Music I listened to while writing : Mon Corps - Ariane Moffatt

Chapitre 16 : Madness for Two... or Three (Folie à deux..ou Trois)

The end of class came too soon for Scorpius' liking. He mimicked the other students and stood up to pack his things, unsure if he should leave or go to Albus. He didn't know what to say to him.

He saw the boy out of the corner of his eye and was almost relieved that he didn't have to make the first move to approach him.

"Are you good now? Calmed down?"

Scorpius tensed under the sour tone. If he had hesitated about making peace, he reconsidered that decision. He ignored the boy, placing his book in his bag.

Albus continued, "If you don't want to see me anymore, you'll need to expand your circle of friends."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know. We argue, and you run off to mycousin. It's kind of pathetic, isn't it?"

When he saw Malfoy's hurt expression, Albus dropped his cynical act.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. But Scorpius quickly closed his bag and followed the other students out of the classroom. "Scorpius! Wait. I said wait!"

He grabbed Malfoy's arm and froze when Scorpius gave him a look full of hate.

"Rose is right," the boy muttered. "I really don't bring out the best in you."

Malfoy shoved him off and walked out. He heard Albus calling after him, but he ignored him and slipped away down a hidden corridor. Once he felt deep enough inside the castle, tears began to flow, and he rubbed his eyes to wipe them away. He looked at his hands, black streaks staining his fingers.

"Damn it!" he grumbled. He remembered Albus' mocking words. He shouldn't have cried with makeup on.

He ducked into a bathroom and tried to remove the makeup. He didn't know a spell for that and scrubbed his eyes with soap and water. His reddened eyes hurt, so he quickly cast a healing charm for scratches, hoping it would also work on irritation. The stinging stopped. He took several deep breaths. He wanted to calm down before leaving; he refused to start crying again. He stayed in the bathroom for a good ten minutes, cursing himself for his weakness, reduced to hiding to avoid crying in the hallways.

When he was sure he could keep it together, he decided to head to the library. Albus probably wouldn't be there. He didn't want to see him.

Around a corner, he was yanked backward. Someone squeezed his arm hard enough to hurt. He turned to face his attacker, who was dragging him into a narrow hallway.

"Oh, give me a break!"he growled, cursing the universe. "Let go of me, Potter!"

"Hurry up," said James. "Before someone sees us together."

Twice, he tried to yank his hand from Potter's grip, and when he thought a knee to the shin might work better, he heard footsteps approaching from the end of the corridor. He really didn't want to be seen with James. Potter heard the footsteps too, opened a door, and pulled them both into an empty classroom. He drew his wand, and Scorpius heard the lock click.

James turned to face him. His brown hair was disheveled, his eyes shadowed. Scorpius was glad to see that the day had been rough on someone other than him.

Potter raised his hand, showing a crumpled piece of paper between two fingers.

Scorpius' note, the one he'd sent in the form of a bird.

"What do you mean by this?"

"Can't you read?"

"Of course I can read, for God's sake, but that doesn't explain what you meant by it!"

"What's written on it!" Scorpius snapped, as if speaking to a slow child.

James inhaled angrily, but Malfoy wasn't afraid. In fact, he felt nothing. He almost wanted to thank Goyle for that.

"You've had a tough week," Potter suddenly said, as if trying to convince both Scorpius and himself. "You're not thinking straight."

"It has nothing to do with that. I meant what I wrote. It's over, James."

Potter stared at him, seemingly uncertain. He nervously bit his lower lip.

A habit Albus shares, Scorpius thought.

"You hate this, don't you?" asked Potter, unsure.

Scorpius nearly laughed at the absurdity of James' disillusionment.

"James... are you kidding me?"

"How long have we been sleeping together? Almost two months?"

Scorpius shrugged. He hadn't marked the date of their first hookup on a calendar…

"So why now? You could've stopped before."

"I don't remember having much of a choice."

"Cut that out," James spat. "You could've said no."

"Your memory is bad. You bargained Dorian's safety for regular sex."

James winced.

"Framed like that... It sounds a bit melodramatic, doesn't it?"

Scorpius felt waves of anger rising within him. The way the Potters made light of his every reaction ate away at him. They made him feel insane, exaggerated.

Once again, he felt humiliated.

"I'm leaving."

"I'm not finished," James said, grabbing his collar, but the boy shoved him away.

"I'm done! I don't know what game you're playing, James, but I'm tired of this crap."

"I'm not playing any game."

"Oh, please, stop! You're telling me I could've stopped anytime? Like we both agreed from the start?! You're delusional, stop pretending to be the good guy."

"I know I blackmailed you at first…"

"Blackmailed? You put a damn threat over my head!"

"I wanted you!" James shouted. "And I would've gotten you another way if that hadn't worked. But, lucky for me, Dorian got roughed up at the right time, by friends no less. It's disgusting, yeah, but I took my shot."

"Oh! And of course, you didn't orchestrate the whole thing, did you? Neither you nor your gang of psychos?"

"As if you and Nott needed me to get yourselves beat up! You gonna say Goyle was my fault too?"

Scorpius exhaled loudly, exasperated.

"You disgust me!"

He pushed James and headed for the door.

"It's Albus, isn't it?"

Scorpius ignored him and grabbed the handle, but it was locked. He cursed and reached for his wand, but James snatched it from his hand. When he tried to take it back, Potter shoved him backward.

He pointed the wand at him.

"It's Albus, isn't it?"

Scorpius shook his head, his breathing uneven.

"Let me go!"

"It's because of him that you want to stop, isn't it?!"

"Unlock the door, James!"

"Answer me!"

Scorpius took a deep breath, locking eyes with James, holding his gaze.

"Your brother matters to me..." Scorpius murmured.

Suddenly, James shoved him against the wall, furious. The tip of the wand pressed into his throat.

"Shut up!" he said, and Malfoy could feel his breath on his face. "Don't ever say that again! You don't deserve someone like my brother!"

And it hurt. Because it was probably true. He and Albus were unhealthy. That's what Rose had said, right?

"He idealizes you," James continued, "but as soon as he realizes who you are, he'll cut you out of his life, and you can count on me to paint the worst picture of you."

"Go ahead! Tell him! Right now, you can spill everything. You're lucky—I'm not exactly basking in a saintly glow today. He'll probably agree with whatever you say. You can revel in it, spew all your bile! Go on! What are you waiting for?!"

His voice broke, and shameful tears welled up in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

James stepped back, lowering the wand. His anger seemed to fade. He took his own wand and placed both on the classroom desk. He rubbed his hands over his face and seemed to think.

"Listen," he said softly. "We don't have to go that far."

Scorpius shook his head, unable to comprehend Potter's words.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'll give you time to think. We'll both focus on this damn match. But afterward, we'll go back... like before."

"I'm not coming back."

"I'll let you know when and where, as usual."

"I'm not coming back!"

"Listen!" James grabbed the boy's shoulders in a painful grip and dug his fingers into the flesh. "I saw you covered in your own blood, believe it or not, I didn't like that. But if you push me..." He stroked the marks on Scorpius' throat. "I promise you'll regret it."

"You're a real psycho, James Potter," Scorpius muttered.

Potter kissed him. His mouth was warm against Scorpius's, persistent, tasting him with a frightening greed. Scorpius felt James's tongue on his lips, trying to enter his mouth. The kiss deepened as James cupped his face, fingers slipping into his hair, pressing too hard on his jaw. Scorpius placed both hands on the boy's chest to push him away, but the pressure on his face increased, and when he tried to protest, James forced his tongue into his mouth, shoving him violently against the wall, grinding his erection against Scorpius's stomach.

Scorpius gripped James's wrists to make him release his head. James did, without stopping the kiss, letting his hands slide down Scorpius's chest and hips, intensifying the grinding of his body against him. James's fingers found his belt, tugging at the buckle.

Alarmed, Scorpius tried to push away the hand slipping into his pants, scratching at the arm and wrist.

He broke free from the kiss.

"James! No, James."

He hated the pleading tone in his own voice. Potter recaptured his lips and resumed his assault, and Scorpius lost.

Hot fingers gripped his erection, Scorpius cried out and then froze, panting, his body tense. James pressed against him, planting soft, warm kisses on his temple, while his fingers started massaging him; gently at first, then with a firmer grip and longer, faster strokes.

With his other hand, James caressed the boy's cheek, his fingers sliding to the back of Scorpius's neck, alternating his gaze between Scorpius's feverish, watery gray eyes and the sight of the boy's arousal in his hand, matching the rhythm of Scorpius's increasingly ragged moans.

"Look at you, you're so…" James's voice vibrated with emotion, his lips grazing Scorpius's face, lingering on his mouth, leaving the warm imprint of his breath on Scorpius's cheeks.

Scorpius's mind went blank, his entire being focused on that shameful part of himself where James's hand was drawing out cries from him. James had never done this before. James wanted to climax. Scorpius's own pleasure, when he experienced it, was usually just an afterthought. James took, James possessed.

But right now, the pleasure was his alone, and this sensation filled him with fantastic tremors, delightful shivers that didn't hurt. There was no pain, no possession. Only pleasure, pure pleasure radiating through him.

He was moaning, his voice foreign to his own ears. The damp heat of excitement clung to his body, and a more musky scent—the smell of James—lingered on his skin and in his mouth. His knees buckled, but he didn't fall.

Blinded, he felt James holding him up against the wall, their breathing heavy against each other's ears, the grind of James's erection against his stomach and the relentless hand around his own arousal. His forehead was damp, beads of sweat trailing down his back. He pushed off the wall, gripping James by the shoulders, wrapping his arms around him, comforted by the firmness of his chest against his own. With his face buried in James's neck, he leaned his fevered body against the boy who was holding him with a firm hand, pressing into the small of his back, while his other hand moved even faster on him.

He didn't know when James had freed his own erection from his pants; it seemed as if his hands had never left Scorpius's skin. He could feel the slick, hard texture of James's member against his, with every precise, lascivious thrust of James's hips.

James kissed his throat, nibbling at the skin, sending waves of sharp, delicious tingles through Scorpius, who dug his nails into James's back, clinging to him and twisting his shirt, indifferent to the sound of fabric tearing.

Suddenly, he couldn't breathe, and his whole body tensed as ecstasy washed over him in furious, white-hot waves. Cries of pleasure erupted from his lips as he spilled onto James's hand and erection.

Trembling, vision blurred, Scorpius felt a powerful languor seep into his limbs as the vibrations of the orgasm left his body. His legs gave way, and strong arms caught him as he collapsed.

He woke up against the cold stone. His head lolled against the hard surface, disoriented. He was still in the classroom, lying on the floor. Not far from him, sitting with his back against the wall, James was spinning a pocket watch. It looked like gold, as did the chain James was twirling, as if hypnotized by it. Scorpius recognized the Black family crest engraved on the back. Potter seemed focused, faint lines furrowing his brow.

Malfoy watched the young man, his tanned, healthy skin, his generous lower lip that he nervously caught between his teeth. His brown eyes had the same coppery highlights as his hair. Scorpius wanted to move closer to him, seeking his scent.

"You fainted," James said without looking at him.

That stopped him. Scorpius averted his eyes.

"What time is it?"

"9 p.m. Curfew will start soon."

Malfoy sat up and realized he was wearing James's jacket. He took it off and handed it back, puzzled.

"You weren't wearing your robe," James said, "I thought you'd be cold."

"You expect me to thank you?"

"I don't expect anything from you," Potter replied with a bitter smile. "Unlike Albus, I'm not dumb enough to think you could be grateful for anything."

"Then stop flipping between being a jerk and a knight in shining armor if you're sure it won't get you anything."

Scorpius frowned, thinking hard, trying to resolve some internal dilemma, glancing at Potter out of the corner of his eye. "Were you there when I was in the hospital wing?" He seemed to remember James, or rather, hearing Albus talk about him.

Potter looked surprised by the question. He put on his jacket.

"No, just the first day. I was with my brother when we found you. He stayed with you while I went for help."

"And then you found Dorian to stay with me? And then stalked me through the halls to jerk me off in a classroom? What's wrong with you?"

James stood, dusted off his pants, and slid his wand into his pocket. He tossed Scorpius's wand to the floor near his leg.

"You and me, I want it to continue," James said suddenly.

"There is no you and me."

But Potter wasn't listening. He crouched down next to the boy.

"And I don't want to give you a choice. Because you're filth, a pest. A poisoned candy. The more you're strangled, the less you bite. I don't trust you." He paused, thinking. "But I'm not the worst bastard, despite what you think. I would never have left you bleeding on the ground. And I'm enough of a… gentleman not to screw you just anywhere and leave you passed out on the floor."

"You do it with others, don't you? So why not with me?"

James didn't answer. He grabbed Scorpius's arm and pulled him to his feet. Scorpius realized his pants were still undone.

"Get dressed, the prefects will start their rounds soon."

Scorpius obeyed. He saw a few stains on the fabric and wondered if it was his own or James's. A shiver ran through him.

"I almost liked today," he said slowly, more to himself than to James. He fastened his belt. "Maybe because you weren't inside me. It's less disgusting."

James exhaled loudly, rolling his eyes, then looked at Scorpius while licking his lip.

"You'd like to punch me in the face, wouldn't you?" Malfoy asked.

"It's tempting, yeah."

"Psycho," Scorpius muttered loudly enough for Potter to hear.

James ignored him and unlocked the door.

"I'll leave first. Wait a few minutes before you follow. And next time you use a damn bird to send me your notes, don't send it before seven in the morning. That thing woke me up at dawn."

Scorpius smirked and flipped him off, which James returned before leaving.

He waited ten minutes before leaving as well. Since he was completely in the wrong wing of the castle, he quickened his pace, all while being discreet at every corridor crossing.

As he walked, a scent made him falter—the scent of James that clung to his clothes, the same one he had sought earlier while watching Potter as he woke up. An exciting smell, one that reminded him of his orgasm. He had climaxed with all the masculinity of the act. Without James being inside him. There had been nothing humiliating about what had happened. He didn't feel sullied or possessed. The pleasure had pierced through him, without guilt, without regret.

It didn't change anything for him; he wouldn't go back to James.

He was just confused and a bit troubled by what had happened, by his own body's reactions, which had been so passive, disinterested in sex. He never touched himself. Yet he could hear the other boys at night, those who didn't know how to cast a silencing spell or who simply failed. Their moans of pleasure intrigued him, but he wasn't interested. Until now. These new sensations left him perplexed, but they also reassured him. There was a hint of normality in this body after all.

He reached the Slytherin dungeons. He was almost at the door when some entwined figures caught his eye. His heart raced, and he stopped for a moment, squinting.

There, in a corner near the entrance, barely hidden in the shadows, Albus was kissing Kate Davies.

His fingers caressed the long black hair of the girl, who had her arms wrapped around him. They were so tightly pressed together, engrossed in their embrace, that they didn't notice the boy watching them.

Scorpius felt nausea rising in his throat. Head down, he murmured the password and crossed the common room.

His mind was empty, but his stomach ached. He didn't know what it was, but the nausea was still there. In the bathroom, he found a damp cloth and applied it to his neck.

When he got to the dorm, he opened the trunk at the foot of his bed, searching for the yellow vial he had taken from the infirmary, an anti-nausea potion to prevent the stomach from rejecting other healing potions. He had never used it, so it was in this trunk. His stomach still hurt, and he ended up dumping everything out of the chest, scattering the contents carelessly. It seemed like glass had shattered. He wasn't thinking anymore. He just wanted the pain to stop. The chest had been enchanted with a minimalism spell, so it could hold ten times more than its actual volume. And now all that content was scattered across the room. At his limit, Scorpius stood up, grabbed the chest, and tipped it over onto the floor. He then began searching for the vial amidst the books, clothes, letters, notebooks, magazines, shoes, jewelry, and cigarette packs. He finally found it, opened it, and downed almost the entire thing in one gulp, not caring about the dosage.

A soothing warmth coated his stomach almost instantly, and the nausea ceased. He wanted to enjoy this relief, but his head spun, and his vision blurred. Dropping the bottle, he leaned his back against the wooden chest, pulled his knees to his chest, rested his forehead on them, and waited for it to pass.

"Scorpius?"

Albus's voice woke him.

He had fallen asleep kneeling against the chest. His head was resting on his arm, which was draped over the wooden edge. Blood had drained from the limb, and the imprint of the chest was marked on his skin. He groaned when he tried to move. His knees hurt too.

"Are you okay?" Potter asked, approaching to help him up, weaving through the scattered objects.

Scorpius pushed him away. He didn't want to look at him anymore. His lips were swollen, still red from the kiss, and Malfoy was disgusted.

"Nausea. Nothing serious."

"Nothing serious?" Potter asked, glancing around at the battlefield that was once their dorm. "Do you want me to take you to the infirmary?"

"No."

He watched as Albus picked up the yellow bottle and screwed the cap back on. Some of the liquid had spilled. Potter frowned, stunned by the mess, at the clothes and books thrown out of the chest. There was a clinking sound under his feet, and he stepped back. A mirror had broken among the discarded items. Albus picked up the silver frame and placed it on the bed.

The dormitory door opened.

"Hey Al, is it true what they're saying about you and Davies? Wow, this room looks like a localized hurricane hit it."

"We'll talk about it later, Carlson, okay?"

Potter smiled briefly, embarrassed, his cheeks flushed.

"I hope so," replied Linz absentmindedly, glancing at Scorpius. He knew the mess was Malfoy's doing and had no desire to be around when Scorpius had a meltdown. He bumped Albus's shoulder, winked at him, and left.

Faced with the state of the room, Potter would have preferred to be elsewhere too.

"Do you want to talk, or…?"

"No".

"No, of course not, why do I even bother asking?"

Albus ran a hand through his hair, casting furtive glances at the boy picking up the books.

He grabbed a sweater, folded it, and stepped forward to place it in the chest. He cleared his throat.

"I was with Kate", he stated flatly, observing the boy's reactions. I kissed her.

"I know, I saw you."

"Oh".

Albus had expected more… of an outburst from Malfoy.

But seeing him calm, he continued,

"She asked me out. She already did the day you left the infirmary."

Scorpius still wasn't looking at him, putting things away with controlled movements.

It seemed like the boy was biting the inside of his lip.

"I haven't answered yet. Kate is…"

"Albus", Scorpius interrupted sharply, abruptly dropping the book he was holding. "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know", Albus said with a shrug, and Scorpius resumed tidying up, tense. "Maybe advice or to tell me I'm making a mistake. The kind of things friends say to each other."

"Friends?" hissed Scorpius.

"Great, thanks", Albus said, tossing the book into the chest and getting to his feet, brushing off his knees. "You know what, deal with it yourself! It's not my mess after all. You're really…"

He searched for words, disillusioned.

"If you were my friend, you'd be… I don't know… happy for me…"

"You were right", Scorpius suddenly said, facing him. "When I left, I was with a guy. And yes, I slept with him. Every time."

Potter blinked several times. He didn't seem to understand. Then the words made sense, and his breathing quickened, his mouth opening, but no sound came out. His shoulders slumped.

Scorpius smirked, contemptuous, and continued,

"If you were my friend, it wouldn't hurt this much."

When he saw Albus's face pale, Scorpius knew he had hurt him. Something inside Albus was breaking, he could almost see it.

That's what he had wanted, and even though his heart was bleeding, he reveled in this victory. He had a knack for sharp words, even if saying them hurt now. He didn't recognize the glint in Albus's eyes. Anger? Disappointment? Sadness? It didn't matter, he had won.

He looked away, feigning indifference, and went back to his tidying. He didn't want to cry before Albus left.

But suddenly, he was thrown against the wall. He stumbled over the scattered books and hit his head on the stone. The pain stunned him, and he fell to the floor, his elbow scraping the wall, hands pressed against his skull. Momentarily dazed, he weakly lifted his eyes to the one who had pushed him. To Albus.

The boy stared at him, eyes wet and piercing, jaw clenched, fists tightening and loosening. His lower lip trembled.

"You've tried to hurt me for the last time." His voice vibrated with anger, his whole body trembling. "I don't care what we had between us. You and me, we're done."

Scorpius remained frozen, watching Albus cross the room and disappear behind the door. It felt like his entire body had gone numb, incredulous and indifferent. He understood the boy's anger. If there's pain, why not share it? He had nothing against the principle. His eyes fixed on the door. He could feel Albus's words seeping into his veins like poison. It hurt, but he told himself it would pass. He didn't need Potter. Hot-headed, overbearing Potter, who had barged into his life unannounced. Let him leave the same way!

A shiver ran through him as he stood up. He felt strange, unsteady. He kept looking at the door. He didn't know how long he stayed there, staring at it, or even why. He blinked, touching his head, thinking the impact had been stronger than he realized, as he felt dazed, as if a very heavy weight had settled on his frail shoulders. He climbed onto his bed and drew the curtains, leaving the chest open and the possessions scattered.

The shivers were still there, and the invisible thread sewn to his heart pulled and stretched, unbearable. His heart raced, tightened, then pounded, and tears slipped from his eyes.

Suddenly, he was no longer sure he hadn't loved that impetuous and burdensome boy, and he suddenly regretted not having realized it a few minutes earlier or even much earlier, as it seemed to him that this love had existed for a long time already.

He lay there for a long time, on the blanket, jumping at every sound of the door opening and never seeing the one he was waiting for.

But that night, Albus did not return.

End of Chapter 16