Music for writing : Voilà - Barbara Pravi - The Harmony Group
At the manor…
Scorpius walked down the long corridor leading to the south wing of the Manor. The hallway was dimly lit, lined with paintings and closed doors. The family mainly stayed in the central part of the castle, so Scorpius never felt completely at ease in the other areas of the manor.
He hadn't lived there long enough to feel truly at home. He clung to it more out of pride than sentiment. He was a Malfoy, and a Malfoy had to live in the Malfoy Manor. That was how it had been for 10 centuries. Ten centuries… How many families could boast of maintaining such a territorial tradition for so long?
Perhaps that was why his grandfather had suffered so much, isolated in the Muggle world, far from his estate.
Lucius. It was him Scorpius was seeking at that moment, wandering through the manor. He knew Lucius was in the south wing, in that large, light-filled room where he spent so many solitary hours.
When he entered, the smell of lead-based paint hit him. Another scent caught his attention, the tar his grandfather used to darken the tones and make them shine.
Lucius stood in a flannel shirt, stained with paint and oil. He had removed his cloak and jacket. His long hair, so similar to Scorpius's, hung loose down his back. He was painting without a model, working on a large square canvas that stood over a meter taller than him. The painting was nearly finished, depicting a man on his knees, praying to dark-winged angels who threatened him with their swords, caught between heaven and hell.
The transfiguration of violence into art—Lucius excelled at this craft. What does a politician do when he can no longer engage in politics? Where does all that passion, all that violence, go? Lucius painted. Scenes of crime and redemption. He painted with the passion and violence that had fueled him for all those years.
"Why black wings?" Scorpius asked as he stepped toward the center of the room.
"Because sometimes, you have to beg those you despise to avoid ending up in hell."
Lucius didn't look at him, still focused on the painting, adding a touch of blue to the praying man's tunic.
"But that doesn't mean they represent the supreme beings of Light and Good. That's why you can't tell if the angels will save him by taking him to Heaven or Hell. History is written by the victors. There is no paradise for the losers of a war."
"So, they've condemned you to another hell?"
Lucius finally turned and smiled gently, a smile reserved only for his family.
"Let's just say that, for the moment, I don't feel free."
He took two steps toward Scorpius and kissed his grandson on the forehead before pulling him into an embrace.
"Welcome home, my child."
Scorpius smiled, listening to his grandfather's heartbeat as he rested his head against his chest. Lucius released him and held him at arm's length to get a better look at him.
"How have your first months at Hogwarts been?"
"Good."
"Perfect," he said, letting him go. "I need gold pigment. Beat the yellows and add the pigments and wax."
Scorpius carried out the steps his grandfather had taught him, crushing the powders, mixing the oil and hot wax. He separated the yolks from the whites and added the colored solution, using tempera.
When the mixture seemed bright and fluid, he placed it on the easel and sat on the couch to watch his grandfather paint. He waited a moment, observing the precise, assured movements. He craved the silence, but he needed to know.
"You're not going to mention the Witch Weekly'sarticle?" he finally asked.
Lucius continued painting, his voice steady as he replied:
"Does it matter?"
"I don't know. You tell me."
Scorpius wanted to defy his opinion, not let it matter, but he'd be lying to himself. Lucius's opinion mattered to him. The opinion of every member of his family mattered. It was awful to depend on that, in the end. But that's how it was.
There was silence, then Lucius took a deep breath.
"If you're attracted to Potter's son, it's not a problem. If you choose to have an affair with him, it's not a problem. But if you deprive your family of an heir, it will be a problem." He wiped his brush with a cotton cloth and turned to face his grandson. "I'm not telling you anything you don't already know. That's what you wanted to hear, isn't it?"
The boy shrugged. He exhaled and let his gaze drift into the distance. Of course, nothing mattered, except the eternal traditions. It didn't matter if he secretly met a boy in the school corridors, or if his affair made headlines in the tabloids, as long as he ensured the continuation of the family line.
Seeing his silence, Lucius continued:
"We don't ask you to love, we ask you for a child."
"But you love Narcissa," Scorpius interjected.
"I had a fortune that very few Purebloods ever experience. Marriage has nothing to do with love. It's tragic, but there aren't enough of us left to have a choice. Too much Muggle blood."
He grimaced, but Scorpius pretended not to notice. He never defended Muggles; he wouldn't oppose his grandfather on the subject. It would be a wasted effort anyway.
Scorpius quickly ran through the remaining Pureblood families in his mind, counting the "marriageable girls" who wanted this life no more than he did. A few lucky ones had found each other, like Sally Macnair and Nicolas Greengrass, but the rest… would they have to resign themselves?
Scorpius smiled, thinking no one could ever force Dorian into such a thing. But Dorian had an advantage—he had no one to disappoint.
"So, we're supposed to resign ourselves to a life without love?"
"What are lovers for?"
"That's awful…" Scorpius muttered, lowering his head, letting his hair fall over his eyes.
He didn't know if Lucius had heard him. Such a life seemed unimaginable to him, as if he were picturing someone else's life and feeling sad for them. An unbearable life, both for himself and for Albus. The boy would never stand to stay in the shadows. He pushed away the panic that washed over him whenever he thought about life after Hogwarts, the idea that he would have to make choices and live with the consequences. He didn't know what he wanted, but he knew what he didn't want—a life of appearances and lies. He licked his lips nervously.
"And if I choose him, would I lose you?"
Another long, heavy silence followed before Lucius's voice reached him.
"You're only 15, Scorpius. Let time take its course."
Scorpius stood, wrapping his arms around his grandfather, resting his head against his back. Yes, he had time to make decisions. He just wanted to know the opinion of the man he admired so much, despite everything. Letting time take its course—that's what he needed to do, delay the inevitable, settle into procrastination, and find comfort in it. Why worry about a future he couldn't yet see?
"They're probably waiting for us for dinner."
Scorpius nodded against his shirt, stepping back as he watched Lucius remove the paint stains with a flick of his wand, then comb his hair with his fingers. It would have been unthinkable for him to enter the dining room in anything less than a flawless state. After this ritual, he offered his arm to Scorpius, and together they made their way to the inhabited part of the manor.
At the Potters', December 24th.
Albus was coming down the stairs from the attic to the ground floor, carrying two boxes labeled "Christmas decorations" in black marker. As he reached the bottom, he bumped into his mother, who was rushing out of the kitchen, a flour-covered apron around her waist.
"Oh, sorry, sweetheart," she murmured, catching one of the boxes that nearly slipped from his arms and placing it back securely. Then, she opened the front door and shouted outside, "James, put on a jacket, you'll catch your death out there!" She closed the door again. "That boy is never cold!"
Albus glanced out into the yard and saw James, wearing only a t-shirt, chopping wood in the snow.
"I thought the parents had started on the Christmas preparations," Lily muttered, opening the boxes of garlands.
"They cut down a tree," said Albus, opening the boxes one by one with a knife. "Other than that, they've only made the cookies and gingerbread, and the Christmas beer. I found the stash, by the way, we can sneak a couple of bottles."
"You didn't 'find'it, it's the same hiding spot every year." Lily began pairing garlands and held them up for her brother to see. "Blue and white, green and white, or red and white?"
"A red and white tree!"
"Done!" exclaimed Lily, pulling out all the red and white decorations she could find in the boxes, while Albus sorted out the window stencils and shook up the can of fake snow. He decorated all the living room windows with artificial snow.
"Nice job," said his father, ruffling his hair as he walked past. Albus smoothed his hair down with both hands out of habit. Harry took out his wand and pointed it at the white powdery decorations, bringing them to life. The snowflakes began to fall, and reindeer ran across the windowpanes, pulling Santa's sleigh.
"I'm going to light the fireplace. Can you go grab some firewood from your brother? And take him this while you're at it." Albus took the jacket his father handed him and sighed.
"Try to make an effort with your brother; your mother's starting to ask questions," his father whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder.
Albus nodded with a tight smile. He grabbed a scarf, wrapping it loosely around his neck, and stepped out into the yard. A freezing wind slapped his face, chilling him instantly. He considered going back inside for a coat, but if James could handle the cold, so could he.
He trudged through the snow toward his brother, who had his back to him, swinging a heavy ax down on a log, splitting it clean in half before setting up another one on the smooth stump.
"James!" Albus called, shivering despite himself in the cold. "Mom wants you to wear this."
But James didn't hear him, continuing to chop the logs with hard swings of the ax. Annoyed, Albus walked closer and threw the jacket onto his brother's head. James jumped, startled, and spun around quickly, swinging the ax in Albus's direction.
The blade grazed Albus's stomach, catching his vest and tearing it. Both stood frozen, their breath caught.
"Shit," James muttered, pulling the earbuds from his ears.
"You did that on purpose!"
"Don't be an idiot, you just scared me!"
"And your first reflex is to blindly swing an ax?!"
"I had my earbuds in, I didn't hear you coming, you scared the hell out of me!"
"This is payback for the punch to the face, isn't it?"
"Are you serious? You really think I'd do something like that? I'm your brother, for God's sake!"
They glared at each other, both furious and disappointed.
"Dad wants some firewood for the fireplace," Albus finally said, his eyes glistening.
James raised his arm, gesturing toward the split logs in the snow.
"Help yourself."
He slammed the ax into the stump he was using as a chopping block, put his earbuds back in, and walked toward the tool shed, slamming the door behind him.
Albus stared at the door for a moment, his heart still racing. He'd almost been split in two. Of course, James hadn't meant it. But for a second, he had believed he did. He still couldn't forgive him.
He picked up as many logs as he could carry and headed back inside. He knew he'd left the jacket lying in the snow, but let James get it himself. He stormed into the house, tossing his scarf and torn vest onto the coat rack, and carried the logs to the fireplace. Just as he was about to toss them into the hearth, a green light filled the room.
"Hey!"
"Sorry!"
Scorpius burst out laughing as the logs collapsed at their feet. He had almost gotten them all in his knees.
"I didn't realize it was already 3 PM," said Albus, his cheeks flushed from the cold. "We're really behind schedule!"
Scorpius smiled at him.
"That's not exactly the welcome I was expecting. I can come back later if you want," he teased, pretending to turn around to leave.
Potter stopped him, placing a hand on his arm.
"Stop it, I'm glad to see you. Come in."
Albus pulled him out of the fireplace. He was about to pull him into a hug but stopped, remembering they were in the middle of his parents' living room. Instead, he smiled, his eyes taking in Scorpius's face, still holding his hand.
Scorpius exhaled and gently withdrew his hand, stepping further into the living room to take in his surroundings. He placed his coat and scarf on a chair. He had made an effort to wear something that could pass for Muggle clothing—a pair of flannel trousers and a slightly puffed-sleeve shirt. While the style suited him perfectly, it didn't exactly look modern. But at least he wasn't wearing wizard robes.
The living room was a quintessential display of Muggle furnishings. A leather sofa accompanied by a coffee table and two matching armchairs occupied the center of the room, surrounding a beige woven rug. The beams were exposed, giving the room the feel of a proper English cottage. There was a large black TV flanked by speakers, an architect-style desk with a computer and printer, covered in papers and files.
It seemed Harry Potter worked more in the living room than in any office, if he even had one. Scorpius noticed Lily on a ladder, decorating the Christmas tree. She gave him a little wave from her perch, and he waved back timidly.
Albus watched Scorpius as he took in the room.
"So?"
Scorpius shrugged.
"It's cozy."
"Not as big as your place, I bet."
"At home, we only live in a part of the manor, about the same size as your house. At least, I think…" He trailed off as he noticed a figure approaching him.
Harry Potter—yes,the Harry Potter—was walking toward him, a warm smile on his face. Scorpius felt his breath quicken and cursed himself for it. Potter extended his hand, and Scorpius's heart clenched. This man had won a war, defeated Voldemort, and seen compromising photos of him with his own son. And…he knew things. He had told James to leave him alone, Scorpius remembered that. With that thought, he was relieved that his hand didn't tremble when he shook Harry Potter's hand.
"Welcome, Scorpius."
"Mr. Potter," the boy thanked him timidly.
"Call me Harry."
Yeah, like that's going to happen,Scorpius thought, not ready to be on first-name terms with the Hero of the Wizarding World, who was smiling warmly at him in a flour-stained sweater and jeans.
"You can give him the grand tour later, Albus. Your mother's calling us to the kitchen."
Albus rolled his eyes and led Scorpius toward the kitchen after his father. His mother always got stressed when Christmas was held at the Potters' house. Being the only woman among the Weasleys, she took the disapproving remarks from her mother the hardest. Ginny wasn't exactly a homemaker, and keeping the house wasn't her strong suit. Christmas was the one time she made an effort, and everyone had to pitch in.
The kitchen looked like a battlefield. Bowls floated in the air, being stirred by whisks or wooden spoons, mixing doughs, eggs, and sauces. The smell of melted butter, onions, and roasting meat filled the room. With her red hair tied back in a ponytail, Ginny Weasley was keeping an eye on three pots on the stove when they entered.
"Hello, Scorpius!" She wiped her hands on her apron and pulled him into a hug—an energetic, firm embrace that surprised the boy. Though she was slender, her body was all muscle and sinew, the figure of an athlete. "Sorry about the state of the kitchen, we're in the middle of the rush. There's only a few hours left before my mother arrives, and everything has to be ready, or else… Everything has to be ready!"
Harry slid a hand onto his wife's back and murmured something in her ear. She looked at him, puzzled.
"But I am calm!" Harry nodded with a patient smile, but Ginny was already ignoring him.
"Okay, so we've got minestrone for the starter and quail with grapes and foie gras for the main. I'm handling the desserts." She pulled knives out of a drawer and placed them on the table. "Albus! You and Scorpius will cut the vegetables into thin slices for the soup. James! Perfect timing," she called as James entered the kitchen, his hair disheveled and cheeks flushed. "You stand next to your father and peel the grapes by hand, slice them in half, and remove the seeds. And don't you huff! Everyone's helping."
"And what about Lily?" James asked insolently, completely ignoring Scorpius. Scorpius made sure to do the same.
"Your sister is finishing up all the decorations by herself! You want to trade places with her?"
James didn't answer and started peeling the grapes. Across from him, Scorpius kept his head down, not daring to look up. This was the first time he had been in the same room with both brothers since the night their story had come out. An uncomfortable tension crept into his lower back, the same tension he sensed in Albus—jaw clenched, eyes dark. He was radiating anger, a cold fury that Scorpius didn't know how to manage or make him forget. He had sincerely hoped they could avoid each other, not end up less than two meters apart, surrounded by their parents.
Scorpius sighed, grabbed the vegetables, and peeled onions, carrots, tomatoes, and celery, quickly slicing them into julienne strips on the cutting board with incredible speed. He worked for a while when he felt eyes on him.
Next to him, Albus had frozen, his knife in hand, staring at the precise, rapid movements of Malfoy in disbelief. Across from them, both James and Harry were wide-eyed. Unsettled by the silence, Scorpius looked up to find all eyes on him. And it wasn't pleasant.
"What?"
"What do you mean, 'what'?" Albus asked, surprised. "I didn't know you could cook."
Scorpius opened his mouth, then closed it again. He glanced at the table. He had nearly finished his task while Albus was only a quarter of the way through. The others hadn't made much progress either.
"You still have house-elves, right?" Ginny asked.
"Yes, of course." Scorpius quickly added with a smile, "But paid…as the law requires. We used to have servants and a butler at the manor."
"So, how come you know your way around a kitchen knife like that?"
"Mum, give him a break," Albus said.
Ginny's curiosity was pressing, and Potter could see Scorpius didn't want to answer.
"I'm just curious, my mother doesn't chop that fast! And it's hard to imagine the Malfoys in the kitchen."
That comment stung Scorpius, who pressed his lips together. What did Ginevra Weasley know about his family! But his anger subsided—it was just his misplaced pride. She had welcomed him into her home, after all.
"Actually, I cook a lot with my father. And he's even faster than I am."
"Well, I never would've guessed," Harry said, exchanging a knowing look with his wife.
"Dorian cooks with you?" Albus asked.
"No, he slept through it."
The puzzled looks returned, and Scorpius realized he had to explain, even if he hated talking about something so personal. But he had said too much already, so he picked up another vegetable from Albus's pile to keep busy as he spoke, avoiding their gazes.
"My father had nightmares and stayed up at night. I'd hear him wandering through the manor, and knowing he was awake and alone, I couldn't sleep either. I'd go looking for him when I knew he wasn't asleep. One night, the two of us insomniacs decided to make a midnight cake. And it just kept going from there—we started making more and more recipes, more and more complicated, in the middle of the night. Eventually, my father started sleeping, and so did I, but we kept cooking during the day. So that's why I'm quick with a kitchen knife."
"And you don't want to do that after Hogwarts?" Harry asked, still struggling with the grapes. "A restaurant or bakery, maybe?"
Scorpius gave a sad smile, shaking his head as he continued chopping.
"My name doesn't exactly scream 'delicious.' People would probably accuse me of poisoning the cakes and giving them to Muggle-born children."
"Things are changing, mindsets too," Harry said in a serious tone, and Scorpius looked up to meet his gaze. This was why he hated
"Things are changing, mindsets too," insisted Harry Potter in a serious, deep voice, and Scorpius looked up to meet his gaze. This was why he hated talking about his family—he didn't want hatred, but he also didn't want compassion. It all made him uncomfortable.
"Not fast enough. My children will probably have more choices."
Albus came to his rescue.
"And we still have three years at Hogwarts, so we have some time to figure it out, don't we?"
"You'll be asked to choose as early as next year," said Ginny.
"Thanks for the reminder," Albus grumbled.
"I'm not pressuring you, but it's time to start thinking about it. Your father and I knew what we wanted to do after Hogwarts quite early. And your brother has already decided."
Albus slammed his knife onto the table, making everyone in the kitchen jump.
"James is perfect, Mom, we get it!"
Scorpius wished he could melt into the floor and disappear. Across from him, James continued peeling grapes without missing a beat.
"Albus, it's Christmas. I don't know what's going on with you and your brother, but it can wait until after the holidays. Don't ruin today, please."
"Why are you saying I'm going to ruin the day?"
"I don't want any arguments today."
"That's not my intention!"
"You've been awful to your brother since you came back from Hogwarts, and he's been taking it without complaining."
"Oh great, of course! Poor, poor James!"
"Albus, do you really want me to raise my voice in front of Scorpius?"
Malfoy kept his head down, waiting for the storm to pass. Albus didn't respond, but Scorpius could see him clenching and unclenching his fists.
A sound of an engine and gravel crunching outside the house interrupted them. James went to the window and pulled back the curtain.
"Don't tell me they're already here," Ginny groaned.
"Yep, they're parking the motorcycle."
"What motorcycle?" Harry joined him at the window, intrigued. "Dudley's not with them?"
"Apparently not," James said, peering out through the glass. "They're riding a motorcycle in this snow?"
"Look at the size of the tires, they're not in any danger."
Ginny gathered all the vegetables and tossed them into a pot, ready to be boiled later in the evening, her movements sharp.
"We'll never finish in time if we have guests every hour." She turned to Scorpius. "Not you, of course. We were expecting you. But they're four hours early!"
"Who is it?" Malfoy asked.
"Amanda and Evan Dursley, my father's cousin's kids," answered Albus as he gathered the peelings to throw them in the trash. "Muggles."
"James, go welcome them," Ginny instructed as she placed the quails on the table. "I don't want them in the kitchen. We need to get things done. Harry, stop with that motorcycle and help me, please!"
"I'm here, I'm helping. What do you want me to do?" Harry asked calmly, moving closer to the table, running his hand along his wife's neck as she tried to relax, and Scorpius couldn't help but smile.
Albus took Scorpius's hand and pulled him out of the kitchen.
"We're going too, we'll be back."
He didn't wait for a response and led Scorpius after him. They grabbed their coats from the hallway and followed James outside. They had barely stepped out the door when a brunette girl, small and pretty, with full lips and curves, jumped into Albus's arms and, without hesitation, kissed him on the mouth.
"Amanda!" Albus exclaimed, pushing the girl away. "Stop with the kisses, we're not five anymore!"
"You tell me that every time!" she replied, laughing.
"And it's true every time!"
She ignored him and turned to James, grabbing his arm.
"Come see Evan's motorcycle! It's amazing!"
A little farther away, Lily was talking to a tall, well-built guy, sitting on a motorcycle, helmet in hand.
"Hey, James," he said, shaking hands with the boy. "Come on, hop on!" He got off the bike, letting James take his place. "Like it? You should ride it before we leave! You too, Al."
He moved toward Albus to greet him when he noticed Scorpius. He froze for a moment, looking him up and down.
"Wow… that's something," he said, pointing a finger, and Scorpius thought he must have misunderstood, but no, the guy was definitely pointing at him. Scorpius was about to snap back, but Lily beat him to it.
"He's taken," she said.
"By you?" the tall guy asked her.
"No, he's with me!" Albus cut in, his voice sharp and cold. He glared at the guy, as furious as Scorpius felt.
"Ah… shame," the guy muttered, one corner of his mouth curling into a half-smile, his eyes still fixed on Malfoy. "What's your name?"
Malfoy wanted to tell him to go to hell, but he was a guest and didn't want to start a fight with Harry Potter's family on Christmas Eve. He let his contempt show in his gaze and voice instead.
"Scorpius Malfoy."
"Scorpius," the guy repeated with a grimace. "Weird name, isn't it?"
Malfoy drew a deep, hissing breath through his teeth, but Evan interrupted.
"Sorry, don't get offended. Scorpius, nice to meet you. I'm Evan Dursley. I apologize for what I said earlier, but I was… caught off guard."
Behind him, Lily giggled.
"Stop thinking you're irresistible, Evan, you don't stand a chance. Plus, he's a Pureblood."
"Lily!" Albus exclaimed.
"A what?" Amanda asked, finally noticing Malfoy as if she were seeing him for the first time. Scorpius felt like a circus animal on display.
"Don't you all want to go inside?" James said tersely as he swung a leg over the motorcycle. "It's freezing." He wrapped an arm around Evan's shoulders and led him toward the house. "We'll try the bike later, with my dad."
The boy followed him, and Scorpius trailed behind, Amanda having once again forgotten his existence. Behind him, he could hear Albus arguing with his sister, insisting that "Pureblood" wasn't something you said in casual conversation with Muggles—or anyone, for that matter—while Lily insisted she didn't see the problem. He stopped listening. He hated those kinds of conversations anyway.
When he reached the hallway, he waited for Albus, and Lily brushed past him, clearly annoyed. Potter joined him, running his hands through his hair, tousled by the cold wind.
"Come on, let's go up to my room. We can take a breather."
He showed him the upstairs, pointing out his parents' room at the far left of the stairs, framed by Lily's room and a guest room. Opposite was an office, and to the right, the bathroom, James's room, and his own at the far end.
Albus's room was filled with books, magazines, clothes, and Muggle electronic devices. On the desk were two computer screens, a Super 8 camera, and film reels. Scorpius laughed at the mess in the room.
"You didn't even tidy up!"
Albus kicked some things aside to clear a path to the bed.
"You live in the same dorm as me, you know I don't tidy anything! I'm not going to pretend to do it here."
He turned on the computer, clicked a few times, and music filled the room.
"There, with that, no one will hear us."
He hesitated for a moment, watching Scorpius clear a space on the bed to sit, pushing the clothes aside. He kicked off his shoes and crossed his legs on the mattress. Potter smiled.
"I like this."
"What?"
"You, here." Scorpius raised an eyebrow, not understanding, which made Albus smile. "The fact that you're in my room." He nervously ran a hand through his hair. "I like you being here."
Scorpius averted his eyes, but he couldn't hide his smile.
Albus went to a closet.
"I've got to show you something. Don't freak out."
Scorpius watched him rummage through the closet and pull out a half-filled green binder. Carrying the folder with him, Albus sat down beside him. He hesitated, as if regretting pulling the binder from its hiding place. He took a deep breath and opened it.
"Oh my God!" Scorpius exclaimed, looking at the first image.
"Don't freak out, I said!"
Malfoy grabbed the binder from his hands and began flipping through the images, articles, and newspaper clippings. Everything ever published about him was in that binder, from professional photos to magazine articles.
"Rose told me you collected stuff about me, but I didn't think you had all this."
"I wasn't really collecting," Albus said, embarrassed. "But I kept what I found. I told you, I admired you a lot."
He watched as Scorpius flipped through the pages, pausing to read the titles of the articles, none of them very flattering. He stopped on a photo taken near a fountain, where he posed with a veil and angel wings.
"That one was taken at Kensington Park. It took us four hours to get the shot, and it was 2C. I've never been so cold in my life. My skin is almost blue, look!"
Albus nodded, and Scorpius turned the page, continuing to leaf through the binder.
"You can keep it if you want. I don't need it anymore."
Scorpius frowned, and Albus continued, "I know you now. I know none of it is true. I admired you for the wrong reasons."
"Oh."
Scorpius felt his throat tighten. He didn't know where the urge to cry was coming from, but it was there. He wished Albus would keep filling that green binder, more and more, that he'd care about every word published about him, every image of him. He wanted to remain that obsession. He couldn't understand this loss of interest, and it hurt him.
He closed the binder and handed it back to Albus.
"I don't want it, burn it if you like."
Surprised, Albus pushed the binder away.
"No way, I'm not burning it!"
"Why not?"
Scorpius's gaze was cold, and his voice sharp. His fingers clenched the bedspread.
"You don't want it anymore, you said so yourself! Then throw it out!"
He tossed it onto Albus's lap and moved back to the head of the bed.
Potter shook his head.
"I think you misunderstood. I don't want those images anymore because they don't represent who you are. They're just lies, none of it is true."
"But that's what interested you back then, right? The first time you came to see me, it was because you thought I was the person described in those pages?"
Albus took a deep breath. He didn't understand the boy's anger, and his own was starting to surface.
"Yes, back then, I wanted to meet you because I thought you were like they described. So what's the problem?"
"So, if you had known who I really was, you wouldn't have come. That's what you're telling me?"
Albus jumped up and threw the binder onto the floor.
"If I'd known how much of a pain you could be, no, that's for sure. Scorpius!"
He cut the boy off before he could shout, holding his hands up in front of him.
"I was trying to share something with you, to be honest with you or some crap like that. I could've thrown it out and never told you. So instead of getting upset, maybe try to understand what I'm saying. I don't idolize you anymore, that's true. I don't want to be like you anymore, that's for sure! But that just means I can tell the difference between wanting to 'be you' and wanting to 'be with you.' Is that so hard for you to understand?"
Scorpius exhaled, biting his tongue as he tried to calm down and process Albus's words.
"No, I understand," he finally said, but reluctantly, refusing to look at Albus, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.
"Good! And the other reason I don't want that binder anymore is that I don't want to keep pictures of you with various lovers, real or not. I'm already struggling to deal with the one who's in the next room!"
The remark hit its target, and Scorpius knew he couldn't argue with that.
"Okay," he conceded, still looking at the opposite wall. "I overreacted a bit."
"Maybe, yeah," Albus said, sitting back down on the bed.
He deliberately scooted closer to him, forcing Scorpius to accept his presence. He waited until Scorpius relaxed a bit before uncrossing his arms and taking one of his hands, playing with his fingers.
"And for the record, they're all fictional lovers," Scorpius said.
Albus smiled.
"Good to hear," he whispered.
Since Scorpius still refused to look at him, Albus moved away from the head of the bed and faced him on the mattress. Grabbing his ankles, he swiftly pulled him down onto the bed. Scorpius gasped in surprise, followed by laughter as Albus pinned him beneath him, pressing his weight down and forcing Scorpius to open his legs to make space between them. Albus tried to kiss him, but Scorpius playfully dodged his mouth several times, perhaps punishing him.
The game became more intense since they hadn't kissed in three days, and Albus couldn't stand it anymore. He tried to pin Scorpius's face and jaw, but Scorpius pinched his sides several times, forcing him to let go. Albus retaliated by pulling his hair. Finally, Malfoy gave in to a kiss he craved just as much. The world disappeared, and the room spun. They existed only where their skin touched and where their breaths mingled.
The kiss deepened quickly, and they parted their lips, their tongues intertwining along with their sighs. Feverish and breathless, they broke the kiss to catch their breath, foreheads pressed together. Another kiss followed, just as passionate, and then another, as their hands explored more intimately, pushing clothing aside in a burning desire to feel skin.
Suddenly, Albus pulled away from Scorpius's body and held himself above him, propped on his elbows. Malfoy lifted his head to capture his lips again, but Albus moved back, avoiding him, his expression dark.
"What's wrong?" Scorpius asked, his breath shaky.
Albus breathed slowly, looking at him as if trying to solve a puzzle.
"They're all fictional lovers?" he finally asked.
Scorpius didn't understand at first. He was asking if it was true that none of the men in those photos had been his lovers?
"Yes, they're all fictional."
"Then how many have there been?"
His throat tightened. He didn't understand this line of questioning.
"Just one."
At those words, Potter pulled away and sat on the edge of the bed.
Scorpius understood, and a cold fury filled him.
"Albus, don't do this!"
But Potter cut him off sharply.
"He knows?"
"...He figured it out."
He heard Albus sigh, a sharp sound of irritation. His fists clenched again at his sides. Scorpius slowly sat up on the bed, his head heavy, letting his hair cover his face as he murmured:
"We shouldn't have gotten together."
"Don't say that..."
"It was a mistake."
"Don't say that!"
Potter turned toward him suddenly, and Scorpius flinched. Albus realized the force of his reaction and reached out for him, but Scorpius avoided him, getting off the grabbed his shoes.
"We got together on a whim. You came to me the same night you found out about me and James." He pulled hard on the laces as he tied them, his fingers turning white where the tightly woven cotton pressed against them. "It was too soon! And look at you, you can't handle it!"
Albus grabbed his wrist, squeezing hard enough to hurt.
"I don't want to break up. And I refuse to let you leave me, you hear?!" He let go and turned away. "This will pass."
Scorpius got up and paced around the room, more to calm himself than out of real interest. He looked at the film reels and tapes, picking up a strange camera from the desk, but he wasn't really paying attention—his mind was elsewhere.
"Sometimes, I feel like this has nothing to do with me." He put the camera down and turned to Albus, who was standing still, lost in thought. "You just hate that James is better than you at anything."
"That's not true, it has everything to do with you. We're not talking about Quidditch!"
He stood and moved toward Scorpius.
"What happened, yeah, I can't stand it! If you had just dated my brother, I'd be disappointed and jealous, but I'd get over it. That's not what happened! And both of you act like nothing happened! You're not angry? I am! I'm furious and disgusted, and so is Dorian. We'd be less angry if you didn't accept things without a fight."
"Fight for what, and against what?" Scorpius sighed, shaking his head.
"Don't you want to make him pay? He's my brother, and I want to hit him every time I see him!"
"James and I said everything we needed to say to each other."
"Yeah, that's what he told me."
"Then accept it and move on!"
"Move on?!"
"Do you know it was James who ended our arrangement? Do you also know that the night you caught us, I was the one who went looking for him to hook up?" He almost wanted to laugh at the devastated look on Albus's face. "Ah, surprise! Stop making me out to be the victim and being angry on my behalf!"
Albus couldn't stop. Deep, fast breaths were lifting his shoulders.
"Why did you go to him?"
"When I left the match party, when you and Katie... I was looking for Dorian in Gryffindor Tower." He shrugged. "James was there..."
"Stop..." Albus interrupted, turning his gaze away. He ran his hands over his face, then through his hair, exhaling. "They're waiting for us, we should go downstairs."
He headed for the door. Scorpius was left confused.
"That's it?"
"Yes, that's it. I told you, it'll pass. But I want us to stay together."
Scorpius nodded, but he didn't believe it.
End of Chapter 28
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