Author: Anonymous
Recipient: maraudersaffair
Title: Penitence
Pairing(s): Albus/Scorpius
Summary: Albus Potter is a prankster and Scorpius Malfoy is the very picture of innocence. There will be hell to pay when both are sorted into Slytherin.
Rating: NC17
Warning(s): A brief hint of Albus/Zabini, but it was necessary.
Word Count: ~30,200
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Notes: The recipient requested UST, angst, touching, physical fights, best friends, family interaction, following their relationship from the beginning of Hogwarts to maturity, and sorting them both into Slytherin. *whew* There were more, but those are the ones I managed.
Penitence



Part One

Year One



Albus Severus Potter and Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy had nothing in common except the fact that their parents saddled them both with horrible names and the Sorting Hat placed them both in Slytherin. During their first year at Hogwarts they barely noticed the existence of one another. Albus, after all, had relatives and friends in every House and therefore wandered the castle freely. He spent most of his time in the company of his Hufflepuff best friend, Harry Ebenezer Lawrence Longbottom, whose name was so atrocious that everyone had taken to calling him by his initials. Thus it was that Al and Hell were always together, Slytherin and Hufflepuff.

Scorpius was just as firmly attached to his own best friend, Bleys Zabini. By the end of their first year, the two were considered by their fellow students to be the Yin and Yang of evil—Bleys dark-skinned and exotic, Scorpius pale and wraith-like, both seemingly soulless, and yet with such charming personalities that adults couldn’t help but second-guess themselves and cut the winsome pair plenty of slack.

Between the double pairing of Albus and Hell, Scorpius and Bleys, the teachers at Hogwarts had much with which to contend. Al and Hell were pranksters in the tradition of the infamous Weasley twins, while Scorpius and Bleys cut a swath of torment through the students with every illegal act imaginable. They sold homework cheats, potions, amulets, charms and restricted spell books. Nearly anything was available for a price, and yet the slick Slytherins were rarely caught. Scorpius became so adept at pretending sterling innocence that by his second year at Hogwarts he was firmly stuck with the sardonically bestowed nickname of Pious.

Pious found it highly amusing.



Year Two



Al Potter and Pious Malfoy both made the Slytherin Quidditch team. It was expected that at least one of them would make Seeker, considering their fathers, but both were selected as Beaters, possibly due to their single-minded determination to send Bludgers at each other’s heads during tryouts.

Quidditch practice was largely spent with Potter and Malfoy trying to injure each other. The Slytherin Captain became adept at separating the two, although he was secretly pleased at their increasing accuracy. Their rivalry seemed to have little to do with personal conflict. Away from Quidditch, the two seldom saw one another. Al had been raised with stories of the wicked Malfoys, largely passed down from his Uncle Ron, and Scorpius remembered his father’s tone whenever he heard the name Potter. It was nothing personal.

Both were competitive enough to keep their differences off the pitch during games and the Slytherin Quidditch team soared to victory during their second year.



Year Three



During their third year at Hogwarts, Al Potter and Pious Malfoy made several interesting discoveries. Al became interested in two things—girls, and pulling pranks on Pious Malfoy. The pranking began shortly after a particularly brutal Quidditch practice, when Malfoy’s Bludger knocked the wind out of Al and nearly sent him spiralling to the ground. The interest in girls came naturally.

Albus went out with every girl that struck his fancy, ploughing through the four houses like he was running an amorous marathon. He became known as the King of Snog. None of the girls could hold his attention for long, however. He would pursue them, snog them, fondle them improperly, and leave them begging for more. The process usually only took a few days. Not a single one lasted longer than three weeks. The shortest on record was held by a Slytherin girl who merited one twenty minute snog on the dungeon steps before Albus declared her a substandard kisser and dropped her like an old sock.

She wept for three days.

Pious Malfoy might have discovered girls, but if he did it was not publicly known. Due to his constant companionship with Bleys Zabini, most of the student body assumed he was not interested in girls at all. The girls who might have considered finding out for themselves were warned away by a persistent rumour. Stories abounded that Pious Malfoy would arrange a date with a girl, drug her, drag her into the Forbidden Forest for a night of debauchery and sadistic rituals, and then cast a Memory Charm on her to keep him safe from discovery. Most girls were too terrified to risk it.

Albus Potter, of course, had started the rumour. It was only fair, he rationalized, to get even for the touching.

Second year was also when Pious Malfoy discovered that Albus Potter hated to be touched. Unless he was snogging one of his momentary flings, Albus did not like people touching him. At all. A careless hug or possessive grip on his arm was instant grounds for dismissal from Potter’s person. Everyone close to him suspected it was the reason Al’s relationships were so short-lived.

Pious exploited Al’s little phobia to the best of his wicked ability. When he wasn’t draped over Bleys, he was touching Albus Potter. Pious would give Al friendly punches on the shoulder, a gentle pat on the cheek, a sharp smack on his arse, or Pious’s personal favourite, a chokehold arm around Al’s neck while he leaned close and nuzzled Al’s throat. Regardless of how hard or soft, lengthy or brief the touch, the result was the same—a shout of rage and a flying hex, spell or fist.

Pious became adept at sneak attacks and Shield Charms. Al became a master at listening for the soft whisper of footsteps and avoiding all areas large and dark enough to conceal a lurking body.

“Fucking ponce,” Al would mutter as he rubbed his backside, sore from a pinch in the crowded hallway. Hell would nod in commiseration and make a suggestion for their next trick on the blond Slytherin.

“Bloody lunatic,” Pious would mutter as he rubbed his jaw, sore from a Potter pounding. Bleys would roll his eyes.

“Why don’t you just leave him alone?” Bleys would ask.

“Do you not recall what he has done to us? Our robes turned pink in Potions class! We had flashing ‘I’m an idiot’ signs on our backs. Our pastries exploded at the breakfast table. Our ties were charmed to act like snakes for an entire day. Potter must pay and since the thing he despises most is a hand on his lily-white skin, then by Merlin I shall provide that hand until he begs for mercy.”

“That sounds really pervy,” Bleys commented.

“Shut up, Bleys.”



Year Four



The Potter/Malfoy war escalated during their fourth year. Both were still Beaters on the largely undefeated Slytherin Quidditch team, and it was one of the few times they did not actively try to destroy each other. Most of Slytherin House had chosen sides, dividing almost evenly down the centre. Between blackmail, bribery, homework assistance, and ruthless application of Malfoy charm, half of the Slytherins were firmly in the Malfoy corner. The ones that swayed to the Potter camp either had personal grievances against Malfoy or they chose to back the famous Potter name. Albus also came with perks, such as friends and relatives in other Houses, as well as access to everything in his famous uncle’s joke shop.

The touching war of Pious Malfoy had degenerated into actual pouncing, punching, and pounding of Al’s head into the ground, as well as biting, ear pulling, and mindless slugging. The retaliatory pranks of Albus threatened to get both him and Hell expelled. Under orders from their parents, James Potter confiscated all prank-related materials and kept Albus under close scrutiny until the school term ended.

Without the need to retaliate, Pious eased back on his war of touch and their fourth year ended almost peacefully.

It was the calm before the storm.



Part Two

Year Five



Al congratulated himself on successfully avoiding Pious until the train began to move. He sat with his siblings and Hell and spent the entire trip playing catch-up, even though Hell knew most everything that had occurred during the summer. Al’s letters to Hell had been frequent and heartfelt and they had gotten together several times, mostly when Al’s father became tired of dealing with him and needed a break.

“How soon before he starts making trouble?” Hell asked. Al did not need to ask the subject of Hell’s question.

“Are you joking? He’s probably plotting right now. I assume Bleys is still here and wasn’t shipped off to Durmstrang?” Al asked the last hopefully, although he really didn’t have anything against Bleys. It was his blond counterpart that caused Al’s daily headaches.

“Well, we’ll just have to take the offensive, won’t we?” Hell said soberly. Al smiled at him fondly. Hell patted down his curly brown hair and returned Al’s grin. For a supposedly mild mannered Hufflepuff, Hell was awfully crafty. Sometimes Al wondered why he hadn’t been sorted into Ravenclaw like his mother.

“Yes, Hell. Yes, we will.” Al launched into a long description of the items he had smuggled from home after secretly hiding them away over the summer. He had gotten away with quite a large number of them, even though his father had given Al’s belongings a thorough shakedown before Al had left for school. Luckily, his father had not allowed James to do it. His brother had an uncanny knack for finding Al’s hiding places. A decoy stash of prank items had satisfied his father upon confiscation.

Al nearly made it off the train without incident, but he later determined that Pious had ruthlessly stalked him. How else could he have caught Al off-balance trying to exit the train and one foot partially in midair? A cool hand dropped onto the back of Al’s neck, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin.

Al stumbled the rest of the way off the train and nearly sprawled on his hands and knees before catching himself.

“Bloody hell, Potter, you certainly are jumpy. One might think you had a guilty conscience about something,” the hated voice drawled.

Al flung himself upright and glared at the blond. Bleys stood next to him with a wry grin.

“Hey, Al,” Bleys said in a friendly tone that did not fool Al for a moment. Bleys Zabini had no more love for him than Pious did. Bleys continued, “Have a nice summer?”

Al snarled. “As if you didn’t already know. Why don’t you try and keep this menace away from me this year? I’ve seen more than enough of him to last me a lifetime.” Al did not miss the irritated glance Pious threw to Bleys. That was interesting. Had Bleys spoken without the permission of his overlord? Maybe Bleys had developed a spine over the summer? Normally he was so soft spoken he barely voiced a thought that hadn’t been previously uttered by Malfoy. Bleys had changed physically over the summer, filling out in the shoulders and slimming elsewhere. He was still shorter than Pious, but not by much. His hair was nicely styled, as usual, and his features were more defined. His dark eyes were sober and measuring.

Al dragged his eyes back to his nemesis with a mental hiss. He was not checking out Bleys Zabini! What the hell was wrong with him? Instead, his eyes unwillingly travelled over Pious Malfoy. He had already noticed the changes in the blond without actually allowing them to register. Pious seemed even sharper and leaner than usual. His cheekbones were sharply defined, causing his grey eyes to stand out like silver coins. His hair fell over his eyes in a style that was likely just long enough to annoy his father. His school robes were immaculate, as usual, and looked as if they had been purchased from a designer label rather than selected at normal shops. Al wondered if they had been modified to fit the blond perfectly and then sneered at the thought. Of course they had. Pious Malfoy would not dare be caught looking anything less than perfect.

His scrutiny of the blond was brought to an abrupt halt by a pale hand reaching out to caress his cheek. Al jerked away furiously.

“Like what you see, Potter?” Pious asked in a suggestive tone and Al suddenly wanted to hit him. He pulled back his fist but Hell grabbed his arm quickly.

“No, Al! School hasn’t even started yet!” he hissed into Al’s ear. “There are better ways.”

Al took a deep breath and swallowed his anger. Hell was right. There would be time enough to get even with Pious Malfoy, in ways that would hopefully not get them tossed out of school. He glared at Pious one last time and followed Hell to the nearest carriage. When the Sorting was over, the vengeance would begin.



~~- oOo -~~



Pious grinned beatifically and watched Al and Hell march away to enter a horseless carriage. He chuckled aloud and Bleys gave him a curious glance.

“You know they are going to get even, don’t you?” Bleys asked.

“I’m counting on it,” Pious said levelly. “My new goal for this year is to get Albus Potter expelled. He won’t be his daddy’s little angel for long.”

Pious waited until the carriage containing Potter was nearly out of sight before striding to another. He climbed into the dark interior and helped Bleys inside with an outstretched hand.

“Al has a lot of relatives at Hogwarts. Won’t they want revenge?”

Pious granted Bleys a smirk and then turned an icy glare on a second year student who had the temerity to attempt entry into their carriage. The boy faltered and backed away before hurrying to find a more hospitable welcome. “Actually, our little friend Al will do it to himself. He has already been warned not to pull pranks on anyone this year.”

“Not even you?” Bleys asked and chortled.

“Especially not me,” Pious said smugly and Bleys gasped. Pious reached out and slammed the carriage door on a portly Ravenclaw girl before she could try and climb aboard. A quick Locking Spell kept her out, even though she pounded gamely on the door.

“Are you certain?” Bleys asked.

Pious nodded. “I have it on good authority that James Potter is directly responsible for policing Al’s actions. Given who he is, of course, Albus is bound to get away with several offences. You know how the teachers like to look away rather than incur the potential wrath of the Vanquisher of Voldemort.”

Bleys winced slightly.

“What?” Pious asked.

“I hate it when you use the name of You-Know-Who. My parents said he had the power to hear his name at any distance…”

Pious would have given Bleys a smack on the head if his gullible friend had been in reach. As it was, he gifted him with a glare just as the carriage lurched and moved forward. “Bleys, the old bastard is long dead! Give the superstition a rest. We’re talking about Potter here. Remember Albus?”

Bleys sighed. “I was sort of hoping we could bury the hatchet this year.”

Pious sat forward angrily. “Have you gone Hufflepuff over the summer? Do you not remember what that cretin did to us last year? And the year before? And the year before that?”

“I remember,” Bleys said wearily. “Frankly, I’m not looking forward to it this year. I would really like to be a normal student and concentrate on my studies instead of watching my back for flying cakes, examining my toothpaste for tampering, and double-checking my clothing a dozen times a day to make certain everything is still in one piece.”

“Fear not, Bleys. As soon as Potter is gone from Hogwarts, everything will be roses for us. I promise.” Pious was not gratified at the less than enthusiastic response from his best friend. He sighed and sat back against the cushions. It did not matter. Bleys would see. It would be a glorious year. Just as soon as Pious got rid of the black-haired thorn in his side. He rubbed his fingertips on his trousers to rid himself of the memory of the feel of Al’s cheek. Damn if he didn’t enjoy touching the idiot, though. He grinned when he recalled Al’s discomfort. Pious could hardly wait to get off the carriage and seek out his fellow Slytherin. He thought a Welcome Back to Hogwarts hug might be in order… and as a bonus it would probably goad Al into even more extreme acts of revenge. He restrained himself from rubbing his hands together in glee. Albus Potter might be Slytherin, but Pious had generations of Slytherin Malfoys in his bloodline. Potter would have no chance at all.



~~- oOo -~~



The war began more subtly than in prior years. Al and Hell were pacing themselves, mostly to keep from being thrown out of school after their first week. Al was careful to prank Pious and Bleys in untraceable ways. After all, anyone could have left the Flatulence Foam on Malfoy’s seat in History of Magic. And Albus certainly was not the only student with enough of a grudge against Malfoy to spike his morning pumpkin juice with an interesting potion that made bubbles spew from his mouth every time he tried to speak. Albus did have an excellent time calling him Pi-rahna for the remainder of the day, at least until the blond hit him with a Stinging Hex that left a welt on Al’s backside and prevented him from sitting or sleeping comfortably for the next day or two.

Frankly, it was only an improvement when both Malfoy and Zabini found their toes had acquired a severe itch that all of the stores in Madam Pomfrey’s ward could not assist. Al and Hell laughed about that one for a week. Due to the innocuous nature of the pranks, none of the teachers tried particularly hard to find the culprits. James, to Al’s immense relief, kept silent and allowed Al his amusement. It was not as though Malfoy was an innocent victim. The bastard always got revenge, at least with Al, mostly by putting his hands all over whatever parts of Albus were in reach of the evil blond. Al did his best to stay out of Malfoy’s way, with limited success.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end and the halcyon days of Al and Hell getting away with their jokes came to an abrupt end the day that Al was caught tampering with Malfoy’s hair during Charms. It was easy to do, since the damn blond was constantly within petting distance of Al. The minute he draped his arm helpfully around Al’s shoulder, Al reached up to flick a tiny handful of powder over the platinum locks. It would have been entirely unnoticed if Professor McGonagall had not chosen that moment to walk into the classroom with a message for Flitwick. She witnessed the exchange and as soon as Malfoy’s hair began to change into miniature Flobberworms, Albus was marched straight to her office where a Floo-call was placed to his father.

Albus was placed on pranking probation. One more prank traced back to him and he could be booted from school.

Hell sighed when Al returned from his dressing-down.

“We lay low for awhile?”

“We embark on Plan B,” Al replied. Unfortunately, Plan B was delayed by the discovery of a note found in Al’s trunk, left by his excruciatingly irritating brother. It read simply, Yes, I confiscated your boomslang skin. Do not even try to make Polyjuice Potion, idiot. James. PS (You’ll thank me later.)

Al ground his teeth. He would thank his stupid brother to stay the hell out of his life. Thus began the search for replacement boomslang skin. A thorough ransacking of the Potions Supply stores revealed no boomslang skin at all, which either meant that it was now a forbidden ingredient at Hogwarts, or that Professor Parkinson was too savvy to ever put it somewhere that students with access to an invisibility cloak could locate. Either way, Al was forced to send away for it through means both illegal and Slytherin, heavily disguised to avoid detection by Filch. It finally arrived in late November and they immediately set to work, counting the days until the potion would be ready, shortly before the December holidays.



Al had to call upon every ounce of strength he possessed during the next month. He knew Pious deliberately tried to provoke him and it did not take Rose Weasley’s smarts to figure that out.

Pious seemed almost frustrated at Al’s refusal to retaliate. That in itself sustained him through sleepless nights when he dreamed of the glorious torments he planned to inflict on the blond demon. Al dreamed of a bald Pious. He dreamed of a Pious covered in oozing, painful boils. He dreamed of a Pious with teeth of florescent yellow. He dreamed of a Pious completely covered in yak fur.

Every morning when he awakened, however, Pious would open those coin-coloured eyes and smile lazily from his bed one over from Al’s. He was not bald, nor hairy, nor covered in boils, nor were his teeth anything but pearlescent. It made Al want to scream and grab his wand to hex, hex, hex Mr. Perfect.

Instead Al would smile in a slow and deliberate manner as he nodded at Pious, whose superior grin would falter. Al could practically read his thoughts. Will today be the day?

The blond’s moment of uncertainty would bolster Al, at least until Pious rose and began the daily Touching Torture.

Pious usually left off until class, since Al had no problem hexing him blind in the halls. But in class… well it would get back to his father and Al could not have that. In Charms, Pious sat next to Al. He found it necessary to constantly explain the wand movements to Al, despite countless hissed insistences that he did not need help. Pious would raise his hand. “Professor Flitwick, Al is doing it wrong. May I show him the proper way to perform this spell?”

Clueless Flitwick would squint through his spectacles—Al wondered if the old wizard could see past the end of his arm—and say, “Of course, my boy.”

Pious would arrange himself over Al’s back like a Slytherin cloak and place his palm over Al’s wand hand while pressing his other hand over Al’s abdomen “to make sure you breathe properly” and then guide Al through the movements of the spell until Al’s elbow caught him sharply in the diaphragm. The blond would laugh hotly in Al’s ear and sidle away while Al completely fucked up whatever Charm he was supposed to cast.

Care of Magical Creatures was just as bad. Pious was the most insufferable suck-up Al had ever met. He degraded Professor Hagrid in the Slytherin Common Room at every opportunity, yet he wheedled his way into Teacher’s Pet status during class.

“The Viperous Scurmdungs are so cute, Professor!” Pious would croon while deftly avoiding the gnashing fangs of the creature. “Can I take one back to the Slytherin Common Room?”

Hagrid would chuckle fondly. “No, Scorpius. The Headmistress says I’m not ter let ‘em out of their cages. But you can help me feed ‘em, later.”

Pious would eagerly feign excitement and later slither out of the heinous chore without Hagrid ever thinking one iota less of him.

During class he would keep his arm draped around Al’s shoulders in a friendly fashion. “To protect the son of the Hero of the World,” Pious would explain and Hagrid would nod like it was the most intelligent idea he’d ever heard. The fact that Al would sink a fist into Malfoy’s gut the instant the opportunity presented itself was lost on the Professor, as were the whispered Stinging Hexes that caused the blond to yelp in pain and grin wryly at Hagrid’s concerned glance.

Arithmancy was a breath of relief, because they all sat in separate desks out of reach of one another, plus it was a subject Pious found bizarrely fascinating while Al tended to doze. Potions, however, was by far the worst. Professor Parkinson had found it oddly amusing to pair them up from their first day of school, and therefore it was no stretch at all for Pious to put his long fingers all over Al at every opportunity.

When Al leaned over a cauldron, Pious would lean against his back and comb Al’s hair out of his eyes “to keep it from obscuring his vision” and when Al cut up ingredients, Pious would cover Al’s hands with his own to “help him dice properly”, and when Al added items to the cauldron, Pious would slide a hand over Al’s ribs, back, or thigh just to watch the ingredients fly into the air when Al jerked reflexively. Pious would crawl beneath the table with Al to help him retrieve the fallen potion stock—while petting Al unobtrusively—and Al would snarl at him.

“Keep your fucking hands to yourself, you perverted ponce!”

“Are you trying to tell me you don’t like it when I do this?” Pious would ask and slide his hand over the back of Al’s neck, causing a shiver to travel down his spine.

“No, I certainly do not!” Al would growl and Pious would cackle evilly.

“Good.”



~~- oOo -~~





Pious leaned his head against Bleys’s shoulder and watched his black-haired nemesis walk across the courtyard with his Hufflepuff minion. The green eyes picked him out immediately with a venomous glare and Pious sighed.

“It’s not working, Bleys.”

Bleys patted his head comfortingly and pushed the hair out of his eyes.

“Maybe he’s turned over a new leaf?” Bleys suggested.

“He’s Slytherin! We don’t turn over leaves. He’s plotting something. I’m doing my damnedest to force his hand and he’s not having it. The bloody bastard must be made of iron. I know it’s killing him. Not one single prank for nearly a month and I’ve pawed him so much he has permanent marks.”

“Why does he hate to be touched, anyway?”

Pious crinkled his brow thoughtfully. “I don’t know. I never asked. He’s cringed away from human contact ever since I met him.”

Bleys chuckled. “It’s been pretty fun to watch, at any rate. Of course, half the school thinks you’re in love with him…”

Pious sat up and fixed him with a murderous look. “What?”

Bleys shrugged. “What do you expect? You are always hanging all over him, even when he punches you for it. And when you’re not using Potter as a leaning post, you’re using me.”

Pious snorted. “As if I care what the rabble thinks. Besides, maybe I do like boys. Just not that boy.” Pious settled back against Bleys and felt his friend stiffen. “Not you, either, Bleys. Don’t worry, you are not my type.”

Bleys relaxed slightly and joked, “My eyes aren’t green enough?”

“Very funny.”

“Potter is pretty fit,” Bleys offered and Pious allowed his gaze to trail after his enemy. Certainly Albus cut a fine figure. He had grown quite nicely over the years into a tall, muscular, borderline sexy green-eyed git. It didn’t hurt that his Slytherin robes set off those damned eyes of his quite nicely… Pious scowled at the path of his thoughts.

“Bleys, you surprise me,” he murmured. “I always thought you were into girls exclusively.”

“I am,” Bleys admitted. “But with everyone thinking you’re my boyfriend, I’ve been forced to take notice of the gents, as well. Sort of a backup, you know, in case the ladies are frightened away by my wicked blond lover.” He leaned down and placed a noisy kiss against Pious’s temple. “Luckily for you, Gryffindor girls are made of stern stuff. I have a date with Lucia Hernandez this evening.”

Pious chuckled at the idea of Bleys Zabini snogging another boy, especially Albus Severus Potter.

Pious sat up so suddenly his head knocked against Bleys’s chin. The dark-skinned boy made a huff of pain and rubbed his bruised flesh. Pious barely noticed.

“That’s it, Bleys!”

His friend looked at him suspiciously. “What’s it?”

“I have a plan.”



~~- oOo -~~



Al watched as Bleys Zabini pushed a hand over Pious Malfoy’s forehead in a familiar gesture. Al clenched his teeth and glared at them.

“Pair of freaks,” he hissed to Hell, who walked next to him.

“Don’t worry, the potion is nearly ready,” Hell said reassuringly.

“It’s bloody unfair that we had to brew the damned thing instead of just smuggling it in. Damn James. And damn Dad.”

“I don’t know. Waiting this long has been beneficial, I think. They won’t know what hit them and the fact that we have nearly sterling records this year will make the teachers less likely to suspect us.”

“I still say we should have been screwing with them all along. They know we’re only biding our time.”

Al had a veritable stockpile of pranking material he was itching to use on Pious, but Hell had forbidden it until their Master Plan was in place. Even though Hell was technically Hufflepuff, his plots tended to be quite convoluted and just as scary as anything a Slytherin could hatch up.

“Trust me, it will be worth it.”

“That’s easy for you to say!” Al said. “You don’t have Pious the Ponce touching you inappropriately seven hundred times a day!”

“If you didn’t let it bother you, he would most likely stop,” Hell rationalized. Al had heard that argument a thousand times and he refused to get into it again. He shot another evil glance toward the blond topic of their conversation just in time to see Bleys press a kiss into Pious’s forehead. Al’s brows shot up in surprise. There had always been talk, of course, about the relationship between Pious and Bleys, but Al had never quite believed it. Bleys was often seen with girls and was rumoured to be somewhat serious about a Gryffindor girl. Al had thought Pious just enjoyed touching people—he certainly enjoyed touching Al, at any rate. His eyes narrowed as he watched the two boys. Their foreheads pressed together as they whispered conspiratorially. Bleys had an arm thrown over the blond’s shoulder and Pious had one hand around Bleys’s back while the other patted his chest.

Unwillingly, Al remembered the feel of those hands. An unfamiliar rush of emotion he could not identify surprised him. He sighed angrily.

“It’s so weird how he always has to touch everyone,” Al muttered. “Don’t you think that’s just…?”

“I don’t know, he never touches me,” Hell said and shrugged. “Mostly he just calls me names.”

“Lucky you,” Al said, although when he recalled the sheer range and viciousness of the names Pious had chosen for Hell he thought he might actually prefer the touch treatment. Scorpius Malfoy was a master at creative verbal abuse.

Al realized he was still staring at the mismatched pair, but now they both watched him carefully. Al sneered at them and turned away.

“I think they’re plotting something,” Al said. He and Hell continued through the courtyard. They had some time yet and planned to go visit Hell’s dad, who was the Herbology Professor. Al quite liked Professor Longbottom, who took full credit for Al’s spectacular grades in the class. Al knew his good marks had less to do with Professor Longbottom’s teaching and more to do with Al’s avid interest in creating potions with which to torment certain unwelcome persons in his life. He carefully analysed every new plant with a keen eye toward future uses, often conferring with his Uncle George. Together they had come up with a wide range of items for the joke shop. Uncle George had once ruffled Al’s hair and told him it was almost like having his brother Fred back.

“They’re Slytherin, Al, of course they’re plotting something,” Hell said.

“Hey, I’m Slytherin!”

“My point, exactly.”

Al pouted, but he knew Hell was right. Al did spend an inordinate amount of time planning the eventual humiliation—if not the outright demise—of one Pious Malfoy. He sighed heavily. One more week. One more week and the potion would be ready. He only hoped he wouldn’t snap and hex the blond into an artichoke before then. Al brightened slightly and chuckled. Hell looked at him curiously.

“Just imagining Pious as an artichoke.”

“Well, he’s certainly prickly enough.”



~~- oOo -~~



“He’s never going to buy it.”

“Of course he will. You only have to make him think it was his idea,” Pious explained.

“You’ve finally gone mental,” Bleys lamented. “Your Potter obsession has driven you around the bend.”

“I do not have a Potter obsession,” Pious growled. “I merely want him crushed, expelled, and out of my hair forever.”

“How will you get him expelled?”

“Trust me, Bleys. This act of Potter’s cannot go on. He will snap soon enough. I’m just giving him a little nudge. Obviously he’s getting used to me, so we need to up the ante. I’ve already laid the groundwork for the destruction of his reputation, now it’s up to you to finish him off.”

Bleys looked at him with confusion in his chocolate coloured eyes. “I still don’t see how destroying his reputation will get Potter expelled. He’s already known as a troublemaker.”

“That’s because you are not taking James Potter into account,” Pious purred. Bleys smiled slowly and Pious nodded as he accepted the unspoken accolade. Yes, I am truly brilliant at times, he thought.



~~- oOo -~~



Al and Hell’s plan suffered a massive setback on the day everything was supposed to come to fruition. Hell met him in the Great Hall at breakfast and his expression instantly chilled Al’s blood. Hell looked about to burst into tears and his breath actually hitched when he took the seat next to Al.

“What is it?” Al asked in concern. He reached out a hand to place it gingerly on Hell’s shoulder, causing his friend to start in surprise. Hell knew better than anyone Al’s aversion to human contact, especially after the Pious situation.

“You’re going to hate me, Al,” Hell whispered hoarsely. “You will renounce me as your friend and find someone to take my place.”

Hell dragged a shaky hand through his brown locks and Al tightened his grip.

“Tell me.”

“The potion,” Hell choked. “The potion is gone.”

“What do you mean gone?” Al shouted. A dozen shocked faces turned their way and most of the room hushed. Al stared them all down until, one by one, they shifted their gazes and returned to their own conversations. The sole exception, of course, was Pious Malfoy, who quirked a brow at him and smirked maddeningly. Al gave him an extra potent glare that had no effect, as usual. He leaned close to Hell and lowered his voice. “What do you mean gone?”

Hell looked as though he would happily climb under the table and crawl his way to safety, but Al still had not removed his hand. It dug into Hell’s shoulder rather more forcibly than Al intended.

“The potion was ready. I took it from our hiding place and was bringing it to you. I had it in my hand and was just leaving the common room when Archie Creevey barged in like a bloody Seeker chasing a Snitch. The little idiot ploughed me over!”

Al groaned and removed his hand from Hell so that he could use it to bury his face in his hands. He could picture the scene well enough. Creevey was a first year with more energy than a Firebolt NXE. He never walked anywhere, instead hurtling along at a breakneck pace banging against anything that got in his path.

“What the fuck was Creevey doing in the Hufflepuff common room? He’s a bloody Gryffindor, isn’t he?”

“I didn’t stop to ask, but his sister is Hufflepuff, so I imagine he was visiting her. The little git was apologetic, of course.”

“Fat lot of good that does!” Al burst out. A month. A bloody month of waiting for the fucking potion to brew and now it was gone in a single crackling instant.

Hell nodded sadly. “It shattered all over the damn floor. Not enough left to Polyjuice a rat.”

“This is shit, Hell. Complete bollocking shit! A month I’ve been putting up with that blond bastard’s hands all over me and for what?”

“I’m sorry,” Hell said miserably.

“Damn it. It’s not your fault,” Al muttered, even though it sort of was. Al could have throttled Hell for not taking better precautions. Why had he carried it in his hand? Why not put the vial into his robes like a normal person? “I need to be alone for a minute. I have to think,” Al said and got to his feet. He knew Hell would be hurt by his departure, but right now he was too angry to care. He left the Great Hall and went straight to the Slytherin common room where he slumped on the couch before the fire and put his head into his hands. Now what was he supposed to do?

Pious Malfoy had won again and he did not even know it.

Al sat up abruptly when the door opened. It was unwise to display weakness in the Slytherin common room. He pulled out his wand and turned to throw an acid glare at the newcomer, half-expecting it to be his nemesis. Instead it was Nemesis Part II.

“Come to gloat, Zabini?” he asked.

“Gloat about what, Potter?” Bleys replied as he walked forward and sprawled on the sofa next to Al. The dark boy grinned at him and Al looked around carefully for Malfoy. The two were seldom seen apart.

“Where is your evil overlord?” he asked.

Bleys snorted. “We’re having a row. Frankly, I’m tired of the way he treats you, Al.”

Al laughed. “Right. More likely you’re jealous of the way he’s constantly got his bloody hands on my arse.”

“Maybe I am, but not in the way you’re thinking,” Bleys said and his chocolate-coloured eyes slowly moved over Al, seeming to touch every part of him—and strip away clothing on the journey. Al sucked in a breath. Bleys could not possibly…

“I’m… not into boys,” Al said lamely.

“I know. It’s a pity, really,” Bleys said. He reached out and cupped Al’s cheek with a hand that was surprisingly warm. Bleys sighed and got to his feet. “Oh well, I suppose I’ll get back to the… what did you call him? Evil overlord?” Bleys chuckled. “He’s been such an obnoxious cretin lately I would almost switch over to the Potter Fan Club. Too bad you’re not interested.”

Bleys was nearly to the door when Al called, “Bleys, wait!”

The caramel-skinned boy returned and leaned on the back of the sofa with a lazy smile. “Change your mind, Al?”

Albus blushed and shook his head. “Not about that, but… well, I may have an idea to run by you. Let’s go into the dorm where we can cast a Silencing Charm.”

“I like the way you think, Potter,” Bleys said seductively. Al was definitely not interested in boys, but he had to admit that one could do worse than Bleys Zabini. He was naturally charismatic. No wonder Malfoy liked him…

Bleys followed him to their room, where they perched on Al’s bed. He cast a quick Silencing Charm. Bleys sat uncomfortably close, but Al did not want to alienate a potential ally by moving away. Besides, he would have to get used to Bleys if his plan were to succeed.

“Okay, here is my idea. You want to get even with Pious for acting like a git and… taking you for granted, right?” It was a shot in the dark, but it seemed to be accurate, for Bleys nodded.

“Very perceptive, Al.”

“Well, it doesn’t take a genius to see that he treats you like property. You know, even though you’re always with Pious, I thought you liked girls.”

Bleys shrugged. “I’ve strayed. I always seem to go back to Pious, though. He’s rather… magnetic.”

Al repressed a snort. He was supposed to sympathize with Bleys, not denigrate his choice of boon companion, no matter how misguided. “Okay. Well, I know you’re not doing all that well in Potions.”

Bleys sat up abruptly and his dark eyes turned suddenly cold. Al held up a hand.

“I’m offering to help you. I can tutor you without anyone knowing—you know how good I am with Potions,” Al said.

Bleys growled. “You’re a fucking Potions genius, as Professor Parkinson loves to point out on a daily basis.”

“With an uncle like mine, it sort of comes naturally.”

“What do you want in return, Potter?” Bleys’s tone was mistrustful.

“I want you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Bleys burst out laughing. Al let him collapse on the bed until the merriment ran its course. It took a surprisingly long time. Bleys finally sat up and rubbed the tears from his eyes. “That’s rich, Albus. I already offered to do more than pretend.”

“I know, but as I told you I’m not into boys. I just want Pious to think I am. You see, it will be win-win for both of us. Pious will be eaten up with jealousy, I will have the satisfaction of seeing him clench his little fists in helpless rage, and you will be able to command him to keep his hands away from me. You will have him back eventually, with hopefully a changed attitude. As a bonus you also get to pass Potions.”

“You guarantee that I will pass?” Bleys asked. Al nodded.

“And how far will we go with this pretence?”

Al shrugged. “We’ll play it by ear, but I don’t expect it to last more than a week. Maybe two, depending on how enraged the berk gets.” By then, Al should have concocted a new plan. Now… he would just have to do some preliminary damage control, such as breaking the news to his brother…

“You’ve got a deal, Potter,” Bleys said and stuck out his hand. Al gingerly took it. Bleys immediately pulled him into a close embrace and tucked his face into Al’s neck. Al stiffened and Bleys laughed. “This is never going to work if you don’t relax, Albus. Pious won’t buy it for one moment unless you act like you’re absolutely sincere.”

Al got to his feet quickly and moved away, dispelling the Silencing Charm as he went. “Don’t worry, when we’re around Pious, I will be utterly convincing. When we’re alone… I’d rather you not touch me. It’s nothing personal.”

Bleys chuckled. “I know, Al. You should be used to it by now, though.”

Al’s lips twisted in distaste. He was already getting “used to it” with Pious Malfoy. Now he would have to become accustomed to it with Bleys Zabini. For a moment the sheer stupidity of the plan washed over him, but then the door banged open to reveal an obviously angry Pious.

“What are you doing in here with Potter, Bleys?”

Bleys slid to his feet and gravitated to Al’s side. Al blinked in surprise. He had not expected their plan to be put into action so soon, but Bleys draped an arm around Al’s shoulders.

“Albus and I were just having a little chat, weren’t we, Al?” Bleys purred and then pressed his lips against the edge of Al’s jaw. Al steeled himself and put his arm around Zabini’s waist to draw him closer. It felt strange and wrong, but Al grinned sardonically at Pious.

“Apparently all your little touches turned me gay, Malfoy,” Al said with a laugh. “Too bad it’s your boyfriend I want and not you, eh?”

Pious sneered, but the look on his face was priceless. The horrific plan suddenly seemed like the most brilliant idea in the world. Al grinned wickedly and planted his lips against Zabini’s temple. “I’ll see you later, kitten,” he said suggestively.

A Slytherin girl nearly knocked Malfoy over as she burst into the room.

“Pious, could you—?” She broke off suddenly as her jaw gaped open at the sight of Al kissing Bleys. “Oh! Oh my!” she said and Al nearly groaned with a sinking sense of horror. Fuck, it was Emily Champlain, an overly excitable girl who was one of the biggest gossips in school.

“Yes?” Malfoy asked coldly.

“Never mind,” she said quickly and backed out of the room. Al knew the story would be all over Hogwarts before he could exit the Slytherin common room. Damn it, he would have to find James and do some swift damage control. He tried to extricate himself from Zabini.

“Do you mind giving Albus and I a bit of privacy, Scorpius?” Bleys asked sweetly without releasing Al. Malfoy’s glare could have pulverized granite. He spun on a heel and left, slamming the door hard as he went. Al pushed away from Zabini with a shaky laugh.

“Merlin, that was almost worth it,” he said.

“One more thing, Potter,” Bleys said in a tone that made Al pause on his way to the door. “You cannot let anyone know about our little deception. No one at all.”

“What?”

Zabini nodded firmly. “I refuse to be thought of as an accomplice in your war against Pious. I might be hacked off at him at the moment, but I refuse to make him a laughingstock among your little friends and relatives.”

Al stared at the dark-skinned boy in stunned annoyance. It was too late to call off the plot—the news was likely already spreading like wildfire.

“You fucking bastard!”

“My parents were properly wed long before my birth, Potter. I am merely Slytherin, like you.”

“What if I say no to this deal?”

Bleys shrugged. “Then I go out and tell Pious you were merely having him on and you go back to being his tactile target.”

Tactile target. Bloody purebloods and their flowery language. Albus knew what he meant, though. He quickly decided it would be worth a week of innuendo in order to escape Malfoy’s grasping hands. He lifted his wand toward Bleys in a semi-threatening manner.

“You’ll keep him away from me?”

Bleys nodded. “I want that Potions grade.”

“All right, then. The deal stands, but only until I call it off.”

“Do I have your word? As a Potter?”

Al wanted to grind his teeth. “You have my word as a Potter.”

Bleys smiled, seeming satisfied. “Until you call it off, Albus.”



~~- oOo -~~



Pious buried himself in a comfy chair in a dark corner of the common room and hid behind a scroll until Albus Potter fled the dormitory, looking preoccupied. He did not seem to notice Pious, who waited until Potter had gone before seeking out Bleys.

The dark-skinned boy sat on the end of Potter’s bed. Pious grinned at him.

“Well?” he asked.

Bleys nodded. “He took the bait like a Grindylow snatching a wounded fish. He even agreed to the non-disclosure caveat.”

“He won’t tell anyone?”

“Not even Hell.”

Pious drew in a surprised breath. “You’re brilliant, Bleys. Damn, that was easier than I expected, actually. How did you get him to agree?”

“I promised him something he wants very badly,” Bleys said with a wicked smirk. For a moment Pious felt an odd lurch in his midsection.

“Which is?”

“You can’t touch him.”

Pious burst out laughing. “That’s it?”

“That’s all Potter wants. From now on, he’s mine. Hands off, Pious.” Bleys rose from the bed and walked toward him with the saunter that caused girls to flock to his side with fluttering lashes and nervous giggles. “That means hands off me, too. You’re going to have to play the jilted lover if you want this to work."

Pious pursed his lips and drew his hand over Bleys’s smooth jaw. “I’ll live. It’s only temporary. It will be worth it once Potter is gone for good.”

Bleys smacked his lips in an air kiss and moved toward the door. “I hope so. I’m off to find my new boyfriend. Remember, you owe me for this, Pious.”

“I’m certain you won’t let me forget,” Pious muttered as Bleys left. He already missed his friend and hoped his plan showed speedy fruition. The sooner things were back to normal—sans Potter—the better.



(BREAK FIC HERE FOR LENGTH)



~~- oOo -~~



Al ignored the whispers that followed him as he walked through the halls and took the stairs to Ravenclaw Tower. There was only one person who could help him now. James was going to go utterly explosive and Al had to determine a way to defuse his brother without giving away his duplicity.

Rose Weasley looked up from her latest mechanical puzzle when Al walked in. One thing nice about having relatives and friends in every House—Al knew all the passwords. Her hands froze on the metal links and she blinked at him. Al looked at the twisted nightmare and shook his head. Rose was a puzzle-obsessed fiend; she was constantly tinkering with wooden or metal puzzles, or working out numeric or word puzzles with parchment and quill.

“Albus! What brings you here? Need help with an assignment?”

Al threw himself on the couch next to her and sighed. “I guess I beat the gossip upstairs. You’ll probably hear a howl from Gryffindor Tower as soon as the news gets to James.”

Rose set the puzzle aside with a worried expression. “What have you done now? Did you prank Malfoy again? I knew it was only a matter of time. I told Lily you were plotting something.”

Al wrinkled his forehead. “I was plotting something, actually, but that did not work out. The potion was ruined. Anyway, this is not about Malfoy. I’m… going out with Bleys Zabini.” He could not look at her and kept his gaze on the Celtic pattern woven into the blue carpet. The silence drew out so long that he finally looked at her curiously.

“Why?” she asked.

Leave it to a Ravenclaw to ask the one question to which Al did not have a prepared answer. He supposed he should have thought of it on the way upstairs. James was likely to ask even worse questions.

“Um… Bleys is… cute. And I’ve sort of been through all the girls already.” At least the last part was true. Albus had snogged nearly every girl over the age of thirteen.

Her brown eyes pierced him. “And this has nothing to do with Pious Malfoy?”

Al flushed. “Well, maybe it won’t hurt that Malfoy will be hacked off about it. But that’s not the reason. I… like Bleys.” Okay, maybe that was a bit of a lie. But Al could tolerate him and that was semi-close to liking him.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Al? I realize you dated a ridiculous number of girls, but I don’t think working your way through the boys is going to satisfy you any better. What are you looking for, anyway?”

Al raked a hand through his hair, thinking that talking to Rose had not been such a good idea after all. He was not in the mood for psychoanalysis; he merely wanted help with James. Al had already asked himself the same question a dozen times. He had no idea what he was looking for in a girlfriend; he only knew he hadn’t found it yet.

“Actually, I’m just here to get some advice about James.”

Rose winced. “James is going to give birth to Bludgers.”

“I know. Should I just hide from him until this… blows over?”

“You think your relationship with Bleys will be over in the next day or two?” she asked dryly.

Al shrugged. “You know my track record.” For once he was glad of his short-lived flings.

“That might actually work in your favour, at least as far as James is concerned. You realize this is very bad timing, don’t you? Can’t you postpone your… experimentation?”

“Too late. Emily Champlain caught us in a… compromising position.”

The portrait hole opened to disclose a harried-looking Lily Potter. She rushed to the couch and caught Al’s arm.

“There you are, Al,” she said, panting. “James is looking for you. The most atrocious rumour is floating around the school. It’s about you and Bleys Zabini.”

Al quailed inwardly, but he said calmly, “It’s true.”

Lily stared at him and then shared a glance with Rose. “Bloody hell, Al, have you gone daft? James will take you up on a broom and drop you over the lake. He already attacked Hell, who claimed to have no clue whatsoever. That’s why I hoped it was a joke started by Malfoy.”

Al felt a pang of guilt for not seeking out Hell first, if only to warn him about the potential threat from James. Hell was going to be livid at being the last to know.

“I’d better go find Hell. And face the music from James. Please remember to bury me in Slytherin colours if I don’t survive.”



Al went straight to Gryffindor Tower to face his executioner.

James was not in attendance, so Al waited. He preferred not to have this particular conversation with an audience. News of Al’s whereabouts must have reached his brother quickly, for James burst through the portrait hole before Al had a chance to get bored. Three of his brother’s minions were in tow, but James gestured sharply and they peeled off as though intent on their own business. Al leaped away from the couch at the sight of James’s face and quickly moved to keep the couch between them.

James yanked out his wand and cast a Silencing Charm around them, for which Al was suddenly grateful.

“Tell me this is some fucking joke of yours, Albus,” James gritted.

Al opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He would like nothing better than to spill his guts to his enraged sibling, but his promise to Bleys kept the words from spilling forth. He shrugged instead, striving for nonchalance.

“It’s not that big a deal, James,” he said.

James lurched forward and one hand clawed at Al, but years of practice allowed him to evade the manoeuvre. It was the wand Al was more worried about, although he avoided looking at it to keep from giving James ideas.

“You can’t possibly tell me you have feelings for Bleys Zabini!” James shouted.

Al raised his chin at that. “So what if I do?” he asked angrily. “It is not up to you to tell me who I can and cannot care about!”

James looked almost apoplectic, but Al refused to back down. The conversation had taken an abrupt shift and no longer had anything to do with Zabini. “Are you trying to make me hate you, Albus?”

Al sucked in a surprised breath. “You would hate me merely for liking a bloke?” Another thought occurred to him and he took a step forward. He put a hand on the back of the couch and his gaze held his brother’s evenly. “Bloody hell, James, are you saying you actually hate—?”

“Don’t even go there,” James warned. “I will not have this conversation with you.”

“No, James, you prefer to bury your head in the sand and ignore anything that does not fit with your idealistic Gryffindor view of how things should be!” Al yelled. His brother reacted as if slapped.

“Fuck you, Albus!” James raised his wand then and Albus did the same. A shape suddenly hurtled into Al and knocked him out of the path of whatever hex James had hurled. Al’s elbow slammed painfully into the ground and he twisted angrily to see Lily’s face.

“Stop it, both of you!” she said as she climbed to her feet and glared at James. Their brother’s face was still angry, but he seemed somewhat dazed. “James, if mother or father finds out you tried to hex Al, you’ll be grounded for life. And believe me, if you try it again, they will find out.”

“Stay out of this, Lil.”

“No, I will not. You need to back down on this, James.”

Angry blue eyes met angry blue eyes and Albus nearly choked on remorse. He had not meant to set James and Lily against each other. They had always gotten on well, especially after Lily was Sorted into Gryffindor. Al had been the outcast.

“I thought you were on my side, Lily!” James protested.

“I was. Now I’m not so sure.”

James drew in a shaky breath and his face turned ugly. “Fine! Do what you want, Albus. From now on, you’re no brother of mine.”

With that, James cast Finite Incantatum and stalked out, followed by his friends. Al let his head drop to the floor in despair. His brother’s words had cut far deeper than expected.

“He doesn’t mean it, Albus,” Lily said, but her tone was worried.

“He means it,” Al said flatly. “Why does he have to be such a stubborn bastard?”

His sister reached out a hand and Al allowed her to help him to his feet.

“He doesn’t like change.”

“Yeah, well he had better get used to it because things change all the time,” Al snapped. Lily grinned wryly.

“They certainly do. I’m not sure what you’re up to, Al, but I hope it’s worth this.” She gestured at the empty air and Al sighed. His plan for revenge against Pious Malfoy suddenly seemed foolish and empty.



Al’s confrontation with Hell was nearly as bad. He located his friend near the lake, where the Hufflepuffs usually gathered. They were a placid lot with an odd combination of the traits of other houses. Hell moved away from them when he spotted Al.

“I don’t believe it,” Hell said flatly. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Look, maybe I just want to try something new,” Al said lamely. He started to walk on the dock that jutted into the lake, anchoring the boats that brought the first years to Hogwarts. Hell followed.

“I’m not buying this for one moment, Albus. For one thing, it’s too sudden. You’re doing this because of the potion, aren’t you?”

Al flushed. He had never even tried to keep a secret from Hell, not since they were children. At Al’s silence, the Hufflepuff sighed in satisfaction.

“All right, then. You must have your reasons for keeping me in the dark. I’ll back you up, Al, because I owe you one. But there had better be a damned good explanation coming.”

Al favoured him with a grateful smile. “Thanks, Hell.”

His friend grinned ruefully and punched him on the shoulder. “Whatever. I think your new boyfriend is looking for you.”

He jerked a thumb back toward the shore. Al glanced over to see Bleys standing near the pier. Zabini raised a hand in greeting. Al sighed and waved back reluctantly. Hell smiled knowingly at the exchange.

“If you’ve fallen for Bleys Zabini, I’m going to marry a Blast-ended Skrewt,” Hell said and departed. He passed Bleys partway down the pier and gave him a good-natured punch on the shoulder. Hell leaned close to Zabini and said something before continuing back to the gaggle of Hufflepuffs. Bleys joined Al, who looked at him curiously. Bleys slid an arm around Al’s shoulder and pulled him close. Al tried not to tense, but there were no other students close by.

“Pious is watching,” Bleys said just as Al caught sight of the platinum-haired git lounging against a tree. A few of Malfoy’s Slytherin underlings stood nearby, trying not to look like they were lurking, and failing. One of the shortcomings of being Slytherin, Al thought, was that they always looked like they were up to something even when they weren’t.

“What did Hell say?” Al asked and put his arm around Zabini’s waist, trying to make it look natural. It was nothing like putting his arm around a girl—Bleys was not at all soft and cuddly. Bleys nuzzled Al’s neck and it took all of his willpower to stand still and not shove the boy into the lake. Bleys chuckled.

“Damn, Al, if you were any tenser, you’d be a statue.”

“I’ll get over it,” Al snapped.

“Hell told me if I hurt you he would hex me into pieces and feed me to the Thestrals.”

“You know about Thestrals?” Al asked. He wanted to keep Zabini talking, because then he could not gnaw on Al’s neck quite so easily.

“I can see them,” Bleys admitted. Malfoy smirked suddenly and Al narrowed his eyes at the blond. He turned and wrapped his other arm around Bleys’s neck. The embrace was awkward, but felt less so when Al rested his chin on Zabini’s shoulder because it meant he could no longer see Malfoy.

“Sorry about your brother, Al,” Bleys said quietly. Al tensed again, not realizing until then that he had relaxed slightly.

“What?”

“It’s all over the school that James freaked.”

“Yeah, well, don’t worry about it,” Al said. “He’ll get over it once our little charade blows over. Can you see Malfoy?”

Bleys chuckled. “Yes, he just stormed back to the school.”

“So I can let go now?”

“Only if you want to.”

Al stepped back so quickly he nearly went off the edge of the dock. Zabini caught Al’s wrist and hauled him back. “Merlin, Potter, you really don’t like to be touched, do you? Are you sure you can do this?”

“I’ll manage,” Al said and Bleys fell into step beside him as they traversed the pier back toward Hogwarts. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s open season on Pious Malfoy.”



~~- oOo -~~



Pious was disturbed. Not only had James Potter failed to lash out in a suitably heinous fashion, but also watching Bleys fawning all over Al had provoked an unexpected response. He had smirked when Bleys first approached Potter. The black-haired boy’s discomfort had been obvious even from Pious’s vantage. However, Potter had quickly turned and wrapped Bleys in an amorous embrace and Pious had felt the breath catch in his throat. Potter had never reacted that way when Pious touched him. Pious knew it was an act, but that realization did not seem to quell the increasingly irritated voice that yammered in his chest.

Unable to watch, Pious spun on a heel and stalked back to the school, playing into the rumour mill without even trying. He admitted to himself that he had secretly hoped James Potter’s explosion would have gotten both Potters in severe trouble. Apparently, Lily had halted the row. Pious should have done something to keep their sister out of the way, a definite miscalculation on his part.

Pious paced in the Slytherin common room, thinking furiously. There had to be a way to push James Potter into doing something stupid. After all, stupidity was a Gryffindor trait.

Pious was still thinking when Bleys and Potter strode into the common room sometime later, holding hands. Pious nearly saw red. Holding hands! Merlin’s beard, but Pious had expected the bastard to fight harder. He seemed to be more than willing to succumb to Bleys and his obvious charm. Pious schooled his features into an expressionless mask and took a calming breath. It was an act. Just a bloody act on Potter’s part. He did not want Bleys Zabini!

Al and Bleys went to the dorm, but they returned before anything untoward could be suggested. Al had his broom in hand.

“See you after Quidditch, darling,” Al said loudly and made a kissing sound in Bleys’s direction before leaving with a jaunty wave. Bleys threw himself on the couch across from the chair Pious occupied.

“Are you going to Quidditch practice?” Bleys asked. Pious watched as several Slytherins went out after Potter.

“In a minute,” Pious said and threw a glare at the two remaining students, who wisely took the hint and fled. Bleys laughed when he was alone with his blond friend.

“This is the best idea you’ve ever had, Pious,” Bleys said admiringly. “Potter is really cute. So reluctant. No wonder you put your hands on him all the time. And that mess he calls hair—it’s so soft. I always thought it would feel like a handful of dried grass.”

Pious clenched his teeth. He knew perfectly well what Albus Potter’s hair felt like. He certainly did not need Bleys Zabini recapping the sensation for him. He bit back a snarl and managed a somewhat normal tone. “You like girls, remember?”

Bleys shrugged. “Maybe I should keep my options open. At any rate, it will be fun playing with Potter. Shouldn’t you get to Quidditch practice?”

Pious clamped his jaw shut on a comment guaranteed to draw an unwelcome response from Bleys. He got to his feet and strove for calm. “Are you going to come watch your boy toy?” Oh shit, that had sounded decidedly bitter.

“Are you referring to Potter or yourself?” Bleys asked. Pious decided to leave before the urge to punch his best friend became too strong to contain.



Quidditch practice was torture. Potter was in prime form, looking like some god of the air on his broom. He dodged the Bludgers Pious sent his way with ease and waved happily at Bleys, who watched from the stands like some sort of adoring fanboy. Pious began to question the wisdom of his own plan, especially when a Bludger nearly knocked him from his broom while he glared at Bleys. He sent the ball back to Potter, who executed a barrel roll and laughed at Pious and gifted him with a rude gesture.

Pious lingered over his shower while Potter raced through his, probably in his excitement to get back to Bleys, who waited by the locker room door. The rest of the Slytherin team hurriedly cleared out, most likely sensing the tension and wanting no part of the escalating Malfoy/Potter war. Pious walked back to the castle alone and fumed when he caught sight of Potter and Bleys nearing the gate. Bleys had his arm companionably around Al’s shoulder. I just miss Bleys, Pious rationalized. That’s all.

Pious went to his room to study until dinner, even though the words blended together uselessly. He was glad Bleys and Potter had not returned to the Slytherin dorms, even while he wondered where the hell they had gone. He remembered Bleys’s words. Was he really attracted to Albus Potter? Was he off somewhere snogging the black-haired menace right now?

The thought made Pious throw his books aside angrily and seek out sustenance. As luck would have it, James Potter was just exiting the Great Hall when Pious approached the entrance.

“Hey there, Potter,” Pious called companionably. “Is Bleys in there, or is he still out shagging your brother?”

Pious regretted his words almost instantly as James launched himself forward with a cry of rage, knocking them both to the ground. Pious could hardly breathe from the weight of the Gryffindor. James jammed his wand into Pious’s throat.

“I’ll fucking kill you, Malfoy! Did you engineer this with your poncy boyfriend?”

“James!” The voice belonged to Rose Weasley. She tugged ineffectually at Potter’s arm. Pious hoped she could remove the madman, but he could not resist one more barb.

“You like being on top of me, don’t you, Potter? I think being poncy runs in your family.”

James bellowed a curse that might have taken off the top of Pious’s head. Luckily, someone stronger than Rose Weasley yanked away the arm holding the wand, and the hex blasted a chunk out of the marble floor instead. Pious laughed shakily until a booted foot slammed into his hipbone—James had gotten in a lucky shot as he was dragged bodily from Pious.

“I’ll kill you, Malfoy!” Potter shrieked and Pious looked innocently at Professor Flitwick, who had exited the Great Hall just in time to catch that choice phrase. Madam Pomfrey accompanied him. Pious felt like he’d just been handed a gift.

“Keep him away from me, Professors!” Pious cried. “He’s gone completely mad! Did you see what he did?” Pious clutched his hip and writhed convincingly. Madam Pomfrey knelt at his side solicitously.

“James Potter! Go to the office of the Headmistress immediately! Mr. Malfoy, what started this ruckus?”

“I don’t know,” Pious gasped. “I merely asked if he had seen Bleys in the Great Hall.”

“Fucking liar!” James yelled.

“Now, Mr. Potter!” Flitwick ordered. The Gryffindors surrounding James wisely escorted him away.

“Come, Mr. Malfoy. Let’s get you to the hospital wing where I can properly examine you,” said Madam Pomfrey.



~~- oOo -~~



The holiday break came before the situation could get any worse, much to Al’s relief. Not that he was looking forward to any holiday that involved the presence of his brother. He hoped to get permission to spend the majority of the holidays with Hell.

Al thought he might avoid Pious Malfoy altogether on the train, but when he left his compartment to say goodbye to Rose and Hugo, naturally he ran straight into the git in the corridor. Never one to miss an opportunity, Malfoy immediately slammed Al against the wall.

“Going to be an interesting holiday, isn’t it, Potter?” Pious murmured into the shell of Al’s ear. Albus shuddered slightly at the feel of the hard chest pressed against his. Malfoy’s hands lightly gripped Al’s biceps, barely a touch at all according to the Malfoy Book of Torment. For some reason, Al did not tense up the way he normally did. The touch was familiar and… something else. It surprised him for a moment, long enough that he could not find his voice.

A throat-clearing noise sounded behind them and they turned to see Bleys smirking at them.

“Pious,” Bleys said with a sigh and took the blond’s elbow to guide him away from Albus. “What did I tell you? I don’t want you touching my Albus. That means at school, on the train, or anywhere else. All right?”

Pious glared, but allowed Bleys to manoeuvre him away. Al decided he felt relieved. Yes, definitely relieved and grateful to Bleys for interrupting them.

“Sorry, muffin,” Bleys said to Al and pressed a light kiss against the corner of Al’s mouth. Al managed not to jump at the contact and Bleys winked at him. As the two Slytherins strolled away, Al turned his head to find James approaching from the other direction. His brother’s mouth twisted in a hateful sneer and then he entered a compartment, banging the door behind him. Al sighed. It was going to be a very long holiday.



Al was more than ready to return to school after the holidays. The break from school had been painful in more ways than one. He rubbed one shoulder absently. James had nearly dislocated it after one altercation. Al found it was actually a relief to return to what passed for normalcy in his life at the moment. Pious was surprisingly scarce on the train, which was a nice change. Al sat with Hell and Hugo. Rose and Lily joined them for a short time before trotting off to sit with Lily’s fellow Gryffindors. Al fairly bounced in his seat with anticipation and willed the train to move faster.

A large part of his excitement was due to the Devil’s Snare seeds packed in the bottom of his trunk. He had half-expected James to confiscate them, if only to be a prat. It was with particular delight that Al found them nestled safely where he had left them. They were useless as a potion ingredient, which was why he had felt it safe to carry them without additional concealment. James might have thought they were meant for use in Herbology or something.

Now that Al had a prank planned that would hopefully keep Pious Malfoy out of his hair without the necessity of Al submitting to Bleys, he felt more confident. In fact, his first order of business was to “break up” with the Slytherin boy. He did not bother to seek out Zabini, knowing he would find him in the Slytherin common room later. In order to avoid a scene in the Great Hall, Al and Hell avoided dinner and instead slipped into the kitchens to eat before separating and going to their respective dungeons.

Bleys Zabini was not at all amenable to Al’s idea. Al had not seen a single platinum hair of Pious Malfoy, not even when Bleys entered the door and threw himself bodily on Al’s bed with a pleasant greeting.

“We’re breaking up,” Al said without preamble.

Bleys sat up quickly, dragged the curtains shut and cast a Silencing Charm.

“What? Why?”

“I did a lot of thinking over the holidays and I also got used to the novelty of no one pawing at me,” Al explained.

“Is that all? I thought it was starting to bother you less,” Bleys said and put his hand on Al’s knee. Al whacked Zabini’s knuckles sharply with his wand.

“Hands off. I’m serious. Although it has been nice not having Malfoy mauling me on a constant basis, I feel I’ve merely traded one clingy demon for another.”

Bleys sat up as if affronted. “That’s hardly fair. I only touch you when we’re in public. I thought you were doing it to annoy Pious.”

“Pious doesn’t seem to be all that annoyed. Maybe he doesn’t want you back.”

Bleys snorted. “Of course he does. He’s livid. I didn’t hear from him at all over the holidays. He did not even send me a Christmas gift.”

“Shouldn’t that mean he’s not interested and never wants to see you again?”

“Potter, Potter, Potter. How naïve you are about pureblood politics. If Pious never wanted to see me again, he would have sent an expensive gift and inquired politely after my parents. The fact that he sent nothing means he is sulking.”

Al definitely did not understand pureblood politics and had no desire to learn. “Regardless, we are no longer a couple.”

“Come on, Albus. Just a few more days? You know that bint Parkinson will have a test for us the moment we get to class tomorrow with at least one follow-up quiz.”

“I’ll still help you with Potion,” Al assured him. “I just need the… you know, the boyfriend thing to stop.”

Bleys’s dark eyes narrowed. “So you’ve got something new to try on Pious? You don’t need me any longer?”

Al looked at him innocently. “No, I think I’m going to give up the war. Concentrate on school and all that.”

“Wow, your parents must have come down hard on you over holiday. Was it because of me?”

“That has nothing to do with it!” Al said hotly, knowing Bleys would immediately assume he lied. It worked admirably.

“All right, all right,” Bleys said, backing down. “What will you do when Pious starts touching you again?”

“I’m going to ignore him. I’ve gotten pretty good at that, thanks to you. Everyone tells me that if I don’t let it bother me, he will stop.”

Bleys smirked and Al gave him an uncertain smile, as if he had doubts about it, also. It wouldn’t do to let Bleys know he had plans for Malfoy. He knew Zabini and Malfoy still talked companionably, even though Malfoy no longer lounged on Bleys like a pale blanket. One slip from Bleys, unintentional or otherwise, and Al’s plot would be ruined.

“Well, can we at least go over some potions? Anything you think Parkinson might test us on tomorrow?”

Al nodded in relief and Summoned his Potions book from his trunk. He spent the next forty minutes coaching Zabini on Potion ingredients, mixtures, stirring techniques, and the properties of several items. Bleys had been sorely lacking in potion-making fundamentals, likely due to behaving like a complete slacker for the past four years.

Bleys scanned a page and explained to Al the process for brewing the complicated Felix Felicis potion. When he got it right, he laughed and threw his arms happily around Albus, who allowed it merely because he felt a particular sense of pride at being such a fine teacher.

“Thank you, Albus! I think I finally get it and it’s all because of you!”

Bleys leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Al’s lips. Al was so surprised he froze like a deer caught in Muggle headlights. Bleys had given him pecks now and again, but this was the first full-on kiss. Al found himself evaluating it curiously, finding it remarkably similar to the kisses of dozens—if not hundreds—of girls he had snogged. Bleys sucked gently on his lower lip and moved forward slightly as if to deepen the kiss. That was quite enough for Al. He raised his hand and put it on Zabini’s chest to push him away. At that moment the curtains were wrenched aside and Pious Malfoy stood gaping at them like a vengeful angel.

Bleys pulled away and Al envied his skin tone—any blush would be quite effectively concealed, unlike the red most likely staining Al’s cheeks like a splash of paint. Al recovered quickly and grinned at Malfoy as he cancelled the Silencing Charm.

“Do you mind, Malfoy? Ever hear of privacy?”

The blond spun on a heel and stalked out of the dorm. Al laughed aloud, but Bleys looked worried.

“We could not have planned that better if we tried,” Al said and nudged him.

“I’d better go, Al,” Bleys said and slid off of the bed. “He’s really going to be mad now.”

“Isn’t that the point?” Al asked.

“Yes. It was, but now I’m not so sure.”



~~- oOo -~~



Pious was livid. The holiday had turned out to be far worse than expected, especially after a simple diversion had turned into a debacle and left his father in a complete snit for the duration. Pious had spent most of the holiday in his room, hiding from the wrath of the elder Malfoy. He had sought out Bleys on the train and poured out the entire story, expecting sympathy, but instead the traitorous bastard had completely sided with his father. Pious had refused to speak to him after that and instead entertained himself by tormenting the younger students who unwisely had chosen to sit in the same compartment. Eventually Bleys had tired of his antics and left the car to sit elsewhere. Good riddance, Pious had thought petulantly.

And now this. It was mind-boggling. Bleys had assured him that Potter felt nothing for him and was simply allowing the farce to continue in order to avoid Pious. Either Bleys had been lying or things had altered markedly. Kissing. They had been kissing! Fucking Bleys! He had no bloody right!

The common room was suddenly too close—Pious felt a distinct claustrophobia. He hurried through the door and out. He did not pause in the front hall, but opened the large doors and fled. His sense of betrayal was nearly as great as his astonishment. How dare Bleys? Fuck, how could he not have seen it? Potter is so cute. So reluctant, Bleys had said. Pious sneered. Reluctant, indeed. Apparently that had changed.

Pious headed for the lake and quickly wished he had grabbed his cloak. The wind was freezing and rain was beginning to spit from the sky. It would be dark soon. He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. He wondered when this game he had started had gotten so out of control. He was suddenly swimming in uncertainty and he did not like the feeling at all.

Bleys found him, of course, and threw a fur cloak around his shoulders. They sat together on a boulder overlooking the lake. Neither of them spoke for long moments. The rain began to fall in earnest and Bleys cast a Charm to keep the water from soaking them.

“It’s not what you think,” Bleys said finally.

Pious shot a sardonic gaze in his direction. He did not trust himself to speak for fear that once begun the words would never cease. He could feel the rage bubbling just beneath the surface. He wanted to drag Bleys to the lake and drown him. The urge was not lost on his friend, who smiled at him knowingly.

“You’re thinking about killing me, aren’t you?” Bleys asked.

“How can you tell?”

“I’ve seen that look before. Not usually directed toward me, thankfully. It is rather curious, though.”

“What is?” Pious asked although he wasn’t sure why he was even talking to the prat. He should go back inside and ignore Bleys properly.

“I’m trying to decide what you’re so angry about.”

Pious gaped at him. He found himself spluttering and clamped his jaw shut rather than babble incoherently. The silence forced him to think rather than react. Why was he so angry? Bleys cocked a brow and Pious glared at the lake rather than face his curious gaze.

“I’m upset because you lied to me,” he said finally.

“I never lied to you!” Bleys sounded surprised.

“Of course you did. You told me you were completely straight and the next thing I know you’re snogging Albus Potter!”

“You’re angry because I kissed Albus.”

“Yes, I’m angry because you kissed Albus!” Pious yelled and then realized what he had just said. He tried to back-pedal. “I mean, I’m not upset because you kissed the git. Why would I care about that?”

Pious shut his eyes, unwilling to face the truth that was beginning to pound against his temples, demanding acknowledgement. Fuck!

“He was not exactly fighting you off, was he? It looks like Mr. Confirmed Heterosexual, the bloke who is well-known to have snogged every bloody girl in the school, the boy who cannot stand to be touched—save apparently by Bleys Zabini—is not as straight as everyone imagines.”

Pious realized he was shouting and clamped his jaw shut with effort.

“You’re jealous!” Bleys said in amazement.

“Jealous,” Pious said and huffed. “As if.”

“Scorpius! You want Albus Potter!”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Pious snapped. He threw himself away from the boulder and marched into the rain.

Bleys followed. “So you don’t want Potter?”

“No!”

“But you don’t want me to kiss him.”

Pious opened his mouth to deny it, but the words stuck in his throat. His shoulders sagged. “No,” he said quietly.

Bleys put an arm around his shoulders. “All right.”

Pious looked at him quizzically. Bleys’s white teeth flashed in the growing darkness. “What does that mean?”

“I mean the game is finished. It wasn’t working, anyway. James Potter won’t do anything to chance being thrown out of school. You should have seen that long ago. Rumour has it that James simply beat Albus half to death over the holidays.”

Pious drew in a surprised breath.

“He what?”

Bleys nodded. “I got the story when I left you on the train and went to sit with Juliet McMillan. She overheard Lily Potter telling the story to Rose Weasley.”

“But Albus looked fine,” Pious said, wishing he could identify the strange constriction that seemed to be gripping his chest.

“Of course he looked fine. His parents took him to Mungo’s and got him fixed up before school started. Frankly, I’ll bet my Quidditch card collection that James Potter has something to do with Al’s hatred of being touched.”

Pious swallowed hard. He identified part of the unfamiliar sensation. Guilt. If he hadn’t provoked James, if he hadn’t suggested the whole game with Bleys, James would not have attacked Albus at all.

“This is really fucked up, isn’t it?”

Bleys threw an arm around his shoulders and guided him back toward the castle.

“If it’s any consolation, this thing between you and Potter was always fucked up.”

“Thank you, Bleys, that makes me feel loads better.”

“What are best friends for?”



~~- oOo -~~



Al watched Bleys leave and pondered his words. Despite his forced bravado, Al felt no satisfaction at stabbing a figurative knife into Malfoy’s heart. Seeing someone else snogging someone you cared about could not have been pleasant. And Malfoy really had not done much to Al lately.

Pious appeared to be fine when he returned with Bleys. They seemed to have regained their usual chumminess. That was quick, Al thought dryly as he feigned sleep and watched surreptitiously as the blond readied himself and climbed into bed. He had expected Pious to hold a grudge against Bleys for quite a long while. Bleys winked in Al’s direction when Pious wasn’t watching and Al quickly shut his eyes.

Surprisingly, Pious did not return to his usual habits. Al had three days of touch-free bliss before he began to feel out of sorts. Hell noticed Al moping at the breakfast table on Thursday morning.

“What’s wrong?” Hell asked. “Are you upset because of Bleys and Pious? You seemed downright delirious on Monday.”

Al’s gaze slid to the Slytherin table. Bleys picked up a citrus slice and held it teasingly for Pious to bite. The blond’s eyes met Al’s as his white teeth cut into the bit of orange. Pious’s pink tongue flicked out and touched Bleys’s fingertips for a moment. Al felt as though someone had punched him in the stomach, although he wasn’t certain why.

“I… I don’t think I feel well,” Al said lamely and got to his feet. He left his breakfast largely untouched and bolted. Hell followed, concerned.

“Albus! Are you all right?”

“Yes, don’t worry about me. It must be something I ate. I’m going to go and see Rose. You know how she likes to concoct home remedies.”

“But she’s sitting at the Ravenclaw table right now…”

“I’ll wait for her in the Ravenclaw common room. Will you grab my books and take them to Potions for me?”

Al did not wait for Hell’s response. Instead he hurried to the stairs and climbed quickly. He did head for Ravenclaw Tower, but he had no interest in talking to Rose. The girl was uncanny at diagnosing Al’s problems at a mere glance. Al was not so sure he wanted to hear her thoughts about his current disgruntled state. Instead he wandered into some dusty, semi-used parts of the castle and thought about the plant that currently grew on the windowsill in the old Transfiguration classroom. It had been boarded up since the war with Voldemort—apparently the walls were unstable in that area now. The Devil’s Snare grew quickly and would be ready for Al’s purposes in a few more days.

Although he was currently having second thoughts about tormenting Malfoy. What was the point, if the blond was going to ignore him from now on? Frankly, the ignoring thing was what had Albus confused. One constant in Al’s life had always been that Pious Malfoy would be a thorn in his side. Al would get up in the morning, exchange a smirk with the blond git, and the battle of wills would begin. Now Malfoy acted like Al did not exist.

Al sighed. Surely he didn’t miss the prat? It was nice not having to fight off his wandering hands. It was blissful not to have those soft lips pressing into his neck while barbed insults were whispered into his ear. It was wonderful not to have Pious destroying his concentration in Charms by putting a “helpful” hand on his elbow and gliding his fingers over Al’s wrist…

Al swore roundly as the memories brought a rush of heat to the pit of his stomach. Perhaps he was coming down with an illness. He could not possibly miss Pious Malfoy. It was likely just the attention Albus craved. Even when Bleys was pretending to be Al’s boyfriend, Pious did not completely ignore him. Al still received the deadly glares, the sharp-tongued barbs, and the sneers of superiority. Now there was just… nothing. He once thought it would be a great gift to be ignored by Pious Malfoy. Now it felt like a curse. Be careful what you wish for, he thought ruefully.

Al noted the time with a start and raced for the nearest stairs. Professor Parkinson showed favouritism to her Slytherin students on occasion, but that favour seldom extended to Albus. He made it to the dungeon entrance with time to spare and trotted down the steps before pausing to catch his breath. He did not want to rush in to class panting like a steam engine. It was un-Slytherin. The air suddenly whooshed out of his lungs when he was grabbed from behind.

Al stiffened until a familiar scent reached his nostrils and a pair of hands skated over his torso to dig lightly into the sensitive spots on Al’s ribs. To his later horror, Al relaxed with a sigh of relief. Actually, relaxed might have been too mild a word, it was more like he melted.

“Albus,” Pious Malfoy purred before his teeth sank into Al’s earlobe. Hot breath sent shivers skittering through Al’s blood. “Did you miss me?” Another nibble, this one on the edge of Al’s jaw, made it impossible to think straight. His senses were screaming, especially when one hand moved upward to tangle in his hair and twist his head back. The grip was surprisingly gentle and Al’s breath hitched as his throat bared to the blond. Pious ignored his jugular and instead whispered, “I think you did.”

Malfoy’s lips pressed down on Al’s and met no resistance. Al’s mouth was already open and Malfoy took advantage of the fact to slip his tongue inside and taste Albus, who forgot that he hated to be touched, that he was not interested in blokes, that he hated Pious Malfoy with a passion. He forgot everything except how bloody incredible the kiss felt. Though he had kissed and been kissed hundreds of times, Albus had never before been devoured, consumed, and stripped to his very soul. Time seemed suspended as he drank in the sensations—Malfoy’s heat pressing into him from behind, the firm arm gripping his torso, the fingers in his hair, and the tongue, oh Merlin, the tongue sending jets of fire careening through Al’s body to pool in a molten pit somewhere near his groin…

Al exploded into motion and tore himself out of Malfoy’s grip with a cry of dismay. He nearly fell on the stone floor as he turned and stared at the blond. He raised a trembling hand to his lips and cursed the darkness. He could not properly see Malfoy’s expression. Was the git smirking, or was he as shaken as Al? He decided he would rather not know, so he turned and fled into the Potions classroom where he threw himself into his chair and tried to regain his composure. The attempt apparently failed miserably, judging by the horrified look on Hell’s face.

“Albus, you’re scaring me. Are you seriously sick or what?”

Al barked a chuckle that bordered on hysteria. “Oh yes, definitely sick,” he agreed and took a ragged breath. The hardness between his legs was proof absolute of his sickness. He had been turned on—extremely turned on—by Pious fucking Malfoy. Al blanched when his brain put those words together, because he had never even considered the concept of fucking Malfoy until that very moment.

Al put his head down on the desk and prayed for death.

“I’ll be fine in a minute,” he muttered, sensing Hell’s hand hovering over his back. The hand retreated.

“Let me know if I can get you anything,” Hell offered quietly. “Like a medi-witch.”

Al did not think medical magic could cure his newfound illness. He did not dare look over at the shuffling sound that announced Malfoy’s arrival to class. Al wasn’t certain he would ever be able to look at the blond again.



~~- oOo -~~



Pious watched Albus flee and reached out a hand to brace himself against the wall. What the hell was that about? Bloody hell, a ridiculous impulse had turned around and bitten him on the arse.

He had been heading for the Potions classroom when he had noticed his nemesis standing in the deserted, dark hallway, apparently catching his breath. Pious had been unable to resist the sight. He had pretended for days that Potter did not exist and the strain was beginning to tell. He itched to touch that soft skin and stroke the thick hair.

Before he could stop himself he had taken several silent steps and wrapped Potter in a tight embrace. As expected, Potter had gone wire-taut—and then relaxed so suddenly and completely that Pious had nearly released him in surprise. Instead he had leaned forward and tasted Al’s earlobe before whispering into his ear. Even that had not caused Potter to pull away, so Pious had given in to the urge to curl his fingers in the raven hair and tip Potter’s head back.

Fuck, the sight of Al’s slender throat was bad enough, but the half-open lips nearly undid him. A pack of Nouveau Death Eaters could not have kept Pious from lowering his lips to that perfect mouth. He wanted to punish Al for kissing Bleys, for allowing Bleys’s touch, but never his All thought of punishment fled after the first taste. Pious was lost.

Potter felt like heaven and tasted even better. It had been so long since Pious had even placed a hand on him that the sensation was nearly overwhelming. He expected a fist or elbow or some sort of blow that never came. Potter’s breathing deepened and he made a sound low in his throat that went straight to Pious’s libido. Part of his body woke up eagerly, but not before Albus Potter tore himself out of his arms. Pious nearly stumbled at the sudden absence and noticed that Potter did the same—his fingertips brushed the stone floor before he righted himself and dragged a hand across his mouth.

Pious imagined the accusatory glare Potter no doubt cast at him. It was impossible to tell in the dim lighting. Pious opened him mouth to say—something, but Potter turned and fled. Pious leaned against the wall until he recovered some semblance of dignity.

He strolled in to the Potions classroom and saw Hell reach out a concerned hand toward Potter, whose forehead rested on the table. Potter muttered something and Hell’s fingers withdrew, much to Pious’s satisfaction. He quelled the thought in annoyance. No he did not care who touched Albus Potter.

The other boy ignored Pious for the entirety of the lesson. Pious decided he was relieved. He did find it interesting when Potter completely botched a simple Luminescence Potion. Normally he could brew potions in his sleep. Pious smirked to himself when he realized that something must have disturbed Potter’s concentration. He wanted to confess to Bleys that he had kissed Albus, but his friend was completely focused on the stupid lesson. Bleys had been quite rabid about potions ever since infernal Potter had started tutoring him. Pious tried not to think about what other lessons Bleys and Potter had shared, even though Bleys had assured him that nothing had gone on other than the single kiss Pious had witnessed. Pious would reserve judgment.

When class ended, Potter threw his things together and tried to escape, but Pious quickly stepped in front of him, blocking the exit. The green eyes shot to his in alarm and Pious grinned before reaching out to splay a hand over Al’s chest. He felt a frantic heartbeat beneath his palm.

“See you in Charms, Potter,” he purred softly and felt the breath catch in his throat when a fine blush bloomed over Al’s pale cheeks. Pious could scarcely remember a time when Albus Potter had blushed. He had certainly never done so during Pious’s prior years of mauling. Normally he just snarled, shouted, or hexed him. The blush was new and quite enticing, actually. Pious suddenly wanted to kiss him again.

An elbow caught him sharply in the midsection as Al pushed by him and out the door. The slight pain did nothing to curtail the fine mood Pious found himself in. He actually hummed as he made his way to the Charms classroom.



~~- oOo -~~



Al fled like the hounds of Hades were at his heels. He could not escape to his own room—nowhere in the Slytherin dungeon was safe from the blond dementor. Al went instead to the Hufflepuff dungeon, raced through their common room to the dorm and threw himself on Hell’s bed.

His Hufflepuff friend came in moments later. Hell dropped to the edge of the bed and drew up his legs. “All right, Albus, spill it.”

Al buried his face in the pillow. How was he supposed to admit to his sudden insane attraction to Pious Malfoy? Al groaned.

“What has he done now?” Hell asked.

“Who?” Al mumbled, pretending stupidity. Hell smacked him sharply on the calf. “Ouch!”

“You know very well who. I’ve never seen you like this, Al, so what is it?”

Al felt terrible at the necessity of shutting out Hell. He settled for an abbreviated version of the truth.

“He’s doing it again, Hell. The damned touching thing. I have to stop it. I have to stop it tonight.”

“But the Devil’s Snare isn’t big enough, is it?”

Al sat up and faced Hell. “I’ve been thinking about that. Remember that Growth Charm your dad uses?”

Hell nodded. “Yeah, but it’s only temporary.”

Al laughed. “Exactly. A few hours are all I need. Do you remember the spell?”

“Of course. Dad makes me cast it every time Gran Gram comes over—to make the lawn look thicker.”

Al blinked for a moment. “No wonder your grass always looks like shit.”

“Yeah, it’s really bad on the lawn to keep doing it, but you know how he is around Gran…”

“Can you teach me?”

“Sure, but shouldn’t we get to class right now?”

Al shook his head. “Tell Flitwick I’m sick. I’m going to skive off classes for the rest of the day. Avoid Malfoy until it’s time to lure him in for the kill.”



~~- oOo -~~



Pious was annoyed by Potter’s cowardly reaction. How dared he pretend to be ill merely to avoid him? Pious had confronted Longbottom after Charms and demanded to know where the git had disappeared. Hell stammered some nonsense about Potter feeling sick and taking to his bed. What he meant was that Potter had apparently taken to Longbottom’s bed, because a search of Potter’s bed in the Slytherin dorm disclosed no Albus. Pious was indignant—not for the first time—that Potter had access to the other Houses whenever he wanted. He complained bitterly to Bleys.

“Pious, we’ve had this discussion at least seven dozen times. Yes, it’s bloody unfair that Albus is given the passwords to the other Houses; yes, it is quite annoying that he can come and go as he pleases; and yes, I believe he takes advantage of the fact mostly in order to irritate you. It seems to be working.”

“He’s skulking like a bloody frightened virgin just because I kissed him,” Pious gritted, giving vent to the aforementioned irritation.

“You did what?” Bleys gaped at him and halted in the hallway, nearly causing a group of first-years to run into him. The students parted around them like a school of nervous fish and hurried down the corridor. Most of them were well versed in the wrath of Malfoy and Zabini.

“He seemed to enjoy kissing you so I decided to give him a taste of someone better.” Pious tossed his head and grinned at Bleys’s continuing look of astonishment.

“And you’re still breathing? You don’t have boils, or chronic baldness, or testicles the size of grapefruit…?”

Pious sniffed. “I think he was overwhelmed with lust. He fled after Potions class and has not shown his face since.”

In fact, Pious was more than a little worried about the black-haired boy. Maybe Pious had gone too far this time and scared Potter away forever. Now that Pious had accepted the slight, miniscule possibility that he was maybe a trifling bit attracted to the git… Well, it simply wouldn’t do to have Potter spurning him without at least giving him the same chance he had Bleys. Even if that chance had been entirely faked. Pious scowled. He just wanted to talk to the prat.

“That’s a bit… frightening, actually,” Bleys said and continued walking. They had Care of Magical Creatures after lunch, a class Pious normally adored if only for the numerous opportunities to torment Potter.

“Frightening?” Pious asked and walked quickly to keep up with Bleys. Zabini had two speeds—slower than waiting for Polyjuice Potion to cure, or quick as a Seeker after a Snitch. Both had no rationale other than Zabini’s capricious moods.

“Of course frightening! Just because he hasn’t pulled any horrific pranks lately doesn’t mean he won’t. He told me he was considering a ceasefire, quitting his war against you. Now that you’ve gone and renewed your animosity, there is no telling what he will do!”

“What animosity? I don’t feel any animosity for Potter! I kissed him because I wanted to,” Pious protested innocently. For once he actually meant it.

Bleys stopped again and his dark gaze pieced Pious. “Does Potter know that?”

Pious looked away and wished he had never started the conversation. He was silent for long moments until Bleys made a sound of disgust and continued his ground-eating walk. “Be afraid!” Bleys called over his shoulder.



Pious was furious by the time he returned to the Slytherin Common Room after the evening meal. Potter had not shown his face once since their confrontation in Potions. A quick scan of the common room showed no Potter, so Pious continued into their dorm and yanked back the curtains on Potter’s bed. Empty.

Pious let out a frustrated breath and sat on his own bed. It was then that he noticed the envelope on his pillow. He snatched it and tore it open.

Malfoy, meet me by the statue of Pythagoras at 11 pm. We need to talk. Tell no one. AP

Pious crumpled the paper in his fist and then cast Incendio until even the ashes were gone and only a charred spot remained on the floor. No shit they needed to talk. What the fuck was wrong with doing so here and now? Pious had plenty to say to his absentee dorm-mate. In fact, he thought he might make a list. He had plenty of time before 11 pm. He considered telling Bleys despite Potter’s admonition, but he knew Bleys would simply go on about how he should not meet with an angry Potter in a deserted corridor in the middle of the night. Pious though he knew Potter quite a lot better than Bleys. He wasn’t worried.



(BREAK FIC HERE FOR LENGTH)



The corridor where the statue of Pythagoras resided was near Ravenclaw Tower, close to the Arithmancy classroom. It seemed an odd location and Pious had the devil’s own time getting there undetected. He passed about ninety other places he considered more suitable for a private conversation and added another line to his mental list of complaints for Potter. Filch and his stupid cat nearly caught him as he rounded the third floor stairwell. Only a ridiculously slow and silent ascension of the next set of stairs kept him from detection by the cat’s sensitive ears. Pious hated that bloody cat. Not for the first time, he wondered what kind of idiot would name a cat Mr. Wharton. Filch, of course, he answered himself as he continued upward. Apparently his first cat had been named Mrs. Norris, another ridiculous name.

He waited for long minutes at the entrance to the hallway, wondering if Potter had cooked up some sort of trap after all. It seemed deserted, with no Potter waiting. Pious eyed the place suspiciously. It was an odd place for a private meeting, unless Potter was aware of some sort of secret passageway or room. Pious’s father had told him about several, but there were none that he knew of in this part of the castle.

Pious muttered a Tempus Charm. 11:05. There was no sign of Potter at all. He scowled, thinking it very likely the prat had made him come all the way up here only to risk being caught out of bed. He knew the smartest thing would be to turn smartly around and go back to the Slytherin dungeon. Definitely the smartest thing, he thought as his feet carried him forward. He cursed the Malfoy curiosity that he had inherited from his father. Potter might have left him a message or something. He had to know.

The statue was dimly lit from below by a permanent Charm, which merely made old Pythagoras look sinister in the dark. Beyond the muted glow the darkness was inky and ominous. Pious gripped his wand more tightly and took a cautious step. A whisper of sound jerked his head to the right, but it was too late. The Expelliarmus sent his wand wrenching from his grip. Pious swore, but before he could turn and flee something looped around his ankle. He kicked at it, but several more wrapped around his wrist, thigh, and waist.

“Potter!” Pious snarled.

As if conjured by his name, Albus Potter appeared. Pious was not certain it was him until a wan glow lit the tip of the wand in his hand. By then Pious was nearly immobilized by the dark strands that surrounded him in slowly tightening tendrils.

“Don’t struggle,” Potter warned. “It’s Devil’s Snare.”

Pious froze. One had worked its way around his neck.

“I hate you, Potter.’

“The feeling is definitely mutual, Malfoy,” Potter said in a purring tone. He Summoned Pious’s wand and dangled it tauntingly before putting it into a pocket.

“What do you want, Potter? If you’re into bondage, wouldn’t silk ties be simpler?” The tendril around Pious’s neck tightened slightly.

“I want you to leave me alone. Permanently.”

“And you think tying me up with a plant will persuade me?”

“No, probably not, but this might.” Potter cast another spell and Pious was suddenly shirtless. Another Vanished his trousers and then his shoes. Pious gasped in astonishment.

“Bloody hell, Potter, where did you learn that spell?” In spite of himself, Pious was impressed.

Potter scoffed. “When you pull as many pranks as I do, that spell is a necessity.”

“And yet you’ve never used it on me,” Pious said and tried not to sound disappointed.

“I never had the urge to see you naked, Malfoy,” Potter said dryly.

“Until now,” Pious replied suggestively.

Potter laughed. “Oh this display is not for me. It’s for the Ravenclaw girls. Did you know they all use this corridor in the morning on their way to the girls’ bath?”

Pious clenched his jaw. He still wore his boxers, for which he was grateful, but he knew a single wave of Potter’s wand could change that. He twitched involuntarily and a tendril tightened around his bicep. He glared.



~~- oOo -~~



Albus caught the enraged look and felt a heady rush of power.

“You intend to leave me here?” Malfoy asked.

“Oh yes. After I remove your final bit of protection, of course,” Al said and gestured with his wand. He tried not to notice that Malfoy was now clad in only a small bit of silk. The blond was disturbingly attractive with the dark tendrils curling over his limbs, neck, and lean waist. He was quite still, knowing that every movement would cause the mobile branches to constrict.

Malfoy smirked. “I’m not sure I have a problem with that, Potter. I’m quite good-looking, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

Al nodded. “I thought you might feel that way. But you may have forgotten that there is one person likely to find you before the girls straggle out of their dorm in the morning…”

Malfoy drew in a breath and then his eyebrows drew down. Albus laughed. “Yes, I’m quite sure Argus Filch has noticed how good-looking you are.”

“That’s sick, Potter.”

Al tsked and made a show of pacing back and forth before the bound Slytherin. “I know, it’s terrible the way he looks at young men. I can’t believe they allow him to stay at Hogwarts. Disgraceful, really. I’ve heard since he’s a Squib that he’s forced to use potions in order to… have his way with students. You’ve heard the stories. They wake up in the morning feeling strange with no memory of the night before…”

Al’s voice was hushed and he realized the tale sounded even worse in the thick darkness of a deserted corridor. There were many stories about Filch, most of which were complete bollocks, according to Al’s father. And yet the tales remained. Malfoy’s jaw worked and and Al could hear the uneven quality of his breathing. Oddly, he felt no satisfaction. He hoped the Slytherin would take the deal so Al could release him. He stopped in front of Malfoy and cleared his throat in an official manner.

“So. If you promise never to touch me again and definitely never to kiss me again, then I shall release you. But I want your promise as a Malfoy.”

“Potter, I...” Malfoy’s voice was unsteady and sounded almost fearful.

“Take it or leave it!” Al snapped and spun on his heel. He took a few deliberate steps.

“Wait, I take it!” Malfoy cried. Al backtracked and Pious continued, “I promise not to touch you!”

“And?”

“I promise not to kiss you either, now let me out of this thing. There is something very wrong with it—”

Malfoy’s words were cut off by a long, terrible shriek of pain. Alarmed, Albus brightened his wand. He froze for an instant, unable to comprehend what he saw.

The Devil’s Snare had grown sharp, bladelike projections. Malfoy was pierced in a dozen places and looked like a human pincushion. Al watched with horror as the blond spasmed in agony. The shudders coursing through Pious made the plant crush him more tightly, twisting the sharp edges into his flesh. Dark rivulets trickled over Malfoy’s skin and for several long heartbeats Albus could not accept that it was blood. Blood.

“Lumosmaximus!” Al cried and levelled his wand at the base of the plant—the Devil’s Snare that had turned into something far more vicious and deadly. The wicked tendrils instantly shrank and withdrew, sliding out of Malfoy’s flesh and leaving him still and bloody on the hard stone. Al shouted an Immobilizing Spell to freeze the plant and then threw himself at the wounded blond. His knees banged against the floor as he scooped Pious into a terrified embrace. He was unconscious. The light from Al’s spell followed by stark darkness left Al blind, but the brief burst of luminosity had illuminated an obscene amount of blood on the floor beneath his victim.

Without pausing to think, Al cast a Weightlessness Charm on Malfoy, lifted him in his arms, and raced at breakneck speed to the Hospital Wing. He burst through the doors shouting hoarsely for Madam Pomfrey.



The questions were endless and implacable. Al told Pomfrey everything, leaving out only the reasoning behind Al’s attack. He explained that it had merely been a harmless prank and that the Devil’s Snare seeds had been taken from Professor Longbottom’s house over the holidays. They should not have been experimental or deadly.

Al’s hands had twisted together in anguish as he watched Madam Pomfrey work quickly over Pious with wand, potions, and powders.

“Is he going to be all right?” Al had asked in a hushed tone. She had thrown him an icy glare.

“I am doing the best I can, Mr. Potter. You will go to Headmistress McGonagall’s office immediately. The password is ‘hawthorn’. Go now, Mr. Potter!”

Al had thrown one last look at the pale blond, who looked far more pale than usual, and hurried out. Once in McGonagall’s office he had seated himself nervously in a chair and rubbed absently at the blood that was drying on his hands and caking on his clothing. Malfoy’s blood. Before Al could break down into hysterics, McGonagall had arrived and the interrogation had begun.

“Who had access to the seeds and the plant, Mr. Potter?” she asked sharply. “Prior to your utilizing them in the corridor.”

Al shook his head miserably. “No one. Well, everyone that knows how to get into my trunk, I suppose. Hell, James, Lily, and Rose. Possibly Hugo. None of them have a beef against Malfoy, though. Well, Hell does, but this was not his idea.”

“Did he know about it?”

Al flushed. “He knew about the Devil’s Snare, but he didn’t know what I planned to do with it.”

“And yet you got the seeds from his house?”

“Professor Longbottom would not have killer seeds at his house!” Al said hotly. They were ordinary seeds and the plant grew in a normal manner!”

She sighed, looking a dozen times more stern than usual. She should have looked less intimidating, since she wore a dressing gown and nightcap, but her manner of dress made little difference. Her expression of disappointment was condemning.

Al wanted to tear his hair in frustration. He was not even concerned about wriggling out of trouble; all he wanted was for Pious Malfoy to be safe and well. She asked, “It is possible the plant was tampered with after you germinated it. It has been confiscated and several of the Professors are looking at it now, including Professor Longbottom. Where were you keeping it?”

Albus told her and admitted the unlikely possibility of anyone locating the plant and turning it into a vicious weapon. “Will Malfoy… will Pi—Scorpius be all right?”

Any answer was interrupted by the sudden burst of activity near the fireplace. The flames flared and disgorged two men—Al’s father… and Draco Malfoy. They wore identical expressions of displeasure.

“Where is my son?” the elder Malfoy snarled.

“In the Hospital Wing, Mr. Malfoy,” said McGonagall. “I will take you—”

Her words trailed off as the blond man stalked immediately to the stairwell and down. Al wondered if he had been awake when the news was delivered—he was impeccably dressed. Unlike Al’s father, who looked to have thrown on a pair of jeans and a rumpled t-shirt before leaping into the Floo.

“Come on,” his father said and hurried after Mr. Malfoy. Al looked at the Headmistress in concern before following his father. He heard heels clicking rapidly on the stone as McGonagall joined the queue. “What happened, Al?” his father asked as they rushed after the angry Malfoy. Al tried to explain as he jogged.

They reached the Hospital Wing and gathered wordlessly around the bedside. Mr. Malfoy sat on the edge and touched Pious’s blond hair gently. Al hovered near the foot of the bed, feeling wretched, and his father stood next to him. Madam Pomfrey stood across from Mr. Malfoy and held Pious’s pale wrist in her fingers.

“His heartbeat seems to have stabilized and we’ve healed the majority of the wounds. I shall have to keep him a few days to ensure we’ve gotten the internal wounds closed and also to ascertain that his blood is replenishing properly.”

“What happened to him?” Mr. Malfoy asked in a deadly voice. Al was suddenly terrified and sidled closer to his father, who put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Al took a steadying breath and spilled the story for the third time. He doubted it would be the last.

“A prank?” Mr. Malfoy demanded as he stood and rounded on Albus. “You nearly killed my son for a bloody prank?”

Al stammered and his father came to his rescue. “In Al’s defence, your son is a constant source of irritation.”

“So that makes it all right for precious Al to set a lethal plant on him?” Mr. Malfoy’s voice was calm, but warning bells began to clang in Al’s head.

“No, of course not, but you heard Albus. It had to be some sort of mistake. He certainly would never intentionally hurt Scorpius.”

Mr. Malfoy’s glare could have rivalled a subzero winter. “I see. No Potter would ever wilfully cause bodily injury to a Malfoy, is that what you’re saying, Potter?”

Astoundingly, Al’s father flushed and his grip tightened on Al’s shoulder. “That was over twenty years ago and I was provoked! Just like your son likely provoked mine!”

The two men glared at each other and sparks seemed to crackle across the space that separated them. The animosity was suddenly tangible and Madam Pomfrey said, “Gentlemen! Please take all arguments outside! My patients need rest, especially your son, Mr. Malfoy.”

The blond man stalked forward and leaned close to Al’s father, who met his glare evenly. “Keep your fucking menace of a son away from mine. As of this moment, I have nothing more to say to you and I would prefer never to see your face again.”

With that, Pious’s angry father strode regally to the door and out.

“That bloody bastard!” Al’s father snarled. Without a word, he turned and hurried after the man. Al buried his face in his hands when he heard raised voices from the corridor. McGonagall and Pomfrey rushed out to join the fray and Al sidled quickly to the head of Pious’s bed. He sat down and touched the blond hair tentatively, the way Mr. Malfoy had done.

“I’m sorry,” Al said miserably.

“Mr. Potter!” the Headmistress called suddenly from the door. “Clean yourself up and go back to your dorm immediately. We will continue this discussion in the morning. Poppy, please have someone escort Mr. Potter to ensure no wandering.” The door slammed behind McGonagall and the medi-witch looked at Al sadly before walking into her office. Al heard her talking to a portrait and soon the Gryffindor ghost appeared. Al noticed his invisibility cloak had been cleaned and placed on the end of Pious’s bed. Al vaguely remembered grabbing it before his panicked rush to get Pious some help. He slung the cloak over and arm and allowed Nearly Headless Nick to “escort” him back to the Slytherin dungeons. Sir Nicholas chattered all the way, spilling stories about the rivalry between Al’s father and Mr. Malfoy when they attended Hogwarts. Al had heard them before and they only served to make him feel nauseous. Perhaps Al had never given Malfoy a chance; maybe he had simply acted on the stories of rivalry he had been brought up with. The thought was depressing.

After a quick trip to a bath where Al washed off a terrifying amount of dried blood, he followed Sir Nicolas to the Slytherin dungeon. There he waited only long enough for the ghost to float to another part of the school before he slung on his cloak and slipped out again. The clock had struck midnight while Al bathed, but he was too agitated to be tired. There was no possible way for him to sleep. The best he could hope for would be to toss and turn while replaying the scene in his mind until he went mad.

Instead he hurried back to the Hospital Wing and slipped inside after carefully checking to ensure the coast was clear. All was quiet; Pomfrey must have returned to her bed. Al made his way back to Malfoy’s bed and carefully stretched out next to the blond. The blankets had been pulled up to Pious’s neck and Al gently grasped the material and pulled it back. He had caught a glimpse of Malfoy’s injuries before, but even so he was not prepared for the angry-looking lines that met his eyes. Several lines crossed the pale chest and Al was suddenly terrified when he realized how close one of the spikes had come to impaling Malfoy’s heart. No wonder his father had been enraged.

Al slid his fingertips gently over Pious’s chest, tracing a path around the ugly wounds. Malfoy’s skin was softer than expected and Al was surprised that touching him was not as heinous as he would have thought. Remembering how much Pious liked to be touched, Al caressed his skin in mute apology, moving his fingers from one reddish line to the next. Apparently he had been healed, but not completely. Al hoped the wounds did not leave scars. When Al’s hands reached Malfoy’s navel, he heard a low moan. He froze as he glanced at Malfoy’s face, wondering how he could explain what he was doing. Pious, however, seemed to have made the sound involuntarily. Al breathed a sigh of relief and took his hand away. He rested his chin near Malfoy’s shoulder, pulled the cloak over his head, and shut his eyes. He planned to rest for only a moment.



A clang woke him and he gasped as he raised his head. It took him a second to remember where he was. The invisibility cloak had slipped mostly off and he found he was snuggled uncomfortably close to Malfoy, who was thankfully still asleep. The sound of footsteps rapidly approached, so Al slid off the bed and wrapped himself in the cloak just as Madam Pomfrey entered the curtained area. She carried a small jar and unscrewed it before pulling over a chair and seating herself. Al wondered at the time, but did not dare cast a Tempus Charm to find out. He watched as Madam Pomfrey peeled back the blankets and began to dab unguent on Malfoy’s wounds.

Al’s nearly held his breath as more and more of the blond was uncovered. They had left his pants on, thankfully, although Pomfrey bared one hip momentarily to expose a sharply defined hipbone. For some reason, the sight made the breath hitch in Al’s throat. She continued down his legs and moved him once to dab at a wound across Malfoy’s back before capping the jar and placing it on the bedside table. After that she tugged the covers into place and strode out.

Al checked the time and was relieved to note that it was close to 5 am. Those in the medical field were early risers, apparently. Al knew he should get back to the Slytherin dorm before his absence was discovered, but he could not quite bring himself to leave. Instead he walked to the table and picked up the jar. The medi-witch had missed one of Malfoy’s gashes. Al seated himself on the bed and unscrewed the lid. He dipped a fingertip into the viscous gel and was surprised to note that it smelled quite good, like fresh rosemary with possibly a hint of lavender. At least Malfoy could not complain about being slathered in foul-smelling gunk when he awakened. If he awakened, Al added bleakly.

He leaned forward and dabbed the substance gently on Malfoy’s throat, just beneath his jaw line. It was only a small gash, but one Pomfrey had overlooked. Al had barely begun when he heard a soft gasp and looked up to see the grey eyes open and watching him. Al snatched his hand away and replaced the lid. He looked away in confusion, uncertain what to say after nearly killing someone and then discovering you never meant to hurt them at all.

“Sorry,” he mumbled and set the jar awkwardly on the table. He met the silver gaze directly and took a grip on his courage. “I’m really sorry. That wasn’t supposed to happen. I never would have done something like this to you. Never.” Malfoy said nothing, so Al swallowed hard and forged on. “You probably don’t believe me, but someone had to have done something to the Devil’s Snare, probably someone with a grudge against me, because only Hell knew I had the seeds. Frankly, Hell is too much of a Hufflepuff to ever dare something like this.” Al cleared his throat, disturbed by Malfoy’s silence. “Anyway, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll find out who did this… well, if I’m not expelled later today.” Al gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Although that would probably suit you, eh?”

Malfoy finally opened his mouth to speak, but only a low rasp emerged. Al leaned down to make it easier to hear him.

“Water,” Malfoy said. Al assumed it was fine to give him water, since a Self-Chilling pitcher sat on the table, so he quickly poured the liquid and handed it to Malfoy, who seemed so weak he could barely hold the glass. Al took it back.

“Here, let me help you.” Al sat on the bed once more and put his arm gently around the blond, taking extreme care not to touch the slash on his back. The movement must have hurt anyway, for Pious gasped as Al steadied him, making sure the blond leaned against him at least semi-comfortably. He held the glass to Malfoy’s lips while Malfoy steadied it with a hand. Their fingertips brushed. Pious downed nearly the whole glass.

He lowered Malfoy back to the bed and then sat awkwardly in the chair.

“What are you doing here?” Malfoy asked after long moments of silent scrutiny.

Al flushed slightly. “I had to make sure you were okay. Do you… want me to leave?”

Malfoy shrugged and winced at the movement. Al cringed at another onslaught of guilt. The matter was taken out of their hands by the return of Pomfrey.

“Mr. Potter! What are you doing here? Go back to your dorm at once!”

Al sighed, gave Malfoy one last apologetic glance and departed.



~~- oOo -~~



Pious watched the black-haired boy leave and allowed Pomfrey to fuss over him. He hardly noticed her as he contemplated Albus Potter. Pious had awakened once in the night, swimming through a sea of pain to find something warm and comforting pressed against his side. When his memory returned, he was not surprised to find himself in the Hospital Wing, although he was very surprised to find Albus Potter next to him. For a moment he considered shoving the prat out of bed, but after a bit of reflection his curiosity got the better of him. Why was Potter here?

The dark hair tickled his arm and one hand curled gently next to Pious’s side. Potter’s warm, even breaths heated a small patch of his chest with each exhalation. Pious decided it wasn’t so bad having him here and he would worry about it later.

Awakening to the strangely gentle ministrations from the git had been even more perplexing, until Potter’s apologetic diatribe. Now that he was gone, Pious had time to contemplate his words. Strangely, now that his goal was finally in his grasp, he was no longer certain he wanted to follow through with it. For months he had thought of little but the expelling of Albus Potter. The severity of Pious’s injury nearly guaranteed it, and yet Pious was saddened at the thought of no longer having Potter around to torment. And Potter’s attitude had changed overnight. Guilt is a powerful motivator, Pious thought and smiled. He might be able to salvage this situation, after all. If so, it would be worth a trifling bit of pain. He winced at a sharp twinge in his side. All right, a fuck of a lot of pain. He quickly asked to see the Headmistress.



“Are you absolutely certain that Albus Potter is not to blame?” McGonagall demanded. She seemed oddly torn between relief and disappointment. Pious nodded.

“Of a certainty. During all of Potter’s years of pulling silly pranks, has he ever injured anyone?”

McGonagall’s brows drew down and Pious could see her casting her mind back through the hundreds of Potter/Longbottom pranks. He spoke quickly before she came up with any examples to counter his suggestion. Pious could think of several without half trying. Still, they hadn’t been serious injuries.

“I’m positive that Albus is very contrite,” Pious continued, grinning inwardly at his use of the word contrite. Adults loved it when students spoke like Ravenclaws. “I hope he did not get into terrible trouble.”

The Headmistress pursed her lips. “We were, of course, waiting for you to awaken prior to charging Albus with the crime, although he is already facing punishment for his obvious infractions, such as bringing a dangerous plant onto the school grounds without authorisation, being out of bed after hours—something you are also guilty of, Mr. Malfoy—and performing a dangerous stunt that has led to an obviously serious injury, regardless of Mr. Potter’s intention.”

Pious nodded soberly. Albus would most likely have detention for the remainder of the school year—if he managed to avoid being expelled.

“Very well, then, Mr. Malfoy. We shall investigate the matter further. Thank you for not allowing your personal feelings to cloud your judgement. The conflict between you and Mr. Potter is well known.” She sighed. “Just as it was in your father’s day. Such a pity when history repeats itself…”

“Speaking of my father, can I see him?”

“Of course. I shall Floo-call him immediately. He was here last night, naturally, and understandably upset. He insisted we expel Albus Potter at once. Perhaps you can speak with him?”

Pious nodded solemnly. Expelled at once. Pious wondered what Al’s father had had to say about that suggestion. He frowned at the thought, knowing the old Malfoy/Potter war may have had the flames fanned anew.

Something Pomfrey had given him made him sleepy, so McGonagall obligingly went out and let him sleep.



When he next awoke, his father smiled at him and squeezed his shoulder gently.

“How do you feel?” he asked quietly.

Pious smiled back. “Tired, mostly. A bit hungry, actually.”

House-elves were immediately roused and soon Pious was dining from several trays arrayed around his bed, although Pomfrey had been allowed to make suggestions regarding his diet.

“He needs plenty of protein and iron in order to rebuild his blood supply. Potions can only do so much. I also want to keep him here for observation. I believe we sealed all of the internal wounds properly, but we want to be wary of any sort of infection.” At his father’s dark look, Pomfrey added quickly, “It’s a precaution only! Just to be perfectly safe!”

His father nodded after giving her another measuring look that told her exactly what would happen should Pious happen to have any sort of infection after being in her care. Pious grinned. He always got a warm feeling when watching his father intimidate people.

“Now, tell me how the Potter whelp managed to do this to you.”

Pious swallowed. “Actually, father, I don’t think it was his fault.”

The sharp gaze fixed on Pious and he reflected that it wasn’t nearly as fun being on the receiving end. “Of course it was his fault. He admitted to bringing the seeds to school, growing the Devil’s Snare, and laying a trap for you. We will not discuss how you managed to fall for said trap… at this time.”

Pious would have felt relieved, except the words were merely a stay of execution. The axe still hovered like an evil shadow somewhere in his future. He shivered.

“The plant was tampered with,” Pious said and forced conviction into his words. In truth, he did not believe Albus would do such a thing to him. Especially in light of Potter’s earlier heartfelt confession. His father sat back and raised a pale brow.

“Are you absolutely certain?”

Pious scowled at his father’s unconscious mimicry of McGonagall’s exact words. Did everyone find it necessary to assume he made up tales? He said nothing, merely gave his father a cool stare. His father sighed and stood.

“All right, then. Since you will apparently be here for a certain length of time, I shall have some decent supplies brought in. Those sheets, for one thing. Disgraceful.”

Pious nodded. It was true; the lack of civilized amenities was annoying. At least his dorm room contained his silk sheets and imported hand-knit blankets. His father leaned down and pressed a kiss into his forehead, surprising him. It was rare for his father to be so demonstrative; Pious must have been in greater danger than he’d thought.

“I love you, Scorpius,” he said.

Pious impulsively threw an arm around his father’s neck and drew him close, even though it pulled his wounds quite painfully. “I love you, too,” he murmured.



~~- oOo -~~



Al watched the tender scene between father and son from the doorway. He drew back, not wanting to intrude on such a private moment. He also preferred that Mr. Malfoy not turn him into a rutabaga. Al ducked out of sight when the elder Malfoy left the hospital wing, leaving Pious alone. Al paced for a few more minutes in the corridor. He had received permission to visit Pious, but it was far more difficult in the daytime, especially with the blond awake and ready to turn that piercing gaze on him.

Finally, Albus screwed up his courage and marched quickly into the room. He sat down in the seat Pious’s father had vacated and met the curious grey eyes. He set a box of expensive chocolates on the edge of the bed. A smirk twisted Malfoy’s lips and Al nearly laughed at the sight of it. Everything suddenly righted itself in his world.

“Trying to buy me off, Potter?”

“If I’d known you were that cheap, I’d have bought you years ago,” Al returned.

Malfoy blinked at him and then a startled laugh escaped him. Al grinned happily at the sound and thought it was quite nice. He had heard Pious laugh plenty of times before, usually at Al’s expense, but never because of something Al had said. It was an interesting feeling. “Not expelled, then?” Malfoy asked.

Al shrugged and leaned back in the chair. He crossed his legs at the ankle and rested his hands on his abdomen. “Apparently someone put in a good word for me. I have detention until… how did McGonagall put it… until I am off the Hogwart’s Express in London. I’m not quite certain what sort of detention they have planned for me on the train itself, but I’m sure she will come up with something. If she could have continued my punishment through the summer, she most likely would have. I believe Dad intends to take over at that point, however.”

“They haven’t found out who…?”

Al shook his head. In truth, he had a theory that did not bear thinking about. Professor Longbottom had confirmed that the seeds had, indeed, been tampered with. It had been quite an advanced spell, apparently, adding fuel to Al’s growing suspicion.

He sighed. “Anyway, I have you to thank for the fact that I haven’t been sent home in disgrace, so… thanks.”

“I certainly did not do it for you, Potter.”

Al raised a brow, although he should not have been surprised. He waited for the Galleon to drop. “As I see it, you owe me now. Don’t you agree?”

Al swallowed, but tried to suppress his nervousness. For a brief, insane moment, he wondered if being expelled might have been preferable to whatever Pious Malfoy had in store for him. “I suppose,” he admitted as casually as possible.

“Good. Since I seem to be in rather a large amount of pain, I shall apparently need assistance doing the most mundane tasks. Carrying heavy books will likely be out of the question completely.”

“You want me to be your porter?”

“I want you to be my abject slave, Potter. I want you to do whatever I tell you for the next month. Considering the length of McGonagall’s punishment, I think I am letting you off quite lightly, especially when a word from me can still have you sent out of here at a moment’s notice.”

Al’s brows drew down in annoyance. The git was probably right. The elder Malfoy had apparently been quite upset at the Headmistress’s refusal to toss Al out on his ear. Only his own son’s intercession had kept Al from that fate. If Scorpius changed his mind, Mr. Malfoy would bring all of his considerable influence into the fray.

“What will this ‘abject slavery’ consist of?” Al asked cautiously.

“Nothing too strenuous. Fetching, carrying, that sort of thing.”

“Nothing untoward?”

“Untoward? Have you been shadowing Rose Weasley again? Do you even know what that word means?”

“It means do you plan to have me do disgusting things that will have me begging McGonagall to send me home within a week?”

“What sort of disgusting things?” Pious asked and Al could have sworn there was a purr in his voice. He sighed.

“I really don’t have a choice, do I?”

The knife bright Malfoy smile flashed out at him. “No, Potter, you don’t.”

“All right, then. I agree. One month of abject slavery.”

“Excellent. You can start by putting more of this infernal salve on my scratches. I told Pomfrey I would do it myself, but there are places I cannot comfortably reach. Do you mind?”

Did he mind? Al had to forcibly shut his jaw. He should have known Malfoy would go straight for maximum torture. He sighed and reached for the jar. Al started with the one on Malfoy’s throat and moved to those near his wrists. The salve was smooth and warm. Al felt almost professional as he traced each angry-looking mark, until he reached Malfoy’s chest. A long gash showed just beneath Malfoy’s left breast and Al caught his breath when he remembered how close the spike had come to piercing Malfoy’s heart. His eyes met the calm silver orbs in mute apology. Al looked away and felt a blush warm his face when he found the next lesion partially covered by the waistband of Malfoy’s pants.

The blond shoved them down perfunctorily, exposing most of one hip and a small patch of golden curls. Al suddenly needed a cold drink of water. His throat seemed to have gone bone dry. He quickly smeared the wound and moved on with relief to the long legs, giving heartfelt thanks when Malfoy carefully moved his boxers back into place.

Al finished quickly and replaced the jar.

“Adequate,” Malfoy said.

“Anything else, your highness?” Al asked dryly.

“I’m tired now,” Malfoy replied. “You may go. Come back before dinner, though. I might need your help.”



Hell was mortified. “Al, you’ve got to stop this! It’s embarrassing. You’re acting like Malfoy’s…”

“Slave?” Al supplied.

“It’s been over a week! How long do you plan to keep this up?”

Al glanced across the classroom to where Malfoy sat. A pale hand was clenched slightly around an elbow—Al wondered if the wounds still hurt Pious. They seemed to, at times, even though Hell insisted he was faking in order to seem helpless.

“Not long,” Al said evasively.

“It’s insane! You cut his bloody sausages at the breakfast table! I’m surprised you didn’t feed him!”

Al flushed. Strangely, acting like Malfoy’s servant had not been nearly as bad as expected. Malfoy mostly needed help with mundane things, such as dressing and brushing his hair. He claimed that reaching pulled muscles still sore from where the plant had impaled him. Al would help him with his shirt and the buttons, and then spend far longer than necessary brushing the fine blond hair. Al admitted only to himself that he sort of enjoyed pulling the soft strands away from Malfoy’s neck and skating his fingertips over the soft flesh there. Oddly, Albus was the one doing all of the touching in their relationship. He continued to put the salve on Malfoy’s wounds—Pomfrey said it would prevent scarring—and Al found his fingers often lingering over the task.

Pious Malfoy had not initiated a single touch. It was perplexing to Al, who found he almost missed the arm around his shoulders, the skating of fingers through his hair, and the brush of lips against his throat. Malfoy had kept his hands strictly to himself ever since the attack. Al could only assume it was because of the promise he had extracted, although he had expected Malfoy to consider that moot since Al had not exactly kept his end of the bargain. Well, he had freed Malfoy, but the entire school knew the details of the incident, so the blond could easily have claimed no bargain. Al supposed another possibility was that Pious simply did not want to touch him any longer.

Conflictingly, the more Malfoy refused to touch him, the more Al wanted to be touched. It was starting to affect his sanity. Mornings were the worst. Al always accompanied Malfoy to the bath, where the blond would disrobe while Al tightly shut both eyes. Then Malfoy would climb into the hot water, thankfully filled with concealing bubbles, and Al would shampoo his hair. Just thinking about Malfoy completely nude beneath the foam made Al try to rush his task, because unwelcome thoughts had begun to crowd into his head. Unwillingly, he thought of the single kiss Malfoy had planted on him. He thought of it a lot. Especially at bath time.

Al would quickly conjure images of Professor McGonagall naked in order to deflate the more obvious signs of his growing attraction. Pious would emerge from the bath and Albus would avert his eyes from the shining, wet flesh until Malfoy was at least partially wrapped in a thick fleece. Al would then brush his hair until it was nearly dry.

At meals he sat next to Malfoy and cut his food, poured his drinks, and tried not to watch as the white teeth nipped into each bite. Hagrid doing a strip-tease, Al would think. Watching Pious Malfoy eat is not erotic. Merlin, does he have to lick the strawberries? Can’t he just pop them into his mouth like a normal person? Hagrid doing a table dance…on a very large table…

It only got worse. One morning Al slipped on a puddle of water when they were leaving the bath and fell into Malfoy, knocking him into the wall. Malfoy’s arms instinctively went around Al’s waist and Al’s hands splayed against Malfoy’s damp, bare chest. Two surprised gazes met and locked for a moment and then Malfoy’s head tipped down with infinite slowness. Al’s eyelids fluttered down and he forgot to breathe as he waited expectantly for their lips to meet. The kiss never came.

“Are you planning to lean on me all day long, or can we get dressed and go to breakfast?” Pious asked dryly. Al shoved himself away with an oath and a rush of embarrassment. Mad, he thought. I’m definitely going mad.

Now they were in the Slytherin dorm, studying for an upcoming Potions exam.

“Potter. Pillow,” Malfoy had said imperiously and snapped his fingers. Al had reluctantly climbed onto Malfoy’s bed and arranged himself against the headboard. Malfoy seated himself between Al’s outstretched legs and leaned back slightly. “Very good. Now, massage.”

Hell rolled his eyes as he sprawled next to Bleys on Zabini’s bed. They had turned into an interesting foursome, now that Al was rarely allowed to leave Malfoy’s side. Hell and Bleys got along surprisingly well. Zabini upended a bag of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavoured Beans on the bed between them and they immediately began to argue about the merits of choosing the red coloured beans over yellow.

Al dug his fingers into Malfoy’s shoulders, thankful that the prat was still wearing his shirt. That relief was short-lived.

“Wait a minute,” Malfoy said and leaned forward to peel off his tie and white shirt before leaning back. Al sighed heavily and pressed his fingers into the warm skin.

“Think about it,” Bleys said. “There are very few bad-tasting things that are red.”

“What about blood?” Hell countered.

“Some people like the taste of blood,” Zabini said and Hell made a retching wound.

“That’s just gross. Unless you’re a vampire.”

Malfoy gave a low moan that Al tried vainly to ignore. He had dug his fingers in harder than usual, but the results had been opposite of his intention.

“Merlin, yes,” Pious said breathily.

“Do you two want us to leave?” Bleys asked. Al flushed and his hands stilled.

“Carry on, Bleys. You, too, Potter.”

“Shouldn’t we work on Potions?” Hell asked.

“You are the one that started arguing about beans,” Zabini countered, but Summoned his Potions book. The others did the same, except for Al, who was allowed the privilege of reading over Malfoy’s shoulder at the book open on his lap. His fingertips pressed into the flesh beneath Pious’s collarbone.

“My notes say to add the anises and the wormwood, but it doesn’t say in which order,” Zabini said after several moments of silent study.

Al turned his mind to the problem, glad of anything that would distract him from Malfoy. The blond head was tucked beneath Al’s chin and the scent of it invaded Al’s senses. It smelled like a field of fresh mint. Malfoy’s back was pressed fully against Al’s torso and his heat burned into Al.

“Anise first, because you need it to counter the redcaps. I’d say give it six stirs if the book doesn’t specify, and then add the wormwood. Otherwise the wormwood will amplify the effects of the redcap and the anise will be rendered inert.”

Zabini made an impressed sound.

“How do you remember all this stuff, Potter?”

Al shrugged. “I’ve botched a lot of potions in my time,” he admitted. He froze suddenly as he realized his fingers were gently tugging at the nearly invisible hair that trailed from Malfoy’s chest down into his waistband. Malfoy seemed to be deep in thought. Al smoothed the hair down with a quick brush of his fingers and tried desperately to drive his thoughts in another direction. Malfoy’s nearness was waking up things better left unawoken. Hagrid and Olympe having wild animal sex, he thought frantically. The resulting image was so terrifying he thought it might prevent him being horny for the next decade. He sighed in relief.

Malfoy tipped his head back, sliding his hair over Al’s jaw with the movement.

“Quidditch practice later?” he asked in the same voice Al suspected he would use to say, “Want to fuck me?”

Al shoved the blond away forcibly and leaped off of the bed.

“I don’t feel very well,” he said. “I think I need to use the loo.”

He bolted for the nearest lavatory and sat on the porcelain, shaking. The door opened and Hell asked, “All right, what was that all about?”

“Must be something I ate,” Al said lamely. “I’ll be all right in a minute.” Right after he wanked himself raw.

“James wants to see you. I ran into Helga in the hall. He’s in the Gryffindor common room.”

Good, Al thought. He had spent the past three weeks ignoring his brother completely, but even talking to that prat would be better than returning to the torture chamber of the Slytherin dorm. Merlin, I’m falling for Pious Malfoy.

Al buried his head in his hands, feeling sick in actuality.



~~- oOo -~~



Pious watched Potter flee in a mad dash. He looked at Hell in surprise.

“I’ll go make sure he’s okay,” Hell said, probably more to escape the company of Pious and Bleys than to assist Potter. When he was gone, Pious rolled over and buried his head in the pillows with a groan. Thank Merlin he’d been holding the huge Potions book over his lap, or he would not have been able to hide his condition. Bloody hell, but Potter’s fingers dancing over his skin and pulling his hair… Pious took a shuddering breath. He was harder than he’d ever been in his life.

“What’s Potter’s problem?” Bleys asked calmly. Pious could hear his quill scratching on the parchment.

“I haven’t the foggiest.”

“Seems to me it could be the same problem you have, eh?”

“Which is?” Pious mumbled into the pillow.

“I think you’re in love with each other.”

Pious laughed. The sudden attack of the giggles helped Pious regain control of certain bodily functions and he rolled over to face his amusing friend.

“Good one, Bleys. Potter hates me, remember?”

“Yeah. It looked like it when he was fondling you and smelling your hair. And I notice you did not deny it on your part.”

Pious sobered. His mind went back to the morning when Potter had stumbled into him. Pious had been sure the black-haired boy meant to kiss him, but Albus had contented himself to shut his eyes and wait breathlessly like an idiotic virgin. Pious sighed and cursed that thrice-damned vow he had made. No touching and no kissing. It was twice as tortuous now that Potter seemed willing to follow orders and put his hands all over Pious whenever requested. And there was no was in hell Pious could resist the temptation of having him do so whenever possible.

Pious sat up and wrapped his arms around his calves. He rested his chin on one knee.

“What is a flower that is sometimes substituted for rose petals?” Bleys asked.

“Trick question. There is no substitute for rose petals.”

Bleys scratched on the parchment. He had been almost obsessive about learning potions lately.

“Why did you kiss Potter?” Pious asked and then wondered when he had lost control of his verbal faculties.

Bleys shrugged. “Curiosity.” He chuckled and added, “And I heard you come in.”

Pious raised his head to glare at his former best friend. “You wanted me to see you kissing Potter? Why?” He cringed, half-expecting an unwanted revelation. He got one, although it was nothing like he had anticipated.

“Pious, I know how you feel about Potter. Why don’t you just tell him and be done with it? You two are getting too old to play these games and I am tired of being in the middle of them. We’ll be adults next year. I, for one, intend to act like one.”

Pious nearly demanded to know what he meant, but the dark gaze piercing him made him clamp his jaw shut. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is that simple. You merely insist on complicating things. I realize it’s our Slytherin nature to slink around an issue rather than face it, but sometimes we have to embrace our inner Gryffindor.”

“I don’t have an inner Gryffindor and I resent your insinuation that I do,” Pious said hotly.

“Fine. I am going to go and embrace my outer Gryffindor and leave you to your complicated angst.” Bleys tossed his quill aside, put his study materials away and went out. Pious ignored him. What did Bleys know, anyway? To suggest he was in love with Albus Potter? It was preposterous.

Pious found his thoughts wandering back to the previous day. They had been in Care of Magical Creatures, half-listening to Professor Hagrid prattling on about acromantulas and suggesting a field trip into the forest to see the remains of “one of his dearest friends” or some such nonsense. Pious had not paid much attention, mostly because Potter had been standing uncomfortably close to him. Pious had absently rubbed at his forearm—one of the few places that still twinged in occasional pain from the Devil’s Snare. Potter’s hand had dropped instantly to his shoulder and the green eyes met his in concern.

“Are you all right?” Potter had asked and squeezed gently. It was the first time Pious could remember Potter touching him without being asked. He had nodded in confusion and Potter had smiled. Pious had felt his heart twist strangely at the expression. “I’ll massage it for you later,” Potter promised.

Pious sighed heavily, realizing he was unconsciously rubbing his forearm and remembering Potter’s fingers there. He had to have Potter stop touching him. There was no help for it. One more tender massage or unexpected gentle touch and Pious would be completely lost. If he wasn’t already. Embrace your inner Gryffindor. What did Bleys know?



~~- oOo -~~



Al delivered the password to the portrait of the Fat Lady, who had thankfully stopped complaining about a Slytherin knowing the Gryffindor password some time in Al’s third year. He was glad Gryffindor was the only house with a door that talked back, although Ravenclaw could be tricky to enter unless Rose gave him the answer to the riddle. At least the Sphinx did not grouse about Al’s green tie.

James sat in a corner in front of a chess set, playing a solitary game. He beckoned Al over.

“Want to play?” James asked quietly.

“You know I suck at this game.”

“You make too many sacrifices,” James said.

Al sat down and waited, knowing his brother had not called him in to play chess. James rather sucked at it, as well.

“I wanted you to hear it from me rather than the grapevine or from someone else,” James said. He looked almost embarrassed and tugged at his hair in a way that always reminded Al of their father. “Can I borrow your wand for a minute?”

Al’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“So you won’t be tempted to hex me.”

“I always want to hex you.”

James held out his hand and Al reluctantly deposited his wand. James tucked it into a pocket and took a deep breath. “I’m the one that cast the spell on your Devil’s Snare seeds.”

Al blinked at him for a shocked moment. He had suspected James all along, but to hear his brother come straight out and admit it… Well, Al had never understood the Gryffindor mentality, anyway. He would normally rather die than admit to wrongdoing, unless caught red-handed, as he had been with the plant scenario and Scorpius.

“Why?” Al demanded.

James tugged his hair again. “I didn’t know you had planned to use the thing on Malfoy. I thought you planned to do some kinky… thing… with Zabini.”

“What?”

James flushed. “How do I know what sort of things you lot get up to? It’s bad enough you liking blokes, but that… I just went a bit mad, I think.”

“A bit mad? You nearly killed Pious! Did you mean to kill Bleys?”

“No! Of course not! The spell was only supposed to make thorns. Tiny ones, not—what happened. It was an impulse—I didn’t really think about what I was doing. I was so angry…”

“You can’t force people around you to act the way you expect them to,” Al said quietly. “People are going to be who they are and they are going to love who they want to love.”

James scowled. “I’ve already heard this speech from Dad.”

“Did any of it sink in?” Al snapped and then waved angrily. Talking to James was less effective than talking to a stone wall. “Never mind. Did you tell anyone else about the Devil’s Snare?”

“Yes. I told Dad and McGonagall. Only the fact that I’ve got a perfect record kept them from expelling me. I couldn’t let you take the blame.”

“You certainly waited long enough to come clean,” Al said grumpily, but he was nevertheless thankful for Gryffindor guilt. They had a low threshold for remorse; they always confessed eventually. James shrugged. “So what happens now?”

“I’m no longer a Prefect and I have detention for the next two months, but other than that I suppose I got off lightly.”

Al winced. He knew how much it meant to James to be a Prefect. “Sorry,” he said.

James snorted. “Merlin, Al, I nearly got you expelled and almost killed your boyfriend and you’re apologizing to me. You’re really a piece of work, you know that?”

Al rolled his eyes and stood up. “I just wish none of this had ever happened. It’s turned into a huge cock-up. And Malfoy is not my boyfriend. Can I have my wand back now?”

“You won’t hex me?”

“I’d rather punch you in the face, but I won’t do either one. I should probably tell Malfoy, but I’m sort of afraid of what he might want to do to you.”

“It’s not him I’m worried about… it’s his father.”

Al laughed. “I don’t envy you. He was pretty upset.”

“Dad said he would talk to him for me.”

Al cringed. He did not even want to know how that discussion would go, but the idea was slightly depressing. He held out his hand and James gave him back his wand.

“Do you think you’ll ever get over this homophobia shit?” Al asked.

“Maybe. I’m beginning to realize I’ve been a massive arse.”

“I suppose it’s a start,” Al said with a grin. He left the Gryffindor common room and went back to the dungeons. When he entered the Slytherin common room, the first thing he noticed was Pious Malfoy’s silver-blond head. He was seated on the couch before the unlit fire, holding a partially unrolled scroll. Al studied him for a moment. Malfoy’s profile was really quite beautiful. His skin was like marble, smooth and pale. He had a cute habit of flicking the end of his chin with his quill when he was deep in thought, as he was now. Al grinned and Pious chose that moment to look up and notice him. The grey eyes widened and a shy smile lit his features before he caught himself. The controlled Malfoy mask slid back into place, but Al felt his heart leap a bit at the brief glimpse beneath it. Oh shit, I have it bad, he thought in despair.

He walked over and sat next to the blond.

“I’m glad you’re here, Potter. I need a footrest.”

Al groaned, but he supposed it could have been worse. Malfoy could have asked for a pillow. Al planned to avoid that particular torment for as long as possible. Malfoy set aside parchment and quill and swung his feet up over Al’s thighs. The movement suddenly made the blond double up with and gasp. He clutched his abdomen tightly with both hands.

“What is it?” Al asked and leaned forward to clutch at Malfoy’s sleeve.

“Cramp… I get them sometimes,” Pious said. His eyes were tightly closed.

“Because of…?” Al asked.

Pious nodded sharply and Al set his jaw. Apparently Gryffindors were not the only ones to suffer from an excess of guilt. “Lay back,” he ordered. “Let me help you.”

Malfoy sprawled backward to lay flat on the sofa. His face was twisted in pain. Al manoeuvred himself until he sat on his knees between Malfoy’s legs. His thighs were resting on Al’s hips. The grey eyes snapped open when Al leaned forward to loosen the Slytherin tie. He unbuttoned Malfoy’s shirt and the blond made no sound at all as his torso was slowly exposed. One long-fingered hand still splayed over his abdomen and Al gently removed it to replace it with his own. He pressed carefully on the tender spot, massaging the bare skin beneath Malfoy’s ribs. A faint gash was barely visible—the cream Al had been using on the wounds was working nicely, but apparently Malfoy still suffered some painful effects internally.

Al’s other hand joined his first and he caressed Malfoy’s flesh in short sweeps. He could not help but allow his eyes to roam over Pious’s partially exposed body. The tie was still loosely knotted and hung mostly free of the white collar. Malfoy’s shirt gaped open to reveal pink nipples that Al had seen before but had never taken the time to fully appreciate. The grey eyes watched him fathomlessly and Al looked away as a blush fought to take over his visage. Malfoy looked infinitely desirable.

“Better?” Al asked and was surprised when his voice came out as a husky rasp. He wanted to stop, but could not quite find the ability.

“Yes,” Pious said.

Al’s hands began to make longer strokes, sweeping over Malfoy’s ribs and tracing each one before moving in a curving motion over the sides of his waist and splaying over his abdominal muscles. He followed the line of hair upwards to Malfoy’s collarbone and touched the area feather-lightly before slipping away to smooth over the pectorals. His fingertips brushed over Malfoy’s nipples and the blond drew in a sharp breath. Al felt possessed. Now that he was touching Malfoy like this, he never wanted to stop, and Pious was doing nothing to dissuade him.

Allowing one hand to continue the delicate drawing over Malfoy’s skin, Al braced the other hand on the couch and leaned forward. The motion brought him in even closer contact with the blond.

“Why don’t you ever touch me any more, Pious?” Al asked curiously.

Malfoy’s eyes widened and a disbelieving sound huffed out. “You required a vow, Potter, remember? Malfoys do not go back on their word.”

Al was shocked. “It’s because of that stupid vow? But I thought since you nearly died… well, I didn’t exactly keep my end of the bargain!”

“You released me, Potter. And I had already sworn.” His tone made it clear what he thought of Al’s intelligence.

“Merlin,” Al said and groaned. Before he could properly think the impulse through, he blurted, “Scorpius Malfoy, I release you from your vow not to touch me. You can—”

Al was suddenly dragged forward by his shirt collar and Malfoy’s arms wrapped around him. He felt his shirt being wrenched from the waistband of his trousers and then a pair of warm hands moved over his back. He felt like a predator turned prey.

“Merlin, I’ve been wanting to do that,” Malfoy said with a near-moan. “You’ve been driving me completely mad.”

Al’s second thoughts evaporated in a cascade of lust. He was close enough to Malfoy—tucked between his legs, for pity’s sake—that he knew Pious could feel his growing arousal, but Al simply did not care. Malfoy’s hands—Merlin, how he had missed those hands, although he hadn’t realized it until that very moment—his hands were warm and seemed to remember every sensitive spot Al possessed. He groaned in surrender and leaned closer until their breath mingled. He remembered their single, molten kiss with another surge of desire as he tried to find his voice. That second ridiculous vow needed to go.

“Scor…” His voice was a barely audible rasp as Malfoy’s hands found Al’s chest. One nipple was tugged and Al nearly lost all ability to think, much less speak, but he fought on gamely. “Scorpius Malfoy, I release you—”

Apparently, that was all Malfoy needed to hear. He raised his head and crushed his lips against Al’s. It was even more brilliant than their first kiss, wilder and far more intense. Al had lost all control and Pious seemed to have done the same. Their tongues twisted and lapped together and their teeth clicked as they devoured each other. Al could hardly breathe, but he decided that air was overrated—all he really needed was to keep kissing Pious. Luckily, Malfoy must have deemed air more important, for he broke away. They panted against one another’s lips for a moment.

“Should have… kissed you ages ago,” Al said thickly.

“Damn right. Oh bloody hell; what am I saying? You’ve kissed every fucking person in this school, including Bleys Zabini. Am I just another Potter test case?”

Al nibbled Malfoy’s lower lip. It tasted delightful. “Not a test case,” he said and sucked lightly. “Besides, I’ve never done this with anyone before.” As he spoke, he gripped Malfoy’s hips and ground his erection into Pious’s, glad to note that the blond was just as hard. The friction was incredible. He had never in his wildest dreams thought another boy’s hard-on would turn him on, but oh how wrong he had been.

“Never?” Pious breathed. One hand clutched at Al’s ribs and the other had pushed completely through Al’s shirt and out the collar to curl in his hair.

“Only you,” Al said and kissed him again. They were both lost in panting breath and low moans for several long, heated minutes.

“Bloody hell, get a room,” a voice said in amusement. Al froze for only an instant before he continued his exploration of the underside of Malfoy’s tongue, because the blond was making the most enchanting whimpering sounds and Al would like to extract more of those. Bleys’s voice continued dryly, “I meant a room other than this one. You’re killing Emily over there.”

That statement reluctantly dragged Al’s lips from Pious’s and he turned unfocused eyes over his shoulder to find the Slytherin girl seated in a chair, gripping a book in white-knuckled hands and watching them through eyes wide as saucers. Al wondered if she had been there the entire time.

“Damn you, Bleys, did you have to stop them? It was very… entertaining,” she said. Al very reluctantly moved back slightly, but quickly wrapped his arms around Malfoy and pulled him along. The blond looked dishevelled and incredibly attractive. Al felt a sudden rush of possessiveness and half-glared at Bleys. The glare faded in surprise when he noticed a girl standing beneath Zabini’s arm. Her arms were wrapped around his waist and she giggled at Al. Pious pushed at Al, who let him go with a sigh. The blond only shifted until he could lean on the back of the couch and glare at Bleys. One hand shot out and drew Al against him. Al gladly folded himself into Malfoy’s back.

“I see you had a talk with Albus,” Bleys said and chuckled.

Pious coughed slightly. “Talk. Yes.”

Al snickered and buried his face in Malfoy’s neck. He wondered how long before they could comfortably stand and walk away from the sofa. The feel of the soft neck beneath Al’s lips made his thoughts wander back in that direction and he opened his mouth to bit lightly at the tendon before sucking at it. Malfoy’s body tensed beneath his.

“Stop that, Potter,” Pious said, trying to be stern, but his voice came out somewhat uneven. Al bit down again before releasing him.

“Well, I was planning on taking Lucia to our dorm, but it looks like you two need it more than we do.” Bleys turned to the girl—a Gryffindor, Al noticed now that he was not quite so distracted by Pious—and asked, “Unless you plan to let me have my wicked way with you tonight?”

She smacked him lightly. “Nice try, amigo.”

Bleys sighed and raised a hand to Al and Pious. “Adios, then. I shall find our other roommates and warn them away. It looks like you two have a bit more… talking to do.”

Emily walked past them on her way to the door. “I need to go find John. He’s been begging me to go all the way for weeks. Looks like he might get lucky tonight. Thank a lot, Pious. Al.”

Bleys and Lucia followed and Bleys gave them a wink as they exited. When he and Pious were alone, Al felt slightly nervous. Had it just been the heat of the moment? Would Pious go back to being a prat? The blond turned and fixed Al with an enigmatic silver stare. Al waited breathlessly and then Malfoy quickly pushed Al backward until he was the one on the bottom. Malfoy’s teeth sank into Al’s neck and he yelped, until a delightful sucking, alternated with more nips, quickly followed the bite. Al was fully hard again in moments. Malfoy’s hands were on the move again, waking up nerve endings Al hadn’t known he’d possessed.

“Maybe we should go to the dorm,” Al suggested. Even though he was partly terrified to be alone with Pious on a—oh Merlin—on a bed, at the rate they were going it wasn’t going to matter. At least they wouldn’t be surprised by fellow Slytherins in their own room, at least if Al’s Locking Spells were still up to snuff. Regardless of how frazzled he was at the moment, he thought he could manage.

“Dorm,” Pious said into Al’s throat.

“Bed,” Al corrected and Malfoy’s head snapped up. His eyes were dark pools of liquid mercury. For a panicked moment, he wondered if they were moving too fast. Maybe Malfoy wasn’t quite ready for the next step. Hell, maybe he wasn’t quite ready for the next step. In fact, Al was not exactly certain what the next step involved.

All thought of steps fled when Malfoy shot to his feet and pulled Al up by their interlocked hands. The blond walked to their room so quickly Al nearly had to run or risk being dragged. The instant they reached the safety of their dorm room, Al yanked out his wand and cast a series of Locking Spells on the door. Some of them had been taught to him by his father, so it was unlikely anyone less skilled than a professor would have luck opening the door.

Al meant to explain as much to Malfoy, but talking quickly became impossible with Malfoy lips firmly attached to his. They tumbled onto Al’s bed with Pious once more on top. Al arched into him and then blushed at his lack of control. Pious did not seem to mind. His hands tugged at the buttons on Al’s shirt.



~~- oOo -~~



Pious had difficulty pushing past his amazement. It was nearly impossible to believe that Albus Potter was here, willingly—Merlin, wantonly—touching and being touched, just when Pious had been ready to give him up for good. He wondered if Potter was under some sort of spell.

The buttons on Potter’s shirt were surprisingly stubborn, either that or his hands were simply shaking too much to properly attend to the task. Pious made a frustrated noise against Potter’s lovely mouth. One hand that had been roaming nicely over Pious’s ribcage disappeared as Potter fumbled for his wand. Teeth fastened into his lower lip and sucked for a moment—fuck it all, but Potter did know how to kiss—and then he muttered a spell. The shirt Pious had been fighting with disappeared completely and Pious made a sound of blissful contentment.

“Brilliant spell,” Pious acknowledged.

Potter chuckled and cast it twice more, leaving Pious clad only in silk boxers and his Slytherin tie.

“Best spell ever,” Potter agreed huskily. Pious smiled down at the self-satisfied boy and bent his head to lick a stripe over Potter’s exposed collarbone before moving lower and taking a dark-hued nipple into his mouth. Potter gasped and arched his back again, prompting Pious to chuckle wickedly. It was incredible how sensitive Potter was, if something so simple could cause that reaction. Pious played with one nipple and then the other until Potter was writhing beneath him and his hands were twisted almost uncomfortably in Pious’s hair.

Pious left off that particular torture and slid lower. He locked his gaze with the green orbs as he pulled at the fastenings of Potter’s trousers.

“Rather unfair of you to leave these on, don’t you think, Potter?” Pious asked. “Or did you just want me to unwrap you?”

Potter’s eyes widened as Pious took the zipper in his teeth and drew it down slowly, freeing Al’s erection bit by bit, although it strained at the pale green material beneath the trousers that still held it. Pious put his lips against the hardness and moved them slightly.

“Merlin!” Potter cried out. He nearly tore a handful of hair from Pious’s head. “Oh shit, I’m sorry, I just—”

Pious wanted to speak, but he was overcome. His fingers tugged beneath the waistband of Potter’s pants and lifted them just enough to release the dark head of Potter’s cock. He studied it with interest, never having seen another up close before. He had seen them from a distance, thanks to communal bathing facilities, but it was bad form to examine another bloke’s bits. It twitched beneath Pious’s scrutiny and he watched a tiny bead of liquid ooze from the slit at the top. He realized Potter was holding his breath and impulsively leaned down to lick a flat stripe over the slit. The strangled cry that wrenched from Albus more than made up for the taste.

“Pious…” Al gasped. “Pious, have you ever—?”

“No, Albus, never,” he said and repeated the motion.

Potter stifled his cry that time, but his body made a delicious shudder. “Good,” he said. “That’s… oh that’s very good.”

“Has anyone ever…?”

“No. Merlin, no!” Potter said.

Pious grinned and went to work on Potter in earnest after tugging his trousers and boxers down a bit. He was not completely sure what he was doing and used Potter’s reactions as a guideline. By the sound of things, Potter was perfectly happy with his technique. Pious sucked the length of the hard cock, taking care to keep his teeth from scraping the tender flesh. It barely took any time at all, which was not surprising. Pious was ready to come just by listening to Albus.

“Pious, Pious, I’m going to—”

He appreciated the warning and exchanged his lips for a tight grip just as Potter arched once more and exploded. Pious felt immense satisfaction as he watched the pale stream shoot over Potter’s abdomen. One of the hands in his hair hauled him upward and he wrinkled his nose when the slick substance smeared between them. He forgot that almost immediately when Potter’s lips captured his.

“That was brilliant. You’re brilliant,” Potter said. “Bloody amazing.”

“You’d say that to anyone who sucked you off, Potter,” Pious said, but he could not meet the bright green eyes. The compliment warmed him more than expected.

Potter laughed. “Maybe. But I don’t think I’d reciprocate,” he said and rolled quickly to lie atop Pious, grinning at his expression. “And I’m definitely going to reciprocate.”

Pious shivered and hoped he wouldn’t embarrass himself by coming the instant Potter’s face hovered over his cock, because merely watching the dark-haired boy make his slow way in that direction—pressing soft kisses into Pious’s skin as he went—brought him dangerously near the brink.

Potter made a growling noise and sank his teeth into the flesh of his flank, pulling a gasp from Pious and then a shocked chuckle when it tickled unexpectedly. Potter sucked and nibbled the spot until it stung and Pious hissed at him.

“What are you doing, Potter?”

“Marking you,” he said matter-of-factly.

Pious was not quite sure how he felt about being marked—it seemed rather presumptuous and possessive of Albus—until the green eyes met his once more and he realized Potter’s hand had slipped beneath his pants to gently stroke his cock. He decided he could live with being marked, especially when Albus took the waistband in his teeth and eased it down to expose Pious completely. Potter’s hands finished the job of removing the last bit of Pious’s clothing, except for the tie. Pious was momentarily disgruntled to be so exposed, at least until Albus wrapped his hot mouth around his cock.

“Holy mother of Merlin!” Pious cried.

Potter made a humming sound that was like pure pleasure and Pious twisted one hand in the blankets. The other slid into Potter’s soft hair and curled gently. Even though Albus seemed as inexperienced as Pious—his teeth scraped indelicately over the tender head of Pious’s cock more than once—his enthusiasm more than made up for it. The determined expression on his face was entrancing and he often looked up and met Pious’s gaze before the thick lashes fluttered down when Pious smiled encouragingly.

Potter’s tongue sent shivers of electric energy coursing through Pious. If he’d had any inkling how incredible blow jobs would be… well, it had taken forever merely to steal a kiss from Potter, so it wasn’t likely the lad would have obliged with oral sex any sooner—that train of thought skewed off the track when something peaked.

“Potter… Albus, I’m—”

He expected Al to stop, but he took the length of Pious even deeper. Pious cried out in mingled joy and astonishment as his release pumped into the hot depths of lovely, beautiful Potter. Only when the last shiver had settled through Pious’s bones did Potter look up with a smirk.

“Why did you do that?” Pious asked breathlessly.

“Because you didn’t.”

“Competitive bastard,” Pious growled. “It was incredible, though. Really.”

Potter grabbed his wand and cast a quick Cleaning Charm that even seemed to remove the accumulated sweat. Potter was quite a lot better with charms than he gave himself credit for. Then again, most of his difficulty in Charms had arisen from Pious’s hands distracting him. He grinned at the memory and reached out to put his hands on the glorious skin once more. It still amazed him that Potter allowed it. He enfolded Pious in a warm embrace and they burrowed beneath the covers, cuddling together as though they had done it a thousand times.

“Why do you hate to be touched, Potter?” Pious asked as he trailed a hand over Al’s smooth back.

“By everyone but you, you mean?” Al asked and then sucked gently on Pious’s throat.

Pious laughed. “That is a rather dramatic change, you have to admit.”

One of Potter’s hands drew soft circles on his chest while the other slipped down to rest on Pious’s hip and squeeze gently. “I guess I never knew how much I really liked it until you stopped. Even then I wouldn’t admit it for a long time. But I hated to be touched at all because of James.”

“Your brother?”

“Yeah, he sort of accidentally set me on fire when we were smaller. I think I was four. He was messing around with Mum’s wand and managed to cast Incendio or something. Luckily, Dad heard me screaming and took me straight to St. Mungo’s. They managed to heal me and even keep it from scarring, but it took months of treatment. I remember it was painful for a long, long time. I couldn’t stand anyone touching me. Most of the time I could barely stand to wear clothing.”

Pious chuckled, even though the story was horrifying. Suddenly he was very glad to have been an only child. “Feel free to choose nudity around me any time.”

Al’s grip tightened and he kissed Pious for long minutes. Pious sighed happily and carded his fingers through the soft black hair when Potter pulled away.

“Anyway, I guess I never got over the touching thing. I used to make Mum horribly sad. The whole thing made James even worse. Instead of feeling bad for torching me, he seemed to get even meaner. I think he was jealous of all the attention I got. I’m sure he thought Mum and Dad blamed him and maybe hated him a little, too. We were never very close and that made it even worse. Any time James could do something to me without getting caught, he would. I think that’s one reason I learned how to make potions and use Uncle George’s pranks. I had to stand up for myself somehow. James finally learned to leave me alone, mostly. It got easier after he went to Hogwarts. Until recently, that is.”

Pious sensed Potter’s reluctance to continue. He tried to pull away, but Pious held him more tightly.

“What is it?”

Potter sighed. “James tampered with the seeds and caused the Devil’s Snare to nearly kill you.”

Pious stiffened and this time Al’s arms gripped him to keep him close.

“He meant for it to make small thorns, not… what it turned out to do. He was always a bit pants at Herbology. He confessed to McGonagall.”

“Is he getting expelled?” Pious asked hopefully.

“No, but he’s not a Prefect any longer. That’s worse punishment than being expelled. He adores being a Prefect.”

Pious thought it was not nearly enough punishment, but there would be time enough for that later. Besides, if not for James Potter’s idiocy, Albus would probably not be curled next to him at this moment. He supposed he could be the better man and not extract vengeance on Al’s brother… perhaps.

“Potter, Bleys told me I should tell you how I feel about you,” he said. The dark head rose and Al’s green eyes fixed on him in surprise.

“I thought you just showed me.”

Pious grinned. “Then we don’t have to talk about our feelings?”

Al snorted. “What are we, Hufflepuffs?”

Pious giggled. “Heaven forbid.”

They laughed together for a bit and then Al said, “Merlin, what are we going to tell our fathers?”