Music I listened to while writing : All Good Things Come to a End - Nelly Furtado

Chapter 6: First Day, First Troubles

First night, first day, first troubles.

Albus was unpacking his belongings into the trunk at the foot of his new bed, which was placed against the wall under the window. His previous bed had been farther away, but he had asked one of his friends to switch with him so he could be closer to Malfoy.
"To keep him company. It's tough joining in the middle of the year."
Carlson had nodded with a knowing smile at this weak excuse but had agreed.

Out of the corner of his eye, Albus watched the young blond, sitting on his new bed, absentmindedly flipping through the magazine he had lent him. He hadn't unpacked any of his things, and his travel trunk was abandoned against the wall. During dinner, Albus had introduced him to his friends, who had been warm, but the conversation had remained superficial. After a few pleasantries, Scorpius had fallen silent, not touching his food and occasionally glancing at Dorian, who responded with smiles. Albus had hated the pang of pain that formed in his stomach when he watched the exchanges between the two boys. But what troubled him even more was the cold look Scorpius exchanged with his brother whenever their eyes met.

"Tell me," he said, locking his trunk and glancing at the other three occupants of the room, who were already asleep. "Do you and my brother know each other?"

"Not really," Scorpius replied, detached. However, he had stopped flipping through the pages and seemed unsettled. "We met once," he continued. "It didn't go well."

"Did he behave badly? You know, James can sometimes be rough and overbearing, but he's not mean."

Scorpius thought for a moment, but didn't lift his eyes from the magazine.

"No..." he finally said, lost in his memories. "Actually, he was charming... at least at first."

He closed the magazine and tossed it onto Albus's bed, adding, "Your brother isn't used to being refused what he wants, like all spoiled children, so when it happens, he gets angry."

He stood up, unbuttoned his pants, and let them slide down his pale legs. Albus blushed and looked away, waiting for Scorpius to slip under the covers, now wearing only his shirt.

Albus cleared his throat, grabbed his pajamas, and quickly put them on, not wanting anyone to notice the bulge that was starting to form in his underwear. He slid under the covers and extinguished the light with his wand. He tried to run through some crude images in his mind to suppress his desire: Lily's cat, an episode of his grandmother's cooking show, "to make the lobster more tender, you have to tear off its tail while it's still alive..."

"Potter?" he heard whispered in the dark. He jumped, forgetting the lobster. It was Scorpius's voice, of course.

"It's Al," he replied softly.

"…Al... I'm sorry about what happened on the train."

"It's nothing," Albus said after a brief pause. "Good night."

Albus woke up a little later in the night, roused by what sounded like muffled sobs coming from Scorpius's bed. He lit one of the candles on the bedside table and approached the boy. The sobbing had stopped.

"I heard you. Can I do anything?"

Scorpius turned to him and sat up slightly, letting the covers slip, revealing his legs. One sleeve of his shirt had slid down his arm, exposing a pale shoulder. Tears had streaked his face, but he was no longer crying.

He reached out his arm toward Albus.

"Sleep with me tonight," he invited. But the voice was commanding, without gentleness.

Albus's throat went dry, and he found it hard to swallow. Scorpius in his disheveled shirt was a ravishing sight and undoubtedly the most alluring image he had ever seen. He glanced at the other beds, making sure no one was watching, and approached Scorpius, who lifted the covers and moved back to make room for him. Albus sat on the bed, then hesitated. Scorpius placed his hand on his shoulder, but Albus gently pushed him away, facing him.

"Does Dorian usually sleep with you?" he asked.

Scorpius hesitated, surprised by the question, and grimaced.

Albus shook his head, disillusioned, pretending to get up from the bed.

"I'm not a replacement toy."

"What are you talking about? No, it's not that," Scorpius said, holding him by the arm.

Albus tensed as he watched the young blond sit on his lap, wrapping his arms around his neck. Scorpius's lips touched the corner of his mouth, light and soft.

For a moment, Albus forgot everything around him, as if the world disappeared behind a dark veil. Nothing seemed real except the lips brushing against his cheek. But that tenderness vanished suddenly when Scorpius released him and pulled back, lifting the covers once more in a silent invitation.

Albus followed and slid under the sheets. He lay against the young Malfoy, wrapping his arm around his chest and nestling his head in the crook of his neck. He wanted to kiss him, to plant tender, loving kisses along his throat, but he restrained himself, content with the warmth of their newfound embrace. He could feel Scorpius's heartbeat against his arm. The rhythm, initially fast, gradually slowed as Albus felt the boy relax in his arms. Soothed by this rhythm, lulled by the warmth of their two bodies nestled together, he fell asleep.

When Albus woke up, the day was just beginning to break on the horizon, and the light filtering through the window was pale. He was warm; it had been a long time since he had slept so well, even though he had woken up countless times. Scorpius was tossing and turning in his sleep, but he always ended up snuggling back into Albus's arms. Albus sat up in bed and watched the young boy sleeping beside him.

He had always thought of Scorpius as an independent and solitary being—someone who had the freedom he lacked, someone he admired. But for the person he had held in his arms that night, he felt no admiration, only a simpler, deeper attraction—pure desire, a desire for possession.

He could love him, simply love him.

He had never imagined it from this angle, only as a fantasy, but never in a romantic sense. Now, he knew he desired Scorpius, this fragile yet cold person, who would offer himself to him just to avoid being alone.

He walked over to the row of sinks, hesitated for a moment, then slipped his hand into his pants and began massaging himself, remembering the lips on her cheek, the skin against his. His breathing has become heavy and he tightens his fingers forcefully around his cock, until it hurts. He wanted to extinguish this desire, this fire that was consuming him without him understanding why. He thought of the boy he had spent the night with, the softness of his legs, the warmth of his body, his tender lips, his round buttocks…

With a last muffled cry, he emptied himself into the sink.

He turned on the water and let the liquid wash away the traces of his passion from the sink. He stood still for a moment, both hands on the edge of the sink, trying to catch his breath, then looked up at the mirror in front of him and touched his split lip. A friend had healed the bruise that had formed, but he hadn't been able to heal the lip. His hair was tousled, his eyes wide and confused, and his face was flushed from the pleasure he had experienced.

He felt pathetic!

How did Dorian manage to resist? A thought crossed his mind: did Dorian and Scorpius sleep together?

He felt anger surge within him and had to restrain himself from going back to the dormitory to yell at the boy who dared to play with his feelings and desires. But it was stupid; the weakness was his. He was the one giving in to his impulses for the boy. Why blame him?

He splashed some water on his face, turned off the faucet, and went back to his own bed, cold and empty.

Classroom, Potions.

"The 'Species Mortis' potion allows one to feign death for about forty hours. This potion is famous because it was the poison Juliet drank to avoid her marriage to Paris in Shakespeare's play *Romeo and Juliet*. If Friar Laurence, who gave her the potion, had been a wizard, he would have explained that the effect can vary depending on the amount of black bean extract used. The story might have been less tragic. Muggles shouldn't use what they don't understand."

"Excellent, Mr. Malfoy, thirty points for Slytherin."

Professor Slughorn slightly tilted his head towards the young boy who had successfully brewed the 'Species Mortis' potion, also known as 'the appearance of death.'

"I didn't know you were so good at Potions," said Albus, vanishing his purple mixture which lacked the deep color of his table mate's.

"I like poisons," Scorpius said with a charming smile as he poured some red liquid into a vial and labeled it. "It can come in handy sometimes. And you, what are you good at?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts, of course, like any self-respecting Potter," the black-haired boy declared with a wink.

Scorpius smiled, shaking his head slightly, and grabbed his bag to follow Albus as he was already heading out of the classroom for their next lesson.

They had spent the morning together, as if it were natural. Scorpius seemed more relaxed in Albus's presence, who appreciated the ease that now existed between them.

Of course, the remarks and comments soon started circulating around them.

"Malfoy is hitting on the Potter family now," or "Potter is friends with the grandson of the man who tried to kill his mother."

Albus had difficulty dealing with these comments, unlike Scorpius who superbly ignored them, retorting with sharp and cutting replies to anyone who was aggressive towards them, and did so with great control. He was probably used to such insults.

"And even if he was hurt, he certainly wouldn't show it in public," Albus thought, beginning to understand how the young blond operated.

This was quite a good thing, as attacks multiplied throughout the day. Albus had torn down a moving photo of Scorpius dancing with Adams Rice, with the red inscription "I'm a slut," posted on the classroom notice board (a kindness from Goyle, no doubt…). He had also intercepted an insult disguised as a flying paper bird.

Otherwise, the rest of the morning was pleasant… What he hadn't anticipated were the notes and letters Scorpius received, praising his looks, or even inviting him to the library, the astronomy tower, or some dormitory for secret rendezvous.

But to his great relief, Malfoy paid no attention to them and threw the letters away after reading them. Young Potter already reproached himself for the possessive attachment he felt towards Malfoy, but he couldn't rid himself of it.

They entered the classroom and sat at a table on the left, close to the wall, and kept the back table for Linz Carlson and Aaron Briani who stayed with them for each class.

"By the way, what class are we here for?" asked Scorpius, who hadn't glanced at the schedule, relying on Albus to guide him through the different rooms.

"Transfiguration."

Scorpius suddenly stiffened, his eyes wide and his fists clenched. He pretended to get up as if possessed, but Albus grabbed him by the arm.

"What's wrong?" he asked, frowning.

"I need to get out," he said, trembling. "I think I'm going to skip this class, I can't handle it."

"It's a required class. And you've picked the wrong time; it's taught by Professor McGonagall, the headmistress."

"I don't care, I need to leave."

He forcefully wrenched his arm free and got up, gathering his things and grabbing his bag. But as he headed down the aisle, Professor McGonagall entered the classroom, facing him.

"Do you have something more interesting to do than attend my class, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked in a pinched and authoritative tone.

The entire class looked at the young boy. Scorpius breathed quickly, trembling. He bit his lip, but eventually shook his head.

"No, professor," he replied weakly.

"Very well, please return to your seat."

Scorpius exhaled slowly and resigned himself to sitting back next to Albus, who looked at him with surprise. He met the eyes of his two friends, who asked what had happened, but Albus shrugged innocently: he didn't know.

Scorpius opened his book in silence while the professor handed out gilded iron goblets that needed to be transformed into small Victorian stools.

"Can you explain?" asked Albus after a few minutes.

"No."

"You don't like this class?"

Scorpius hesitated, focusing on the cursed goblet he would have been unable to turn into a soup ladle, so nervous was he.

"I didn't like the professor who taught me this subject," Malfoy answered flatly, hoping this explanation would suffice for his curious neighbor.

"He hurt you…?"

"Well, listen," Scorpius exploded, though careful not to raise his voice. "I like you, we have a good time together, but who I am and what I've been through is none of your business." He ignored the surprised and hurt look Albus gave him and continued, "Stay in your place, Potter, in your world of joy and sparkles. You can't understand."

Clearly irritated, he grabbed the goblet and started flipping through his book, searching for reasons he couldn't execute the spell successfully. Maybe he was pronouncing the incantation wrong, or maybe he wasn't focused enough. But he knew very well it had nothing to do with his talent. He had never been able to transform anything since that day, anyway. He was incapable of applying what that man had taught him. Lost in his painful thoughts, he didn't expect what Albus would say next.

"A madman kidnapped me when I was a child."

The statement surprised Scorpius so much that he dropped the goblet, which rolled across the table and fell to the floor, making a clattering noise that resonated throughout the room. He muttered "sorry" towards the professor, who was frowning at him, and bent to pick up the goblet, earning mocking laughter from Goyle and his gang.

When he sat back down, he placed the goblet and turned to look at Potter.

"Now that I've made a fool of myself, do you want to tell me more?"

Albus smiled sadly and continued, "I was five years old. I didn't understand anything. I was with my cousins in my grandparents' garden, you know, the Weasleys; then the next moment, I was in the arms of a guy in a black cloak, with a huge ugly beard and red eyes." Albus squirmed in his chair, his movements becoming awkward. He struggled to keep the memories from hurting him.

"In fact, he didn't have red eyes," he continued in a detached voice. "But when I think of him, that's all I see; a huge black beard, red eyes, and long, dirty nails. He took me to an old house, set me on a filthy couch, in front of an old TV. I was alone most of the time, except when this man came to look at me and take pictures or draw me. He called me Harry… I don't remember very well. Strangely… I don't even remember being afraid. It only lasted two days. My father found me in two days. Let me tell you, all the Aurors were on it!" he said, laughing, but there was no humor in his laugh. He was suffering from the memory and was trembling.

Scorpius kept his eyes on his Transfiguration book; he couldn't look at Albus because he didn't know what to say. All the words that came to mind seemed bland and inappropriate. After all, he had never had to console anyone. He had never known what to say to Dorian… He didn't even have the words to heal himself.

He sighed, reached out, and took Albus's hand under the table, squeezing his fingers in a gesture of compassion and comfort. Potter smiled at him and closed his hand around his. They shared a moment of silence.

"Your father's fans… they're scary…" Scorpius eventually said.

Albus laughed despite himself, the kind of laugh that eases the tension when discussing a tragic and painful subject.

"Mr. Potter." The two young boys jumped and let go of each other's hands. McGonagall was standing right behind their desk.

"Since you seem to be having so much fun, please demonstrate the transformation."

Albus composed himself, took out his wand, and performed the spell. His goblet turned into a magnificent mahogany stool, earning Slytherin an additional ten points. When the professor left their row, Albus turned to Scorpius.

"Your turn, tell me," he murmured. Malfoy stiffened and shook his head, but Albus insisted, "I've never told anyone what happened to me. No one, you're the only one."

"I have nothing to tell," Scorpius replied.

"Alright," said Albus, "I'll wait."

Slytherin Dormitory

Albus kicked his trunk at the foot of his bed with great force. It wasn't his fault; he wasn't the head of the school, he couldn't control everyone. But Scorpius was gone, having blamed him for not doing anything.

How could he have known, damn it!

During dinner, Scorpius had been surprised not to see Dorian or Nicolas Greengrass at the Gryffindor table, but he had said nothing, merely glancing at the door to watch for their probable arrival.

But they didn't come.

It was on their way back to the common room that they had overheard a group of Slytherins talking.

"I didn't see him, but it seems Finnigan and his mates really messed up his face. He left the infirmary against Madame Pomfrey's advice. They say he was limping."

"Serves him right. Nott talks too much, he needed to be put in his place."

Before they could understand what was happening, Scorpius had charged at them, shouting for them to shut up, throwing anything he could get his hands on. It could have ended badly if Albus hadn't held him back, intervening between the frail boy and the students. He had practically carried him to the dormitory and thrown him onto the nearest bed.

"Which side are you on?" Scorpius had yelled.

"Not yours, when you act like that!" Albus had retorted, pointing toward the door.

"Finnigan is a friend of your family," Scorpius had spat, looking at Albus with disdain, "You can't even protect us from your own? Are you going to tell me you didn't know what he was planning?"

"No, I had no idea!"

Scorpius had stood up and shoved young Potter, then headed for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to see Dorian." He had slammed the door behind him, leaving Albus alone.

Potter sat on the bed. For a moment, he wondered if he should have followed Scorpius. How was he going to find his way around the castle? But he didn't know where he could be. Exhausted, he lay down on his bed, when he heard the door open. He sat up, thinking it was Scorpius returning, but it was Aaron Briani who walked into the room. He smiled at his friend's disappointed face.

"Sorry, it's just me," he said, sitting on his bed.

"I'm glad to see you too," said Albus apologetically, "It's just…"

"Yeah, I know, don't worry. I heard Malfoy lost it."

The brown-haired boy seemed to hesitate, then rubbed his eyes with a sigh before adding, "I saw Nott earlier."

"How is he?" asked Albus, staring at the ceiling.

"Pretty beaten up."

Albus didn't reply. He put his arm over his eyes to block out the light and wished that this day would end quickly.

End of Chapter 6

Hello everyone, I'll be on vacation abroad until at least September. I might be able to update the chapters from my phone on my p.a.t.r.e.o.n : www. p.a.t.r.e.o.n /TiffanyBrd (the app allows me to update everything from my phone). You can join as a free member, or you can wait until September for the next part of this story!
Have a Great Summer :)