Music I listened to while writing : Still Doll - Kanon Wakeshima- Vampire Knight OST
At the Potters' house
Harry placed his glasses next to the Daily Propheton the small round table and sank back into the living room couch. He rubbed his eyes, tired from reading more than twenty reports, all of which required his signature. At the end of the year, when files needed to be closed, the Head of the Auror Department became a slave to paperwork. His wrist ached, not from overusing his wand, but from using his quill to sign reams of paper and rolls of parchment over and over again.
His fingers were still covering his eyes when he heard Ginny's footsteps. She was coming from the kitchen, probably having prepared him a cup of tea while she made her 4 p.m. herbal tea. Routines are comforting. The scent of vanilla reached him, and he opened his eyes.
His wife stood before him, two cups in hand and a newspaper under her arm. He took the cup she offered him with a smile and set it on the table before motioning for her to sit with him.
"Have you seen this?" Ginny asked, handing a copy of Witch Weeklyto her husband as she sat down on the couch.
Harry took the paper and looked at the front page. On the cover, a poor-quality photo showed two boys hidden among the alcoves of Hogwarts. He recognized his son in the picture. Albus was smiling at young Malfoy, whose back was against the wall, before sliding his fingers through his hair and kissing him. The headline was suggestive: Decadent Youth Behind the Walls of Hogwarts.
"They could've gone for an even sleazier headline," Harry grumbled, dropping the paper onto his lap, as if touching it dirtied his fingers.
"You seem more angry than surprised?"
Harry turned to his wife, raising an eyebrow.
"I am. Witch Weeklyhas always been trash. It was bad enough when Rita Skeeter was writing her column. Now that she's running the paper, it's even worse."
"Granted," Ginevra said, tapping the newspaper with her fingernail while tightening her grip around her cup of tea. "And what about the subject of the article?"
"The subject?"
"Our son and Scorpius Malfoy?"
"Ginny, we've suspected it for a while."
She sighed.
"Yes, the way he caught him during the match was impressive. It was a true display of trust, on both sides. But imagining them kissing in a deserted hallway? That's quite a leap!"
"Does that bother you, then?"
"That Albus loves a boy? With the way Lily and James go through relationships, I'm sure I'll have more grandchildren than I'd ever wish for. But the Malfoys, Harry!"
Potter exhaled, his fingers on his temples, and she continued:
"For an entire year, I thought I was going mad. I wrote threats with blood on the walls of Hogwarts! Can you imagine? In a trance, I slaughtered chickens to write with their blood... I'd wake up covered in feathers, my hands red and sticky. What if I had killed someone, Harry?"
Her voice lowered.
"Not to mention how many times Lucius Malfoy tried to kill you, Ron, and Hermione. And Draco..."
A grimace distorted her face.
"What a nasty little brat!"
Harry nodded at that. Draco Malfoy and he had kept a respectful distance from each other for many years and avoided any encounters. The hatred that had fueled them during their school years had dissipated, but Harry had never sought a reconciliation. Too many grudges and bad memories stood between them, making the chasm too wide and too deep for either of them to even consider crossing. A polite distance, yes, that's all he wanted with the Malfoys.
And that distance, their sons seemed determined to close with ease.
"Did he write to you about it?"
His wife's voice pulled him from his thoughts.
"Albus?" he asked. "Why would he need to? And look at the poor quality of the photo, the low lighting. It's clear the picture was taken in a dimly lit place. There's no one else around, and both of them seem unaware they're being photographed. I don't think they're living their relationship in the public eye."
He pushed aside his files and grabbed his quill.
"Which justifies me writing to Witch Weeklyimmediately to remind them that these kids are minors and no photo can be published of them without my consent and that of Scorpius's legal guardian."
"You're avoiding the issue," Ginny sighed.
Harry let his quill glide over the parchment.
"There is no issue."
At Hogwarts
They walked through the hallway among the other students, heading toward the Great Hall. As they approached the large door, Albus sighed and took Scorpius's hand.
"What are you doing?" Scorpius hissed, panicked, trying to pull his hand away.
"At this point, there's no need to pretend," Albus grunted, tightening his fingers around Scorpius's.
Gathering his courage, he led Malfoy into the Great Hall.
They had kept the secret for nearly two weeks. No one knew they were together. Except Rose, and Dorian, of course. It was Rose Weasley who had discreetly slipped them the copy of Witch Weeklycontaining the article about them, during Charms class.
They sat at the Gryffindor table, next to Rose, aware that many eyes were still on them. But not all the attention in the Hall was directed their way. A group of Gryffindors, about ten people, was in a heated discussion. At the center was Dorian, impassive. He was the focus of several angry glares.
"You can't just quit the team like that!"
Scorpius didn't know who had said it, but it was followed by many more angry remarks.
So that was it—Dorian wanted to quit the Gryffindor team. For over two weeks, he had made a considerable effort, attending every practice without complaint or argument. A difficult task, as his only thought was to send as many Bludgers as possible at James's head. Until a clash, two days earlier. A simple remark about his play from the captain, and Dorian had lashed out. Ross Finnigan had stopped him from punching James, but the breaking point had been reached.
"But seriously, James, you can't let him do this!"
Ross, sitting not far away at the Gryffindor table, briefly glanced at James Potter, but James pretended to ignore the conversation.
The grumbling grew louder. Many urged Nott to explain his decision.
Dorian casually ran a hand through his hair, pushing back the lock that covered his scar.
"Incompatibility with my captain," he declared in a monotone voice.
Scorpius wished he could disappear into his coffee cup and drown in it.
A flutter of wings signaled the arrival of the mail, which somewhat dispersed the group of students as they rushed to grab the parcels and letters falling from the sky.
Many received the newspaper, and eyes turned to Albus and Scorpius. An owl delivered a letter to Albus, who frowned, recognizing the Potter family owl.
He opened the parchment, anxious, his hand almost trembling.
"My father saw the paper," he said softly, and Scorpius held his breath.
He nervously tightened his fingers around his coffee cup.
"What does he say?" Scorpius asked.
Albus quickly scanned the lines, and reading it seemed to calm him.
"He says he's sent a retraction request to Witch Weekly, threatening legal action, and he's contacted the child protection service to stop the publications. And he apologizes for not being able to do more because our name sells."
"Efficient... What else?"
"That my mother has recruited him to help decorate the house for Christmas."
"That's all?"
Albus continued reading and sighed.
"Apparently."
He suddenly blinked as if he had misread something and turned to Scorpius.
"He's asking if you'd like to come over for a few days during the Christmas holidays."
Surprise, followed by an awkward silence, settled between them amidst the muffled chatter of students and the clinking of cutlery.
"Would you like me to come?" Scorpius asked suddenly, sliding the rim of his coffee cup over his lower lip after taking a sip. "That's really the question. It's not up to your father to push us into it."
"He's just asking," Albus said, frowning.
"I know." He cleared his throat and continued in a low voice, "It makes me nervous. I'm taking it out on him because I don't know how to respond."
Albus folded the letter and slipped it into his bag.
"The answer is yes, I'd like you to come." He hesitated and added, "I understand it's complicated."
"Because I'm a Malfoy..."
"Yes, that too..." Albus murmured.
Scorpius sighed. Of course, Albus hadn't thought about his name or their families' past first. What concerned him was that James would also be there.
He hadn't spoken to his brother since the day he hit him. The two kept their distance, and that saddened the younger boy, but he was still too angry with his brother. Malfoy thought it would take time for Albus to "digest" what had happened. He often thought about it, even though he tried to hide it. The most obvious moments were when they kissed and touched. Albus was always very careful not to pressure Scorpius, watching his every reaction, afraid of displeasing him or making him uncomfortable by doing anything he didn't want. So Malfoy constantly reassured him, often saying it out loud:"I love your hands on me," "Yes, touch me," "Kiss me."But it's hard to explain to someone how much you want to devour them—or be devoured by them.
Behind all this delicacy was the shadow of James, and Albus hated that. He hated that Scorpius's body still remembered James's caresses, and he hated admitting that his perfect brother could be such a jerk. And Malfoy knew it.
For a moment, Scorpius observed him, tracing his profile with his eyes, letting his gaze linger on his forehead, then pausing on his brilliant green eyes, vibrant in color, darkened by long lashes that fluttered with every blink, too slow, as Albus lost himself in thought.
His mouth was slightly tight, likely from bitterness and anger, and his lips were paling, losing their usual pink.
He often pressed his lips together now, and Malfoy didn't like that because he knew Albus was thinking about James.
He leaned in gently toward the boy, and a scent reached him. The smell of cinnamon biscuits lingered on his breath as he finally parted his lips to sigh, and Scorpius felt an urge to taste it.
Where did that cinnamon scent come from? From apple curd, of course, an English spread Scorpius didn't really like. But Albus had it every morning; the jar was even open next to his tea.
He leaned in a little more, drawn in, and Albus looked up at him and smiled. He seemed about to lean in for a kiss, one that Scorpius had no intention of refusing, despite the crowded, noisy hall.
A fleeting moment of madness.
A hand on his back interrupted his movement and almost made him jump. Dorian stood behind him. His eyes were ringed with dark circles, and his complexion was pale, clear signs of an obvious lack of sleep. He looked a bit like his wax-skinned father, which frightened Scorpius.
"Do you have two minutes?" Dorian asked, his voice deep, almost dark.
"Classes are about to start..."
"It'll really take two minutes. I need to talk to you."
"I'll meet you in class," Scorpius said to Albus as he slipped out from the bench, then followed Dorian toward the entrance of the Great Hall.
Arithmancy class...
"Mr. Malfoy, you're five minutes late. Please come to the front of the class and complete this Arithmancy formula using the Tripolie alphabet, and you'll spend your next hour in detention with me. You had a free period, didn't you? Come on, hurry up, hurry up!"
Scorpius had entered the room quietly, relieved that despite its weight, the wooden door hadn't creaked on its hinges. He had managed to cross half the room on tiptoes, behind the professor, who was writing on the board with his wand.
He had reached his seat and started unpacking his things when the professor's baritone voice called him to the front of the class. Albus shot him a sympathetic look as he left his bag open on the desk to complete the numerology equation the rotund, unshaven professor had begun writing.
Fortunately, he was good with numbers because Professor Baxter wasn't kind to the students he questioned.
As he finished the equation, the professor stood behind him.
"Perfect, Mr. Malfoy, perfect, you have a gift with numbers. I suppose your detention assignment won't be a problem for you: What is the interpretation of numerology by Septimus Tripolie and Pythagoras concerning the Expression number, the Soul Urge number, and the Destiny number?"
"But that's impossible to do in one hour!" Scorpius growled, lowering his wand.
"I believe so too. You'll turn in the complete assignment for the next class. Back to your seat, Mr. Malfoy."
Scorpius gritted his teeth, holding back all the biting remarks he wanted to hurl at the professor, and dragged his feet back to his seat.
"Idiot," he muttered under his breath, glaring at the professor.
"What kept you so long?" Albus asked, placing his book in the middle of the desk.
"I'm trying to convince Dorian not to quit the team," Scorpius whispered as he pulled out his materials. "He's got Quidditch in his blood, he could even go pro if he wanted. Next year, he could be Gryffindor captain, but for that, he has to stay on the team."
Albus admired Dorian's restrained attitude toward James. He wasn't sure he could have acted with the same indifference. Nott had remarkable self-control. That's why the outburst on the Quidditch pitch two days ago had surprised him.
"He held on for over two weeks, what made him snap?"
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Scorpius flinch and swallow hard.
"It's complicated," Scorpius replied hesitantly. His eyes avoided Albus's. "I think there are things I shouldn't have shown him. It's made things worse."
Ten minutes earlier...
Sitting on a stone bench in one of the alcoves, Dorian handed him the vial, and Scorpius stopped breathing for a moment. He hesitated to touch it; something about it sickened him—probably its contents. He quickly took it and stuffed it into his bag.
"You've seen it?" he asked softly.
Dorian took a deep breath and nodded.
"I cracked on the Quidditch pitch the day I watched it, yes. It made me even angrier at James. I didn't think that was possible. So when he asked me to reposition myself on the field—which, to be fair, he had every right to do—I jumped at him… Simply because I couldn't get to the other one, I wanted to put James on the ground. If Ross hadn't tackled me, I would've destroyed him."
"I never should've shown it to you."
"No. Don't regret it, please. I wanted to know, but I'm weaker than I thought—I can't handle it. I think it's horrible… horrible. And you should've told me the same day!"
Back in Arithmancy class...
"Things about James?"
Scorpius snapped out of his thoughts, startled by the sharp tone of the question. James, James, James… Malfoy was tired of hearing that name and knowing Albus was thinking about him.
"No."
But Albus scrutinized him, tapping his foot nervously. He didn't believe him, and Scorpius felt anger rising.
"If it were about James, I would've told you. I said I wouldn't hide anything about your brother from you anymore."
Albus looked away, shaking his head. He couldn't convince himself that Scorpius was telling the truth. Too many things made him suspicious. A short past, yet heavy with unpleasant secrets. And he knew that when it came to secrets and lies, Malfoy excelled, even if he did it with the best intentions.
"And him?" Albus asked, changing the subject rather than diving deeper into one that made him angry.
"Him who?"
"Dorian, what did he want to talk to you about? He's the one who wanted to speak to you in the first place."
Scorpius seemed to hesitate again, and Albus noticed.
"He wanted to return something I lent him."
"That couldn't wait?"
"No, not really. But about the team, he said he'd think about it."
Changing the subject again, Albus thought.
"How did you convince him?"
"I told him to be selfish."
Albus raised an eyebrow.
"To live for himself," Scorpius explained. "I told him my mistakes become more unbearable when he carries them too. That if he based his actions on what had happened, he was giving them more weight, more tragedy. It made things even worse, even more sordid."
He hesitated and added softly, "And I told him to forget what James did—it's my burden and his."
Albus stifled a dark, bitter laugh.
"Ah. Did he agree with that?"
"No, not at all, but it made him think." Scorpius hesitated and bit his lip. "And that goes for you too."
"It's not that simple."
"I know." He took Albus's hand under the table and squeezed it. "Give yourself time. That's what I'm doing."
Albus smiled at him, a real smile this time, full of tenderness, and turned his attention back to the board.
When the class ended, Albus quickly gathered his things into his bag.
"In a hurry?" Scorpius asked, surprised at how quickly Potter had packed up, especially since he had a free period after this.
Albus shrugged, and Scorpius frowned suspiciously. It made Potter smile, who leaned over to kiss the boy, ignoring the glances from the few students lingering in the room. Accepting the kiss, Scorpius resisted the urge to wrap his arms around the boy's neck. A throat-clearing sound from Professor Baxter brought them back to reality.
"I'll come by at the end of your detention," Albus murmured as he broke the kiss, "to make sure you're on time for your next class."
"How thoughtful," Scorpius said, his cheeks flushed as he walked past the class. He threw a quick wink at Albus before sitting in the front row for his hour of detention.
Potter smiled, then slipped out, his heart racing, ashamed of what he intended to do.
Albus quickened his pace, determined. He hated himself for it, but he didn't regret his actions. He could wait for Scorpius to talk to him, but he didn't trust him. It was true—he just couldn't.
Scorpius owed him the truth, he deserved it. He had let so many things slide, yet Scorpius still spoke in cryptic or evasive language. He deserved more, he deserved for Scorpius to open his heart, rip it from his chest, and present it to him on a silver platter, for goodness' sake! He deserved that!
That's what he kept telling himself as he arrived in the Charms classroom, where an old stone Pensieve stood. He was gripping the vial so tightly his hand was damp with sweat.
When Scorpius had left his bag on the table to go to the board, Albus had spotted the glass tube and recognized the translucent substance swirling inside. He remembered Scorpius giving it to Dorian the day James and he had been discovered. Without thinking any further, he had taken the vial and slipped it into his robes. Guilt had immediately weighed on him. But when Scorpius had been reluctant to answer his questions, jealousy had overpowered the guilt.
Why didn't you tell me about this vial? Why hide that Dorian gave it back to you and that's why he wanted to talk? Is it because of James? Or other secrets? Why can Dorian know and not me?
He crossed the classroom and approached the stone basin. He opened the vial and poured its contents into the Pensieve. The translucent liquid mixed with the silvery water.
With his hands clenched around the stone edge, he hesitated. All of a sudden, he wasn't sure if he wanted to see. The truth... he was afraid. Afraid of seeing James and Scorpius together, seeing their caresses, their bodies entwined, their kisses. Even if Malfoy hadn't wanted it, he feared uncovering the raw truth of what they had done and how they had done it.
But the need to know outweighed the fear. He inhaled deeply and resigned himself.
"Sorry, Scorpius," he whispered, and he plunged his head into the Pensieve.
End of Chapter 25
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