WRITTEN FOR THE HOUSES COMPETITION, YEAR 10, ROUND 4
House: Slytherin
Class: Prefect
Category: Drabble
Word Count: 934
Prompt: [Pairing - negative] Albus Severus Potter/Scorpius Malfoy
Warnings/Disclaimers: bullying, language
Albus flicked his wand, and Malfoy tripped.
It started as a slight hitch in his step and ended with Malfoy's nose hitting the ground. Everyone laughed; even Malfoy's so-called friends smothered grins behind their Slytherin masks.
It was everything Albus could have wished for, considering that the hex had been a reflex more than anything. But, although he hadn't wasted the opportunity to make Malfoy land on his face in public, Albus wasn't satisfied.
He didn't know if anything would truly satisfy him after what Malfoy had done.
Now that he knew, he couldn't believe how blind he'd been.
Every time he thought about it, a profound rage ignited deep inside him, and each time it became harder and harder to extinguish.
When he'd seen Malfoy walk around without a care in the world, turning his wand against him had seemed like the best way to quiet the monster rampaging in his belly. It hadn't been enough, and Albus wondered if anything would ever be.
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At breakfast the next morning, Malfoy started speaking in quacks. That was the only sound he could produce—quack, quack, quack.
Albus even saw a Hufflepuff third-year point and laugh—but he still wasn't satisfied.
The wound was too fresh, too profound, still bleeding. Albus almost felt like Malfoy's betrayal had fundamentally changed something inside of him, leaving jagged edges in its wake.
He didn't know what to do about it.
Childish pranks were Albus's only outlet, so he looked up spells and pestered James, and when Malfoy tried to stand up from the table one night at dinner, he could only hop on one foot.
The next day, every sentence out of his mouth turned into a song.
Then, everything Malfoy tried to eat turned into ash.
His hair fell off.
His skin was purple.
Small birds followed him around, screaming when he tried to talk and leaving their droppings on his uniform.
His bookbag ripped on the stairs, and his homework flew out of the closest window on paper wings.
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After a few weeks, Malfoy started looking perennially harassed, the thin skin under his eyes black.
Albus tried to see justice in the effects of his retaliation. He still wasn't satisfied.
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Jinxes hit Malfoy from around corners.
His things got lost.
One day, he couldn't turn in his assignments because, when he took them from his bag, he discovered that the parchment he'd written them on had gone blank.
Albus shared most of Malfoy's classes and witnessed his desperation as he looked through his bag, emptying it on his desk when he couldn't find his homework.
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The pit of rage in his stomach should have been filled, but it felt like it'd turned into a black hole instead.
Nothing he had done was enough. He had to escalate.
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He spelled Malfoy's uniform to slowly disappear throughout the day.
Well. Albus said "spell", but he knew that it was really a curse. It spread to any item of clothing Malfoy put on his body, turning it invisible after a few hours, a stitch at a time.
After what was happening became obvious, Malfoy disappeared, missing the last classes of the day.
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That night, Albus borrowed the map from James and found him in the Astronomy Tower.
Malfoy seemed to sense him the moment he entered, and Albus stopped to stare at his tense shoulders. He was covered in a heavy cloak that didn't look like it would disappear any time soon.
"Was today enough?" Malfoy asked.
Albus stayed quiet even as Malfoy turned around, fists clenched and eyes on Albus's feet.
"Were you satisfied with my humiliation?"
Albus's mouth was dry. He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth to wet it but it didn't really work.
Then Malfoy raised his head, and his bloodshot eyes paralysed him.
"I'm asking you, alright? You have a right to—to want to punish me. But at least tell me—You have to tell me if it was enough."
Albus was silent for too long, and Malfoy took three quick steps forward, eyes wild and hair wilder, silvery-blond strands uncharacteristically unkempt.
"What will it take?!" Malfoy screamed. "When will you be satisfied?!"
Albus shook his head. Something was happening. Something was clawing at his insides, rearranging things and not caring about the scratches it left.
"I don't know," he muttered. He didn't know anything anymore.
Malfoy's expression lost its wild edge, and his grey eyes shone with tears. He fell to the ground like his legs stopped working and nothing was holding him up anymore.
Albus jerked towards him like he could halt his fall, but he hesitated when he realised his touch wouldn't be welcome.
Malfoy started speaking to Albus's knees.
"I'm sorry, Al. I'm so sorry. What I did was wrong. It was terrible. I betrayed your trust and broke my word, and I'll do anything to make up for it. Please, just—just tell me what to do. I can't go on like this. I can't." Malfoy's last words were sobs.
Albus, arms still extended awkwardly towards Malfoy, swallowed dryly.
In a flash, the way his father would look if he ever heard of everything he'd put Malfoy through appeared in his mind.
Imagining his frown was the last straw. Everything he had done hit him like a punch to the gut, and he felt nauseated.
A part of his mind wondered why the fuck no one had stopped him; a bigger part was grappling with the revelation that he'd gone too far. Way too far.
Malfoy was almost shaking—still on his knees in front of him.
Fuck, he was a horrible person.