me hanging like this." A thought occurred to me. "Is this why you've been avoiding me for the past week and a half?"

The guilty flicker across Scor's face, too pronounced for him to smother before I saw it, was telling enough. "It is, isn't it?" Understanding dawning, I half turned from him thoughtfully, pulling myself up onto the desk and propping my hands behind me. I swung my legs idly in an attempt to give an impression of casualness. It was all a farce, of course. The gut clenching of mutant butterflies, the telling beginnings of nauseating nervousness, had begun once more, impossible to ignore and almost as hard to pretend I barely noticed them. "Well, come on. Out with it."

Scor stared at me guardedly, wary in a different way than he had been before. His eyes flickered down to my swinging legs for a moment before meeting my gaze once more. He looked like he was nearly writhing in his own skin, a novel expression for him and one I found entirely adorable. "It's nothing."

"Uh-uh, you're not getting off that easily. Tell me. I know there's something."

"No way. No, no way." Scor took a step backwards, half turning to hide his face. I could see his ears darken redly again, and it made me smile. "It would be far too embarrassing to tell you."

"What, more embarrassing then it is already? Think about the conversation we just had." Another quiver of discomfort – more like a spasm – rippled through my stomach.

"Definitely more," Scor replied. Which, of course, just made me even more curious. I couldn't help the slow smile spreading across my face as Scor's gradually acquired its flush again. My own embarrassment, and the anxiety that accompanied it, was slightly soothed at the sight. I suspected the Harproot had something to do with that. Probably. Or maybe teasing Scor was just too distracting.

"Hey, I told you one of my secrets, now you have to tell me yours."

"You told me?" Scor scoffed, shooting me a scathing glance. The effect was quite lost in the redness of his cheeks. "I found out."

I shrugged. "Yeah, but I explained it. And now I've found out one of your secrets so you have to explain too."

"You haven't 'found out' anything," Scor grumbled.

I tilted my head, considering the boy before me. "Look, it can't be that bad, yeah? You say you're not against gay couples, so what is it? Not comfortable with exhibitionism, however unintended? Or was it the voyeurism, 'cause honestly that's probably closer to what it actually was considering the situation." I startled, felt my grin widen as Scor flushed an incredible colour of red. Bingo. Who knew?

My inner cheek surfaced tauntingly. I couldn't help myself, despite the urge to remain mute that the slight tightness in my chest was very much demanding. "What, too hot for you? Want to join in next time?"

Something about Scor's expression was just far too telling and, even surprised as I was, I realised I'd hit the nail on the head. "What, you… you wanted to have a go?"

"Oh Merlin, please never say something like that every again," Scor groaned.

I was still reeling in surprise so I wasn't even that offended. A surprise that gradually faded to something like delight. A strange, kind of twisted delight, but delight nonetheless. The butterflies metamorphosed into a different kind entirely, because if Scor actually found it arousing, if he could watch and actually got turned on… then maybe he wasn't as straight as I'd assumed after all. The thought was incredibly tantalising. I couldn't help myself; maybe it was the Harproot again – let's blame the Harproot – but my tongue took control of the situation. "Do you want to?"

Scor's wide-eyed mortification became a picture of floored stupefaction. "What?"

I shrugged, striving for casualness and probably failing. The flutter of butterflies in my belly seemed to be growing more frantic rather than dying with my attempts to quell their flight. "I don't have a problem with it, if you're, you know… looking to relieve some 'frustrations' or something." I jokingly used Scor's words, but because it still sounded far to stilted, I added, "We're friends. It's the least I could do." Which probably actually just made the situation worse.

Scor was still staring at me wide-eyed, his jaw hanging open slightly again. "Wha- wait. No, I –" He paused, turned away from me and took a series of steps before turning once more and wandering slowly towards me. He ran a hand across head, not raking his hair but more of a pat as though making sure it was all still there. "No, that's okay, seriously. I mean, casual sex is great and everythin, if it suits you but I'd probably want a bit more of a –" He cut himself off and cringed. "No, that came out wrong. I'd never ask you to be my boyfriend or anything…"

Scor trailed off into awkward silence that left the statement hanging in the air. Or maybe it was just sitting stagnant in my ears. They certainly and force rang hollow enough, resounding with his words. I'd never ask you to be my boyfriend…

Well. That was a bitch. My hopes were shattered almost before they'd blossomed.

Abruptly, I felt an overwhelming misery settle upon me. It hurt, being turned down, and in such an offhand manner that Scor probably didn't even realise how hard his blow had fallen. But hard it was, and I could already feel the bruise forming. Hell, he might have even squashed an organ or two. It took an enormous degree of willpower to keep from hunching my shoulders again, to keep my lip from trembling like a four-year-old girl who'd just been told that she couldn't ride the unicorn at the circus.

And maybe I went a little overboard. Maybe I overcompensated with my blasé attitude, but it was the only thing that stopped me from dissolving into pathetic tears. Because it hurt. I didn't realise I actually liked Scor enough for it to hurt that badly. I abruptly wanted him to want me, so badly, to even have a passing regret at what he'd be missing.

Slipping off the table, I grasped at what I could remember of acting casual. It was a very thin something, but I held it firmly nonetheless. I shrugged, raking a hand through my own hair and taking a step towards Scor. I couldn't look him in the eyes, though. "That's okay, I wasn't asking for that either. Just 'relieving some frustrations', that's all." And I stepped up until I was nearly face to face with Scor. He was about half a head taller than me, so I had to look up to give even the impression of meeting his eyes. "Casual sex is good enough for you?"

"W-what?"

I shrugged again. "No harm in that, is there?" And before I could stop myself, before sanity could reinstate itself, I slipped onto my knees and took a grasp of his belt.

Scor might have protested, if he could have gotten the words out. He might have said something, maybe asked me to stop, if he was capable of uttering anything other than a startled, choked whimper. And I would have stopped. I wasn't going to force myself on someone who told me they don't want it, not even my crush who'd been a total arse and deserved the kind of twisted revenge that I felt so intent to perform.

But Scor didn't say anything. And more than that, he didn't push me away either. Not when I pushed his robes aside, unbuckled his belt and tugged down trousers and pants. He was pressed up against the desk behind him, half slumped on the edge; I was thankful for that. It was one of the most awkward situations when giving head and the bloke's you're going down on has their legs fold under him. Very awkward.

It was gratifying to notice that, even just with my suggestion, with the brief fumbling of trousers, Scor was actually slightly aroused. Half hard, his length was flushed a dark red, contrasting to the pale hair around his groin. There wasn't much in it when I unconsciously compared him to Ozzy, and maybe it was that which leant me confidence, a confidence I so rarely felt. Sliding my hands up Scor's thighs, I slipped fingers around his shaft, lowered my head. In slow, motions I ran my tongue across the head.

Another choked sound, another whimper, sounded from above me. I think Scor said something, some words, but I'm not sure. They were unintelligible anyway and I was focusing on my mouth, my fingers, as I teased him, stroked him, ran my tongue down his length and felt it harden further. Because there wasn't enough room in my head for anything else; despite my forwardness, I felt the horrible urge to cry, to sob, to demand why I wasn't good enough for him. Why wouldn't Scor ever ask me to be his boyfriend? Am I really that unattractive or something?

The thought hurt, hit me like another blow; I don't have a huge amount of self-confidence, nor self-esteem. What little I have probably had a fair amount to do with my brief relationships in the past, and Ozzy's kindness and readiness for a physical relationship, even when I knew it wasn't me that he fancied. My forwardness in that moment surprised me probably as much as it did Scor. That knowledge, that understanding of myself, didn't stop me from gently caressing Scor's thighs, from curling my fingers around his balls and stroking them just tantalisingly enough to elicit a muffled groan, and to wrap my lips around the head of his throbbing arousal to take him fully into my mouth.

Scor groaned even louder above me, and I felt the faintest spark of satisfaction at the sound. He wasn't pulling away in embarrassment, if he ever had been to start off with. Quite the opposite, actually. His hands, his long, slender fingers, had dropped to my hair and curled tightly, almost painfully, tightening further each time I drew him down my throat. His hips trembled slightly, fighting the urge to buck, to thrust, and were probably stopped more by the insistent restraint of my hands than his own willpower.

Hollowing my cheeks and sucking, I glanced up through my eyelashes at his face. Scor was a mess, cheeks flushed, immaculate hair falling from its neatly combed styling, his eyes closed and lips parted to release faint gasps. It was incredibly erotic, and even with the painful ache in my chest I couldn't deny it was kind of arousing. Really arousing. Strange, that he'd turn so completely to jelly with a casual blowjob. I'd have thought he'd have girls throwing themselves into his lap – probably boys, too – and he could take his pick.

The thought cut painfully again, because obviously he didn't want to pick me. I felt my eyes prickle frustratingly, and paused for a moment in my ministrations. It was just so unfair.

It was probably a good thing that Scor didn't last long, because after that I really didn't want to be in the same room with him anymore, much less with his hardness in my mouth, his bitter, salty taste upon my tongue and mixing with the lingering sweetness of apple. I'm not saying my technique is spectacular or anything, but apparently it was good enough, for when I sucked once more, almost desperate for it just to be over – at what point exactly did I think this was a good idea? – there was a warm throb along my tongue, a groan from Scor and a jerk of his hips and suddenly my mouth was filled with thick, sharp fluid.

I pulled my head from his wilting length, so quickly I almost fell back on my heels. The taste felt wrong on my mouth, flavoured with my own melancholy, and I doubt I could have swallowed it even if my throat wasn't choked with tears. I hastily spit onto the floor, rubbing my hand across my chin. Tears of pathetic sadness, of shame and embarrassment, clouded my eyes as I felt something akin to panic rising within me. Familiar, horrifying, mind-numbing panic. I quickly pulled out my wand and cleaned up the mess of spit and cum on the floor.

When I glanced up at Scor, it was with a faint hint of relief, barely discernible through the rising panic, that I noticed he hadn't seen my heave. His eyes where still closed, a hand pressed to the side of his face. His trousers still lay open and he didn't look in a particular hurry to fix himself up.

In short, he looked entirely too ravished, too delectable, and I immediately wanted to be out of the room. Now. Like, right now.

Struggling to my feet – stone floors are killers on the knees – I took a step back, two. "Well, that was, um…" I cleared my throat, struggling to keep even the faintest glimmer of my feelings from showing. I doubt I managed; my voice was hoarse and unnaturally high. "Good enough?"

Scor fluttered his eyelids open, turning hazily towards me. A flush still suffused his cheeks, but it didn't look to be from embarrassment this time. At least not yet. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again. "Al –"

"Good. Well, I mean, that's good. But I've got to, um…" I didn't know what I was saying, and I didn't really care. I didn't care that Scor would think I was weird, that I was a horrible excuse for a human being and might be insulted if I left abruptly. I had to get out of the unknown classroom before I started crying. Or screaming in a bout of anxiety. "I'll see you a bit later, maybe." And without waiting for a reply I nearly ran from the room.

I think Scor might have called after me, I'm not sure. I couldn't hear properly. I couldn't really see properly either, because the clouding of my eyes had thickened to a blur of tears. It was only years of familiarity that led me back to the Hufflepuff Basement, and only the typical nonchalance of my housemates that allowed me to slip through their midst without notice.

I fell into bed without a word to anyone for the rest of the night and curled up into a little ball of humiliation, misery and barely suppressed mortified panic. I didn't sleep a wink.

I didn't speak to Scor for the rest of term, though that wasn't really saying much of my avoidance skills. We only shared a few class on Thursdays and Fridays; Weatherwell didn't like people talking while they're transfiguring, and we focused on finishing up a fairly complex fertility brew in Potions so the classroom was a minefield of students jumping in fits of concentration. I skipped History; Binns wouldn't notice anyway, and I'd rather avoid the opportunity for Scor to talk to me. I didn't really see him much either outside of class, but that wasn't so much because he was avoiding me this time. Or maybe he was, I'm not sure. I just knew that I was sure as hell doing my utmost to avoid him.

I was in a bit of a daze of self-pity and self-disgust. It wasn't a good place to be, and nearly as bad as when I was verging on a panic attack. I'm not so much one to get depressed – I'm more the other end of the spectrum; the extreme other end – but I know I tend to overthink things. And when I overthink things, melancholia shifts into a panicky state of self-loathing and reprimand that's nearly debilitating.

I thank my Happy Gum for getting through the last two days of term. That and my Harproot. The promise of a Happy high was about the only thing that drew me from my ball of shame and tricked me into class and Harproot was what got me to sleep on the other end of the day. It wasn't a healthy habit to get into, I knew. But I told myself it wouldn't last, that I was just using a bit of a crutch for the moment to recover from my little bout of heartbreak, and that I'd get over it soon. And I think I did a relatively good job of it in such a short time, too. When I climbed from bed on the first day of the holidays, ready to catch the Hogwarts Express back to London, I was still, admittedly, quite miserable, but was able to hold off on the Gum. And though I felt kind of down all morning, I was satisfied with my restraint; I didn't need another revisit of third year.

I was aware that Ozzy and Rhali knew something was wrong. Ozzy asked me, as Ozzy was want to do, but I just waved off his questions with the excuse that I was "just thinking about some stuff" and it was "probably just schoolwork weighing me down". God bless his gullible heart – or maybe his lenient heart – for Ozzy didn't pursue the subject. He still stuck to me like glue, though, which I guess I have to be thankful for. That the seat next to me was occupied in all of my classes was a bit of a deterrent had Scor actually felt the urge to fill it, as he had done over the past few months except for the last week and a half. I didn't know if he tried to; I didn't glance towards him to check.

Rhali didn't ask me anything. Not with words, anyway. After Potions on Thursday morning, however, she'd held me back in the classroom for a moment and simply stared at me. I didn't know exactly what she was asking but I got the general gist of it.

"What? I'm fine." I'd shrugged in an attempt at nonchalance. Rhali just stared a little more, then linked her arm through mine and tugged me off for a wander to bludge our free period away while Ozzy was in Muggle Studies. I was surprised at that and oddly touched; Rhali didn't like physical contact except when either giving someone a whack or prodding in idle jest, so the fact that she'd made the extra effort for me was heart-warming. My oversensitive tear ducts were pushed to the limits of their endurance.

On Saturday morning, I met my friends at the carriages, each of us with our trunks and me with Caesar's cage loaded on top, though the bloody bird stubbornly insisted he would not, in fact, be spending any leg of the trip off my shoulder. We clambered aboard a carriage – just the three of us, as always; people don't seem eager to share, which was fine by me – and were soon rattling down towards the platform. As Rhali and I were late risers – Ozzy had taken his exercise regime to heart and was actually getting a morning run in most days so got up earlier – we didn't have a whole lot of time to shift between carriage and train before it chugged into motion.

The compartment we found, the one least crowded, already had a pair of students in it. They were both pretty tiny, so I'm assuming they were Firsties. I'd reconciled myself to the fact that we'd be sharing with the two kids about five minutes into the journey before they mumbled something in synchrony, shuffled awkwardly to their feet and removed themselves from the compartment. I was fairly certain it was Rhali that drove them away, though I couldn't be certain. To me she looked to be having a good day, was hardly intimidating at all; only one of her eyes was glaring.

About halfway through the journey was when I saw Scor for the first time that day. Ozzy had left the compartment for a wander that he'd mumbled had something to do with seeking the toilet but I suspected more likely involved a search for Liquorice Wands, and had been gone for nearly ten minutes. Rhali and I chatted easily about her holiday arithmetic's course because yes, apparently Muggles are crazy enough to still want to actually do maths over the Christmas break.

"That's a little far to travel though. Croydon's something like two hours from your place, isn't it?"

Rhali gave me a scathing stare. "That, Ally, is why we have magic."

"Hey, don't look down your nose at me. You said you were going to go all-Muggle on your mathematics experience, do it the traditional way. I assumed that meant travel as well."

"I'm going all-Muggle within the bounds of the reasonable. Travelling two hours by train when I could take two seconds to Apparate is not reasonable."

"Is there even an Apparation point anywhere the high school?"

"It's at the heart of Croydon, Ally. Of course there is."

I pulled a face. "Well, excuse me for assuming."

I didn't hear whatever it was that Rhali said in reply, if she actually said anything at all, because from the corner of my eye I caught movement. It could have been Ozzy coming back, but for some reason I knew it wasn't. A half turn determined it was Scor, paused mid-step as he passed our compartment with a confusing expression on his face, his perfect eyebrows frowning. He was probably doing his prefect duties; I was actually mildly surprised – and grateful – that I hadn't seen him earlier.

I couldn't meet his eyes, though, and immediately dropped my own to my hands. My nails were torn to shreds a bit of late as always happened when I got stressed, to the point that when I was younger, on really bad days, they used to bleed. I wasn't not sure how long I stared at my fingers, but when I eventually chanced a glance to the door once more Scor was gone.

"Are you going to tell me what that's all about?"

Rhali's voice drew my attention with the blunt demand of her usual approach. I fidgeted uncomfortably in my seat. "I…" Struggling for words, I only shook my head.

"It's gotten to be a problem, Ally," Rhali continued, but her voice had become soft; uncharacteristically so for her. I peered up, head still bowed. "And I'm not just saying for you. I mean, Scor looks kind of put out too. Not as bad as he was a few days ago, but I get the impression he's pretty confused about something."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I didn't say anything. Apparently Rhali realised I wasn't going to for she continued a moment later. "What happened between you two?"

There was no avoiding the question. If it had been Ozzy who'd asked it, I would have had a better chance of brushing the question aside. I would have desperately thrust it aside, actually; telling Ozzy would have been awkward on a whole new level. But there's something about Rhali when she's acting all intent and concerned, even if her way of expressing concern was a little unconventional, which always urged me to speak to her. She made me really think about my reply, made me almost want to tell her.

So I shrugged, biting back the upwelling tide of emotions that threatened to shower a wet spell through the train, through our compartment in particular. "It's nothing huge, really. I was just being stupid. I misunderstood something, I guess. Or maybe expected too much."

"Expected too much how?"

It would have been so awkward telling Ozzy, given our relationship, but with Rhali… "I liked him in a different way than he liked me. So I botched things up and made an idiot of myself."

Rhali was quiet for so long that I actually looked up. There was no pity in her eyes, which I was heartily grateful for. Rhali only occasionally showed pity, and rarely if ever expressed sympathy. Which actually made confessing truths to her a hell of a lot easier. She only looked considering now. Thoughtful. "When you say 'different'…?"

"I mean, I liked him more than he liked me." It was blunt, to the point, and remarkably felt sort of liberating to voice the reality, even as it became more defined upon putting it into words.

Rhali frowned. "What makes you think that?"

I shrugged. "It's a little hard to think otherwise when he told me."

"Told you what?" Rhali's tone had deepened a little dangerously. She sounded angry, though I wasn't sure if it was for my dancing around the bush or the topic at hand. It drew my attention and I caught the beginnings of that anger tightening Rhali's face.

"Nothing, Rhali. Seriously, it's nothing –"

"Ally."

That word. That word and that tone. It intimidated me more than my mum's. I was blurting out the truth before I even realised it. "He just said that he'd… that he'd never ask me to be his boyfriend. I guess he just wouldn't ever see me that way. Which is okay, it's just…" I trailed off.

Rhali sizzled. I could see it, like bacon crisping and spitting on a hot pan. She opened her mouth to reply, but didn't get a chance as at that moment Ozzy finally returned, a Liquorice Wand sticking from his mouth. Rhali looked disgruntled by his appearance, but I was thoroughly relieved. Blunt and often tactless as Rhali can be, she had something resembling a descent filter when necessary. I knew she wouldn't continue our conversation in front of Ozzy; it was private, and even if we did share just about everything else with each other she obviously picked up on my desire not to inform Ozzy of my circumstances.

We moved on from the subject of Scor and my humiliating performance, and I eventually settled myself sprawled across the seat, propping my head on my hands and drifted off into a doze, because one can never have too much sleep. Ozzy offered me his lap, good friend that he was, but I declined. Rhali made up for it by kicking her shoed toes across his thighs instead, which resulted in a shoving match between them. I drifted in and out of wakefulness to the sounds of their muted grumbles and play-hisses, to the nearly inaudible mumbling of Caesar squatting on my chest.

A gentle shaking roused me from slumber and I sat up abruptly. Probably the fastest I've ever woken in my life, if one could really count me as awake. Ozzy grinned at me and patted my head in what I could only assume was fixing the birds nest my hair had become. Apparently it wasn't as bad by way of untame-ability as my dads was – his was something of a legend – but it tried its hardest.

I yawned, scooping Caesar from my chest and struggling to force him into his cage as I glanced blearily around me. Rhali had disappeared somewhere, and a glance out of the window confirmed we were almost at Kings Cross; I recognised some of the buildings flashing past the frosted window.

Ozzy confirmed it a moment later. "Sorry to wake you, Sleeping Beauty. Five minutes till we check in."

I rubbed the grogginess from my eyes. "Right, okay. Thanks for waking me up." It was a mumble, barely resembling words, but Ozzy apparently understood the sentiment anyway.

"No problem."

"Where's Rhali gone?"

Ozzy raised one shoulder. "Your guess is as good as mine. She said she was going to the loo but that was nearly fifteen minutes ago."

"She's probably gone to get some Liquorice Wands or something," I teased, blinking myself into almost full wakefulness. Ozzy only grinned wider.

Rhali returned just when the train was pulling into the platform, ignored my question as to where she'd been and kicked Ozzy's shins when he demanded a share of whatever candy she'd managed to pilfer from the wandering trolley. We gathered our luggage and waded through the blearing hoard of students to tumble from the train.

Mum and Dad are easy to find in the sea of waiting parents and younger siblings. They always waited with my cousins, with Auntie Hermione and Uncle Ron, so there was just enough Weasleys for their red-headedness to pervade through the crowd. I spotted them just as Rhali spotted her own parents and just a moment before Ozzy started and raised a hand to beckon to his mum.

We turned to each other in unison. None of us really hugged, at least not in public and Rhali very rarely even in private. We tended to keep the farewells and the 'Merry Christmas's to a minimum too, so there was only a muted exchange of words between the three of us before we dispersed. I thought Rhali might have looked at me a little longer than normal, and there was an added intensity to her murmured, "You better bloody write to me at least once before Christmas this year, Ally," which I chose to ignore.

"Al!"

My trunk and Caesar's cage were nearly knocked from my hand as Mum pushed through the crowd and wrapped me in a hug. I let her; I wasn't not too proud or too foolish to think that my mum's hugs weren't worth their weight in gold. Dad stepped up to her side and clamped a hand on my shoulder a moment later.

"Hey, Al, how was your trip?"

I offered Dad a smile, but speech was impossible through Mum's tight embrace. She'd been a bit of an empty nester since Lily went to school, and even though James was staying at home most of the time – at least when he's in England and not touring – I think she still missed having kids around the house. It was only reluctantly that she retracted her tentacle-like grasp.

"Hi Mum," I said, offering a smile. She grinned widely back and patted my cheek. We were about even in terms of height nowadays, or maybe I was a little taller, I wasn't not sure. Any height I had over my Mum, however, she eradicated by tugging me down to plant a kiss on my forehead.

"Come on, you two, save the happy family reunion for the privacy of the homestead," an amused voice said behind us. I turned towards my sister and only caught a glimpse of her before Mum had detached herself from me and engulfed her in a similar embrace. There was a squeak of indignation, but Lily allowed it. We weren't not too cool for giving Mum hugs; that right was reserved solely for James.

I turned to Dad instead. "Alright, Dad?"

He shifted his attention from smiling at Mum and Lily and nodded. "Yeah, alright."

"How's work?"

"Work is work. Busy," he replied, with his usual world-weariness. He didn't need to explain away the typical reply to the pleasantry. Head of the Auror Department was bound to be a busy job. "How about you? How's school been? You hanging in there for seventh year?" Dad peered at me with narrowed eyes, frowning slightly. "You're looking a bit peaky."

"I'm fine, Dad," I assured him, waving away his concern with a half-smile. "Just swamped under homework."

"I'll bet. I've got to admire you kids, doing your N.E. . Hanging in there strong." There was genuine admiration in Dad's tone and he didn't bother to try and hide it. Everyone knew Dad hadn't completed his years at Hogwarts but went straight onto Auror training. Of course he didn't need N.E. . Asking my dad for proof of his capacity as a Defence wizard was like asking a fish for proof it could swim. Entirely irrational and a bit of a waste of time.

Still, Dad always made it clear that he was proud and a little in awe of the fact that all of his kids were finishing school. Even if James had only just scraped the bare minimum in most of his subjects. I suppose Dad thought he probably would have been the same.

I shrugged away the compliment and allowed myself to be herded towards the rest of the family with Mum and Lily in tow. There were greetings, Auntie Hermione gave me a kiss on the cheek – though she refrained from trying to crush my ribs like Mum had – and we headed off from the platform. I walked beside Rose, the both of us the quietest in the family and largely revelling in our mutual muteness. We'd been close in our childhood, Rose and I; not so much nowadays, though I still enjoyed her company. We were just very different. Now we just generally congregated together at family gatherings.

Still, she gave me a one-armed hug and a "see you at Christmas if not before" when our families split. The Weasley red-headedness disappeared into the crowd as we sunk into the hastening stream of Muggles and made our own way to the car park. Efficient as ever, and without James to bemoan leaving his friends behind, this year it went a lot quicker than usual.

Not quickly enough, however.

"Albus!"

I nearly tripped over my feet as I heard my name called. Feeling my eyes widen, in something approaching horror, I dropped them down to my shoes and pretended I hadn't heard Scor call out to me. I let my feet pick up pace as I walked beside Dad. Couldn't he walk any faster?

A useless ruse, as it turned out, because an instant later Scor called out once more. "Albus, wait a moment, please!"

He was close enough now that Lily, that Mum and Dad, could hear. Much to my distress Dad paused and turned to glance over his shoulder. I kept my head bowed but followed suit, cringing at the sight of Scor striding through the crowd, tall and blonde and full of confidence in his cry for attention. I resolutely did not look at Lily; I really didn't want to know what her take on the situation was.

A moment later Scor was upon us. He regarded me for a moment, and it was all I could do not to sink into the ground, before he shifted his attention to my dad. "Excuse me, Mr Potter. I'm Scorpius Malfoy, it's a pleasure to meet you." He nodded and offered a similar greeting to Mum but didn't pause to receive replies from either of them. Probably a good thing as Dad looked almost too surprised and bemused to speak. "I'm terribly sorry, but would you mind if I borrowed Albus for a moment. Only briefly, I assure you."

Dad stared at Scor for a moment longer, his lips twitching, before turning towards me. He wasn't the most perceptive person, my dad, but I held hope that he might insist upon our rapid departure.

Today was not one of his good days and when he turned to me and pushed his glasses up his nose in the way he does when he's a little confused, I already knew his answer. "Of course, Scorpius. No problem at all."

"Dad –" I began, but Scor cut me off.

"Thank you so much, Mr Potter, I really appreciate it. I'm sure you've got places to be but it is important." Dad's face became even more bemused but Scor didn't seem to notice. He was staring straight at me expectantly, but with something else in his expression. It was sort of… pleading? "Albus?"

I chewed my lip in a fruitless search for an out, and nearly yelped when Lily stepped to my side and kicked my ankle. I shot her a glare, to which she smirked, but finally sighed in defeat. "Sure, whatever." Scor appeared almost embarrassingly grateful for my agreement, nodded, and beckoned me to a relatively out-of-the-way nook to the side of the flowing crowd.

His expression was a mixture of changing emotions that flickered too fast for me to discern when Scor turned to me once more. His face was composed, though, not a hint of the mortification or even embarrassment that had been painted across it the last time I'd actually looked directly at him. Not aroused either, thank God. I think I would have turned tail and fled if I'd seen that. The memory made me cringe in shame.

"I'm sorry," Scor began.

I shrugged. "It's okay. It's not like we needed to be anywhere today anyway." Damn, I shouldn't have said that. I should have left myself an out for escape.

Scor was shaking his head, however. "That's not what I meant. I mean I'm sorry, about what happened on Wednesday."

My chest tightened in a mixture of rising anxiety and nauseating humiliation. I couldn't look at Scor and settled for watching the passers-by. "You've got nothing to apologise for. If anything, I should be the one apologising."

"No, you shouldn't –"

"Yeah, Scor, I really should," I overrode him, my voice rising in both pitch and volume. I felt a little panicked as the apology finally came forth. I felt really, really bad about what I'd done, even if Scor had enjoyed himself. If he had. It was abrupt, and uncalled for, and my reasons for doing it were entirely immoral. Besides, Scor had just told me that he wasn't interested in me in any meaningful way. He'd probably just been turned on by seeing Ozzy and me because it was surprising, or –

"No, Al, you really shouldn't." Scor's voice sliced through my thoughts. "I talked to Rhali on the train and I'm pretty sure there's been some misunderstanding over what happened."

I whipped my head towards him. "Rhali? When did you talk to her?"

"Just before we pulled into the station. Well, when I say talked, I really mean I was talked at and forced to listen." Scor smiled crookedly, a little fondly even. "She explained something to me that I didn't realise at the time."

"You talked to Rhali about it?" I couldn't quite get past that fact. That Rhali had approached Scor. To talk.

"Talked at, yes. Though I see she got to you first," Scor smiled again, and there was no reprimand in his tone. It was a bit of a relief, really amidst the rising chaos of my mind; I half expected him to be angry at me for sharing what happened – even only a little bit of it – with Rhali. "And I think I have some explaining to do."

"You have some explaining? I'm pretty sure I'm the one –"

"Al, can you just shut up for a minute?" Scor didn't speak harshly, but my jaw clamped shut nonetheless in surprise. Pausing a moment to make sure he definitely held the speaking stick, Scor released a breath. A steadying breath, as though he was working himself up to something. "Right. There's no other way to say it so I'm just going to get right to the heart of the matter. I like you, Al."

I stared at him blankly, my mind turning slowly. "Ri-ight. Thank you, I like you too. Most of the time."

Scor snorted, but shook his head with a small smirk. "I don't mean that sort of like, you idiot. I mean I fancy you, Al."

I blinked. Once. Twice. And again. "What?"

"Al, I fancy you."

"No… no, you don't."

"Actually, I do. And I'm pretty certain I'd know best."

I shook my head, raking a hand through my hair. My mind was whirring in confusion, in confounded panic. "No, Scor, you don't. You said –"

"I know what I said, and Rhali told me how you heard it. Let me assure you, when I said I would never ask you to be my boyfriend, it meant something very different to how you interpreted it."

A flare of confused anger burst through me. "How the hell else could someone interpret that? Seriously, Scor!"

Scor held up his hands in a "don't shoot me" gesture and had the decency to look faintly guilty. "Well, I did. What I meant was that I'd never force you to be my boyfriend just because I wanted a deeper relationship than casual sex. I mean, for my own gratification."

Those words, they effectively deflated my anger like a popped balloon. It left so quickly that I abruptly understood how Lily must feel with her near-bipolar mood swings. Surprise shrouded every thought and smothered every emotion that attempted to make itself known in my mind. "O-oh. So that's… no, I don't…"

"I mean," Scor took another deep breath, "that I fancy you, that I'm attracted to you, and that watching you with- with… in the Niche was very…" He flushed slightly, raising his eyebrows indicatively to enforce his meaning. I'd have to be an idiot not to understand what he was referring to. "And when you asked me if I wanted to, with you –"

"You told me you would never –"

"-what I meant was that I would really, really like to, but I'd rather something deeper. But that I didn't want to force you into a relationship just because I didn't feel as comfortable with… with casual sex." The flush spread lightly across Scor's cheekbones, but to his credit that was the only indication of his embarrassment.

I stared at him with my surprise slowly dying and wonder gradually, slowly, filling its place. Wonder, a bit of disbelief – okay, a lot of disbelief – and the kindling of something that could have been joy. "You actually… really fancy me?"

Scor released a heavy breath of relief, as though gratified that I'd made the connection for myself. "Yes, that's what I'm saying. And I thought that maybe, after what happened on Wednesday, just maybe you felt the same, even if only a little bit. But then you avoided me on Thursday and Friday, and I didn't know what to think."

I felt a pang of guilt spear me, and rubbed a hand across my forehead. "I'm really sorry about doing that."

"You are?" Was it my imagination, or did Scor sound a little disappointed.

"Very, very sorry. I shouldn't have just jumped you like that. I don't… I mean, I don't usually…" I trailed off, biting my lip.

Snorting, Scor rolled his eyes. "It's not like I didn't enjoy –"

"Scor, stop. Hold on a second and let me explain." Because I had to, even if it was humiliating to reveal my childish reasoning. I would much rather keep the truth nestled firmly within the realms of the unseen. "I was kind of upset when it sounded like you turned me down, so I sort of… maybe a little… just wanted you to see what you'd be missing…"

There. It was out there. And I wanted to bury myself in a ditch and hide from the world forever.

Scor stared at me with the degree of surprise rivalling that I'd felt only minutes before. "You were upset?"

I frowned. That's what he took from that? "Yeah –"

"Because you fancy me too?"

I stared at him blankly for a moment before feeling my eyes widen. A jolt rippled over my nerves; I'd thought Scor knew that I liked him, that I was attracted to him, and that was why he'd felt the need to come up and explain things. Obviously, such was not the case, and I was left treading water in an unexpectedly deep pool and floundering because I was not prepared to experience a revelation right now! "I… I thought you knew. I thought Rhali told you –"

"Yeah, she did. But it's different actually hearing you say it aloud." Scor's smile had returned with his confidence. The only flush that touched his cheeks was that of growing delight. "Thank you for telling me. And just to be clear, really clear, with no confusion: I fancy you too."

We stared at each other in silence. My nerves were dancing to an entirely different tune now, and for the first time in three days I felt the residue of self-pity and regret fizzle away. The incredulous smile that tugged at my lips was too demanding to hold back, so I just let it loose. It was less embarrassing when a mirroring grin plastered upon Scor's face.

We could have lost half of the afternoon staring at each other with silly school-kid awkwardness and I wouldn't have noticed, but somehow Scor managed to shake himself out of it. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder – towards his parents, I could see, who were standing nearby but not quite with my own; God, Scor looked so much like his dad! – before turning back towards me. He took a step closer. When he spoke, his voice was low and intense.

"Since we've got that out in the open, would you mind me asking?"

"Ask away," I replied, maybe a little breathlessly. There was no need to question what. I'm not that slow on the uptake.

Scor smirked, the self-confident prat. "Will you go out with me?"

I tilted my head, giving the pretence of pondering, though I think my smile probably gave me away a little bit. "Are you asking me to be your boyfriend, Scor?"

"I believe that is one of the terms that is used, yes."

I nearly giggled in pathetically euphoric delight. "Then most certainly. I would be honoured to be your boyfriend."

Scor sketched a mock half-bow. "Believe me, the honour is all mine." The posturing didn't last long before we dissolved into snickers.

There wasn't really all that much to say after that. We didn't profess our feelings in long-winded spiels, nor pause to discuss the embarrassing and unconventional events that led up to the present situation. We didn't kiss to seal the deal, both for my own sake – I'm really not comfortable with romantic displays in public – and Scor's, because he most likely had some sort of Malfoy reputation to uphold. By unanimous agreement, we exchanged bare words, a promise to write one another at the soonest possible moment, and drifted back towards our families. There was only a wave of farewell before the Malfoy trio departed. I felt a warmth settle in my chest each time Scor cast a smiling glance over his shoulder before they finally disappeared from view. He did so more than once. More than five times, actually.

"What's got you so happy?"

I glanced at Mum, starting guiltily. I shook my head in denial but couldn't smother my grin. "Nothing."

"Su-ure," Lily drawled, raising an eyebrow. I felt my cheeks heat and shot her a threatening, quelling glare.

"I didn't know you were friends with Scorpius Malfoy, Al." Dad rested an arm around my shoulders. He looked surprised but oddly impressed about something, as though such a friendship were a feat of courage itself. "What are the odds?"

"Who'd have thought?" Mum agreed.

I didn't want to delve into what they were talking about, even if I felt I could make a pretty accurate educated guess. Lily looked curious but didn't say anything more on the subject either, for which I was grateful. We finally turned towards the parking lot once more and, after a game of Tetris trying to fit both Lily's and my luggage into the boot of the car without magic, we were heading home.

I couldn't stop smiling the whole way.

A/N: Hi everyone! As always, just wondering if I could ask to hear your thoughts, if by chance you have any. I really, really appreciate any and every review. Thanks :D