1 First Meeting

They met, quite by accident, when they were eight years old; on the day Al's father took him to Diagon Alley to look for a book. Al was quite excited to be on an outing with his father, as it was rare for the two of them to be alone. Al's father let him pick out a book, gave him an affectionate pat on the head, and quickly disappeared into the dark shelves. Al gripped the latest version of Quidditch Through the Ages and looked for a quiet place to sit down and read. He knew his father could spend hours browsing the stacks of books when he was looking for something in particular.

Al noticed a thin, blond-haired boy seated in a nearby window alcove. The boy sat cross-legged with a huge book in his lap. Every so often, he would reach up and tuck an elusive silver-blond strand of hair behind one ear, even though it slipped back down to lie against his cheek almost immediately. Al watched him for a bit, impressed with the boy's concentration. He was fascinating, with that amazing straight hair, pale skin, and impeccable blue robes. He looked… regal. Al was suddenly conscious of his rumpled robes, and his hair that constantly stuck up in all the wrong places.

Al took a deep breath and walked forward. He sat down next to the boy, and was almost mesmerized when the boy's eyes met his in surprise. They were quite an astonishing shade of grey.

"Hi," Al said and smiled.

The boy surveyed him for a moment. He seemed to be calculating the possible consequences of giving Al a simple greeting. Al held his breath. The boy seemed very thoughtful and serious.

"Hi," he said finally. Al grinned happily, assuming he had passed some sort of test that allowed him to be acknowledged. He immediately crossed his legs, bumped his knee into the boy's, and plopped Quidditch Through the Ages on his lap.

"What's your name?" Al asked.

"Scorpius," the boy replied. Al's grin widened, and he nearly guffawed. The silver eyes narrowed.

"You think my name is funny?" Scorpius snapped.

Al shook his head. "Don't worry, it's not half as funny as mine. I'm Albus."

The angry look left the blond's face, and his lips twitched in amusement. "Really? Albus?"

Al grimaced. "Yeah, and my middle name is even worse. My friends call me Al. Pleased to meet you," Al said, recalling the manners his mother had drummed into his head. He stuck out his hand, hoping it wasn't too dirty. The blond looked at it for a moment, and then gripped it lightly. Albus squeezed. Scorpius squeezed back. Al squeezed harder, and so did the blond. Soon they were attempting to crush each other's hand bones. Al began to laugh, and after a moment, Scorpius did, too.

"On the count of three," Al said, feeling his fingertips going numb, "We both let go."

"Three," said Scorpius. They both released their aching hands, and Al giggled so hard he nearly fell forward off the seat. Scorpius chuckled, and Al thought he looked awfully nice when he smiled.

"Do you have a nickname?" he asked.

"No. Just Scorpius."

"Can I call you Score?"

The blond shrugged. "I suppose. If you like." He returned his focus to the book in his lap, and Al felt like he'd been dismissed.

At that moment, the sound of raised voices came to them. Al looked up in surprise, recognizing his father's voice. His father marched out of the shelves, looking angrier than Al had seen him in a long time. A tall man who looked remarkably like Scorpius followed him. He looked just as angry as Al's father.

"Back off, Malfoy!" Al's father hissed. The blond man put a hand out and grabbed his shoulder to spin him around. Al's eyes widened. He had never seen anyone dare to touch his father in anger. Not ever. Not only did the man grab his shoulder, but also clenched both fists into Al's father's robes and slammed him against the nearest bookshelf, making several of the books fall over. Al wondered why his father didn't reach for his wand and hex the man into a toad.

Al looked at Scorpius, who was staring at the angry men in astonishment. Al looked back at the blond man and felt a horrible sinking sensation. He had to be Score's father. The enraged blond man leaned forward and snarled something inaudible into Al's father's ear. His father closed his eyes, as though to block out whatever the man said. Al knew that trick. La la la, I can't hear you. It never really worked, though, not unless you stuck your fingers into your ears at the same time. And Al's father's hands were clenched into fists.

He raised those fists suddenly, but instead of hitting Score's father, he opened his hands and pushed against the blond's chest, shoving the man backward. The two men glared daggers at each other for long moments.

"My dad," Al whispered miserably.

"Mine, too," Score replied just as quietly.

"I don't think they like each other."

"Scorpius," the blond man said loudly. "Come along."

Score closed his book and got to his feet. He looked at Al with an expression of shared commiseration, and then followed the billowing dark cloak of his father as the man swept out of the store.

Al got up and walked to his father, who smiled at Al, even though he still seemed shaken by whatever Score's father had said.

"Who was that?"

"Draco Malfoy," Al's father said quietly. "An old… friend from school."

Scorpius Malfoy. Now that he knew Score's full name, Al decided he would send him an owl. Just because their fathers did not get along didn't mean Al couldn't talk to his new friend, right? He'd check with Rose, first, of course, just to be sure. She was so much smarter than Al. She would know what to do.

Clandestine Affairs

Scorpius Malfoy, as it turned out, was a genius. After Al's first owl message, Score had come up with several secretive ways for them to communicate, beginning with sending owls to each other in the dead of night. It was harder for Al to get owls than Score, because Al shared a house with James Potter, the snoopiest brother alive.

Though he was loath to do it, Al was forced to incinerate all of his notes from Score, because James would have found them. James would have then blackmailed Al into doing his chores for the next million years.

Score was the one that came up with the brilliant plan for them to meet. The next time Score's father went on a shopping trip to Diagon Alley, Score owled Al and told him to arrange a trip at the same time. They would meet at Fortescue's Ice Cream Shop. Al was so excited he nearly gave the game away by making James suspicious. His brother looked at him and sneered.

"Why so eager to go to Diagon Alley, Al-butt?" he asked.

Al shrugged, trying to look nonchalant.

"I want to see if there are any new Quidditch books at Luna's."

James sneered, as expected. The day his brother willingly picked up a book was the day Al would eat a Thestral. "You're so weird."

"Not as weird asyou," Al retorted carelessly. James hurtled across the room and pounded Al's head against the floor.

"Take. It. Back," James said, whacking his head with each word.

"I take it back!" Al squealed, seeing stars. James was such a freaking brute. His brother climbed off and dusted his hands with satisfaction.

"Bring me some sweets from Fortescue's, or you die," James said and left the room.

"Sure. Poisoned ones. Ass-hat," Al muttered and rubbed his aching head.

Scorpius sat at a corner table. Before him hovered a large dish of chocolate ice cream. Al happily slid into the seat next to him and grabbed the pale hand that rested on the table. He laced their fingers together and squeezed.

Score looked at him in surprise. He tried to detach his hand, but Albus held tight.

"Boys don't hold hands," Score drawled.

"Why not? Girls do. Why is it okay to shake hands, but not hold them?"

"It's just not. When boys hold hands, people say they're poufters."

"What's that?"

"Boys that like other boys," Score explained in a tone that suggested Al was an idiot.

"But I dolike you."

Score sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Not like that. Like, boyfriends. You know, snogging and all that mushy stuff."

Al wrinkled his nose. "Ew, that's gross! Snogging is disgusting! Teddy and Victoire do it all the time. They make these slurping sounds and moan at each other. It looks wet and sloppy to me." Al shuddered.

Score shrugged. "Well, that's what people will think."

Al set his jaw stubbornly. "I don't care what people think." He squeezed Score's hand more tightly.

"Well, I do, so let go."

Al tossed his head, but released Scorpius. "All right. If you're afraid."

Scorpius glared at him. "I never said I was afraid!"

"Of course you are. You're afraid of what people will think."

Scorpius snatched Al's hand and squeezed it until Al's knuckles creaked painfully. Al refrained from wincing, barely.

"There. Are you happy now, you obstinate prat?"

Al did not know what obstinate meant, but he grinned and nodded. With his left hand, he picked up the spoon and took a large bite of Score's ice cream. The platinum-haired boy looked at him with an unreadable expression.

"I don't know why I want to be your friend. You're insufferable, really."

Al did not know what insufferable meant, either, but he knew Score wasn't serious.

"You want to be my friend because you're terribly lonely in that big, old house by yourself."

"I am not lonely," Scorpius said, but his hand stopped trying to turn Al's into jelly.

"Well, I am, and I have a brother and sister. I can't wait until schools starts and James is gone. Be glad you don't have an older brother." Al dropped the spoon and rubbed the sore spot on the back of his head. He must remember to buy James sweets or he would have a matching wound on the front of his head.

"I can't wait until school starts for us," said Scorpius.

"You are going to Hogwarts, right?"

"Yes. Mother wanted to send me to Durmstrang, but Father wouldn't hear of it."

Al was relieved, and mentally thanked Score's father. Even though he was mean to Al's father, and shoved him into bookshelves. "What House do you think you'll be in?"

Score shrugged. "Slytherin, of course. All the Malfoys have been in Slytherin."

Al was horrified for a moment. James had told him horror stories about Slytherins. And Uncle Ron was constantly mentioning "that evil Slytherin git" although which one he referred to varied. "I don't really care, as long as it isn't Hufflepuff."

"What's wrong with Hufflepuff?" Al asked.

"They're sheep," Scorpius explained. "Idiots, the lot of them. Their only redeeming quality is loyalty, and they'll throw their lot in with anyone willing to lead. March dead off a cliff, I'll bet. Loyal to the end."

"Make an excellent army, wouldn't they?"

Scorpius looked at him critically.

"You know, Al, you're smarter than you look. Maybe you'll be in Ravenclaw."

Al nearly laughed. James always called Al an idiot. No way he was smart enough to be a Ravenclaw.

"Probably Gryffindor. James is a Gryffindor. And Mum and Dad were Gryffindors. And Uncle Ron, and Aunt Hermione. And Teddy. Uncle George and Uncle Bill. Oh yes, and Uncle Charlie. And Percy…"

Scorpius laughed, and Al stared at him in amazement. He had never heard the blond boy laugh aloud before. Score had a great laugh. Al joined in just from the sound of it.

Score's laugh silenced abruptly as his gaze shifted out the glass door. "Father is coming. I'll owl you next time we plan to come to Diagon Alley." He gave Al's hand a squeeze, and went outside before Draco Malfoy could enter. Their greeting seemed stiff and formal to Al, who would have leaped on his father with a huge hug, but then he saw the elder Malfoy grip his son's shoulder. No exuberance, but affection, at least.

Al and Score met clandestinely several times after that. Twice in the ice cream parlour, once at the bookstore, and once at the Quidditch World Cup, shortly before both were scheduled to attend Hogwarts. Their families were seated not far from each other, although the riotous Potter-Weasley clan was a loud contrast to the pale, reserved Malfoys. Albus thought they all looked beautiful—pale and aloof, like expensive statues.

Scorpius caught Al's eye and made an obscure gesture. Al excused himself to use the lavatory, but his mother insisted he take Lily along. Al pouted in annoyance, but complied.

"Score! The World Cup! Isn't it exciting?"

"Not really. My team is not playing, so I don't care who wins. Who is your little shadow?"

Lily glared. "I'm no shadow. I'm his sister. Who are you?"

"Never mind, Lily. Just use the damn toilet and hurry it up."

"I'm telling Mum you said a bad word!"

Al stuck his tongue out at her. Lily did the same and marched away. Al rolled his eyes.

"Be glad you're an only child," he said. Score smiled and Al laughed aloud. He leaned close and touched Score's hand with a quick squeeze. "Just think, Score! We'll be at school soon! Then we can be togetherevery day."

"Unless we're in different Houses," Scorpius said. Al sobered.

"Yeah, but we'll still have classes together, right?"

"Probably."

Al was quiet, knowing it was likely that he would be in Gryffindor, and Scorpius would be in Slytherin. They would make friends in their own Houses and see each other rarely. Al was suddenly annoyed at the unfairness of it. If only their fathers didn't hate each other, they would at least be able to see one another away from school.

"Why does your dad hate mine, anyway?" Al asked quietly, wishing there were some way to force the Sorting Hat into putting them into the same House.

"I don't know. Why does yours hate mine?"

Al shrugged. "Maybe we should ask them."

Lily returned, and glared at them both.

"I should go," said Score. "See you on the Hogwarts Express."

Al grinned. "That's right! I'll meet you in the last car. Wait; make that the second to the last car. James always sits in the last car, and we don'twant to be with him."

Scorpius bowed slightly to Lily. "Pleased to meet you, Al's sister. Bye, Al."

He sauntered away, and Lily looked up at Al. "I guess he's not so bad," she admitted. Al grinned before yanking at her hair ribbon and running back to the stands with Lily in angry pursuit.

Hogwarts

Al fidgeted nervously while he waited to board the train. He craned his neck now and again, trying to spot Scorpius through the crowd of taller people in his way. James was bouncing like an idiot, waving to everyone he even vaguely recognized. James was the most popular boy at school, at least according to James. Rose Weasley stood next to Al, looking as nervous as he felt. He only wanted to be in Gryffindor if Score was there also, and it was a good bet Score would be in Slytherin. James had been terrifying Al all morning with stories about the evilchildren in Slytherin House, and suggesting that Al might be sorted there.

The steam cleared for a moment and Al caught sight of Scorpius. His relief was nearly crushing. He had been terrified that Score's father had changed his mind and decided to send Score to Durmstrang. He smiled widely, and a tiny smile touched Score's lips before he pretended to ignore Al.

Uncle Ron made a joke about disinheriting Rose if she was not sorted into Gryffindor, giving Al a moment of panic. "He doesn't mean it," Aunt Hermione said, and Al's mother agreed, giving her brother a poke. Al's uncle straightened suddenly, and moved closer to Al's dad.

"Look who it is," Uncle Ron said as the steam thinned again.

Both Al and his father turned to look at Draco Malfoy and Scorpius. Al noticed a beautiful, thin blond woman standing with them. Al's forehead wrinkled. Was the woman Score's mother? She looked a lot like Al's father, so perhaps she was another relative, like an aunt. She wasn't fussing over Score the way Al's mother was fussing over Lily, tucking her scarf around her neck to keep it from blowing away.

Uncle Ron advised Rose to beat Scorpius in every test, earning a glare from Al. What did Uncle Ron have against Score? Al nearly asked, but Aunt Hermione lectured Uncle Ron, so his uncle apologized. James returned in a complete tizzy about Cousin Teddy kissing Cousin Victoire. Al rolled his eyes. Who cared about kissing? He just wanted to get on the train and see Score.

James kicked at Al, made an obnoxious comment, and boarded the train. Al's mother kissed him, and then Al's father hugged him hard.

"What if I'm in Slytherin?" Al asked, reluctantly disturbed by James's warnings.

Al's father knelt down, and Al looked into the green eyes so like his own. His father spoke quietly, easing his fears about Slytherin House, and then revealed a secret that made excitement leap through Al's veins. The Sorting Hat takes your choice into account.

Al quickly boarded the train and hurried to the second to last car. He fidgeted impatiently until a familiar silver-blond head peered in. Scorpius grinned.

"Al. I was afraid you would be in here with your hoards of relations."

"No, it's just us so far," Al said and shifted aside. Score sat beside him, after stowing a small travel bag in the overhead compartment.

"Father insisted I bring some sweets from home. He says the food on the train is substandard."

Al thought that was terribly funny. His mother was a good cook, but Al thought train food would be a wonderfully amazing change from home-cooked meals. He grabbed Score's hand happily.

"I can't believe we're finally going! And wait until you hear what my father told me!" He repeated the news about the Sorting Hat considering the wearer's choices. "It's a secret, of course. My father never told anyone before, not even James! I know it, or James would have told me." Al felt terribly special about that.

Score looked at him thoughtfully. "You know, Al, that opens up a world of possibilities. It means we can be in any house we choose."

"And it means we can be together! Will you be in Gryffindor with me?"

Score laughed. "Certainly not. Gryffindor is for brave idiots."

Al pouted, recalling the taunts of James outside the train. He was terrified to be in Slytherin, and almost hesitated to ask. "Not… not Slytherin?"

"I've been thinking about that, Al. My father has told me story after story of Slytherin House. To prepare me. Frankly, they don't sound at all friendly. The chief trait of Slytherin seems to be to get ahead, and while I can certainly relate to that, I hate to have so much bloody competition. It must get very tiresome, being on your toes all the time, fighting to be top dog. And once you are top dog, how do you stay there?"

Al nearly sighed with relief, although he was nearly as nervous at the next suggestion. "Ravenclaw, then? I told you, I don't think I'm smart enough."

Score made a huffing sound. "Of course you're smart enough. You're my friend, aren't you? That alone qualifies you for brilliance. However, I think I've found a better option for both of us. Hufflepuff."

"Huff…Hufflepuff?" Al was astounded. He'd been called a Hufflepuff as a curse word by his brother for the past year, every time he'd done something remotely stupid or annoying. "But you said they were…"

Score nodded. "Sheep, yes. But then I thought about what you said, that they would make the perfect army. Think of it, Al! We could rule Hufflepuff! With my brains, and your… well, whatever makes you you… we could take over Hufflepuff without a fuss. I would be their king, and you would be my…"

"…queen?" Al said dubiously, the first thing that came to mind. Score socked him in the shoulder with his free hand.

"No, you idiot! My right hand man. The king's champion."

"The king's champion," Al breathed, enraptured. Score's brilliance was beyond comprehension.

"Besides, I look stunning in yellow, and you… well, we'll just have to keep you in black, I suppose. Yellow will do nothing for your complexion and it won't highlight those green eyes of yours at all, but one cannot have everything. It's settled, then? We'll ask the bloody hat to put us in Hufflepuff?"

"Absolutely." Al smiled and thanked his stars that M came before P in the alphabet. Regardless of what house Scorpius ended up in, Al planned to spend his every instant under the hat begging to be placed in the same, even if it turned out to be Slytherin.

As it turned out, Al's father was correct. Scorpius spent quite a long time beneath the hat before it finally yelled out, "Hufflepuff!" Al thought it sounded a bit confused. There were more than a few shocked murmurs throughout the hall, especially from the teacher's table. Al thought Professor Longbottom looked stunned as he watched Scorpius walk triumphantly to the yellow-bedecked table.

Al's turn came shortly thereafter, and as the oversized, battered thing darkened his vision, he heard a small voice in his ear. "Another Potter, eh? Always interesting, the Potters…"

"Hufflepuff," Al whispered desperately. "Hufflepuff, please. Oh please."

"Hufflepuff? Are you sure? You seem to know your own mind… Slytherin would take you far. Intelligent enough for Ravenclaw, you are, and brave… yes, bravery goes without saying…"

Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff, Hufflepuff.

"Odd," the hat muttered. "You're the second boy ignoring my choices tonight, but if you insist, let it be… HUFFLEPUFF!"

Al nearly collapsed with relief and ignored the shout of horror coming from where his brother sat. He nearly threw the hat at the next student to be sorted, and raced to the Hufflepuff table, where his new housemates welcomed him with slaps on the back and loud cheers. Al looked only at Scorpius, whose silvery eyes glowed with triumph as he held out his hand to Al.

He heard a recurring whisper from along the table, and it sounded excited and a bit awed. "We've got a Potter! A Potter!"

"We must send your father a thank you card," Score whispered with a chuckle as Al joined him on the bench. Under the table, Al gripped Score's hand tightly with barely suppressed excitement, and his friend did not try to pull away. "Bloody hat wanted to argue with me. Insisted I should go in Slytherin."

"It said Slytherin would take me far," Al murmured. "But that I could be in Ravenclaw, too."

Scorp grinned. "See? I knew you were smart."

Al's heart soared. Tomorrow, he would have to face his brother, and explain to all of his sundry relatives why he was the only non-Gryffindor in the lot, but tonight he simply didn't care. Score's plan had worked brilliantly. 

2  First Year

Their first year at Hogwarts did not see Scorpius Malfoy invested as the Hufflepuff king. Whenever Albus asked about it, Score would smile mysteriously and say things like, "Patience, Al, this is not a Hufflepuff plot", and "All things in the fullness of time."

Al was content. His first year at Hogwarts was blissful for the most part. He spent nearly every waking moment with Scorpius. The only time they weren't together was breakfast on Saturday and Sunday, since Score insisted on sleeping late. Al would trip down to the Great Hall and sit with his Gryffindor relatives. Most of them had stopped teasing him by the second month, with the exception of James, of course.

Al and Score were nearly always hand in hand, as one of them seemed to be constantly dragging the other along. Evenings found them in the Hufflepuff common room huddled on the sofa together. Score would read or work on homework. Al would pretend to study until he fell asleep on Score's shoulder, and eventually Score would wake him for the trek to their room. More often than not, they slept on the same bed, albeit at opposite ends. Albus invariably fell asleep on Score's bed, and Scorpius would levitate the blankets from Al's bed to cover his sleeping friend. Al figured he spent more time in Score's bed than his own.

They became commonly known as Malfoy and his Shadow, partially due to Score's insistence that they dress the part. Scorpius wore yellow at all times, from palest gold to deepest buttercup, and insisted that Al wear primarily black. Al didn't mind, accepting Score's assurance that he looked awful in yellow, and he rather liked it when everyone stopped calling him Malfoy's Shadow and simply referred to him as Shadow. It made him feel rather sinister and ominous.

Al and Score took all their classes together, and Al's ambidexterity turned out to be an unexpected benefit. Al used whatever hand happened to be closest to his wand to cast spells, earning envious glares from Score.

"You're a lucky git, Al. I can barely cast a Lumos with my left hand," Score admitted.

Al grinned. "You sound like James. He's always hated me for being able to use both hands."

Score sniffed haughtily. "I refuse to have anything in common with James Potter. And I certainly don't hate you."

"Good, because I like you far better than James, and if you started acting like him, I would have to hex you. With both hands."

"You'd have to catch me first," Scorpius said and bolted. Al bellowed and charged after him. Their merry game of tag turned into an evening of detention when they accidentally mowed down Madam Hooch on the third floor landing. Of course, Al didn't really consider it punishment stuck in the broom shed all evening, polishing school brooms and arguing with Score over what Quidditch team would take the next World Cup. Al could not think of anywhere he would rather be.

Summer was horrible. First the Malfoys went on holiday to China, of all places. Score said it had something to do with his father's business. His mother did not accompany them. Score sent Al dozens of postcards and letters, most of which stated how utterly bored he was with China. Al grinned at Score's whining tone. He knew the blond didn't hate it nearly as much as he complained. He adored his father. Al thought he was terribly lucky to be able to spend so much time alone with his dad. Al always had to share with James and Lily. Time alone with his dad was rare. In fact, time at all with his dad was rare. Al's father worked long hours, and was often gone for days at a time. Score had barely returned from China when Al's family decided on a spontaneous holiday. At least, it seemed spontaneous to Al, who had heard his parents arguing about it for weeks, but he had not actually expected his father to take time off from work. Apparently his mother's nagging skills had not diminished.

So it was that the Potters packed and took a Portkey to Greece, where they walked through ancient ruins and looked out over the sparkling Mediterranean during the long, hot days. At night their parents argued about Al's father "going through the motions" and "wishing he was back at work". Al knew just how he felt. Al wished they were back home, too. He was sick of James trying to push him into dry cisterns and Lily whining about how her feet hurt. He was tired of his parents fighting when they thought Al and the others were asleep, and he was bothered by their façade of happiness during the day. Mostly, Al just missed Score.

Al wished the Malfoys and Potters were friends, but the name "Malfoy" seemed to be taboo in the Potter household. Any time Al mentioned Scorpius, his mother's mouth would tighten and she would look at Al with disapproval. "I don't think it's a very good idea for you to get too close to that Malfoy boy, Al," she had said once.

"Why?" Al had asked. His mother had mentioned something like "bad blood" and rushed off to rescue Lily from pulling down a bookshelf. Al had vowed never to mention Score to her again.

Al's father wasn't much better. He didn't seem to mind Al talking about Scorpius, but he always got a strange look on his face, and his eyes would go to the dusty black box that sat on the mantle. It had been there for Al's entire life, and probably before that, as well. Al had opened the case a few times, and knew it contained a wand—one made of very dark wood. No one ever used it, and whenever Al asked to whom it belonged, his parents would always say, "No one." He supposed it was true, since it was never used.

When the Potters returned from their enforced holiday, Al and Score sent owls to each other, and met four times in Diagon Alley during trips they managed to coordinate. Al could hardly wait for second year.

Opening Gambit

Scorpius Malfoy unleashed his strategy to become the Hufflepuff king as soon as their second year began. He announced his plan to Al on the train.

"We'll both join the Quidditch team. We couldn't do it last year, since we were too young, but this will be the beginning of our bid for greatness."

"How do you know we'll make the team?" Al asked worriedly. Score laughed before punching him on the arm.

"Come on, Al! Think of our parents! Your father was the youngest Seeker in a century. To hear some tell it, he could have been the best Seeker ever. Your mum played Quidditch too, right? And my father was a Seeker. To hear him tell it, he could have beaten your father, if not for all that Dark Lord business that kept your dad from playing. Either way, it's in our blood."

Al acknowledged that Score had a point. Quidditch was a popular sport amongst the Potters and Weasleys. Al had been riding a broom since he could walk, and playing Quidditch since he could fly.

"Did you find out why your father hates mine?" Al asked, thinking of their parents.

Scorpius grinned. "Yes, and it was very strange. I asked him why he hated Harry Potter and he looked quite surprised, and then he gave me that look he has when he's telling me something he doesn't really want me to know. And then he said, 'I don't hate Potter. Who told you that?' So I admitted that I might have overheard him ranting about 'the Great Potter' a few times, and he scowled and said that 'just because he thought someone was a glory-seeking, overrated, crass, oblivious half-wit did not mean he hated the person.' I made sure to write all that down."

"Wow, he said all that about my dad?"

"Yeah, and the odd thing is that he talks about your father all the time. I never really noticed until I met you. I'll bet he knows everything about Harry Potter. He certainly complains about him a lot, and he has a huge assortment of names for him. I didn't write those down—there were too many, and most were not very nice."

"I asked my dad if he hated yours, too. He sat down on the couch and got all serious and put his hand on my shoulder. He said, 'Of course not, Al. I don't hate anyone. What gave you the idea I hated Malfoy?' I told him it was James, of course, because… well I can blame James for just about anything, and my parents always buy it."

"That's because James is a prat ninety-seven percent of the time."

"True. Anyway, my dad said he didn't hate your dad, and that Draco Malfoy was just misunderstood. He said that no one ever really gave him a chance."

Score's eyebrows rose. "He said that? It almost sounds like your father actuallylikes my father."

"It does, doesn't it? And since your dad said he doesn't hate my dad, maybe they'll let us see each other during the holidays!"

Score nodded. "Maybe we should start with your dad, since he seemed a bit more sincere with the 'I don't hate him' story."

"I'll mention it to him when I write. We might as well get started now, if we plan to see each other during Christmas."

"Christmas won't work for us this year, since Father planned to take me to Switzerland over the holiday. But we will plan on next summer for certain. All right, that will be your assignment then, other than achieving a position on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. Things will be looking up for us this year, Al," Score said. He dragged Al close with an arm around his shoulders, and his knuckles dragged through Al's hair, messing it up more than it already was. Al gave him an elbow to the stomach and Score laughed while he made a show of smoothing down Al's hair. He didn't take his arm from Al's shoulders, and Al rested his head against Score's neck.

James marched into the car and sneered at them.

"You two are so weird. Why are you always draped all over each other?"

"Jealous, Potter?" Score retorted easily as James threw himself in the seat across from them. Al's brother rolled his eyes.

"Couple of ponces. Where's Rose?"

Al said, "She stopped to have a chin wag with some of her girlfriends. Have you seen Amber and Zephyr?"

"No, I haven't seen any of your stupid Hufflepuff friends."

Several of James' friends burst into the car then, and the Gryffindors thankfully rushed off to have a look at some pretty new girl in a compartment farther along. Rose and her much quieter friends entered, as well as Amber and Zephyr Abbott. Al had dubbed the twins 'Score's Fan Club'.

"Hi Score. Hi Shadow," the girls intoned together. One of the girls sat by Score and one by Al to make a Hufflepuff sandwich. Score and the girls made small talk, and Al found himself drifting off to sleep, as usually happened whenever he leaned on Score's shoulder.

As Score had predicted, they both made the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. Madam Hooch had been delighted to see them both on the team, and mentioned she would be heartily glad to avoid the old Malfoy/Potter rivalry from the old days. Al had never seen Score on a broom, and the sight was breathtaking. He looked like a golden blur, chasing the Snitch. His dives and turns were pure grace in motion. Al was quick, too, but his specialty was aerial acrobatics. He managed some somersaults and rolls that had the other Hufflepuffs shouting with astonishment.

Score hovered near Al on his broom. They watched while another Hufflepuff zoomed across the field, and Score looked at Al.

"How did you learn to maneuver like that, Al?" he asked with a grin.

"Are you kidding? James's idea of Quidditch is braining me with a Bludger, or knocking me off my broom. He never even tries to score. I can avoid nearly anything."

"They'll probably make you a Chaser, then."

Al nodded. He didn't care what position he got, as long as he could play.

"We made the team! Score is Seeker and I'm Keeper!" Al told Rose excitedly. She rolled her eyes. Rose would rather sit in the corner and read a book than even watch a Quidditch game. It was unpatriotic and strange, really.

"You should see Al!" Score added. "With his moves, there is no way anyone will get the Quaffle into the goal! We'll have the House Cup this year, for certain."

"You haven't played a single game," Rose pointed out dryly, twisting a strand of her frizzy red hair around a finger.

"Let's go find James!" Al said excitedly. "I want to rub it in his face that we're both on the team!"

Quidditch and Questions

The Hufflepuff team slaughtered the others in Quidditch. Scorpius was an astounding Seeker. The Gryffindors had excellent teamwork, but their Seeker was simply not quick enough. To top it off, it was a rare day when the Quaffle could make it past Albus Potter, so the other teams could not even hope to drive the score up before Malfoy caught the Snitch. Hufflepuff started the Quiddith season undefeated, and stayed that way.

In one game, Score played wickedly, keeping the Gryffindor Seeker away from the Snitch rather that snatching it, merely to prolong the game. Sean Finnegan, a Gryffindor Beater, charged Scorpius after the game, accusing him of "Slytherin tactics." Score laughed and flicked the golden edge of his cape toward Finnegan, who was restrained by his other teammates at the approach of Madam Hooch.

"Hufflepufftactics," Score had said deliberately.

"Slytherin in Hufflepuff clothing," James muttered, glaring at Al, but Al merely beamed and slung an arm around Score's shoulders. He thought Score was simply brilliant. Besides, he hadn't done anything wrong. The Gryffindors should be glad they had gotten to play longer. Score could have caught the Snitch in the first ten minutes of the game.

James was in a fine snit the next morning. Al sat down to breakfast at the Gryffindor table. James glared over the heaping plate of bacon and toast. "Why do you always sit here? Shouldn't you be with your Hufflepuff followers? And where is your Evil Overlord?"

Al grabbed a handful of bacon and a few pieces of toast. "Dad says I can sit wherever I want. You already know Score likes to sleep in on Sundays." He grinned. "But I'll be sure to mention the Overlord thing. He'll probably have badges made."

James rolled his eyes. "God, you two are such freaks. Poncy freaks, at that."

"Stop it, James," Rose said, giving him a look over the Daily Prophet. She read the paper every morning, to keep abreast of things. Al and most of the Gryffindors relied on her for news. "I like it when Al sits here. We'd never see him otherwise."

James muttered something about "seeing the bloody git's face for the past twelve years" but he settled down in his seat and concentrated on his food. Sean Finnegan entered, and sneered at Al as he took a seat next to James. Rose leaned close to Al.

"Has Scorpius mentioned anything about his mother?" she asked quietly.

Al looked at her in confusion and shook his head. "No. Why would he?" Come to think of it, Score had never mentioned his mother at all, as far as Al could recall. It came as a bit of a shock to find he even hada mother. Al had assumed she was dead. "Er… is she alive?"

Rose looked scandalized for a moment. "I thought he was your best friend, Al. How could you not know? Anyway, the gossip columns are generally filled with tripe, but sometimes they contain tidbits of truth. This article says Draco Malfoy's wife is moving to the south of France for health reasons. It says Score's dad plans to stay here and continue to run the Malfoy Empire. I wonder if there is more to the story."

Al bit his lip. He wondered if Score's mum was ill. Score had never said anything, so maybe it was serious. Score liked to keep serious things to himself; Al always had to drag important issues out of his friend. Al gnawed on his lip, and wondered if Score was worried about his mum. If anything happened to Al's mum, he'd be plenty worried, especially if she had to go to the Continent because of it.

"That seems really personal," Al said softly. "Why is it in the paper?"

Rose shrugged. "It's always news when rich pureblood families have troubles. People love to rub their noses in it. I think it makes them feel better about their own lives."

Al rose indignantly to Score's defense. "Well, that's just wrong! It's none of their business!" It was technically none of Al's business, either, but he figured he might try to pry some information out of Scorpius, for his own good. If Score suppressed some secret pain, Al would damn well make sure he dealt with it. Dad always said it was better to get things out in the open, because lying to yourself was just as bad as lying to others. Even worse, sometimes. Funny, but Al had never really understood that until now.

He didn't broach the subject until later that morning, when Score finally dragged himself out of bed and curled up next to Al on the sofa in the Hufflepuff common room. Al had brought back a plate of food and a pot of tea, just like he did every time Score slept in. Score rested his head against Al's shoulder and opened his mouth for Al to feed him bits of food. Al had to laugh. For such a dynamo of energy, Scorpius was almost ridiculously lethargic in the morning. He could barely function without two strong cups of tea and plenty of sugar.

Ethan Martinson, seated in a chair near the fireplace, made a snorting noise and mentioned something about Al being Score's personal house-elf. Score pointed his wand at Martinson and said, "Out, unless you plan to never have children."

It took a moment for Score's threat to sink it, but when it did, Ethan's eyes widened and he bolted. Al grinned. He didn't like Ethan very much.

"Jealous twit," Score grumbled. "Wants his own personal house-elf like mine."

Al socked him on the arm and Score chuckled. Al fed him a couple more bites of food, despite the house-elf comment.

"Score, is there something wrong with your mother?" Al asked quietly. Score stiffened against Al's side and moved away to look at him strangely.

"What do you mean?"

Al sighed. "There is something in the Daily Prophet this morning. About your mother moving to France… for her health, it says. I didn't even know your mother was… well, you never mentioned her."

Score sneered. "I barely have a mother. She is in London more than she's home. All she does is plan parties and buy clothing." Score raised an eyebrow and looked thoughtful. "Moving to France, eh? I wonder if Father finally gave her the boot."

Al was scandalized. He couldn't imagine his father giving his mother the boot. Then again, he really couldn't picture his red-haired mother planning parties or buying clothing, either. She normally just puttered around the house, cooking and taking care of Lily.

"Do your parents argue a lot?" Al asked.

"They've got to be in the same room to argue, don't they? I think my parents prefer to pretend the other doesn't exist."

Al could hardly fathom such a family. Although maybe ignoring each other would be preferable to the arguments his parents got into, on occasion. Al's mother had quite a temper, and she was quick to fly into a screaming rage. His quiet father would only put up with it for so long before bellowing back at her. At those times, Al and Lily would run into James's room and the three of them would huddle together, hoping the hexes did not start flying.

Al wondered if his parents got along better now that he and James were in school.

3 Malfoy Manor

Al looked at his father hopefully.

"So, since you don't hate Score's dad and he doesn't hate you, can I go visit him this summer? If it's okay with Score's dad, I mean?"

Al's father's expression was really strange. He looked uncomfortable to the point of panic.

"Why don't you two like each other, anyway?" Al asked.

His dad got a faraway look in his eyes.

"It was a long time ago," he said finally. "School rivalry, Quidditch… and then the war."

Al winced. He hadn't meant to bring up the war. It always seemed to make Al's dad really sad.

"It's okay," his dad said with a smile. "It's probably past time to put it behind us. If it's all right with Malfoy, you can go visit your friend. I'll… talk to your mother."

He sounded less that thrilled about that prospect, and Al wondered why his mother would object to him visiting Scorpius. Just because she thought there was something wrong with having Malfoy blood did not mean Al would be infected by it. Adults were so weird.

An owl came from Score later that day, rather formally requesting Al's presence at Malfoy Manor for an extended stay. Al whooped and raced outside to fly crazy loops on his broom.

Al was bouncing with excitement when his father Apparated them to the front gates of Malfoy Manor. Al gasped, because the place was amazing, all wrought iron, brick, stately oaks, perfectly trimmed emerald grass, and white peacocks. It looked more like a palace or a museum than a house.

"Score lives here?" Al breathed.

"If you want to call it living," his father muttered. Al looked at him quickly, but his father just smiled and lifted a hand to the wrought iron gates. They slid open before he could touch them.

They walked up the seemingly endless gravel drive to the front door. Al's father knocked politely and the door was opened by a ragged looking house-elf. Al stared at it curiously. He had only seen one other house-elf in his life, and that was Kreacher. This one was a lot better looking than Kreacher, who always looked like he might drop dead at any moment.

"Mister Harry Potter and Mister Albus Potter shall be waiting in the antechamber. Master Malfoy shall be joining Mister Harry Potter shortly. Mister Albus Potter is not to be touching anything. Mister Harry Potter is recommended not to be touching anything, either."

Al wasn't sure what an antechamber was, but he happily followed the elf into a nearby room that was bigger than any room Al had ever seen in a house. Al tossed himself into a chair and grabbed a biscuit from a tray that had popped into existence on a nearby table.

His father looked distinctly uncomfortable and did not sit down, but paced, pretending to examine the porcelain figurines on the mantle. Al knew they were porcelain, because Aunt Hermione had some and Uncle Ron was constantly bellowing at James to "keep away from the bleedin' porcelain!"

"Al!" he heard suddenly, and turned to see Score in the doorway looking more clean and polished than Al could have managed on his way to a wedding. Al leaped out of the chair and launched himself at Scorpius. He nearly knocked over his best friend.

"Down, Al," Score reprimanded.

"Dad, you remember Scorpius?"

"Yes. Nice to see you again." He smiled, but the smile faded when his eyes flashed upward, moving from Score to the larger version that had appeared in the doorway.

Score's father looked the same as he always had, the few times Al had seen him: elegant and somewhat… icy.

"Potter," he said, and managed to make the name sound like something unpleasant.

"Malfoy," Al's father said in the same tone. Al suddenly remembered that day long ago in the bookstore, when Draco Malfoy's fists had been clenched in his father's robes. He hoped they did not start fighting again.

"Come upstairs, Al," Score hissed in his ear, "Before they change their minds!"

He grabbed Al's hand and they slipped out of the room. The last Al heard as the two boys ran for the stairs was a civil-sounding exchange.

"Would you like a drink, Potter?"

"God, yes. I mean…please."

Al thought it was rather strange, considering his father never drank, except for a single glass of eggnog at Christmas. Al put it out of his mind when they reached Score's room, and more than a hundred Quidditch action figures grabbed his attention.

"This is better than winning the House Cup!" Al said.

Score laughed. "I told you we would win the House Cup. Everything will be roses for Hufflepuff, now. We can't be beat in Quidditch."

"It didn't hurt that you instituted Study Time, either, I suppose," Al admitted grudgingly.

Al had objected quite strenuously when Score had appealed to the older Hufflepuffs with Ravenclaw-like logic, and created a specific time each evening for homework and studies. The older students helped the younger ones with homework and spells, which ended in better grades all around for Hufflepuffs. Scorpius had done so with an eye on the House Cup, of course, but it had benefited all of the Hufflepuffs, so Al's sense of justice was satisfied.

He only wished Score had excluded him from the Study Time rule.

Girl Troubles

Al's third year started pleasantly enough. Quidditch trials were held, Al and Score firmly secured their positions, and Score lorded it over both younger and older classmates, well on his was to the Hufflepuff kingship he sought. Lily Potter was sorted into Gryffindor, as expected, much to the delight of James, who continued to treat Albus as some sort of aberration.

Things were nearly perfect, until sometime during the end of October, when Al's world began to fall apart.

That was when Scorpius Malfoy found a girlfriend.

She was, unsurprisingly, a Ravenclaw. She had long, jet black hair and a cute face with a pert nose. Her eyes were hazel, and fringed with black lashes that she batted at Score in a coy pretense.

When she first began to hang around with them, ostensibly to get Score's help with Arithmancy, Al didn't mind her so much. As Malfoy and his Shadow turned into Malfoy and his Shadow Plus One, Al started to get a bit annoyed.

"Does shehave to come with us?" Al snapped, watching her approach with her perky step and her happy wave. Her name was Rebecca, but Al only referred to her as she or her.

Scorpius ignored him. "Beckers, my darling," he gushed. She blushed prettily.

"Hi Al," she said and gave him a cursory lash bat as she took Score's arm possessively. Al decided he hated her.

"Hi," he said grudgingly. He took Score's other arm. Score smiled at him, obviously pleased to be framed by his black-haired trophies. Al was used to sharing. He was a middle child with two siblings and a herd of cousins. He knew how to share.

But he did not like to share Scorpius.

For Score's sake, Al tolerated Rebecca. Not that he had much choice. He was terrified that if it came to making a decision between them, Scorpius would choose Rebecca. He was grateful for the classes they had without her and dreaded those that Score had with her, but not him.

He thanked Merlin and Hufflepuff and Dumbledore that she was a Ravenclaw and therefore had to leave every night to return to Ravenclaw Tower, leaving Al blessedly alone with his best friend.

"We need to find you a girlfriend, Al," Score decided one night when they sat before the Hufflepuff fire. Al's head was in Score's lap and he held a Muggle Studies scroll up to read while Score practiced Transfiguration on a teacup.

Al nearly dropped the scroll and he felt his stomach lurch.

"What?"

Score whispered a word and the teacup became a candlestick. "A girlfriend, silly. Like Beckers. What girls do you like? I'm sure any of them would be glad to have you, once we take a comb to this." He ran a hand through Al's unruly hair. "Not that it ever helps."

Al grabbed his hand to stop it yanking on his hair. He linked his fingers through Score's, trying to hold on to everything he felt slipping away. Al thought about Score's words. Girls. Al had never been remotely interested in girls.

"Surely you like someone, Al. Spill it."

Al mentally flitted through all the girls he knew. He crossed out everyone in Hufflepuff, knowing he would never allow a girl to intrude on his time with Scorpius. Amber and Zephyr Abbott were too much like sisters, anyway. Ravenclaw? He shuddered. Those brainy girls always made him feel like an idiot. The girls in Gryffindor seemed too boisterous and intimidating. And James would tease them mercilessly.

He finally snatched on the only logical choice.

"Angelica Parkinson," he said. Score laughed.

"Damn, Al. You shoot for the moon, don't you? And a Slytherin? You're definitely brave enough to have been sorted into Gryffindor."

Angelica Parkinson was beautiful. She had long, straight, silver-blonde hair, set off by pale eyes and skin. She was rumored to be ruthless and smart, with a wicked tongue. She reminded Al of Scorpius.

"Well, she's the one. If I have to have a girlfriend, I might as well get the best, right?"

"I never said you had to have a girlfriend, Al," Score said dryly, but the gauntlet had been thrown.

The pursuit of Angelica Parkinson lasted until February. She laughed in Al's face. She vowed never to have anything to do with a Hufflepuff. She went out with an endless succession of boys in every house but his, and delighted in kissing them in front of Al. Oddly, she seemed annoyed when Al didn't seem to care. He would smile and shrug, and clap the "lucky guy" on the shoulder.

"Maybe you should give up, Al," Score advised one evening after Angelica had tripped Al on the stairs. The fall had ended in a trip to the hospital wing. Al looked at Score angrily. The blond's lips were red from snogging Rebecca in the Front Hall. In that moment, Al felt something akin to hate for his clueless friend.

The next morning at breakfast, Al walked straight to the Slytherin table, sat next to Angelica Parkinson, and planted a kiss full on her lips.

"You are going out with me now, and you're going with me to Hogsmeade on Valentine's weekend, and if you have a problem with that, I'll hex a baboon's ass on the face of your next twenty boyfriends."

Angelica looked quite dazed and nodded. Al stalked to the Hufflepuff table and sat next to Score, who stared at him with much the same expression Angelica wore.

"Bloody hell, Al. I'm impressed."

"That makes one of us," Al snapped. He ate his breakfast and went to class. He took Angelica Parkinson to Hogsmeade with Score and her and ate cute frosted cakes cut into heart shapes. He obediently snogged Angelica outside the Slytherin common room and listened to the good-hearted ribbing from his Hufflepuff classmates, Score included. Al settled into couplehood with the same placidity he approached everything else… and hated every minute of it.

Every night, Al would curl up next to Score on the Hufflepuff couch, drape himself over his friend, and let the sight, sound, and scent of him drown the heartache.

Al had finally admitted to himself that Score was the only one he wanted, but he hadn't a clue in hell what to do about it.

The summer before Al's fourth year was almost a relief. He thought maybe he just needed a break from Scorpius, and he definitely needed a break from Angelica Parkinson. While he enjoyed his respite from school and the pressure of his friends, things were equally tense at home.

His parents seemed to be constantly fighting. Al's mother was enraged that his father spent more and more time at work—some nights he did not come home at all. Al's father would yell back about responsibility and duty and things Al didn't really understand. He wished they would just stop fighting.

James dealt with the tension by getting into trouble. When he set fire to a tree in the backyard, their parents shipped him off to spend the rest of the summer with their Uncle George. George was a notorious prankster, but he knew how to keep James in line. Al was happier without his brother's abrasive presence and constant sarcasm, although he missed having someone to play Quidditch with. Lily was getting better, but she tended to hex Al whenever she got angry—which was a lot—and she seldom got in trouble for doing so.

One afternoon when his father was actually at home, Al retreated outside with Lily to escape the shouting of his parents, which had started just after breakfast.

"Why do they fight so much?" Lily asked him as she climbed the apple tree. She wasn't supposed to, because she always tore her robes or scraped her knees, but she had a tendency to do whatever she wanted, just like James.

"I don't think they like each other any more," Al said.

Lily hung upside down from a branch. Al held his wand ready, in case she fell.

"But they're married!"

"That doesn't mean they have to like each other. Think about it—when was the last time they did anything together, just the two of them?"

Al thought it explained a lot, actually. He knew how important time alone was to a relationship—god, did he ever know after hanging around as a couplefor four months—and he couldn't recall his parents ever going anywhere without Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione, or Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur, or Uncle George and his Date-of-the-Week, as they called his numerous girlfriends.

It made Al sad, but it was worse to see his father's pensive expression when he thought no one was watching. It was so full of sadness and longing that Al's heart would constrict. Sometimes his father looked like he would rather be anywhere else in the world. At those times, Al thought it very likely that he would wake up one day and his father would be gone.

"Lily! Let's go!" his mother yelled from the back door. His sister dropped obediently out of the tree. She trotted into the house, earning a pat on the head from their father, who exited the door as Lily entered.

Al watched his father approach. The handsome face was set in tense lines.

"Al, how would you like to go visit your friend Scorpius?"

Al's heart leaped and he grinned widely.

"Would I? Yeah!"

They Apparated to the front gates, and Al was surprised to see Score's dad waiting for them inside the wrought iron.

"Potter," said Draco Malfoy curtly. He looked at Al with a hint of a smile. "Shorter Potter."

Al glared at him. "I'll be as tall as my dad someday!"

The elder Malfoy laughed and ruffled Al's hair. "I'm sure you will. Scorpius is already out back with the brooms. Apparently he expects you to play Quidditch."

Al let out a whoop and raced for the house. On the steps, he paused and looked back. He was surprised to see his father and Score's still standing before the gates. Draco Malfoy's hands were on Al's father's shoulders and his father's hands gripped Mr. Malfoy's wrists. Their heads were so close together that their foreheads nearly touched, and the silver hair brushed against the black.

For a moment, Al had a strange premonition—that was how he and Score would look when they were old, if they were still friends. It was an oddly tender scene, and Al wondered when Draco Malfoy and his father had stopped disliking each other and become friends.

Al shrugged it off and went to find Score.

Tricks and Lies

Al's fourth year began bizarrely. Score hurried to seek out "Beckers" the minute they boarded the Hogwart's Express, and discovered her sitting with another bloke. After a screaming match in the corridor that sent gossip burning like wildfire up and down the train, Score broke up with the devastated Ravenclaw girl, much to Al's utter delight.

Score spent the remainder of the train ride in a simmering snit. Al kept his arm around the angry blond and made soothing noises to keep him from savaging their Hufflepuff friends that huddled across from them and watched Score fearfully.

When they exited the train to board the horseless carriages (even though Al knew they were pulled by invisible horse-like creatures), a black and green flurry of motion erupted before Al. A ringing slap echoed among the carriages, and Al blinked at Angelica Parkinson's enraged visage.

"You lousy Hufflepuff cretin!" she snarled. "Not one owl all summer! And you don't even have the decency to seek me out on the train? I hate you, Albus Potter! We are through!"

Al rubbed his cheek and watched her flounce away with her glaring friends in tow. In truth, Al hadn't thought of her once all summer.

He grinned at Score. "Looks like we're both single again."

Al was ecstatic for all of three weeks, which was how long it took Score to find Girlfriend Number Two. Al had thought Rebecca was bad, but now he almost went to Ravenclaw and begged her to do whatever it took to get Score back, because Elladora Greengrass was purest evil. She was a Slytherin. In Al's opinion was as pretty and vicious as a black mamba. To make matters worse, she was a very good friend of Angelica Parkinson, and therefore went well out of her way to make Al's life a living hell, all in the name of friendly retaliation.

Naturally, Score didn't see Elladora's viciousness at all. He thought her biting comments were amusing and told Al to lighten up. Though they had been friends since they were eight years old, the Slytherin witch began to inexorably drive a wedge between them. Like all good Slytherin plans, it started out slowly and subtly, and Al was caught in its web before he sensed the full danger. By then it was far too late.

"I know someone that likes you, Al," Elladora said at breakfast one morning, even though she hated sitting at the Hufflepuff table. She smirked and continued, "A Ravenclaw."

Al made a noncommittal sound, not caring, and wishing she would shut up and leave. Score perked up.

"Really? Who is it, Ellie? Al needs to get over Angelica and move on. Who is she?"

Elladora laughed, a sound that Score found adorable and Al likened to a sarcophagus lid scraping shut.

"Who said it was ashe?"

Silence reigned at the table and Al's face flamed. She had spoken loudly enough to halt conversation in a wide radius. Elladora calmly buttered her toast, as if oblivious to the effect of her words.

She caught Al's eye and said, "I didn't think Al would mind."

Score turned his beautiful silver eyes to Al speculatively, as if the concept had never before occurred to him. Al wanted to climb under the table and die. He wanted to hex Elladora Greengrass into her namesake and feed it to a herd of filthy camels.

"Your girlfriend is hilarious, Score. Top notch." Al glared at Elladora, who smiled at him and flipped her long brown hair over her shoulder before pressing a lingering kiss into Score's cheek. All of the saltshakers on the Hufflepuff table exploded.

The other Hufflepuff's leaped back in alarm, talking excitedly. Al didn't move, and Elladora Greengrass smiled knowingly at him.

Al should have known it wouldn't stop there. The litany of lies began shortly thereafter. Elladora caught him outside the History of Magic classroom.

"Score wants to see you on the Quidditch pitch," she said. His eyes narrowed.

"Why?"

She rolled her eyes and walked away, as if the very act of speaking to him was beneath her. She probably thought it was.

He hurried to the Quidditch pitch, knowing he'd be late for his next class, but Score was nowhere to be found. He raced back to the castle and hurried in, quite late, to Charms class, only to find Score sitting in his usual spot watching him curiously. Professor Flitwick deducted points from Hufflepuff for Al's tardiness.

"Where were you?" Score whispered. Al felt a sudden rush of rage.

"At the Quidditch pitch! Where the hell were you?"

His words drew the attention of Flitwick once more, and Al shut his mouth with a snap. After class, Al confronted Score.

"If Ella told you to meet me there, you must have heard her wrong," Score said placidly.

"I did not hear her wrong! She's an evil, lying, little—"

"That's enough, Al! I'm tired of hearing you talk about her that way."

Al backed down. Score seldom yelled at him, and it made his stomach clench into tight knots.

Ella slithered up then, and clung to Score like a diseased, abnormal growth.

"Darling, did you tell Al to meet me on the Quidditch pitch?" Score asked.

"Of course not. I asked if he planned to play Quidditch later. Just making conversation. You know I'm trying to get along with Al, for your sake." Her dark eyes dared Al to speak. Al's sparked at her in rage, though he knew it was useless to argue.

"See there? Just a misunderstanding," Score said and beamed at Ella. She kissed him.

"I need to go throw up," Al said roughly and walked away.

Two days later, Al was in Potions when one of the Ravenclaw girls flicked something into his cauldron. Al stared at her in shock. The girl shrugged.

"Sorry, a Slytherin girl said she'd hex me bald if I didn't do it."

Al blinked at his ruined potion and suddenly shoved it off the table in a fit of frustration. He didn't even care that the action earned him detention. Nothing was worse than the look of puzzlement on Score's face, and knowing Al could not confide in him.

When Al left the Potions classroom that night after monotonously sorting and classifying hundreds of slimy, dusty, or foul-smelling ingredients, he was surprised to bump into Edward Carmichael. Al expected to see Slytherins in the dungeons, but it was unusual to run into a Ravenclaw there at such a late hour. It was nearing curfew, and Ravenclaw Tower was a long jaunt even at a dead run.

About to brush by Eddie, Al was startled when the boy reached out and grabbed his sleeve.

"Hey, Potter! Erm…Albus?"

Al waited expectantly, impatient to get back to the Hufflepuff common room and curl up next to Score. He felt like everything was slipping away from him and he didn't know how to stop it. Carmichael stepped uncomfortably close and leaned even closer to Al. For a moment, Al wondered if he had a smudge or something on his face, because of the intent way Eddie looked at him.

"Al, I just want you to know… Well, you deserve better than Malfoy. He treats you like shite, and he's obviously into girls, anyway. The way he flaunts that Slytherin bitch on his arm…"

Al could not quite follow the path Eddie Carmichael's words were taking, even though he warmed to Carmichael when he heard the disparaging comment about Elladora.

"Although she is the one that told me you fancied me, and that I might actually have a chance with you, which is what gave me the guts to meet you here and do this."

With that, Eddie Carmichael pressed Al roughly against the wall and put his lips against Al's. Sheer astonishment kept Al from reacting for a moment, which seemed to encourage Carmichael. A tongue was shoved into Al's mouth, nearly gagging him. At the same time, a hand groped at the front of Al's trousers.

Wrenched from his shock at last, Al struggled, and made a muffled sound of protest. Carmichael's hand dug into Al's cock and Al suddenly found the strength to shove him away. Carmichael stepped back for only a moment. His eyes were slightly glazed and his lips were wet.

"I want you so much, Albus," he said thickly, and reached for him. Al hit him.

Carmichael fell to his knees and Al stared at him in horror. Eddie looked at him in shock, with blood trickling from a split lip that was already beginning to swell. Carmichael surged to his feet.

"Fuck you, Potter! No one is good enough for you but that blond bastard? He'll never want you!"

Carmichael swung blindly at Al, who hit him again, giving thanks that he had an older brother and had learned to defend himself without using a wand. Al punched him again, slamming Eddie back to the ground. Before Carmichael could rise, Al bolted.

He raced up the stairs and across the hall to the Hufflepuff common room. It was empty but for Score, who looked up from his book and smiled. Al tried to compose himself, but he was shaking and his knuckles ached. He sat on the couch next to Score, who set the book aside quickly.

"Al, what is it?" he asked.

"Car… Car…" Fuck, he was stuttering. Al took a shuddering breath. "Eddie Carmichael." Al nearly said, "Carmichael forced himself on me," but that sounded like he was some weak girl that had been taken advantage of. "He kissed me," Al finished lamely, knowing it did not begin to express the shock and outrage he felt. Not at all, in fact, because Score began to laugh.

"Oh Al, that is priceless."

Al glared at him, feeling betrayed and ready to burst into tears. "It is not! It was horrible!"

"Even the blokes are after you, you silly git. You're the Hufflepuff Sex Symbol." Score sounded awed. Al looked away, fighting the emptiness that threatened to overtake him. He had always expected Score to be there for him; he had always counted on Score to understand.

"This isn't funny, Score. He attacked me and I hit him."

Score broke into peals of laughter. "Eddie Carmichael, a sex-starved maniac! Oh, this is rich!"

Al threw himself to his feet. "Stop it, Scorpius! I can't fucking talk to you at all anymore! That Slytherin bitch-cur of yours told Carmichael that I fancied him!"

Score's laughter silenced the instant Al insulted Elladora.

"Leave her out of this, Al," he warned.

"Why are you always defending her?" Al shouted. "She hates my guts and you let her do whatever she wants to drive a wedge between us! She lies constantly! She ruined my potion today for no reason other than spite! She concocts horrible stories about me—!"

"Stop it, Al! You're making that up!" Score yelled.

"Why would I do that?" Al screamed. He flailed his hands to keep them from tearing at his hair. "Why would I fucking do that?"

"Because you're jealous!" Score countered in a hiss. "You're jealous of Ella because she has me, and you can't, and you're pissed because you can't make me like you that way. Well, news flash, Al, I'm notlike you! I like girls, okay? Girls!"

Al stared at him, and the feeling of everything sliding away from him suddenly grew until it encompassed his entire world. He felt like he was at the center of a vortex with nothing to hold onto, nothing to keep him from drowning. Darkness flickered at the edges of his vision, and he backed away from Score blindly, fighting the urge to succumb to the dark. Only the knowledge that he was a Potter kept him upright. His father had defeated the Darkest wizard of all time. That same blood flowed through Al's veins.

"Al…" Score reached out to him, looking suddenly stricken. Holding onto the thought of his father with every bit of strength he possessed, Al turned and walked away.

In the dorm room, he undressed and climbed into his bed without thinking of anything at all. When Score came in a few minutes later and whispered his name, Al feigned sleep until Score gave up and got into his own bed.

Al stared into the darkness for a long time.

4 Ravenclaw Revenge

Al rose early the next morning and made his way to the Great Hall. It was still nearly dark, and only a few early risers were up. Rose Weasley was one of them, poring over some huge tome while she sipped at a glass of pumpkin juice and nibbled on toast.

She looked at him in surprise when he sat down next to her.

"Albus! You're up early."

She slid him a plate of food and he put a scone on his plate.

"Yeah. Going to practice some Quidditch moves," he said lamely.

Rose laughed. "Why? Hufflepuff has been undefeated ever since you and Score joined the team."

Al grinned. "Well, we mustn't get sloppy."

Rose went back to her book and Al slowly shredded the scone. His stomach was in knots. He had never fought with Score before, never seriously, at any rate. He kept hearing Score's voice echoing in his head. I'm not like you. Al pushed away from the table, feeling sick.

"Al? What's wrong?" Rose asked suddenly. He forced a smile and regretted sitting next to her. She had always been far too perceptive.

"Nothing. Too early to eat. Back later."

He escaped and walked down to the lake. He watched the sun rise while tossing pebbles aimlessly into the water. Al wondered if Score and Carmichael were right. Maybe he was… like that. He had never liked kissing Angelica Parkinson, but he hadn't liked kissing Eddie Carmichael, either. Al thought about kissing Scorpius, and felt a sudden rush of heat that left him gasping. Okay, that was interesting. So, he wouldn't mind kissing Score. That probably had something to do with the fact that Al loved Score. Al had always loved him.

He scooped up a handful of tiny pebbles and let them slip through his fingers. It didn't matter, anyway. Score liked girls, as he had so adamantly informed Al. Score thought it was funny when Al was attacked by a fifth-year Ravenclaw boy.

Al stood and brushed his robes off before dusting his hands together. He supposed it was past time for him to stop being Malfoy's Shadow and start being Albus Potter.

Score and Elladora were snogging outside of Charms. Al ignored them both and went to his seat. Score slipped in beside him a minute later.

"You okay?" Score asked quietly and reached out to touch Al's arm. Al pulled away, pretending to reach for his quill.

"Fine," he said evenly. He avoided Score's eyes, not trusting himself to meet that clear silver gaze. I'm not like you, Al thought.

He sensed Score's anxiety, but then Professor Flitwick entered and they all focused on performing Lightning Charms. Al was thankful that the spell took a lot of concentration. When class was finished, Al grabbed his things and bolted. He ran all the way to Potions and quickly stood next to Jackson, a Hufflepuff Beater, and animatedly talked Quidditch until Professor Harbinger entered and forced Al into his seat next to Score.

As they gathered ingredients to prepare a Silencing Potion, Score leaned close to Al.

"Look, stop avoiding me. I'm sorry, okay?"

"Okay," said Al pleasantly, and concentrated on slicing his mugwort into perfect sections. He paid little attention to Score after that, and quickly packed his bag after placing his potion on Harbinger's desk.

He meant to hurry to History of Magic, but Score caught his arm before he could escape. Al wanted to tear away, but he stood placidly, not wanting to make a scene.

"Al, come on," Score said. "I said I was sorry."

Al met the grey eyes finally, trying to keep his features immobile. He wanted nothing more than to break down and wrap himself around Score, but then he saw Elladora approach out of the corner of his eye. "Don't worry about it," he said evenly, and then he did jerk away from Score's grip. "Here comes your girlfriend. Better not let her see you talking to me. She might get the wrong idea, eh?" Al laughed coldly and walked away. He bypassed Elladora as though she did not exist and went to History of Magic, where he immediately pretended to fall asleep.

Al ate lunch at the Gryffindor table. Score did not try to talk to him in any of his afternoon classes. Al ate dinner with the Gryffindors, as well, and then accompanied Rose back to the Gryffindor common room, where he played a few games of wizard chess with Hugo, while Lily talked Al's ear off. He realized he'd been neglecting his family while spending all of his time with Scorpius. Strangely, he hadn't missed them nearly as much as he missed Score.

A week passed in much the same way. Al spent every spare moment with the Gryffindors. He barely spoke to Scorpius, who retreated into sullen silence behind a barrier of ice. Al avoided looking at Elladora completely, because the triumph in her eyes made him want to use an Unforgivable. Al stayed in the Gryffindor common room until close to curfew each night, before racing back to the Hufflepuff dorm where he went straight to bed.

Rose tried to pry information out of him, especially when a few days grew into a week with no change. Even James stopped harassing him and started to shoot him worried looks. Al thought about going elsewhere, but the Slytherin common room was out of the question, as was Ravenclaw, thanks to Carmichael. Al was stuck in the Gryffindor common room, or wandering the grounds.

One night Al found himself aimlessly roaming the corridors. James had been in a nasty mood after Hufflepuff had destroyed Gryffindor in Quidditch. Even though Al and Score were not on speaking terms, it hadn't affected their playing. Score was as ruthless as ever and although Al spent more of the game watching the Seeker through wistful eyes, he paid enough attention to stop any Quaffles sent toward the hoops. He played with almost lazy indifference.

James had evidently hoped Hufflepuff would be off their game, and as soon as Al entered the Gryffindor common room, he had started on his catalog of brotherly insults until Rose told him off. Al had decided to leave rather than cause a row.

He walked slowly down the stairs. He still had perhaps forty-five minutes until curfew, and he had no intention of going back to the Hufflepuff common room this early—no doubt Score would be in his usual place on the couch, unless he was in the Front Hall snogging the devil-girl.

Al was partway down a set of stairs when a figure emerged from the shadows at the bottom of the flight. He paused for a moment, catching sight of Ravenclaw blue, then breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't Eddie Carmichael. Al continued down, but stopped again when the boy called up to him.

"Oi, Potter." Something in the boy's face caused a curl of dread to twist itself around his gut. Al recognized him as a Fifth Year, but could not recall his name. He was a much larger, bullying sort of Ravenclaw. Normally the bullies were Slytherin, but each House seemed to have a handful of the brutish sort. Score kept the Hufflepuff muscle in line.

Al turned, deciding that flight was the better part of valor in this instance. He had taken a single step up when another Ravenclaw appeared at the top of the stairs, effectively cutting off his escape. Al pulled his wand out, but a loud "Expelliarmus!" sent the length of ash flying out of his hand, and out of sight over the stair railing. Al spun to find that a second boy had joined the bully at the bottom. His unease quickly turned to fear. He was wandless against three of them.

"What do you want?" he said, borrowing Score's best disdainful tone.

"We're just here to get a little revenge for Eddie," said Muscles. The boy next to him was also of the larger variety. They looked similar, except the new one wore a diamond earring.

"Eddie was an okay bloke until you turned him into a ponce, Potter," said Earring.

"How did you do that, Potter? Was it a spell?"

The two at the bottom advanced and Al backed toward the wall, trying to keep them all in sight. He could see no escape, except to launch himself over the railing, but he was in between the fourth and fifth floors. Without his wand, such a fall would kill him.

Al felt the metallic taste of panic grip him as they came closer.

"Or are you really a girl under all that pretty black hair, Potter?" the one above him asked. Al glanced at him nervously, trying to memorize his face, but he could only note that he had sandy hair and somewhat droopy eyes. He reached for Al, who dodged away, still limber even without a broom. Al darted around Sandy-hair and leaped up the stairs, but the boy caught the edge of Al's robe, bringing him down. Al's shin banged into a step with a lance of pain.

Someone—the big one, it felt like—was on him in an instant, forcing the air out of his lungs. A hand clenched in Al's hair and dragged his head back until his neck muscles strained in protest. A wand tip pressed into his cheek.

"Not a sound Potter, or it will go worse for you."

Worse than what? he thought wildly, but then he could breathe again as the weight left him. Al would have cried out, wand or no wand, but he heard nothing that indicated the presence of anyone that could help him, neither students nor teachers.

"We were getting tired of waiting for you, Potter. This is the first time in days you've been out early enough for us to catch you," said Earring. They marched Al up the stairs and down a long corridor, away from the well-used areas. Al did not know what they planned, but he had no intention of allowing himself to be taken somewhere private.

He twisted, ignoring the handful of hair torn out in the process, and slammed his fist—hard—into the gut of Muscles, who doubled over, retching. Al bolted, running as fast as he could, only to fly ass over teakettle when a Trip Jinx caught him. He nearly cracked his skull on the stone floor, and he screamed when pain exploded through the wrist he threw out to stop himself. The scream was cut off abruptly when a Full-body Bind hit him. Al was unable to move or speak, although pain still pulsed through him from his wrist. He was suddenly acquainted with even more pain when Muscles slammed a booted foot into his ribs.

Al would have screamed long and loud as agony coursed through him. As it was, he was unable to make a sound. Tears welled into his eyes and spilled over.

"That fucking hurt!" Muscles growled and punctuated the last word with another kick. Blackness flickered at the edges of Al's vision and the white-hot pain made him feel nauseous. He was suddenly terrified of vomiting, because he could choke to death.

"Let's see if he's really a girl under those clothes," Sandy-hair said. He knelt down and ripped Al's shirt open to expose his chest.

"Looks like a bloke to me," said Earring. Al felt a hand caress his chest and abdomen and wanted to shudder in terrified revulsion. Fingers roughly pinched his nipples, hard enough to bring new tears to Al's eyes. "If she's a girl, she doesn't have much for tits."

"Maybe we should check the other bits," Sandy-hair suggested, and Al felt the mood change from malicious to something even darker. Earring licked his lips and his eyes held something Al did not like at all. If Al could have spoken, he would have begged for mercy, anything to avoid what he feared was coming.

They would most likely kill him when it was over. Students had disappeared from Hogwarts before. It was a dangerous place. Students could wander down to the lake and drown, or get lost in forgotten passages, or walk in the forest and never come back.

As cold hands fumbled at Al's trousers, his thoughts went immediately to Score. He regretted not making up with Scorpius, and he definitely regretted that he might never see him again.

A high-pitched scream suddenly echoed in the dark corridor, freezing Al's attackers. Sandy-hair lurched to his feet and fled. Earring cursed and did the same, but Muscles face twisted with hatred as he glared down at Al.

"Fucking ponce!" he snarled and slammed a meaty fist into Al's mouth. Al thought he must be getting immune to pain, because he hardly felt it, even though he tasted blood immediately. The Ravenclaw stood and aimed a final kick at Al, this time catching him just behind the temple. Al felt no pain at all; he just saw a burst of color that almost instantly turned to blackness. He gladly surrendered to it as the shrieking went on and on.

Forgiveness

Al did not want to wake up. He felt like he floated in a cloud, warm and peaceful. He dreamed of a comforting body pressed against his side, and the brush of soft lips on his. The essence of the dream was Scorpius.

Al sighed, feeling himself reluctantly pulled toward consciousness. He blinked slowly, but only darkness met his gaze. For a moment, he wondered if he had gone blind, but the calm of the dream stayed with him, and the thought did not induce panic. The sensation of a warm body remained and soft hair tickled his chin. He felt a hand upon his chest, with fingers splayed as though trying to cover the most area.

Al focused abruptly on his surroundings, shaking off the dreamlike mist. Where the hell was he? He turned his head slightly, trying not to dislodge the person sleeping against him. Dim lights dotted the room and he recognized the place instantly. The hospital wing at Hogwarts. Remembrance slammed into him, along with a savage ache in his side. He must have moved slightly in reaction, for the body next to his shifted and the soft hair brushed over his skin again. It was Score.

A rush of warmth filled Al and he looked down in wonder, but nothing was visible except the pale hand on his chest, looking disembodied. Score had nicked Al's invisibility cloak. He had sneaked in here and fallen asleep on Al's bed! Al smiled softly, thinking it was more than worth a beating to have Score next to him again.

Al raised his hand to touch the unseen cloak. He grasped the folds and pulled it back gently until Score's face was revealed. The movement awakened Score, and the pale head lifted until the grey eyes met Al's. Anguish was clearly visible on his friend's face.

"Al?" he whispered quietly.

"Last time I checked," Al joked, and was surprised when the simple act of speaking set up a dreadful pounding in his head. He vaguely recalled a booted foot slamming into his temple.

"I'm so sorry, Al," Scorpius said in a tone Al had never heard before. The hand on Al's chest moved convulsively. "If I'd been with you, this never would have happened."

"It's all right," Al said softly.

"No. It's not all right, Al. Who did this to you? When I get my hands on the fuckers that dared to lay a finger on you, they'll wish they had never come to Hogwarts!" Score's voice had changed, from soft and apologetic to rock hard with overtones of violence.

Al was surprised at his question. From the screaming when Al had gone down, he had thought the three Ravenclaw boys would have been apprehended. He hesitated.

"Tell me, Al. I'll kill them. I swear I'll kill them for this."

Though Al felt a pleasant warmth at Score's defense, he was reluctant to reveal his attackers. He thought Score might actually kill the Ravenclaws, and then Score would be in trouble.

"Did Madam Pomfrey tell you what happened?"

"No. I knew she wouldn't, so I grabbed your cloak as soon as I heard the news. I ran up here as fast as I could and I heard her talking to McGonagall. Peeves sent up the alarm when he saw someone attacking you, but by the time McGonagall got there, they were gone. You had broken ribs, a concussion, and several of your teeth had been knocked out."

Al poked his tongue nervously at his teeth, but found them all intact. He breathed a mental sigh of relief.

"Madam Pomfrey said there was internal damage, which is why they kept you here. They gave you all sorts of potions. Who did it, Al?" Score asked again.

"I should probably wait and tell Headmistress McGonagall," Al said quietly.

Score's eyes flashed.

"Don't protect them, Al."

"I'm not protecting them. I don't want you to get into trouble."

"Don't be stupid," Score snapped, but the look in his eyes softened again. "You're such an idiot. Stop worrying about me at a time like this." Al could practically see the wheels turning, and he knew Score planned to bide his time, but eventually, he would seek revenge. Sometimes Score was so Slytherin-like the yellow he wore was green-tinted. "Why did they attack you?"

Al's warm feeling dissipated. He would have drawn back from Score, if he could have moved without pain. The memory returned with all the mental anguish he had felt for days. Elladora had started it all. She had been the one to tell Eddie Carmichael that Al fancied him. She was the serpent in Al's paradise. Al dared not mention her name. Not again, not when Score was here with him. He silently vowed never to argue with Score over a girl again. He would not care if Score had a thousand girlfriends, as long as that look never left his eyes when he gazed at Al.

"It doesn't matter."

Score hissed. "It does matter, Al! Stop acting like a damned Gryffindor!"

The sharp sound of his voice roused a nearby patient, who moaned and rolled over in his bed. Scorpius glared.

"I can't tell you why they attacked me, Score. You wouldn't believe me anyway, so just let it lie. It's enough that you're here with me."

Score's eyes narrowed and he drew in a breath, probably ready to defend even an unspoken slur against his precious Elladora. Al put a finger against Score's lips.

"Shush," he said quietly. "It doesn't matter."

Score's jaw clenched, but his eyes slid away. He laid his head against Al's shoulder again and the hand stroked gently over Al's chest.

"All right, Al. You win. Try to get some sleep. I'll stay here with you until you fall asleep, and then I'll come back in the morning as soon as they admit people without borrowed invisibility cloaks."

Al shut his eyes, feeling safe once more, and did as Score suggested.

Retribution

When Al left the hospital wing, he noticed rather quickly that things had changed. Scorpius was almost ludicrously overprotective, to the point of glaring at other Hufflepuffs that dared to speak to Al. Outside the common room, it was even stranger. Scorpius and James took turns hovering over him, and even spent time whispering together like long-time conspirators.

Al had refused to give up a Pensieve memory, but he had given descriptions of the boys under Veritaserum. All three Ravenclaws were suspended indefinitely, but rumors of a strange illness came back to Hogwarts. Stories varied, but the most common tale was of a strange, buttock-rotting disease that seemed resistant to all treatment. Al was given a very wide berth from other students after that, as most believed him responsible; him or Scorpius Malfoy.

Al's first confrontation with Elladora Greengrass after the incident was something of a surprise. Al, Score, Al's siblings, and most of Al's Weasley relatives were milling in the Front Hall after breakfast, waiting for their first class, when Elladora approached and gave Scorpius her usual possessive kiss. She smiled at Al.

"So nice to see you, Albus," she said in a tone that dripped insincerity. Al glared at her, but said nothing. He smiled at Score instead, to show his newfound resolve not to fight with Score's girlfriend. He would simply pretend she did not exist.

"Ella, you did not help to instigate the attack on Al, did you?" Scorpius asked. Two sets of shocked eyes looked at Score, who added, "Because I will be extraordinarily annoyed if I discover you did."

Elladora gaped at him. "How can you suggest such a thing? Has Albus been filling your head with lies about me, again? You know he hates me."

"Al does not lie, especially to me. Perhaps we should procure some Veritaserum and determine who is the least truthful." Score's voice was cold, and he sounded so much like the elder Malfoy that Al blinked at him for a moment. Mr. Malfoy would be so pleased.

"I can get some," James drawled from behind Al.

Elladora flushed angrily. "Honestly, Scorpius, I don't know what you're playing at, hanging around with these half-bloods and blood traitors! We are purebloods! Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Score's eyes narrowed. "Not really, no. Some of your precious pureblood friends attacked Al. If I thought for a moment that you were involved—"

"Well, obviously youdo, or you wouldn't accuse me like this!" she cried. "You had better take care, Scorpius! The day is coming when blood will tell! You'll see!"

She flounced away after producing tears that were guaranteed fake. Al had a sister, he knew when tears were real.

"What the hell was that?" Scorpius asked. Al was just as puzzled, but Rose Weasley piped up. "Some pureblood group has been causing trouble for the Ministry. It was started because of backlash from the anti-pureblood sentiment caused by the war. It's wrong that purebloods have largely been barred from Ministry positions, but it's equally wrong to go around Muggle-baiting and hurting people."

Al stared at Rose. "How do you know all that?"

She rolled her eyes. "I pay attention at home, Al. Mum is Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, remember? She's been talking about it for months. For pity's sake, who do you think it was that nearly killed your father last—" She stopped as an elbow from James caught her in the ribs. The color drained from her face.

"What do you mean 'nearly killed' dad?" Al rounded hotly on his brother. "James, did you know?"

"Thanks a lot, motormouth," James griped to Rose, who had a hand clapped to her mouth. Thankfully, Lily looked just as puzzled as Al. James sighed. "Dad didn't want to worry you two. He's fine. Teddy and Eric stopped the hex and got him help on time."

Al vowed to have a stern chinwag with his father when he returned home for the summer. He looked at James worriedly, knowing his brother speak plainly now that the truth was out. "How dangerous is this group?"

"No more dangerous than any of the other insane groups dad deals with, Al. You know it's his job."

"I wish he would get a new job," Lily said, echoing Al's sentiment. "Maybe he and mum would not fight so much."

Al was not sure a new job would salvage his father's relationship with his mother. Al was old enough to know that something was not at all right between them. Frankly, his father seemed a dozen times more relaxed and content when they were at the Malfoys. It was really too bad Score's father was not a girl.

"How does your father feel about Polyjuice?" Al asked speculatively, causing them all to look at him in confusion.

"Al, either some of the potions Pomfrey gave you have a lingering effect, or one of the blows you took gave you brain damage." Score put an arm around Al's neck and dragged him close. "Let's get to class. Try not to say anything stupid for awhile."

James barked a laugh. "Good luck with that one."

5 Animosity

Quidditch, thankfully, took up much of their time as they prepared for the final game against Ravenclaw, who had ramped up their aggression following the incident that had resulted in three of their number being expelled. They had nearly turned into a threat. Score worked the Hufflepuff team mercilessly to maintain their undefeated status.

Apart from Quidditch, their studies had also increased due to the upcoming end-of-term tests. Score had insisted on every Hufflepuff doing their absolute best. Al heard some of the other students refer to Scorpius as He Who Must Not Be Sane after a particularly vicious scolding, so he tried to persuade Score to tone down the menace a trifle, with limited success.

Elladora's malice toward Al had increased exponentially since her argument with Score. Although they had not officially broken up, Score snubbed her and paid almost exclusive attention to Al. He even went so far as to sit at the Gryffindor table for meals and chatted pleasantly with James, Rose, and Lily. Elladora stuck with her Slytherin friends and pretended that she was annoyed with Scorpius, rather than the reverse.

Al often caught Ella watching him with baleful hatred. Each time she passed him in the hall, she would slam her shoulder against him and snarl, "Half-blood ponce." A painful hex would always follow—lesions, warts, itching, boils and rashes. He became adept at casting a Shield Charm with barely a flick of his wand. He was also a regular visitor to Madam Pomfrey when he could not quite cast it in time. Al never divulged the identity of his attacker—he figured Ella had the right to be upset at the loss of Scorpius, and he was simply too happy to have Score back to care about her grudge.

"You and your whole worthless family are going to get it soon, Potter," Ella snarled one day when Al's Charm deflected a particularly nasty curse that left a smoking black stain on a nearby wall. "My aunt Daphne told me. A storm is coming, Potter, so you'd best batten down."

Al stared at her in amazement as she walked away. He repeated her words to Scorpius that night. He shrugged them off. "She's crazy, Al. My dismissal must have unhinged the poor dear. I'm thinking about asking Angelica Parkinson out, just to annoy Elladora."

"You… what?"

Score laughed. "Oh, Al, don't look like I've killed your familiar. You know I'll find another girlfriend eventually, and I won't have you sulking about it."

Al schooled his features into a mask of iron indifference. He shrugged. "Whatever. But Angelica?"

"Do you still like her? I could never actually date her, of course. Her mother and my father are great friends. Angelica is practically my sister." He grinned. "Some people think she is my sister."

Al gaped at him. "You mean your father—?"

"It's possible. No one knows who Angelica's father is, and my parents never actually got along…"

"You should probably cross Angelica off your list, just to be safe," Al suggested.

Score laughed and nodded. "As I said, it was only an idea."

"A bad idea."

Score poked him. Al poked back. Soon they were wrestling on the common room floor like five-year-olds. Several of the younger Hufflepuffs quickly joined in and it turned into a free-for-all of thrown cushions, playful wrestling, and prank hexes.

The final game of the Hogwarts Quidditch season guaranteed to be a brutal matchup. The Ravenclaw team had been tenacious enough to provide an actual threat to the Hufflepuffs.

Thankfully, Al felt well enough to play, even though sudden movements caused a twinge of pain in his ribs and he had bouts of occasional dizziness. Madam Pomfrey informed him that even though he was mostly well, his body still had some residual healing to do on its own. His mind also remembered the injuries and would dredge up "phantom pain" at times. Al didn't really care about the explanations, he just hoped he could stay on his broom.

He hovered just above the hoops and watched Score across the field. The blond flew slowly in a random pattern shadowed by the Ravenclaw Seeker. The sky was clear, but a brisk wind fluttered the banners and made flying more of a challenge than usual.

A Bludger headed for Al, who avoided it with a quick dodge, but he was nearly run down by one of the Hufflepuff Beaters, who yelped a quick, "Sorry, Al!" as she zipped by and gave the wayward Bludger a smack that sent it hurtling toward the Ravenclaw Chaser.

The Chaser panicked and lobbed the Quaffle toward the goal. Al did not bother to deflect it—the wind helped drive it short of the ring by a good meter. Al grinned and raised a hand to Score, who had flown closer, probably to witness the action.

The Quaffle had been snatched by the Hufflepuff team, who hurtled across the sky toward the opposite goal, pursued by the others. Score angled his broom suddenly and rocketed forward, leaning low against the wood and causing the breath to catch in Al's throat at the sight. Damn, but Score could fly. Al doubted Score had seen the Snitch—he was just messing with the Ravenclaw Seeker, who had raced after Score in a frantic burst of speed. Score's triple corkscrew roll confirmed Al's suspicion. He was just playing, trying to keep the other Seeker off-balance and tire him out.

Al forced his eyes away from Score. He floated back to the goal—the wind had pushed him away and the Ravenclaws were coming back. Al wasn't sure if the Hufflepuffs had scored, as it was too windy to properly hear the commentary. It didn't matter, because the Ravenclaws had not scored at all. Al knew Scorpius would rather die than let the other team catch the Snitch.

A hard gust of wind caught Al face-on and he squinted into it. The bristles of his broom bumped into the nearest goal post and he shifted forward, wincing when the movement brought a flare of pain to his ribs. Phantom pain, he reminded himself with a snort. It certainly felt real.

He kept his eyes on the approaching team. The Ravenclaws were so predictable. They would try to fire a Bludger at Al and force him aside so they could toss in the Quaffle. Granted, they had several tricky, intricate maneuvers to try to accomplish the move, dreamed up by the sharpest Ravenclaw minds, but Score was no slouch in the intelligence department. He had drilled his team mercilessly on how to counter every possible scenario.

This time, the Ravenclaw Chaser rolled right and gave every indication of dropping out of the sky. Al braced himself for the inevitable Bludger while keeping his eyes fixed on the Quaffle. No doubt the Chaser would pop up and hurl the thing the instant he sensed an opening.

The first Bludger was knocked aside by a Hufflepuff Beater, who laughed giddily and yelled a derisive comment to the Ravenclaw Beater. Al did not bother to watch for the other Bludger, knowing his other teammates would protect him. Besides, Score had drilled it into his head five hundred times—keep your eyes on the Quaffle. So fixated was he on the large ball gripped by the Ravenclaw that he almost did not notice when he started to slip.

Al tightened his grip on the broom, but it nearly felt greased—he lurched sideways and noticed that his legs encountered the same lack of resistance. Shit! He was falling off his broom! Al flung his arms around the broom handle, but the movement was too late to stop his sideways motion. His legs fell away from the broom and dangled. Al hung by his clasped hands, but only for an instant. His weight drew the tip of the broom downward. He knew with a sickening feeling that he was going to fall.

He clawed desperately at the wood, but the strange slipperiness did not diminish. Al thought someone screamed his name, and then he was falling.

Al braced himself for yet another round of pain, but instead he felt a strange wrenching sensation. Al slowed, and then felt something like a giant sponge wrap around him. It seemed to compress like a large mattress, and then Al felt himself launch into the air again, but slowly, as if he drifted through marshmallow fluff.

He giggled, realizing that not only was he not in pain, he was actually enjoying the ride. He floated back to earth and his amusement stifled when Score launched himself from his broom and grabbed Al roughly.

"Al!" he yelled. "Are you all right?"

He grinned into Score's worried grey eyes, but before he could speak, they were surrounded by Gryffindors.

"Albus!" Rose cried as she skidded to a halt next to them.

"Nice bounce, little brother," James said in amusement. "What did you hit him with, Rosie?"

"Cushioning Charm. You?"

"Slowing Spell," James admitted.

"I cast Wingardium Leviosa," Lily piped up.

Al laughed. "That felt so weird! Fun, though. You should try it!"

Score shook him. "Damn it, Al, you could have died. What happened?"

"I couldn't hold onto my broom. I don't know what happened."

"I do."

They all looked up to see Angelica Parkinson approaching. Al blinked at the blond girl stupidly.

"It was Elladora Greengrass. I know there is no love lost between you and me, Al, but she is going too bloody far. I tried to stop her, but she had already cast."

Score was on his feet. "I'll kill her!" he bellowed and took off. He only made it six steps before James tackled him. "Get off me, you Gryffindor oaf!"

Al sat up and watched with interest as his brother fought the enraged blond. "Stop it, Malfoy!" James yelled. "If you hex her now, you'll be expelled. Then who will watch over Al?"

Score stopped struggling. Angelica shrugged. "It's too late, anyway. Our argument was pretty loud. Ella has already been taken to see McGonagall."

Al stood up, and James hefted Score to his feet with a grip on his hand. The Hufflepuff Quidditch team landed around them, babbling concern and vowing revenge.

"Why aren't you playing?" Score demanded, apparently forgetting that he'd been the first to desert the field. The Hufflepuff Captain glared at Score, but he knew better than to speak up. He was Quidditch Captain in name only.

"Time out," the Hufflepuff Chaser explained. "Our Seeker fell and theirs took a mysterious Bludger to the back of the head."

Score nodded curtly. Al could tell he was pleased. One of the Beaters handed Al his broom. "It started to fall, so I grabbed it."

Al took it, gratefully noting that it no longer felt slippery and impossible to hold.

"Slippery Spell," Angelica explained. "She must really hate you, Al. I don't like you very much, but I don't want you dead." Her pale eyes glinted as she added, "Any more."

Al smiled. He suddenly liked Angelica much more than he had when they were dating. "Thanks," he said.

"Of course, that doesn't mean I'm hanging around with any of you Hufflepuffs or Gryffindors," Angelica said pertly. She flicked the end of her green and silver scarf over her shoulder and sauntered away.

"Huh," Al said. "You know, she's really not so bad." The breath nearly crushed out of him as Score flung an arm around his waist in an unexpected squeeze.

"Get back to the game, loverboy," Score said warningly. "And try to stay on your broom this time, all right?" He dragged his fingers through Al's hair and mussed it roughly.

"As long as you keep your crazy girlfriends from attacking me," Al retorted.

"Deal," Score said into Al's ear and gave him another squeeze. Before Al could blush at the contact, Score let go and headed back to his own broom, shouting orders as he went. The Hufflepuffs scattered.

New Territory

Al was not quite certain how he felt about Score's new friendship with James. They often muttered together, blond head close to brunet, while they plotted some horrible prank. Al tried not to be jealous of his own brother, but Score had always been firmly on Al's side of assuming James was a complete prat. The turnabout was not only shocking, but also left Al feeling disgruntled.

Ella sent Score a pleading letter that begged him to meet her on the Astronomy Tower so that they could "work things out". Score read it aloud in a falsetto voice, gesticulating and sobbing dramatically to the whole of Hufflepuff, who had gathered in the common room to witness the performance. The Hufflepuffs were in stitches of hilarity; most of them had felt the sting of Elladora's sharp tongue and were only too happy that Score had broken it off with her. The tale of the pantomime spread like wildfire. The minute Ella got wind of it her relationship with Scorpius was officially over.

Al was worried. "You shouldn't have humiliated her like that," he said.

Score snorted. "Come on, Al; you hated her and she tried to kill you at least once that we know of. Don't go all Hufflepuff on me now."

"I am a Hufflepuff," Al protested.

"You know what I mean. She's lucky to be still be breathing once I determined she was behind the Ravenclaw… thing."

"You did?"

Score nodded. "Your brother is tenacious. He kept digging until he found someone who knew something… and I took it from there."

Al nearly asked, but decided against it. Scorpius would never reveal the torture—or blackmail—he had used, just as he had never admitted to casting the curses on Al's three attackers.

"I wish you would stop doing things that will get you into trouble."

"And I wish you would worry more about your own neck than mine."

Al grinned, knowing that would never happen.

Quidditch had ended, but the final exams had not, which meant a ridiculous amount of studying. Al bumped Score's knee with his as he shifted his position. They sat on Score's bed as usual, propped against pillows commandeered from all the other Hufflepuff beds and stacked against the headboard. The other Hufflepuffs could not protest the thefts, because Score had banned them from the room until he was finished studying. He had ensured it with a powerful Locking Charm.

Al would even suffer through Study Time as long as he was alone with Score. He read through a scroll on which he had copied the next day's Potions assignment. He tried to give it his full attention, but he had already read through the procedure six times. He wondered how the hell Score could concentrate on something as boring as Arithmancy. Potions was bad enough. Al's breath caught in his throat when he felt something on his thigh. He shifted his scroll to see Score's pale thumb trace over a long line of ink that adorned the inner thigh of Al's light-colored jeans.

"I swear, Al, you are a mess. Have you never heard of a Cleaning Charm?"

"I dropped my quill. It's just a small mark, and it didn't seem worth the bother to clean it up. I'll do it later. This stupid potion we have to brew tomorrow is a nightmare."

Al could barely get the words out, because Score's thumb had followed the mark back up toward his knee, and then down again.

"Hmmm," Score said absently. "It's not half as tricky as this damned Arithmancy formula."

The thumb retraced the ink line. Up toward the knee, then down, down, down toward Al's crotch. Nerve endings Al did not know he had began to wake up. He felt a languorous heat steal over him.

"The cosign changes the magical signature," Score muttered. "That can't be right."

Al forgot to breathe as Score's hand joined the thumb, sliding down Al's thigh and up again to cup the edge of his knee before slipping down once more. Al noted with horror that his cock was waking up at the caress. Score was engrossed in his homework and had no bloody idea what his touch was doing to Al.

Up. Down. Al needed to escape. He had to get the hell away before Score noticed. He would not soon forget Score's reaction to Al's confrontation with Eddie Carmichael.

I like girls. I'm not like you.

Al's heart nearly stopped when Score's hand slipped too low and actually brushed against Al's rock-hard cock. Their eyes met in shock for a moment. Al's cheeks flooded with mortification, but Score smiled—smiled!—in amusement and said, "Damn, Al. You need to wank. You could have told me; I would have let you use your bed."

Astoundingly, the pale fingers fluttered over the hard material of Al's jeans, turning Al's reply into a strangled sound.

"Want me to do it for you?" Score offered. "It's not like you won't do it, anyway, right?"

Al nearly asked if Scorpius had gone mad, or taken some sort of potion, especially after his horrible I'm not like you speech, but he really, really did not want Score to stop. He only nodded, and hoped to hell he wasn't making the biggest mistake of his life.

Score's hand fumbled with Al's button and zipper, mostly freeing Al's cock, although it was still trapped by the cotton boxers.

"Mind you, Al, this doesn't mean anything," Score warned. "I'm just helping you out. Got it?"

Al nodded, unable to speak as Score's hand slipped into his pants and someone other than Al touched his cock. He nearly came at merely the feel of Score's soft hand, which became firm and sure as it moved. Al was mortified that it only took three tugs before he shot his load all over the pale hand and his own boxers.

"God," said Al. "Sorry."

"Sorry for what, silly?" Score's tone was teasing and, fuck, really hot. Al swallowed hard. He grabbed his wand and cast a quick Cleaning Charm that only stripped a few skin cells away with the mess.

"Want to help me out now?" Score asked. Al glanced over to see Score's trousers bulging. The pale fingers slid over it suggestively.

"Yeah," Al managed, and watched in near-terror as Score undid the fastenings and slid the material down his hips to reveal a pale cock nestled among golden curls. It was beautiful, just like the rest of Scorpius.

"Well?" his friend prodded, almost impatiently, breaking Al's stasis. Al quickly reached out and took it into his hand. He had never been quite so glad of his ambidexterity.

He stroked the length of it, marveling at how similar it felt to his own. He twisted slightly and smiled when Score made a sound that caused heat to rise in Al's cheeks. He repeated the motion, just to hear it again.

"Faster," Score said, ever demanding. Al obliged.

Score lasted longer than Al, but not by much. Al thought watching Scorpius come was one of the best things he had ever seen. The silver-blond head was thrown back and his face turned a delightful pink. His lips were parted and his eyes were tightly shut—if Al wasn't already in love, he would have fallen hard at that moment.

"Merlin," Score breathed when his eyes flickered open. "That is much better than doing it yourself."

Al nodded so emphatically he thought his neck might snap. Scorpius cleaned himself up and adjusted his clothing. He gave Al a warning glare. "Mind you, it's just mutual wanking, Al. It does not mean we are bent, and I am certainly not your boyfriend."

"Yes, Score," Al said obediently, but the grin would not leave his face. Score rolled his eyes.

"Get back to work, slacker."

Al picked up the discarded scroll, feeling happier than he had in months.

The "mutual wanking" quickly grew into their favorite routine. They utilized the Hufflepuff dorm whenever Score got the urge to drive the others out, but they also made use of the Quidditch broom shed, the hidden passage to Hogsmeade, the abandoned classroom on the fourth floor, and the convenient hedge maze Professor Longbottom had planted behind the greenhouse. Once, between classes, Scorpius had dragged Al into a gloomy alcove near the Transfiguration classroom. He fumbled with Al's robes in a near-frenzy.

"Merlin, Al," Score said as Al used both hands in a practiced motion he knew made the breath stop in his friend's throat. Al chuckled and leaned close to Score's ear, allowing his lips to brush over the soft skin there.

"What got you so hot and bothered?"

"You did, you fucking prat. Sucking on that Sugar Quill in there. You are not supposed to lick them." Score paused and gasped—almost too loud—as Al gave his balls a light squeeze. They both froze, but the sound of footsteps beyond the alcove did not pause.

"I like to lick the center," Al explained quietly. "They last longer and don't get ragged-looking."

"It's obscene," Score hissed and then his hips bucked forward into Al's hands. Heat splattered over Al's wrists and he rested his lips against Score's neck, feeling the pulse hammer there. He felt a curious sense of delight to know that he had caused it, that he had turned Score on just by nibbling at a sweet.

"I keep thinking of other things you could do with that mouth," Score muttered huskily as Al stepped back to clean him up and fix his clothing. Al gaped at him, but it was too dark to see Score's face.

"Other things?" he asked in amazement.

"Never mind—that would be too much. I shouldn't have mentioned it."

But he had, and Al could not stop thinking about it.

6 Crossing the Line

Wrapped in Score's arms, Al sobbed brokenly, hardly able to accept the news. Their father had delivered it in person, standing in McGonagall's office with an expression of perfect calm. Al could see the pain in his father's green eyes, burning amidst a rage that was nearly tangible. Al wasn't sure if James or Lily had picked up on the anger—Al always seemed to have a better grasp of his father's emotions than his siblings. They could all feel the hurt, though, and the four of them hugged each other as the tears fell.

Al had sought out Score the minute their father had left. "Eric was Dad's partner for a long time," Al said brokenly. "He always called me Alley Cat and taught me spells he knew Mum wouldn't approve of, and Quidditch moves he had learned in America. 'They aren't so civilized where I come from,' he used to say, and laughed about how they would knock each other off their brooms. Oh Score, I can't believe he's dead."

Score patted his hair gently and murmured comforting words that Al couldn't quite hear.

"What if they kill dad next, Score? James said these enemies were no worse than any other group dad has faced, but if that's true, how did Eric die? It could have been dad!" Al's hands clenched in Score's robes. Suddenly school seemed so much less important. The Ravenclaw attack on Albus had not driven home the lesson of mortality nearly as much as the death of his father's Auror partner.

"Your father killed the Dark Lord, Al. Have some faith."

"He was young then, Scorpius! He's old now! All it takes is one bloody mistake! Do you think he would have let Eric be killed if he could have stopped it? Rose said there is a whole group of them, and now he's got no partner!"

Score pushed Al back and looked into his face seriously. "The Ministry will not allow your father to go anywhere unprotected, Al. It's possible they did not take this group seriously before, but now they'll have to, after they've murdered an Auror. You father will not be fighting them alone. Now stop worrying so much about him, you know he wouldn't like it."

Al bit back a sob and nodded seriously. Score was right about that, at least. His dad would only be distracted if he knew Al was lying awake at night worrying about him. He had to have confidence that his dad could take care of himself.

"Besides," Score continued, "My father will look after him."

Al blinked at him. "Your dad? Really?"

Scorpius nodded. "Yes, they are great friends now. The house-elves told me you dad visits all the time now. Isn't that brilliant? Father told me to assure you that he would not let anything happen to the… what did he call him this time? Oh yes, the 'bloody oblivious Gryffindor imbecile.'"

That earned Score the ghost of a smile. "He called my dad that?"

Score nodded. "They have a strange relationship, don't you think?"

No stranger than ours, Al thought, but he said nothing as he let his head drop back to Score's comforting shoulder.

Maybe it was Al's grief that caused it, or maybe he was just tired of pretending. It happened the night before they were to leave Hogwarts, right after the end-of-year feast. Hufflepuff had won the House Cup for the second year in a row, and the mood was celebratory in the Hufflepuff common room, so much so that Al escaped outside to get some fresh air. The initial pain of Eric's death had faded to a dull ache that hurt like hell only when he remembered that he would never see the happy-go-lucky Auror again. Still, it seemed wrong to be excited over something as trivial as winning a silly cup when real life lurked just beyond the school walls, waiting to snatch up friends and family without a moment's notice.

Al knew he was being maudlin, but he could not help himself. The end of another school year always depressed him. It meant he would no longer see Scorpius on a daily basis. Even though Al would be allowed to visit several times over the summer, it just was not the same as being able to open his eyes and see Score lying across the room, mere steps away from a gentle touch.

Al's usual solitary haunts were occupied by amorous couples stealing their last few moments before the Hogwarts Express would drag them apart. He even caught Lily snogging Adam Corner near the lake. She threatened to turn him into a hairless warthog if he told mum and Al trotted away, laughing. It was always nice to have blackmail material against his siblings.

His amusement faded as he returned to the castle. He bypassed the happy groups that rushed about, handing out last minute gifts and saying goodbye to friends. The seventh-year students were the most somber. Al waved to the Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain, who lifted a hand in return as he walked with his girlfriend toward the Astronomy Tower. Al was glad he did not know many seventh-years—it would only depress him more to know he would likely not see them again.

Al wandered until he found a small window seat in a rarely-used stairwell. The window was stained glass, and he could only see the distorted grounds of Hogwarts through the palest yellow pane. Hufflepuff yellow, he thought and flipped the fringe of his scarf against his knee in a rhythmic pattern. He was still there twenty minutes later when Score found him.

"How did you find me?" he asked as the blond approached. The yellow Scorpius wore tonight was so pale it was nearly white, matching Score's hair almost perfectly. Al was attired in black, as usual. It fit his somber mood at the moment.

Score waved a piece of parchment before he tucked it into his robes. "Your brother's map. Interesting heirlooms your father passed down to you. Magic map, invisible cloak… what did Lily get?"

Al grinned wryly. "I think he ran out of artifacts for her, so she just gets a new broom every year—the latest model. James and I would complain, but I think the cloak is worth it, and I know James loves the Marauder's Map. Sneaking around is his life." Albus had built up a tidy sum in Galleons charging James for each use of the cloak—Merlin only knew what his brother did when he crept around Hogwarts at night. Al figured he was better off not knowing.

"I would ask what you are doing up here all alone, but I know you like to brood on our last night at Hogwarts," Score said as he took the end of the scarf out of Al's hand and toyed with the fringe. "Why don't you come downstairs and pretend to be your usual sunny self? We miss you."

Al reached out and touched Score's hip, feeling the soft cloth against his fingertips. Score always had the best clothing—Al loved to touch it. Well, it was possible he only liked it so much because Score's skin was beneath it, but nonetheless… He caressed gently.

"I'm not in much of a partying mood," Al admitted.

Score dropped the scarf and raised a hand to touch Al's cheek. "Albus, you'll see me in a bloody week. Do stop moping."

Al launched himself out of the seat and wrapped his arms around Scorpius as if he could absorb the other boy's essence to sustain him through their separation. Al knew he was acting like an idiot, but he could not seem to help himself. Score sighed heavily. "I'm sorry," Al said.

He felt Score chuckle against his hair. The blond squeezed him slightly. "It's all right. You are overly emotional, but I like you anyway."

Al's response nearly crushed his friend, who chuckled again. "Shall we have one more 'session' before we leave Hogwarts?" Scorpius asked huskily and Al groaned, instantly hard. He maneuvered Score until the blond's back pressed against the hard stone at the edge of the embrasure. Score's fingers tugged at Al's trousers. Half the excitement of performing their "mutual wanking" in different areas of the castle was the potential for discovery. The nearby stairs were seldom used, but it was still possible.

Al stroked Score's heated flesh and felt his friend's hand bring him close to release. Just before Al came, he pulled back and then dipped his head to press his lips against Score's. The blond was soft and pliant; his mouth was already parted to elicit panting gasps, giving Al easy access to slide his tongue inside. Kissing Angelica Parkinson had been nothing compared to this. Al's orgasm intensified a hundredfold at the feel and taste of Score. He thought he might die from the sheer joy of it.

And then Scorpius shoved him away with a curse.

"Damn it, Al! What the hell are you doing? I told you I'm not your boyfriend." The blond sounded angry and betrayed.

Al cast a Cleaning Charm and annoyance took the place of his euphoric glee. His eyes narrowed at his friend. "Look, Score, I'm tired of pretending. I don't care what sort of labels you attach to me. You can call me bent, queer, freak, or whatever you like, but it won't change how I feel about you. I've never lied to myself about that and I won't lie to you any more, either. I love you, Scorpius." The blond's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak, but Al hurried on before he lost his nerve. "Don't think it's because of what we've been doing recently, either. I've loved you for years, and not just in a friendly/brotherly sort of way. If you can't accept that, then so be it, because even that won't change my feelings. You keep saying that what we do doesn't mean anything, but maybe you should think about it and make certain you're not lying to yourself."

With that, Al turned and walked steadily down the stairs, amazed at his ability to hold his head high even against the possibility that he had lost Scorpius forever. He thought he suddenly understood how his father found the courage to confront the Dark Lord. Some things simply had to be faced, or how could you live with yourself?

Al stared out the window of the Hogwarts Express and watched the rain scoot down the glass in fitful trails. His courage from the night before had deserted him in the cold light of morning and the colder awareness of Score's absence. He had managed not to search for the blond, instead finishing his packing and making sure his trunk was outside with the others.

His eyes had searched ceaselessly for Scorpius, who never appeared. Al had reluctantly boarded a Thestral-drawn carriage with some of his other Hufflepuff friends, and made a lame excuse for Score's obvious nonattendance.

He sat in his usual place on the train, across from his Quidditch teammates. The Abbott twins tried to make conversation until his monosyllabic responses caused them to lose interest. Al wallowed in silent depression until the door opened and a familiar blond stalked inside and took his usual place next to Al. He stared at Score in surprise.

"I don't want to discuss it," Scorpius snapped. "The last time I was angry with you, something dreadful happened because I was not there to protect you. I'm just making certain that doesn't happen again. Mind you, I'm still very irate, so I'll thank you to shut the hell up and let me sleep."

Al nodded silently. A tired Scorpius was a vicious Scorpius, so it was best to do as he said. He felt immense relief when Score sighed and then dropped his head to Al's shoulder in his usual fashion. Al moved his arm to draw Score closer and rest his chin against the top of the blond hair.

Score slept until the train reached Kings Cross Station, eventually ending up with his head in Al's lap and his legs sprawled over the legs of the Abbott twins. The girls chatted with Al and giggled with others in the compartment while Al's fingers skated lightly through the blond hair that lay against his thigh.

The jolt as the train came to a halt woke Score, who scowled blearily as everyone rushed to grab trunks and luggage from the overheads. Al stayed where he was until the bedlam abated and they were alone in the compartment. Score took his things and started out without a backward glance, but a word from Al halted him.

"Score." The blond paused in the doorway to look back at Al, who grinned. "I know you're still mad at me… but it was worth it."

"You're impossible, Albus," Score said and went out.

Al took up his things and followed, feeling surprisingly happy.

When Al departed the train, he caught sight of his father for only a moment, standing close to Score's dad. A billow of mist obscured them all and Al paused to wait for it to thin. Last year he had rushed through the steam and tripped over a dropped broom, falling on his face and nearly knocking out his front teeth. He tried to be more careful now.

Someone jostled him and he heard two words: "Petrificus Totalis."

Al would have cried out, except that he could no longer move. Before he could topple over, a strong hand gripped his arm and then he felt the lurching sensation of Disapparation. The last thing he saw before he disappeared was Score's blond head turning back—

7 Bait

Al opened his eyes blearily and tried to focus. He wondered when they had hit him with a Stunner—he didn't remember that at all. He remembered being snatched from King's Cross Station, though. With that memory, he looked up quickly and took in his surroundings. He was in a large room with walls of dark wood… and he was tied to a chair. Al pulled at his bonds and saw that the fibers were laced with something that sparkled faintly. Magically-enhanced, no doubt.

He gave up on escape for the moment and took in the room. A set of double doors—closed—sat on his right. In front of him was a huge stone fireplace with a wooden mantle, topped by a giant painting of a man in archaic clothing. It was too far away for Al to make out details. To Al's left were two large bay windows on either side of a massive wooden desk. A few small tables dotted the room, but no large pieces other than the desk. Al wondered if some furnishings had been removed to make room for the heavy chair that was Al's current prison.

Albus rocked experimentally, thinking he might tip the chair over and scoot his way to the door, but the damned thing was either too heavy, or more likely, attached to the floor with a Sticking Charm. He went back to examining his bonds, hoping he could loosen them enough to slide his wrists free.

Where the hell am I? he wondered. Who would want to capture me?

The door opened and two people walked in, both swathed in hooded black robes. One was large and the other small. Al watched them warily.

The smaller one approached and threw back the hood with pale hands.

"Hi, Albus," Elladora Greengrass purred. "How nice it is to see you… like this."

Al kept his face expressionless, even though he was more confused than ever. He knew Ella hated him, but what reason could she have for kidnapping him? Did she not know who his father was?

Her companion also removed his hood and Al raised a brow in what he hoped was a fine imitation of Scorpius. Al was certain he had never seen the man before. The bloke had darkish skin and thick black hair. He was handsome in a way that reminded Al of Score's father, although he could not put his finger on it right away. It eventually came to him. The man was polished, like a pretty vase on the outside, but inside filled with things that were hidden, and quite possibly unpleasant.

"Albus Potter," the man said as he reached out a cool hand to lay it against Al's cheek. Al thought about yanking his face away, but settled for bestowing a glare on the man instead. "You really are the spitting image of The Boy Who Lived, even down to those angry green eyes. He's rather pretty, too, wouldn't you say, Elladora?"

She rolled her eyes. "I don't consider half-bloods to be 'pretty' at all, actually. Although Scorpius Malfoy doesn't seem to make the same distinction."

"What do you want with me?" Al snapped, unwilling to allow the conversation to turn to Scorpius. He did not want to give the man any ideas about kidnapping Score. Al would suffer whatever punishment they planned to dole out, as long as Score remained safe. He realized with a moment of panic that he didn't know if Scorpius was safe. What if they had taken him also? He forced the worry to a small corner of his mind.

"I don't want anything with you, young Potter," the man said. "I'm after much bigger fish. However, you shall make very nice bait. Elladora was quite helpful in supplying us with the information necessary to snag you. She did not even want payment, other than seeing you suffer. She doesn't seem to like you, Potter. Ella, fetch the parchment and a quill."

Elladora walked to the large desk and returned with the requested items. The man pulled out a wand and Al looked at it curiously. He seemed to remember Eric's voice in his head as his father's Auror partner played "what if" games with them. If you are ever taken, Alley Cat, remember to pay attention to everything, no matter how insignificant it seems. Observe and recall clothing, wands, hair, scars, eyes… every possible detail. You never know what might be important, and what clue can lead us to the culprits…

Al looked carefully at the man and the wand. His skin tone was very distinctive. It looked almost honey-colored… or the same tint as one of Uncle George's Ton Tongue Toffees. The wand was paler, not as light as Al's ash wand, but not so dark as Score's chestnut, either. Oak maybe? Cedar? Al tried to memorize the shape of it. The man loosened the ropes on Al's right hand.

"Who are you?" Al asked, assuming the man would not tell him, but deciding it didn't hurt to ask.

"My name is Blaise Zabini," he replied. "Now, take this quill and write your father a nice note."

Al took the quill and wondered how to use it as a weapon. If only Eric had taught him some useful Auror tricks! Zabini thrust the parchment at him and stiffened it with a spell so that Al could write on it as he held it awkwardly on his thigh.

"What do you want me to write?" he asked. He pretended to concentrate on the paper, but his eyes gazed through the fringe of his hair at the wand in the man's hand. He wondered if he could snatch it. He was no Seeker, like Score, but maybe…

"Tell your father I'm requesting fifty thousand Galleons ransom for you, delivered by midnight tonight."

Fifty thousand? The sum nearly derailed Al's thought processes, but he recovered and quickly began to scratch the words. The quill was self-inking, and the letters were black and precise against the parchment. Al dropped the writing instrument and grabbed for Zabini's wand. Before he could grasp the wood, a dark hand caught his wrist and squeezed until Al nearly cried out.

"Tricky little prat. Just like your father, aren't you? Luckily, I know all about you Potters. Now stop the foolishness and get writing." He compressed Al's wrist bones once more and then released him. Al would have rubbed his sore arm if his other hand had been free. He glared at Zabini, but picked up the quill and continued writing.

"If you know who my father is, you must know he'll kill you for this."

Zabini snatched the parchment before Al could completely finish. The black ink left a violent streak on the paper. The man took Al's quill and the ropes magically retied themselves around Al's aching wrist.

"Your father doesn't scare me, Albus. I've know him for a long time, and I know things about him that he will sorely regret." Zabini added a notation to the paper, rolled the parchment tightly, and held it out to Ella. "Please take this to the owlery, Elladora, and send it to Harry Potter."

Ella obediently took the scroll and left the room. Al absently hoped she tripped on some stairs and broke her neck. Or possibly the owls would go mad and peck her to death. His vengeful musings were halted by Zabini pulling a small vial from his robes. Al looked at it warily, quite aware that a vial in the hands of a strange enemy was never a good sign.

"Do you want to know what this is, Albus?" Zabini asked.

"Not really, and I don't want to take it, either."

Zabini tsked. "I'm sorry, sweet boy, but I'm afraid you must. It's necessary, you see, for you father to know that I'm deadly serious."

The word deadlyseemed to echo in the room and Al swallowed hard. He tore anxiously at his bonds.

"All you want is money, right? I'm sure he'll pay it," Al said breathlessly, even though he had no idea if his father had access to that much money. A ray of hope hit him at the knowledge that Score's father most assuredly had access to that much, and since they were friends now… well surely Mr. Malfoy would loan his father the money, if necessary. Al's voice was much stronger when he added, "He'll definitely pay it, so there is no need to make me drink anything. I'll just sit here and wait until the ransom is delivered."

Zabini laughed and Al was surprised at the nice sound of it. A dark hand reached out and touched Al's head before sliding down to cup the back of Al's neck. "Ah, to be so young and idealistic again. Actually, Albus, I'm sorry to inform you that I don't need or even want the ransom. The note was merely intended to bring your father here. I have other plans for him. But first, it's time for you to take a little drink."

Zabini uncorked the vial and Al stared at it in horror. "What is it?"

"Nothing much. It might make you a bit drowsy but other than that, you won't feel much."

The words had not answered Al's question. "What is it?" he repeated loudly. Zabini spoke a spell instead of answering and Al could not move as the potion was poured slowly into his mouth. It was not particularly foul, but it reminded him of wood shavings and licorice. Another spell forced him to swallow, and then Zabini released him. Al thought about spitting, but knew it was far too late. The contents of the vial sat in his stomach like a lead weight. "What is it?" he whispered.

"A slow-acting poison, I'm afraid. But if your daddy hurries, he'll be here in time to save you."

Al stared at him, horrified. Ella returned and scowled as Zabini capped the empty vial and tossed it on the desk. She pouted. "You said I could give him the potion."

Zabini chuckled. "You're a bloodthirsty little thing, aren't you? Just like your Aunt Daphne. She used to Crucio birds for the fun of it."

"I wanted to help," Ella said.

"You have helped, dearest. We would not have been able to capture young Albus without your information. Now, go have a seat while we wait for the intrepid hero to turn up."

Ella smirked at Al and then pulled his wand out of her robes. She dangled it by her fingers in front of him. "Poor little Albus," she crooned. "No one to save you this time. I'll bet your bloody father will be too late. I hope so."

"Why do you hate me so much?" Al asked. He flexed his fingers and wondered if he could Summon his wand. He had never been able to perform wandless magic before, except for unconsciously exploding saltshakers and destroying one of James's favorite toys, but this was a desperate situation.

Ella sneered. "I hate all your kind, Albus. Filthy spawn of Mudbloods. You should all crawl back to the Muggle world where you belong."

Al stretched the fingers of his hands as far as they would reach toward Ella. He opened his mouth to speak Accio, but Zabini said, "Ella, step away from there. I need to cast the spell."

Ella obediently sauntered to the nearest window seat and Al nearly howled in frustration at losing his chance. He could never Summon his wand at such a distance. His vision swam for a moment and he felt curiously lightheaded. Damn, the potion must be taking effect. He blinked to restore his sight, and saw Zabini standing in front of him with wand upraised. His kidnaper began to chant and Albus felt magic begin to coalesce around him. Zabini's face was fixed in lines of concentration. Al noticed beads of sweat standing out on his forehead, until a pinkish webwork began to obscure his sight.

Al watched in amazement as a faintly glowing half-sphere encased him, leaving him in a dome of pale light that he could barely see through. He wondered what sort of prison it was. It seemed redundant, as Al could not free himself from the ropes, even though his wrists ached from ceaseless trying.

Zabini walked back to the desk and conjured a glass of water. He downed it before collapsing in the chair that stood before the desk. "You can thank your Uncle George for that spell, Albus. Fascinating store he runs, you know. He supplies all sorts of nasty, tricky items to the Ministry. Available to the public if you know where to look. I modified that particular one, of course." He chuckled. "Quite a lot, actually, but the original design was all Weasley. Rather fitting, I would say."

Despite himself, Al looked at the webwork curiously. He could not recall any of Uncle George's items being remotely similar, but if it was something he had developed for the Ministry that was not surprising.

"What does it do?" he asked and absently noted that his words were slightly slurred.

"I'll explain that when your father gets here, of course. Just sit tight." He chuckled at his little joke and Al decided he did not like the man at all.

The person that burst angrily into the room a moment later was not Al's father, however. It was his mother.

"Mum!" he cried and almost burst into tears. He had never been so glad to see anyone in his life. She ran toward him with a sob, but Zabini's voice halted her in her tracks.

"I wouldn't cross that barrier if I were you, Gins."

She stopped mere steps from Al's dome and glared at the man. "What is the meaning of this, Blaise? What the fuck are you about, taking my son?"

"It's your own fault, dearest. With your hysterical talk about wanting to 'make it up to Harry' and 'get back together' and 'put your family first'. All that tripe put you firmly back into the enemy camp."

"Enemy camp?" she cried. "You're the one that has been trying to kill Harry? All this time? Did you kill Eric?"

"You mean your husband's dear, dead partner? I arranged that little explosion, yes. The American wasn't the target, but as usual the Chosen One's superior Gryffindor luck came through in the end and saved his bloody arse."

Al's mum looked horrified. "You told me you didn't know who wanted to kill Harry. You've lied to me from the beginning. What else did you lie about, Blaise?"

Zabini snorted. "You want me to tell you I wasn't lying when I said I loved you? Sorry, Gins, but although you were a bloody fine fuck, the only reason I took up with you was to get information on Harry Potter."

Al's mum blanched and looked at Al quickly, but he shut his eyes to avoid her gaze. Damn. He was old enough to know what Zabini meant. His mother had cheated on his father… with that horrible man. And he had pretended to love her? Why would she need that, when Al's father already loved her? Was that why his parents had constantly fought? Al felt sick from more than the potion.

Zabini chuckled. "I had no idea it would be so easy to lure you into bed. You were so resentful and indignant about never being the center of Potter's attention. He always had someone to save, did he not? Or at the very least, someone else he would rather spend time with. It's quite sad that you could never compete with your own brother and his wife for your husband's affection."

"Shut up, Blaise," she said.

"I have to admit, though, you were damned distracting for awhile. I nearly forgot my purpose a few times. I think I was close to honestly falling in love with you, until you decided to run back to him like the stupid little Gryffindor you are. Tell me, Gins, did he wait for you, or did he seek solace in the arms of another? Were Harry and the American more than work partners? I often wondered about your esteemed husband, considering the way he fixated on Draco in school… Maybe I should have tried to seduce him instead of you, eh?"

Al's mum leaped at him with a snarl. Al cried out as Zabini yelled, "Crucio!" and his mum fell to the ground with a high shriek of pain.

"Stop it!" Al yelled, thrashing at his bonds. "Leave her alone!"

Zabini grinned at him unpleasantly and tortured Al's mother until he was hoarse from screaming. His wrists bled from the ropes and his shirt was wet with tears. His mum had managed to pull out her wand, but Zabini'sExpelliarmus had sent it across the room for Ella to snatch. She had tucked it away with Al's.

Al's mum lay unmoving on the floor, moaning slightly. "I hate you!" Al screamed at the evil man. He had disliked Ella intensely and he despised the Ravenclaw bullies who had attacked him, but Al had never felt genuine hatred before. Zabini did not seem to mind. He pulled Al's mum partially upright by her hair and his wand pressed against her face.

"Like father, like son, eh Potter?"

"You guessed it, Zabini," a harsh voice said from the doorway and Al's tear-streaked face rose with new hope. His father entered the room, accompanied by Mr. Malfoy. "Now put the fucking wand down and get away from my wife!"

8 Unseen

The sight of his father filled Al with relief. Everything would be all right now.

"You're slightly early, Potter, but I've been expecting you," Zabini said and then glared at Mr. Malfoy. "I was not expecting you, Draco, you bloody traitor." Al blinked at them in surprise. Apparently they all knew each other.

Mr. Malfoy laughed. "You are the last person from whom I want to hear a lecture on loyalty, Blaise. What the hell are you doing kidnapping children?"

"Ridding the world of blood-tainted scum." Zabini dug the wand harder into Al's mum's face and she cried out. Al nearly yelled again and he looked quickly at his father, who had lifted his wand angrily. "Ah, ah, Potter, I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Al's father lowered his wand slightly. "So you're the new Voldemort?"

"Not exactly. My motives are nothing like his, since he was obviously insane. My reasons are far more practical. I have had quite enough of the anti-pureblood sentiment that has overtaken the Ministry. It's their own fault, really, for banning purebloods from decent jobs and treating us like second-class citizens."

"They haven't been banned, Zabini," Al's father said. Al wished they would stop talking and start casting hexes.

"Shut the hell up, Potter. You and your Mudblood friends have been sitting pretty since the war. Even your new friend Draco spends most of his time locked away in his mansion rather than risk being spit upon. Pureblood and former Death Eater both. Some of us are doubly damned. However, you are not here to discuss my political motivations. You are here to rescue your precious child, are you not? And quite possibly your wife, although I somewhat fear you would rather discard her. Your arrival with Draco has opened up a world of interesting possibilities. You always were obsessed with Potter, Draco. Has he finally succumbed to your wiles?"

Al's father cast a hex suddenly and a blue light hit Zabini. Al nearly cheered. A purple-blue glow crackled around Zabini. Al hoped it would fry the man, but then it was gone. Elladora gasped and sat forward with her wand held steady. Al glared at her. If she even thought about hexing his father, Al would chew through his bloody ropes and strangle her to death. She relaxed when Zabini chuckled.

"Oh good show, Potter. That would have knocked me for a loop, would it not? Luckily, I shop at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. They have the most fascinating items there, including these fabulous Shield Rings. Of course, I've modified this one a bit… it is quite a lot stronger than those developed by your brother-in-law. Now put your wands down and back away or I'll split this bitch in two."

Al gasped and nearly yelled in horror as his father threw down his wand.

"You too, Draco," Zabini snapped.

"I'm thinking," Mr. Malfoy said. Al looked at him in surprise, wondering why he waited. Did he want Zabini to torture his mum? "Oh all right," Mr. Malfoy said after a moment. He threw his wand next to Al's dad's.

Al slumped in his chair, feeling renewed despair. He half-expected Zabini to cast a Killing Curse at his father and Mr. Malfoy. Al's father looked at Zabini steadily, but he did not seem disturbed. Al tried to screw up his courage, hoping his dad had a plan.

Zabini finally let go of Al's mum. She collapsed on the floor again, catching herself with her elbows before her head cracked against the stone. Al noticed tears streaming down her face. Zabini Summoned the discarded wands and put them inside his robes.

"Very good. This will go so much more smoothly if you cooperate. Now then, here is the situation. Oh wait, we don't want to be interrupted by any of your Auror friends, do we, Potter?"

Zabini gestured with his wand at the doors, which slammed shut.

"Your son has been given a slow-acting poison, Potter," Zabini commented. Al's father gasped and took two steps toward him, but Zabini said, "The pretty ring around Albus will, of course, kill you if you cross it. Then again, that's the whole idea, isn't it?"

Al gasped. His vision swam suddenly and a shudder passed through him. He felt like his blood had become ice.

Zabini held up something small. Al could not quite make it out through the blur and the pink web. "This is the antidote, Potter. After crossing the field, you should have enough time to administer it to the boy before you die. You seem quite strong and fit, I'm certain you can do it. You've always been lucky, after all; you are the Boy Who Lived."

A strange ringing began in Al's ears. He could see Mr. Malfoy arguing with Zabini, but he could not make out their words. The ringing subsided slightly and Al heard his father say, "Give me the antidote. I'll do it."

"I knew I could count on you," Zabini said and moved his hand as if to throw the vial toward Al's dad. Before they could react, Al's mum leaped up and snatched the vial from Zabini's hand. She bolted straight at Al, passing through the pink web of lines. Her face twisted with pain and determination. She shrieked loudly as the dome broke around her and disappeared. She did not quite make it to Al before she collapsed on the floor. The vial slipped from her fingers and rolled under Al's chair.

"Mum!" Al screamed at the same time his father shouted. Al heard more shouts from the adults, but his attention was focused on his mum's still form. "Mum! Please get up!"

She groaned and raised her head slowly to look at Al. "Oh Albus," she said, so quietly that Al nearly could not hear her. "I'm so sorry. This is my fault. All my fault."

Al shook his head quickly and then had to drop his head when black spots swam before his eyes. He was suddenly terrified that he would pass out and fought it gamely. He couldn't let that happen, not when his mum needed him.

"Crucio! Crucio!" Al heard. It sounded like Zabini's voice, audible over the hiss of flying hexes. Al blocked it out and concentrated on maintaining consciousness. He breathed in and out slowly until the spots faded and color returned to his vision. He felt a hand touch his ankle and blinked until his mum came back into focus. Her hands were outstretched. One touched Al's leg and the other reached beneath his chair, obviously questing for the lost vial. Al noted with horror that a trickle of blood marred the edge of her mouth and her face was set with lines of effort.

"Mum?" Al asked when her hand slackened and her head dropped slowly to the stone floor.

"I love you, Albus," she murmured and lay still.

"Mum!" Al cried. She seemed to ripple slightly and Al assumed his vision was going once more, though he wasn't sure he'd be able to tell through the tears. His head dropped to his chest and he thought he might burst in two from the pain. A sob tore from his throat. Arms suddenly surrounded him and held him tightly. Al thought he might be going mad. Warm lips brushed against his temple.

"Al, stay with me."

"Score?"

"Drink this," Score said, and Albus felt something slightly cool against his lower lip.

"Why can't I see you?" Al asked dimly.

"I'm wearing your invisibility cloak, silly. Now drink this, and then I'll work on your bonds."

"Mum?" Al asked.

"Damn it, Al, if you don't drink this fucking antidote and stop asking questions, I'm going to smack you upside the head."

Al drank. The potion was icy and reminded Al of glass shavings. It roiled slightly in his stomach. Scorpius cast Finite Incantatum on the ropes and the twist of magic disappeared. A quick Severing Charm split them and Al gladly lowered his arms. He fell out of his chair and sprawled on his mum's body.

"Mum," he cried softly and shook her. "Please, mum, please wake up."

Tears burned a path down his cheeks and he thought he might never breathe again when Score held him gently and whispered, "She's gone, Al."

"No! No, don't say that, Score. She's just resting. She'll be fine."

Score's grip tightened and Al felt warm breath against his hair. He sagged suddenly against his friend. A crackle shot over their heads and Score sucked in a breath. The cloak fluttered quickly over Al's head, nearly covering them both.

"Come on, I've got to get you out of here," Score said. Something pressed into Al's hand. "Can you hold your wand?"

"Where did you get my wand?"

"Elladora had it. I took care of her."

"What did you do to her?

"Just knocked her out, but I broke her wand." Score chuckled. "She is going to be furious."

Al's gaze slid across the room to where Ella slumped in the window seat. He could not suppress a grin of satisfaction. His eyes quickly moved across the room, seeking out his father, but Score dragged him up and tugged him toward the door.

"Oh hell, it's locked. How are we going to get out?"

Loud hammering began on the door from the other side and Scorpius cast spell after spell at the portal, trying to undo the locking spells Zabini had cast. Al peered behind them, trying to spot his father, but the three men were locked in a silent battle on the floor near the desk. Al could only hope they were all right. The effort of standing was nearly too much for Al; he leaned his head against Score's shoulder and fought to stay on his feet. If the damned antidote worked at all, it was taking its sweet time. Al blanched suddenly and wondered if Zabini had lied. Maybe Al was doomed to die, after all.

He held Score more tightly, just in case.

"It's all right," Score murmured and squeezed Al's ribs with his free hand.

An extraordinarily bright white light coruscated around the door suddenly, causing multicolored spots to swim before Al's eyes.

"Look out!" Score shouted and propelled Al to the side. They made it a few steps before Al tripped, sending them both sprawling. The door exploded inward and a shower of wood splinters rained over the boys. When Al looked up, Teddy and a number of other Aurors stood in the doorway.

"We should help," Al said tiredly, but he shut his eyes for a moment.

"The Aurors can help," Score snapped. "I'm getting you out of here. Come on."

Al's legs were partially exposed, but the newcomers were intent on the battle. They rushed past Al and Score. The blond lifted Al to his feet and hauled him bodily through the smashed door. He dragged Al down the hall a short distance to the first door they spotted, which he shoved open.

It was a bedchamber. Al soon found himself lying on the bed and gazing into the worried grey eyes of his friend. The cloak was tossed aside.

"Are you feeling any better?" Score asked.

"A little," Al lied. Although his eyesight did seem clearer and he no longer saw images in double or triple. The exhaustion had worsened, though. Al had nearly been a dead weight when Score had dragged him across the room. Score locked the door with a quick spell.

"Shouldn't we let someone know we're safe?" Al asked.

"As soon as the fighting stops, they'll come looking for us. Do you need to go to St. Mungo's?"

"No. Can you just…lie down with me for a moment? I'm so tired."

Score climbed over him and pressed his body against Al's. One hand rested on Al's chest. Score used a thumb to brush the hair back from Al's eyes. His expression was very serious.

"Albus," Score said.

Al smiled gently. "Hmmm?" he asked sleepily.

Al's drowsiness fled when Score's lips pressed against his, gently at first and then more insistently. Al hardly dared to breathe and he dimly wondered if he had fallen asleep. Perhaps this was just a beautiful dream.

Al parted his lips and reached up to touch Score, who felt warm and solid. Score's tongue accepted the invitation and slipped inside to tangle pleasantly with Al's. He moaned softly, knowing it had to be a dream.

Score pulled back finally and Al admired his handsome face. Score's lips were wet and his eyes were soft and dark.

"I'm sorry, Al," Score said quietly and Al smiled brightly, knowing for certain it was a dream, because Score never apologized. Except that once, after Al was attacked… "I should not have been so damned stubborn all this time. You were right, you know, when we were eight years old. You told me I was afraid of what people might think. You were right. I was afraid of what my father would think, and our friends at school, and people I don't even know."

Score's hand left Al's chest and reached up to caress his face.

"I'm sorry I had to nearly lose you for good to admit how I feel about you, even to myself. Seeing you suffering in that cage and not being able to reach you… I don't ever want to feel that helpless again."

Al swallowed hard as his thoughts went back to the room where his mum had died to save him. Hot tears prickled his eyes and Score's brow furrowed. His hand tightened on Al's cheek.

"I'm so sorry, Al," Score whispered. "She loved you very much… and so do I."

The illusion of a dream crashed around Al and he threw his arms around Scorpius to draw him closer. A cry issued from his throat that was half sob and half joy. He hadn't known it was possible to feel both at once.

Score held him tightly. Al's tears fell in earnest as he realized he would never see his mother smile at him again. She would never kiss his forehead and heal his skinned knees, or show him how to do a fancy Quidditch maneuver.

Score's breath was warm against Al's hair as the blond crooned soft words of comfort. When Al finally regained control, Score drew back and wiped away Al's tears with his fingers.

"Better?" Score asked. Al sniffed and nodded. Scorpius smiled gently and leaned in for another kiss. After his crying jag, Al could hardly breathe. Score's kiss made him almost desperate for air, but he would rather suffocate than ask Score to stop.

Score let Al gasp for breath after a moment, and Al carded his fingers through Score's hair. He had touched it before, but now it seemed extra soft and special.

"Thanks," Al said seriously, feeling suddenly shy. "Thanks for rescuing me."

A smile curved Score's perfect lips. "Any time. You know I'll always come for you."

Those particular words brought a rush of heat to Al's cheeks and he dragged Score back into an enthusiastic kiss. Things were just starting to get interesting when the door flew open and Score's father stalked into the room.

Mr. Malfoy stopped as if struck. Score pulled away, looking mortified. "F…Father," he stammered and eased off the bed.

Score's father blinked at them. Al's initial surprise had faded and he wanted nothing more than to pull Score back onto the bed and guard him from Mr. Malfoy, or anyone else that would threaten him. Score looked ready to hyperventilate.

"I got Albus out safely," he whispered in a tone thick with dread.

Mr. Malfoy smiled gently in a way that reminded Al of his own father. "So I see," he said. Scorpius inhaled sharply and Al looked at him in surprise. Did his father really think their kissing was all right? Al had expected an angry tirade at the very least. He turned back to Score's father and raised his chin defiantly.

"Hi, Mr. Malfoy," Albus said. "Where's my dad?"

Mr. Malfoy sobered. "I'll take you to St. Mungo's," he said as he strode forward. "Come, Scorpius."

Al wanted to ask why they needed to go to the hospital, since he felt nearly, almost perfectly fine, but Score snatched the invisibility cloak and stood next to his father as he approached the bed. Mr. Malfoy leaned down and slid an arm beneath Al's shoulders. He put his other arm around Scorpius.

They Apparated to St. Mungo's, where several mediwitches pounced on him and dragged Al away, ignoring his protests that he was fine and wanted to stay with Score. He wished his father would show up and set things right.

9 Al's Room

Al looked up hopefully when the door opened, but it shut again with no one entering. He scowled. He was quite tired of being poked, prodded, questioned, and spelled. All he wanted was to go home. He felt a hand on his knee and nearly jumped out of his skin, until the invisible hand slid up his thigh and brushed lightly over his crotch.

Al breathed a sigh of relief. "Score, you scared me half to death."

"How do you know I'm not a horny ghost?" a deep voice asked.

Al chuckled. "If you are, then be gone. But if you are Scorpius Malfoy, then come here. And keep doing that touching thing."

The air seemed to ripple slightly and Score's handsome face was revealed, looking strange floating in midair. The bed depressed as Score sat and Al quickly reached out to touch him. His hand encountered what felt like a hip and his fingers explored until Score chuckled.

"Stop it, Al, that tickles."

His hand was firmly removed from Score's unseen ribs and placed on his thigh instead.

"Why don't you take that cloak off and let me see what I'm touching?" Al asked. He heard an intake of breath and grinned wickedly. He hadn't meant to sound suggestive, but—Score's lips were on his suddenly, bruising and intense.

"Damn you, Al, I knew I should never have kissed you. Now I can't seem to stop." Score's voice was rough when he pulled back for air.

The door opened and Score disappeared completely beneath the cloak. The bed shifted and Al's hand dropped away. Al hoped Score would only move across the room not leave.

Teddy Lupin entered and dragged a chair close to Al's bed. His expression was serious and Al felt a blanket of dread drop over him. Teddy took Al's hand, still warm from the heat of Score's thigh.

"My…my father?" Al stammered. He felt something nudge his other hand and he raised it just enough for Score to slip his cloak-covered hand beneath and grip tightly. Al felt steadier, knowing his friend was with him. He squeezed Score's hand in thanks.

"Your father is down the hall," Teddy said. "He was hit with a spell and they are not sure how to reverse the effects, or even what spell was used."

Al realized he was crushing Score's hand and loosened his grip.

"Draco and Hermione are—where is Scorpius?" The Auror's tone was sharp and he shot to his feet looking panicked.

The air shimmered and Score showed himself next to the bed. Teddy sagged into his chair with an explosive exhalation.

"Bloody hell, you frightened me out of six years of my life. I thought we'd lost another one."

"Sorry," Score said, but he smirked and sat on the bed, still holding Al's hand. "They would not let me in unless I was 'immediate family' or some such shite. I told them we were cousins, which is true if you go back enough generations…"

"You said something about Mr. Malfoy and Aunt Hermione," Al prodded.

Teddy nodded. "They are looking to see if they can find the spell. You know how much Hermione likes research."

"Just like Rose," Al explained to Score, who nodded.

"My father, also. He loves his library."

The door opened again and a mediwitch stopped short when she saw Scorpius. Teddy gave her a look that was nothing short of impressive. Al wondered if they learned it in Auror School. She harrumphed and continued forward.

"Young Mr. Potter seems to be fine. We've run tests on the residue in both vials and found them to be a compatible poison and antidote. Mr. Potter will be very tired and require rest for a few days. He may experience bouts of nausea, headaches, and dizzy spells. These are side effects and should pass."

Al wondered why she talked to Teddy and acted as though Al was not even present. Maybe she was one of those kid-hating people.

"He is allowed to go home now," she continued. "Several potions are waiting for him, so be certain to check with the mediwizard on floor duty before Mr. Potter leaves. His wand will be returned at that time."

She gave Score a pointed look that clearly expressed her disapproval at his unauthorized presence. Score returned her gaze with one so haughtily glacial that Al had to smile. Al could practice that expression for a month and never come close to perfecting it. She made another huffing noise and left.

"I'll fetch your potions and wand, Al. Get dressed and then I'll take you to Malfoy Manor."

It was odd to see Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron in the parlour of Score's house. Al knew the adult Weasleys and Mr. Malfoy did not get along. Score had tried to maintain that animosity at school with Rose, until the day she started discussing some complex Arithmantic theory. Score had lit up like a Christmas tree and after that he and Rose had spent countless boring hours discussing things that made Al's brain hurt. And it was impossible not to like Hugo. Even the bullies at Hogwarts looked out for him.

Lily was sobbing brokenly in Aunt Hermione's arms. Al felt his own tears start afresh. His aunt held out an arm and Al threw himself into her embrace, half-holding Lily as he did so.

James had elected to remain at the hospital with Uncle George and hope for a positive change in their father's condition.

Al's spell of grief passed quickly, but it left him so tired he could barely move. Teddy picked him up and nearly staggered.

"Damn, Al, you're certainly not a little child any longer, are you?" He cast a Featherweight Charm and Al rested his head against Teddy's chest, too tired to feel embarrassed at being carried. Teddy followed Score to Al's room—or to the room Al used whenever he stayed at Malfoy Manor, at any rate. It adjoined Score's.

Al changed into the pyjamas he kept in the wardrobe and climbed into bed. Score had bid him goodnight and retreated for his own room while Teddy remained to tuck Albus in. Teddy gave him a quick hug and kissed him on the forehead.

"Good night, Al. I'll be here in the morning."

When Teddy was gone, Al fought the exhaustion that tried to drag him into oblivion. He waited, but the door that opened was not the one that led to Score's suite. Lily cautiously approached Al's bed.

"Can I sleep with you?" she asked in a voice still rough with tears. Al wordlessly drew back the covers and she crawled in and snuggled against him. Her tears soaked quickly through the shoulder of his pyjama top.

"I can't believe she's gone, Al," she said quietly.

"I know." He patted her hair awkwardly.

"I wish I hadn't fought with her so much. I wish I'd been a better kid."

"Don't say that. You're a fine kid, Lily," Al said. "I know she was proud of you."

The other door opened and Score walked to the bedside. Al could barely see him in the dim light from the partially covered windows. Al reached out and snagged Score's pale hand.

"Sorry, she—"

"It's all right." Score slipped into the bed on Al's other side. One hand tucked between them and the other rested on Al's abdomen. Score's breath wafted against Al's temple.

"Do you think dad will be okay?" Lily whispered.

"My father is going to help him," Score said in his tone of confident supremacy. "You'll see. Now go to sleep, both of you."

Lily sighed. Al put his hand over Score's and linked their fingers. He breathed in contentment and obeyed Score's command.

Dawn of a New Day

Albus woke briefly when Mr. Malfoy took Lily out. He dimly heard their quiet conversation and opened his eyes blearily. He noticed it was still quite dark. Mr. Malfoy mentioned something about going to St. Mungo's to help their dad. Score shifted against Al and he banished all worry for his father. Mr. Malfoy would fix things. Al was sure of it.

He snuggled closer to Score and drifted back to sleep.

Sometime later, a delightful touch against his skin drew him back toward wakefulness. He groaned slightly and floated somewhere between sleep and drowsy reality. His attention quickly focused on the fingers that glided over his chest, making swirling designs and leaving gooseflesh in their wake. He felt hot breath in his ear and teeth nibbled at his earlobe, tickling him. Al was suddenly wide awake.

The hand slipped down and drew a circle around Al's navel with infinite slowness.

"Albus." Score's voice was a sibilant whisper, drawing his name out and sending a shiver down Al's spine. "Are you awake, yet?"

Al's ability to speak was lost in a flood of desire. Score's fingers moved lower, questing beneath the waistband of Al's pyjamas.

"Oh. So you areawake," Score purred and Al had to dredge up memories of Elladora Greengrass to keep from coming right then. This was their first time since Score had admitted he loved Al, and he'd be damned if he would screw it up.

Al turned his head toward the sexy voice and took Score's lips in an eager kiss. He reached over to replicate the lovely stroking Score's hand was performing on Al's cock—and discovered nothing but bare skin.

Al gasped—quite a feat with Score's tongue exploring his mouth—and ran his hand curiously over the blond's body. Score was completely naked. Al whimpered slightly, surprised to discover there was a level beyondhard.

He broke the kiss. "Fuck, Score, you're—"

Al's hand finally reached Score's hard shaft, so familiar and yet so new. Score chuckled against his lips.

"Yes, I woke up a while ago, aching for you. I let you sleep as long as I could stand it." Score's hand left Al's cock and tugged sharply at his clothing. "Your turn."

Al could barely force words through his dry throat. "You mean… You want to…?"

Score's eyes were liquid silver and his smile did strange, fluttery things to Al's insides.

"Yes, Albus. I want to."

Al swallowed hard, which did nothing to dispel the desert his throat had become. He released Score and quickly divested himself of his pyjamas, wondering how Score had unbuttoned his shirt without awakening him.

Al shivered when he was as nude as Scorpius. They reached for each other simultaneously, kissing and petting until Al's awkwardness dissipated in an onslaught of lust. Score felt… warm and smooth and brilliant. His hands were everywhere. At Hogwarts they had maintained strict boundaries—their mutual wanking had been an almost automatic gripping of cocks only. This was so much better. Al could not keep from touching Score.

He loved the muscles of Score's back, the angular lines of his hip, and the fine hairs that covered his thighs. And Score tasted even better than he felt. Al kissed and licked at his throat, collarbone, nipples—and didn't that provoke an interesting reaction?—flat abdomen… and even… He thought Score might arch completely off the bed the instant Al closed his lips around it.

A hand clenched in Al's hair and Score cried out. "Fuck, Al!"

Al took his mouth away from Score's cock and looked at him in consternation. "Did I hurt you?"

"Merlin, no! It's the best thing I've ever felt in my life, but… I can't hold it."

An incredible sense of power infused Al and he smiled with pure wickedness. He bent his head and took Score back into his mouth, taking his friend's cock as deep as possible, and sucked.

Score arched again. He nearly tore a fistful of Al's hair out and fairly exploded into Al's mouth. He gagged slightly, even though he had been expecting it. Al swallowed as quickly as possible, mainly to get the taste out of his mouth. Pumpkin juice, it was not. Still, it was Scorpius, so he accepted it.

The hand relaxed in his hair and Al slowly released Score's cock as he levered himself up slightly to grin at the blond. Score's hand moved down to cup Al's jaw. He looked somewhat dazed and… blissful, a look Al had never seen on his face before. Albus decided he liked it very much.

"Bloody hell, Al. That was amazing."

Albus smiled and nodded in agreement.

"We… didn't take care of you, yet," Score murmured and Al blushed.

"Um… I sort of came when you did."

"Oh Al, that's just not right."

Al laughed, because it had felt perfectly right to him. "I'm not complaining."

"I'll make it up to you, later," Score said and wrapped his arms around Al to draw him into a kiss.

"I can't wait," Al breathed.

Score's kisses were sweet and gentle. Al finally pulled away to tuck his head against Score's chest before his heart exploded. He held Score tightly and sighed. A hand skated through Al's hair.

"What is it?"

"I shouldn't feel this happy when my mum is… my mum is dead and my dad is in the hospital." Al swallowed hard at the returning tightness in his throat. Soft fingers touched his chin and raised his head until his eyes met Score's.

"She would not want you lying around sobbing, now would she? Don't you think she would rather you were happy?"

Score was probably right. Al did not think his mother would want him to be miserable.

"Your dad, too," Score added and Al chuckled.

"I'm not sure their idea of my happiness is snogging and doing… other things with my best friend."

"I'm not so sure," Score said cryptically.

Al trailed his fingers over the edge of Score's jaw. He had always loved the shape of it.

"What do you mean?" Al asked.

"Earlier, while you were gone, my father's friend Pansy suggested that my father was in love with your father."

Al's fingers stilled and his eyes widened.

"I did not believe it at first, but now that I've thought about it… I think it's true. Why do you think my father hardly batted an eye when he caught us snogging?"

Al cast his mind back in amazement, thinking of all the times his dad and Mr. Malfoy had been together. At first they had been either fighting or stiffly polite, but lately… Al remembered the time Mr. Malfoy had met them at the Manor gates. They had nearly embraced then, with foreheads and hands touching. Everything suddenly became so much clearer.

"My mum was having an affair with the man who kidnapped me."

"I know. I was there, under your invisibility cloak, remember?"

"I wonder if my dad is in love with yours? I thought he loved my mum, but now I'm not so sure. They argued so much; I think they stopped being in love a long time ago."

"Perhaps my father stole your father away and she sought solace in another man's arms. We Malfoys can be irresistible, you know."

Al bit him lightly on the chin and then laughed. "I suppose you're right about that last bit, at any rate."

"Of course I'm right. I'm always right." Scorpius leaned in for another kiss and Al stopped worrying about their fathers' possible love lives. He broke the kiss reluctantly after long, delightful minutes.

"We'd better get dressed. Lily could burst back in here at any moment."

Score nodded and planted one last kiss on Al's lips before sliding gracefully off the bed and donning a pair of yellow boxers that he must have retrieved earlier. Al admired his lean body for a moment too long.

"Are you staying abed today?" Score asked as he tugged on his trousers.

Al crawled out of the warm blankets and pulled on his own pants after Summoning a pair from the drawer. He tugged on a pair of trousers and grabbed a shirt from the wardrobe. He was distracted by the sight of Score pulling on a pale yellow shirt. Score getting dressed was nearly as erotic as Score getting undressed.

"Want me to button that for you?" Al offered and realized he had not performed that function for years. They had often buttoned each other's clothing as children, in order to avoid putting the buttons through the wrong holes.

Al moved close and started near Score's throat. He was amazed that merely standing so near the blond could make his heart race and his fingers tremble awkwardly against the fastenings.

When Al finished, he slid his hands into the waistband of Score's trousers, tucking in the hem. Score groaned slightly when Al leaned against him and reached around to do the back. Al gave Score's arse a playful squeeze. Merlin, he was getting hard again and, by the feel of things, so was Score.

The door banged open and Score's lips jerked away from their casual exploration of Al's neck.

"What are you guys doing?" Lily demanded.

"Getting dressed," Al said calmly and finished tucking in Score's shirt before he stepped back.

"It looked like you were making out," Lily said blandly. She threw herself on the rumpled bed and sat cross-legged while she watched Al don his black shirt.

"Aunt Hermione sent a message. She and Score's father cast some sort of spell that stopped the one on dad, but he didn't wake up yet. Score's dad is still there with James."

Al threw Score a look of relief and Score smiled broadly with his I told you so grin.

"Oh yeah, I came up here to give you this, Al. You're supposed to take it." She pulled out a vial and lobbed it at him. Al caught it and looked at it for a moment, unwillingly flashing back to the poison Zabini had forced him to drink. Score came up behind him and slid a hand up his spine.

"Better take it or I'll have to force it on you," he murmured.

Al obediently drank the potion and shuddered.

"Are all medicinal potions brewed with used Quidditch gear?" he complained. Score slung an arm around his neck.

"Let's go eat. I'm starving."

The instant Score mentioned food Al realized he had not eaten since early the previous day. Score dragged him out and Lily crawled off the bed to follow.

10 Mourning and Celebration

Al tried to finish his breakfast, but he was distracted by Score who alternately talked to his grandmother or Lily and placed bits of food between those gorgeous lips. After a while, Al gave up trying to eat and simply propped an elbow on the table and watched his friend in bemusement.

Score gave him a sharp look at that point and leaned over to coax Al into taking a bite of toast. "You need to eat, Al," he said absently. He continued to hold bits of meat, fruit, and bread up to Al's lips and Al managed to keep from sucking on the pale fingers each time… mostly. If Score's grandmother thought it odd for her grandson to feed his friend, she graciously said nothing. Lily ignored them, except when the conversation interested her.

Al did not bother to pretend to follow their words. Narcissa questioned Score about school and Lily piped up with an occasional story. Albus already knew everything there was to know about Score's classes and grades, and most of Lily's gossip he had already heard.

Al finally refused to open his mouth for another bite and Score threw an arm around his shoulders to draw him closer. "Are you all right? You look close to tipping over."

"Tired," Al admitted. He hid a yawn behind an upraised hand and let his head loll against Score's shoulder. "Why am I so tired?"

"Probably the potion," Score said. "They like it when you sleep all day, so you don't strain anything. Come on, I'll take you to the library. You can rest on the couch while I read. I'm sure my father will bring word from the hospital as soon as he hears anything."

"Has James been here?" Al asked Lily.

"Not yet."

Scorpius helped Al to his feet He bid a polite good morning to Narcissa and allowed Score to drag him to the library. Al did not want to sleep, he wanted to go to the hospital and see his dad. Score listened to his complaints while as the blond fetched a book from the shelves, but he said nothing. Al yawned again and gratefully stretched out on the couch when Score sat down, book in hand.

Al's head rested on the familiar perch of Score's lap and he sighed happily when a soothing, repetitive motion brushed the hair away from his forehead.

"Whatcha reading?" Al asked sleepily.

"Go to sleep or I'll hit you with it," Score warned.

Al scowled and complied.

Albus woke when his pillow shifted suddenly, throwing him into a panic from the leftover residue of a bad dream. He sat up quickly and winced at a jolt of pain. He remembered where he was as Score's fingers untangled from his hair. Before he could comment, he noticed Score's father standing nearby. His appearance must have startled Score.

"Mr. Malfoy. Is my dad—?"

"He's awake, Albus. He's not entirely well, but we have hope."

The words were alarming—adult-speak for something gone horribly wrong.

"Not well? Hope for what?" Al's hand shot out instinctively and found Score's. The blond gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Mr. Malfoy said, "He can't walk, but it should be a temporary condition. I'll be bringing him home shortly, since I'm certain St. Mungo's is already over capacity for Weasleys and Potter well-wishers."

Albus sat back, half-leaning against the warm shape of Scorpius. Mr. Malfoy watched them for a moment and then asked, "Where is Lily?"

"Um…I'm not sure. I've been asleep for a while, I think."

"I'll find her."

He left the library and Al sighed. Score lifted Al's hand to his mouth and nibbled on Al's knuckles.

"Do you want to sleep some more?" Score asked. He leaned over to nibble on Al's neck and Albus wondered how the blond could even ask that question after destroying every hint of fatigue. Score's fingers touched Al's jaw and angled his head back for a kiss.

"What if your father comes back?" Al asked during a pause for air.

"So? He caught us snogging already."

Score kissed him again and Al wondered if it had been a good idea to wake up this amorously determined side of Score's personality.

"Lily?" he managed.

"Would she care?" Score asked and drew his tongue over Al's lower lip.

"Probably not," Al admitted. He gave up and wrapped his hands into Score's hair. As if capitulation was all Score sought, he pulled away with a frown.

"Grandmere might be shocked, though. I wouldn't want to give the old girl a fatal jolt."

Al chuckled. "I think it will be you getting a fatal jolt if she hears you call her that."

"You could be right." Score grinned. "Are you hungry? We've been asleep for a few hours."

"I could eat."

On their way to the dining room they ran into Lily, who threw herself at Al.

"Did you hear? Dad's going to be okay! Mr. Malfoy is bringing him here and we're going to have a party! I'm going to go get dressed." She hugged Al again and then gave him a pinch before rushing off. Al turned to Score.

"Party?"

Scorpius sighed. "I should have guessed when father said St. Mungo's was overcrowded. If he plans to bring them all here, Grandmere will insist on a gala event. We had better go dress properly."

Al wanted to argue, but Score pulled him implacably upstairs and then spent far too long dressing and undressing Al with scarcely a kiss or caress in between. When it came to clothing, Scorpius Malfoy was all business.

When Al was adorned to Score's satisfaction, the blond eyed him critically and then pulled a comb through Al's hair. As he did so, he leaned close and whispered, "You look gorgeous. I can't wait to take your clothes off again, later."

Al wanted to ask what was wrong with taking them off right now, but he was distracted by Score doing his own undressing.

"Why are we dressed like Slytherins?" Al asked on their way to the Blue Ballroom, which was a rather long hike from Score's room. Scorpius was dressed all in silvery grey and Al thought he looked like some ethereal fey creature.

"Because you look stunning in green and my father will find it amusing," Score replied.

Al grinned at the word stunning. He suddenly did not mind the emerald dress robes Score had insisted he wear.

The room was full of milling people, most of whom Al did not recognize, although he did give Teddy an exuberant hug when he spotted the Auror.

"Your father should be here shortly, Al." Teddy reached out and rumpled Score's hair, earning a hot glare from the blond. Al smirked as Score tried to smooth the damage and the icy gaze was turned on him as well. Teddy waved at another Auror and wandered off. Al leaned close to Score and murmured, "You look fetching with your hair messed up like that."

Score sneered and continued to preen his locks, but a pink color touched his cheeks. "Fetching, Albus? Where did you learn that word?"

"From you, naturally," Al said and snagged a glass of champagne from a tray that floated by. Before he could take a sip, the glass evaporated from his hand.

"Damned Underage Detection Charms," Al muttered. Score put an arm around his shoulders and drew him close.

"You don't need to get drunk tonight," Score said. "I want you wide awake and fully cognizant."

Al wanted to ask why, but he had a suspicion. He grabbed a glass of pumpkin juice and gulped it to cool the rush of heat that seemed to fill him. It didn't help much.

They wandered the room and greeted Al's uncles and aunts. Lily, Rose and Hugo gravitated over to join them and soon they had staked out a corner. They sat on the plump chairs and exchanged school gossip until an excited whisper snaked through the room. Mr. Malfoy entered with Al's father.

Al and Lily charged through the room to launch themselves at their dad with cries of delight. Their father stood stiffly, but hugged them both.

"I'd lean down and kiss you both, but I can't quite bend, yet," his dad said with a grin. It was only then that Al noticed his father floated just above the floor. He was attached to a device of some sort with a Charm that kept him Levitated and upright.

Al was instantly worried, but his father reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

"It's all right, Albus. They tell me it's only temporary."

Albus was not so sure. He didn't think his father would lie to him, but maybe he was also lying to himself. Mr. Malfoy was more reassuring.

"He'll be fine, Albus. I'll see to it."

Al smiled, thinking that Score and his father were very alike. If Mr. Malfoy said it, then he would make it so. Aunt Hermione smothered Al's dad in a hug while Uncle Ron and Mr. Malfoy glared daggers at each other.

Score took Al's hand and pulled him away.

"Come on. He'll be forced to chat with all the adults all night. You'll see him later."

Lily followed them back to their corner and Al saw that James had joined them. James pulled Al into a rough hug, which was so un-James-like that Al nearly didn't respond. He finally wrapped one arm around his brother and squeezed—only one arm because Score had not released the other hand.

"Don't look now, but Grandma Molly is coming this way," James said.

Al's grip tightened on Score's hand. Al's grandmother enveloped James and Al in a tearful hug. She could barely speak for sobbing.

"Oh, you poor poor dears," she cried. "My Ginny loved you so! Come here, Lily."

Lily joined the stiff circle. Although Al's arm was twisted at an uncomfortable angle, he refused to let go of Scorpius. Soon Grandma Molly had them all crying openly at her weepy reminisces. Grandpa Arthur patted her back soothingly and looked lost. Their grandmother finally calmed slightly.

"Well, of course you poor darlings will have to come home with us," she announced.

Al pushed away from her embrace and stepped into Score's. The blond let go of Al's hand only to wrap both arms around Al's waist in a protective circle. Al looked at James worriedly. Al loved his grandmother, but she tended to treat them all as if they were four years old. Her love was a bit smothering.

"We'll be staying here, Grandma," James said. "We want to be close to dad. Mr. Malfoy has agreed to take care of him."

She reacted as if slapped. "Malfoy?" she snarled. "Since when does any Malfoy care about a Potter?"

Al gasped and he felt Score's arms tighten almost painfully.

"Molly!" Al's grandfather said in a shocked tone.

"Excuse me, madam," Score said politely. "I think you may have been misinformed. The Malfoys care very deeply for the Potters. Very. Deeply." The last two words were nearly a threat and Al felt almost dizzy for a moment. Score's body was warm and solid against his back.

Al's grandmother glared at Scorpius as if he had become something loathsome. Al suddenly wanted to take Score and flee.

"I'm staying with Scorpius," he said adamantly.

To his surprise, James reached out and tousled his hair with a laugh. "Don't try to separate these two," he warned. "They share one brain."

"And everything else," Lily mumbled, but she giggled at James's words. The tension eased somewhat.

Grandma Molly sniffed. "All right, then. I can see I'm outnumbered. Lily, what about you?"

Lily's eyes widened and she hugged James suddenly. "I'll stay, too, Grandma. Sorry, but I want to be with my brothers right now."

"Very well, but I shall speak to your father about this." She gave Lily one last wistful look and touched her red hair gently before bursting into tears again. Grandpa Arthur thankfully led her away.

"Thank Merlin that's over," Score breathed in Al's ear. Al had to agree. He would much rather be with the calming influence of Scorpius than the overwrought hysteria of his grandmother.

Rose and Hugo returned from wherever they had escaped to and soon Hugo had them all in stitches by mimicking all of the adults in the room with hilarious precision. James professed their antics too childish for his tolerance and departed, but Al could tell his brother was exhausted and only used it as an excuse to find his bed.

Lily had the bright idea to give Rose and Hugo a tour of the Manor before their parents took them home.

"Want to come?" she asked Al and Score.

"I live here," Score said dryly.

"I've seen it," Al added. Lily shrugged and left with the two Weasleys in tow. Al laughed. "She's been here two days and she acts like she owns the place."

Score's thumb had been gently brushing the side of Al's neck for the past half hour and the soft caress was waking up parts of Al that ought not be awakened in a room full of people.

"Albus?" Score asked against Al's cheek as his pale fingers took the half-full glass of butterbeer out of Al's hand and set it aside.

"Yeah?" Al asked, hoping the blond would suggest going to his room.

"I'm going to kiss you right now," Score said and then did. It was not a subtle kiss, but a full-on exploratory quest that left Al flushed and breathless. His friend laughed as Al stared at him in surprise.

"Sorry," Score said. "That was purely wicked of me. I just wanted to see your father's face."

"Wha—?" Al turned his head to find his father several feet away, fairly riveted with shock. Mr. Malfoy stood beside him and his expression mirrored Score's.

"My father knows about us, so it's only fair," Score rationalized and Al turned to glare at him.

"My dad's been through a lot today. The shock might have killed him."

"Your father survived a duel to the death with an evil, undead wizard. I hardly think a tiny kiss will do him in."

Al risked another glance at his father and was relieved to note the stunned look had been replaced by contemplation. Mr. Malfoy seemed to be wrapped around his father at least as closely as Score was clinched around Al.

"I think it's time for us to go," Score said in a way that sent a shiver of anticipation coursing through Al. He checked once more, but the crowd had swallowed his father and Mr. Malfoy, so Al meekly allowed Score to lead him out. He would gladly put off that particular conversation with his father. He wondered, though, if his dad was really in love with Mr. Malfoy, then perhaps he would not object to Al's affection for Score.

All thought of his father vanished the instant they entered Score's room and the door shut and locked behind them. Score turned on Al immediately and pinned him to the portal with a kiss. Score devoured Al's mouth while his hands roamed possessively over Al's body.

Albus chuckled, prompting Score to pull back and look at him curiously.

"You're cute when you're shy like this," Al quipped.

Score smirked and moved in again. His hands unbuttoned Al's emerald robes, so Al decided he had better get started on Score's, as well. It would have been faster if they weren't distracted by kissing, but once begun they could not seem to stop. Al drank in the taste of Score with eager glee. He could scarcely believe everything he had always wanted was literally in his grasp.

Their clothing fell away as they moved away from the door toward the bed. Score's naked skin was almost more than Al could bear. His caresses, so feverish before, slowed to a breathless crawl as he trailed them over Score's shoulders, ribs, and flanks.

"Score, you're so beautiful," he breathed.

Score's hands moved just as slowly. "You, too, Al. Merlin, yes."

They fell onto Score's bed and half-crawled, half-dragged each other to the center. Albus shifted until he lay sprawled partially across Score. The heated kissing continued and their hands explored each other, avoiding the obvious areas in order to prolong the sensations. Al was rock-hard and he knew he was probably leaking onto the expensive spread. He finally changed his position, dropping his legs between Score's and sliding upward. Score gasped as their erections touched and caught. Al repeated the delightful friction a few times and nibbled at Score's lips.

"Mmm, can't wait to be inside you, Score."

Their panting breaths mingled and Score's fingers dug into Al's buttocks, drawing him closer.

"Good one, Al. You mean you can't wait to feel me inside you."

Al reared back to blink into Score's beautiful grey eyes.

"You can't be serious," he said.

Score laughed. "Really, Albus. You actually thought I would bottom?"

"Well, yeah."

The grey eyes narrowed. "In your dreams, Potter."

Albus smirked a bit and allowed his chin to jut slightly in determination. "I'm already on top, Scorpius."

"Good luck staying there."

Al hid his grin and prepared for the wrestling match of his life. Regardless of how it turned out, he knew it was going to be good.

Epilogue

Al was quite thoroughly pinned. Scorpius had both of Al's wrists jammed against the hand-carved headboard and his hot breath panted against Al's neck in steamy gusts. By rights, Al should have bested him. Score had inherited the Malfoy slenderness and Al's muscles had been gained in hundreds of wrestling matches with an evil older brother.

The laughter had leveled the playing field. Somewhere along the way, Al had developed the giggles and could not seem to shake them.

"Got…" Score panted. "Got you, Al."

Albus struggled to breathe through the chuckles that still shook his frame and the weight of his friend on his chest. He tried to speak and weakly tugged at the hands that gripped him. He had a stitch in his side.

Score chuckled and Al could tell he was trying to restrain himself. "Al, you have to stop. This is serious."

"Serious," Al repeated and broke into laughter again. Score bit Al's neck, which earned a quick gasp, but the giggles did not diminish. Score joined him and then growled.

"Albus! Damn you! I won, so I'm going to let go now and you are going to lie there nice and sweet while I fuck you properly."

"Okay," Al said agreeably and chortled happily.

Score let go and slid downward. His naked body felt wonderful and nearly managed to squelch Al's terminal giggles. He groaned and took a deep breath as Score's beautiful face hovered over his cock, which had deflated under the attack of laughter. A smirk curved the blond's lips and Al's cock twitched in response. Al grinned widely.

One of Score's hands stroked lightly over Al's renewing erection and the other traced his testicles. Al's amusement finally started to fade. He reached down and touched Score's soft, silvery hair. Score rewarded his docility by licking a slow stripe up the length of Al's cock.

Al nearly whimpered and his giggles were officially trounced. Score repeated the motion and his fingers moved over Al's entrance. A shiver of anticipation coursed through him.

"Score," Al breathed.

The blond pressed a kiss into Al's flank. "Al," he returned throatily. Score fumbled for his wand, which was nearly lost in the mangled blankets and took a moment to recover. He located it and cast a Summoning Charm. A small jar flew from the bedside cabinet and into Score's waiting hand. The blond grinned at him as he unscrewed the lid.

"Score, have you ever done anything like this before?" Al asked, even though he was semi-terrified of the answer. "Um… with Elladora or anyone?"

Score nibbled his way up the length of Al's cock and bit lightly at the tip, causing Al's hand to tighten reflexively in the platinum hair. Merlin, he never would have guessed how much Scorpius liked to use his teeth. Not that Al had any problem with being eaten.

"No, Al. I'm as virginal as you," Score admitted. Albus released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. He felt another rush of affection.

"Good," Al said firmly and then yelped as one of Score's cold, slick fingers breached him. "Damn it! Did you cast a bloody Cooling Charm on the shite?"

"Are you saying you don't like this?" Score asked huskily and moved his finger slightly.

"Um…" Well, it felt sort of… odd, actually, although once the shock of the chilly lubricant wore off it was easier to bear. Score drew his finger mostly out and then pressed it back in slowly. "It's not so bad."

"Okay, I'm going to add another," Score warned. Al tried to relax, which became easier when Score's hot mouth enveloped his cock. Al lost himself in the sensation of floating bliss.

"Oh… Score," he managed.

"Merlin, I love it when you say that."

Three fingers later and Al was nearly incoherent. He had never imagined anything could feel so good.

"Score," he said, "I need—"

Score's long, beautiful fingers retreated, leaving Al aching for more. The blond shifted himself over Al with a predatory grin.

"Beautiful Al," he said and reached down, preparing to move his cock into the space vacated by his fingers. Albus had other ideas. He reached down and wrapped his hands around Score's waist. He pulled and Score fell forward with an oath. Instead of the intended mark, Score's cock slipped along the side of Al's testicles and halted against Al's hard shaft.

"Your turn," Al said as he dipped a hand down into the jar of salve. His other hand dropped down and held Score's arse. The blond tried to rear back, but Al's other hand moved quickly and his slick fingers touched Score's tight hole, earning a gasp.

"Albus," Score said warningly. Al pushed a finger inside and a ragged sound escaped his lover. "What are you—?"

"Don't worry, it's brilliant," Al said. "I want you to feel it, too."

"I will, just as soon as…" Score trailed off and dropped his head. Platinum hair spilled over Al's face. "Oh," he finished.

Al finger-fucked him gently for a few moments and was rewarded by Score lying still atop him, silent but for the increasing tempo of his breathing. Albus added a second finger and Score shifted forward minutely to give Al better access. Al moved his fingers with more determination and licked absently at Score's collarbone, which now touched his lips. Score made a guttural whimper and rocked back against Al's hands. Merlin, that was hot.

Al obligingly added more digits, marveling at the hot, tight feel of the blond writhing atop him.

"Bloody fucking hell, Al. Pull out."

Al recognized the tone and reluctantly took his fingers out of Score, only to have the blond reach back and grasp Al's cock. Before Al could register his intention, Score moved and sheathed Al's cock in sudden, brilliant heat. Al nearly came right then.

His shocked gaze met silver for a moment and Score said, "Merlin, Al." He smirked slightly and then started to move. Al grabbed his hips quickly.

"Don't move!" he cried. "Don't… it feels too good. Just… give me a minute."

"It feels too good not to move, Al," Score admitted, but he stayed still until Al's excruciating need to orgasm weakened slightly.

"Okay," Al panted. "Okay now."

Score levered up until he was nearly upright, impaled on Al as deeply as possible. Score rose a bit and then dropped back down, nearly causing Al's heart to stop. He bit his lip, knowing he wouldn't last long. He tried to concentrate on something else, but the sight of the gorgeous blond riding his cock destroyed all rational thought. Score reached down and touched his own erection, but Al brushed his hand aside to take the hard shaft. Score's hair was disheveled and his skin was flushed. Lovely huffing sounds escaped his partially open lips.

Score rocked his hips faster and faster, fucking Al's hand while he rode Al's cock. Al's stare was riveted. It was the most incredible thing he had ever seen.

"Al, Al, oh Merlin, Al!" Score choked and came on the last cry. Hot fluid coursed over Al's hand and splattered against his abdomen. The blond obligingly rocked twice more and Al's toes nearly curled to the breaking point as he exploded, spilling into Score's tight—so tight—heat with a shout of relief.

Score collapsed on him like a dead weight. Al wrapped his arms around the blond and held on for dear life. They remained there, unmoving, until their breathing returned to some semblance of normalcy. Score's face was buried in Al's neck and he wanted nothing more than to drift off to sleep and replay the event in his dreams. The ever-practical blond had other ideas. He pulled away from Al, although not far because Albus would not let him get far enough to avoid a grasping hand.

Score was fabulous at Cleaning Charms, due to his inherent fastidious nature Al suspected.

"Don't sleep yet, lazy prat. We'll be stuck together grotesquely if we don't clean up, and don't tell me you don't mind, because I do."

The Charms were quickly cast and then Score was back where he belonged, snug in Al's arms, although this time his smooth back was pressed against Al's chest and their limbs were pleasantly tangled. Al's breathed in the scent of the platinum hair that tickled his face.

"Score?" Al asked when they had settled together and the silence encroached.

"I know, Albus, I love you, too, and yes, it was the most astounding thing ever, until tomorrow when it will fade to vague memory after I fuckyou, but right now I am very tired and need to sleep."

A rush of warmth fought with amusement and Al replied, "Actually, I wanted to ask what you did to Elladora."

Score tensed against him. "What? Why bring that up now?"

"Rose said Ella was admitted to St. Mungo's and they were unable to wake her up."

Score made a snorting noise and pulled Al's hand up to his lips. He ran his tongue gently over Al's knuckles. "She'll wake up in a few days and she'll feel so much better."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing much, only she was something of a twat, wasn't she? I mean, she lied to me repeatedly. Arranging to kidnap you out from under my nose was the final straw, however. Such a thing is not to be tolerated, Al." Score's grip tightened and his teeth grazed Al's hand. "No one takes what is mine."

"Even if you didn't want me, then?"

The bite turned into a gentle kiss and then another. "I wanted you, Al. Never doubt that."

"Why will Ella be better?" Al asked instead of melting like the sappy Hufflepuff he was. Score was silent for a long time. Al nearly asked again, but Score finally replied.

"I sort of erased her personality."

Erased her personality.

"It's a modified Memory Charm. She remembers everything, except those specific bits that sort of make her who she is."

Al was nearly horrified, until he remembered that the kidnapping had resulted in the death of his mother. Suddenly it seemed no more than Ella deserved. He snuggled more tightly against Scorpius.

"Can't wait for tomorrow," he mumbled.

Score chuckled. "Go to sleep, Al."

 The Slytherin Gryffindor

1  Reunion

Draco flipped through the book idly and then returned it to the shelf. He perused the nearby titles and scowled in annoyance. Why did he even bother looking here? He would most likely have to put in a special order.

Movement snagged his attention, and he turned to see another patron of the bookstore midway down the aisle. The man was intently examining a shelf of books with his head tipped slightly upward. Draco admired the man's profile, thinking it had been a long time since he had seen anyone quite so delicious. The man had exquisite features, straight nose and jaw, beautiful cheekbones, a throat that begged to be kissed, and a slender, fit body that looked infinitely shaggable, even partially hidden by dark robes. A mop of thick black hair adorned his head, making him look like he had just rolled out of bed after a long night of dissolute behavior.

Draco sighed regretfully. Anyone that good-looking had to be taken, most likely married to some shrewish female that wouldn't have the first clue how to keep a man like that happy. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained, as they say. Draco walked over to the man, silent as a shadow, and reached over the brunet's shoulder to rest a hand against the shelf, partially trapping his prey. They were of a height, Draco noted.

"Looking for something in particular?" Draco asked huskily.

The man stiffened slightly, but did not move away. "Erm… Not really, I'm just browsing."

Draco's eyes flicked to the subject matter, and then back to the man's nape. Draco enjoyed the way the midnight hair curled slightly where it touched the man's collar. He longed to put his fingers into it and feel the texture. He had always had a thing for brunets. "Looking into Archaic Magic, then?"

"I like to research obscure spells. You never know when they might come in handy." The man's voice was just as fascinating as the rest of him—low and almost sensuous.

"That's quite a coincidence. I have a huge library full of obscure spell books," Draco said, feeling the man's hair tickle against his lips gently as he spoke. He breathed in the heady scent emanating from him—the man smelled like someone who spent a lot of time outdoors, windblown and somewhat wild. Draco wanted to tip the man's head aside, taste the pale neck, and work his way downward from there.

"Do you work here?" the brunet asked and turned around, still partially trapped by Draco's arm. Their eyes met, and Draco noted with surprise that his eyes were quite shockingly green, a color he hadn't seen since—

"Malfoy?" the man asked sharply.

Draco staggered back until his arse hit the shelves opposite. He gaped at the black-haired man.

"Potter?" he replied in the same shocked tone.

The two men stared at each other. How long had it been? Ten years? Twelve? And where the hell were those stupid spectacles the Chosen One usually wore? The hair that covered his forehead and touched the thick, black eyelashes effectively hid the famous scar.

"You look…different," Draco said, struggling for normalcy in a world gone suddenly insane. He had been trying to seduce Harry fucking Potter!

Potter nodded. "I don't need glasses any more. St. Mungo's came up with a spell that made them unnecessary."

Draco cursed himself. How could he not have known it was Potter? It should have been obvious from the hair alone. And of course he was fit, the prat was a bloody Auror, still the Golden Boy of the Ministry, although he was no longer a boy. Not by a long shot, Draco thought, raking his eyes over Potter's tense form.

The green eyes narrowed and Potter straightened. "Were you trying to—?"Potter asked, and then shook his head abruptly. "No, never mind." He turned and started to walk away.

"Was I what, Potter?" Malfoy demanded.

"I said never mind, Malfoy," Potter said and continued to march toward the front of the store. Draco felt a familiar flash of rage. Damn if Potter had lost his ability to make him see red! He stalked after the Gryffindor.

"Running away, Potter?" Draco taunted just as they reached the end of the shelves and entered a small seating area flanked with window alcoves.

"Back off, Malfoy!" Potter snarled. Draco set his jaw and caught Potter on the shoulder. He spun the Gryffindor around, enraged without really knowing why. He grabbed the front of Potter's robes in both hands and shoved the brunet against the end of a bookshelf. Several volumes fell over from the jolt.

Draco leaned close to Potter until his lips brushed against the Chosen One's soft earlobe. "Yes, Potter, I was trying to lure you into my bed," Draco said softly. "Because you looked like you haven't been properly fucked in a very long time… if ever."

Draco pulled back and noted with satisfaction that Potter's eyes were tightly closed, and there was a distinct unevenness to his breathing. The Gryffindor raised his hands and shoved hard against Draco's chest. Draco stumbled back, and met Potter's enraged glare with a challenging smirk.

Draco suddenly noticed Scorpius and another boy talking quietly in a window seat nearby. The children had witnessed the exchange, something Draco would never have allowed under normal circumstances. Of course, nothing involving Potter ever seemed to be "normal circumstances".

"Scorpius," Draco said sharply, "Come along."

Without another glance at Potter, Draco swept out of the bookstore. Scorpius trailed obediently behind.

Draco paced the Malfoy library from the window to the fireplace, and back again. Scorpius watched him curiously. Draco forced himself to breathe deeply and relax. He smiled at his blond son.

"So… you seem to have made a friend," Draco commented.

Scorpius shrugged. "Perhaps. His name is Albus."

Draco recoiled, and then reprimanded himself. For fuck's sake, why did he always allow Harry Potter to affect him? Of course, this was the first time he had been overcome with lust because of the Gryffindor…

"Albus Potter?" Draco asked quietly.

"He didn't mention his last name. Who was that man?"

"His name is Harry Potter. I'm sure you'll hear all about him once you get to Hogwarts." Draco was pleased to note his tone did not sound the least bit sarcastic. "Run along now, Scorpius. I have some research to do."

Scorpius nodded solemnly and went out without a word. Draco looked after him for a moment, suddenly wondering if Scorpius spent too much time alone. Draco remembered feeling terribly lonely as a child. Was he doomed to make the same mistakes his parents had made? Did he keep Scorpius trapped in this mausoleum alone too often? Draco hurried to the doorway and called after his pale son. The boy turned.

"Would you like to go to Paris this evening? We'll have dinner and find something interesting to do afterward."

The brilliant smile on his son's face made Draco lean against the doorway for a moment, nearly overcome with adoration and pride. Martinique was a vicious bitch, but she had given him Scorpius. For that, he would gladly pay her bills and support her self-indulgent habits.

He vaguely wondered at his wife's whereabouts, and then returned to the library. He cast a quick spell at the cabinet containing his archived Daily Prophets.

"Show me every issue with an article about Harry Potter going back… three years."

Draco was appalled at the size of the stack of papers that flew to the top of his desk.

"The famous Harry Potter," he murmured as he sat down. He lifted the most recent volume from the pile. "Let's see what you've been up to lately."

Stalking Harry Potter

It took Draco four months to realize he was stalking Harry Potter, and another three months after that to admit he was obsessed. Once he accepted it as fact, he found it easier to acquire information on the Auror, probably because he wasn't fighting himself at every turn. He learned everything there was to know about the public life of the Chosen One, most of which Draco already knew. Potter was, of course, married to his childhood sweetheart, Ginevra Weasley. They had three children, James, Albus, and Lily. In between expelling children, Ginny played Quidditch and worked part-time at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley. She had not played Quidditch at all for the past two years, citing an old injury as her reason for retirement. Draco suspected she was simply not quite good enough to keep up with the younger players.

Harry Potter had worked at the Ministry since leaving Hogwarts, first tracking down former Death Eaters, and eventually righting other types of wrongs for the Ministry. He had gone through a succession of partners, Ron Weasley among them, until Weasley had left the Auror Department and accepted a post in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. The on-record reason for that change stated that his wife, the esteemed Hermione Granger, had preferred he take a job less dangerous after the birth of their first child, Rose. Draco thought it far more likely the Weasel finally realized he would never measure up to Potter and finally stopped trying.

Granger, of course, worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and spent an inordinate amount of time investigating Draco in the vain hope of turning up something illegal. Unfortunately for Granger, she would always be several paces behind Draco, especially without Potter's luck guiding her footsteps.

Potter was extremely dedicated to both his family and his career, and was universally loved by all. Draco snorted. Thus he concluded his research into Harry Potter's public persona.

Potter's private life was more difficult to uncover.

Scorpius had turned into a genuine Malfoy, surreptitiously arranging meetings with his new friend, Albus Potter. Draco had intercepted several owls from young Potter, and had willingly acquiesced to Scorpius's requests to travel to Diagon Alley for various reasons. It did the boy good to have a friend, even if that friend bore an uncomfortable resemblance to his father. It also boosted Scorpius's confidence to think that he maneuvered Draco to achieve his own ends.

Draco was loathe to pry information from his own son, especially when he was pretending not to know about Albus Potter, but he was damned curious to know the status of Harry Potter's personal affairs. Draco could not even scheme properly until he had the answer to that particular question.

The answer to Draco's dilemma arrived at the Manor for Christmas dinner. Draco had met the young man a few times prior, but had never had much use for the lad, until now. Narcissa Malfoy had made up with her sister, Andromeda. It had taken several years after the war, and months after Lucius died, for Narcissa's loneliness to become nearly overwhelming. The presence of Scorpius helped, and Narcissa was far more of a mother to the boy than Martinique, but she needed feminine companionship.

Draco had been surprised when his Aunt Andromeda appeared at the Manor one afternoon, but she seemed to be just as wounded as Narcissa. Eventually, the two of them became nearly inseparable. Andromeda Tonks was a frequent visitor to the Manor these days. Teddy Lupin's presence was much more rare.

"Cousin Ted," Draco said after guiding the teenager into the library after dinner. "You are quite close to the Potters, are you not?"

Teddy gazed at him warily and scratched his head thoughtfully with a finger. His hair was platinum blond, which Draco thought was rather unusual considering his brown-haired father.

"Sure," the boy said finally. Draco smiled. Lupin was almost as wary as a Malfoy.

"You will finish Hogwarts next year, correct? Have you given any thought as to your career choice?"

Teddy sat up quickly, and his brown eyes brightened. "I want to be an Auror, like my mum."

Draco nodded thoughtfully, and wondered how much of that desire was due to Potter's inspiration. "Perhaps Harry Potter's influence can help you there, eh?"

Teddy shook his head. "Oh no. Uncle Harry would never do that. He says we have to earn our way." Teddy flushed. "He has been teaching me some advanced spells, though. He says Professor Lovegood is a good teacher, but she doesn't always teach things that would be useful in the real world."

Draco bit back several unkind comments, and managed to say nothing. Luna Lovegood teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts was an act that surely defied the laws of nature. Luckily, Scorpius would receive plenty of training in that particular field right here at home.

Draco shook his head sadly. "A pity. If I worked in the Ministry, I would certainly use whatever means necessary to help you out."

Teddy grinned. "Thanks, Cousin Draco. I should be able to manage on my own. Of course, I still have to finish school, and then pass the Auror exams." A look of consternation crossed the teen's face. "I just hope Victoire will wait for me to get a job. I won't be able to buy a house or anything until then…"

"Girlfriend?" Draco asked, although he already knew that Teddy Lupin and Victoire Weasley were a couple. They had been since childhood, apparently. Draco had seen Bill Weasley's daughter several times. Victoire was a true beauty, luckily getting her looks from her French mother rather than her ginger father, although Bill Weasley had been quite handsome in his younger days.

Draco sat forward, as if suddenly inspired by a thought. "How would you like to work for me?" he asked. Teddy blinked at him.

"But… I…" He took a breath. "Thank you, cousin, but I really want to try for an Auror position."

Draco chuckled. "You can still do that, of course. I meant right now. You can do odd jobs for me and I'll pay you. You can start saving for that house early."

Young Lupin shot to his feet. "You mean it? What sort of odd jobs? Of course I'll work for you, as long as it's not illegal. I've heard Auntie Hermione nattering on about you a time or two…" Teddy flushed.

Draco waved his comments away. "Errands, mostly. Fear not, I'll keep you busy. You can work for me here during your holiday breaks, and also during the summer. I'll require you to be here three days a week during the summer, and possibly more."

They discussed salary and other trivialities, and when Teddy left, Draco sat back in satisfaction. He had just purchased an informant.

Quidditch Queue

Draco saw Harry Potter several times after the incident at the bookstore, but always from a distance. He wondered if Potter intentionally avoided him, and decided it was likely. Regardless of how many times Draco saw the Auror, Potter never seemed to see Draco. One notable exception occurred at the Quidditch World Cup, the summer before Scorpius was due to start school.

Draco sat in a higher box than Potter, who was in the best pitch-side seats near Minister Shacklebolt. Ever the celebrity, Draco sneered to himself. He alternately watched the game and Harry Potter, adding to his mental list of information about the Auror.

Teddy had been a valuable font of information, but he tended toward taciturn silence in response to questions about Potter's personal relationships. Draco knew nearly everything there was to know about Potter's past, but his present remained something of a mystery.

Draco realized he should have sought out Potter in a public setting—not that such an opportunity often presented itself. Potter's social life seemed to revolve around the Ministry and his children, to the exclusion of all else. It was such a waste.

Watching Potter with his family was enlightening. Potter did not sit beside his wife; the young auburn-haired daughter sat between them. Potter's copy—Scorpius's friend Albus—sat on the other side of Potter, and then the older brother, whose hair was dark brown. Quite the collection, but at least the boys had been spared the Weasley calling card.

Draco noted no touches between the adult Potters—no hand clasping, no brushing of shoulders, no quick touches to draw attention to something on the pitch. They might have been strangers for all they interacted. Interesting, considering they were supposed to be in love. Draco glanced at his own wife, seated on the other side of Scorpius. Draco smiled as he acknowledged that he would not touch Martinique for all the Galleons in Potter's vault. He had already done that once; he suppressed a shudder at the memory.

Martinique's cold green eyes slanted toward him, and she pasted a false smile on her beautiful lips. She despised Quidditch, but her contract with Draco required that she attend a minimum of four public functions with him per year. She could well play the role of perfect wife and dutiful mother. She had better, for what Draco paid her.

Draco dismissed her to watch Potter again. The Auror got up—alone—and headed out, probably to seek out the loo. Draco got up to follow.

The line for the row of toilets was fairly long—this was the World Cup, after all, and the weather was nice enough to ensure record attendance. Draco maneuvered himself until he stood directly behind Harry Potter.

He leaned into the Auror slightly, and touched his lips to the back of Potter's ear.

"Having fun, Potter?" he asked, and suppressed a chuckle when the Auror stiffened.

"Malfoy," Potter said politely and tried to step away without crowding into the bloke in front of him. "Yes, having a lovely time. You?"
Draco crowded. He touched as much of Potter as he could get away with, and drank in the scent of Potter's hair.

"I'm having fun now," Draco purred. His hand moved between them to rest gently on the small of Potter's back. He had been admiring that back as the game progressed, and felt it only fair that he should be allowed to touch it in tribute.

Potter obviously felt otherwise, but he was trapped.

"What are you doing?" he snarled.

Draco's fingers splayed and curved over the flesh covered only by a thin Muggle t-shirt. Draco had never been a fan of Muggle clothing, but now he saw the merit in a quick tug that would expose Potter's warm skin to Draco's questing hand. And the jeans cupping that amazing arse…fuck, Draco was getting hard.

"Haven't been touched in awhile, Potter?"

The Auror spun around angrily, obviously hoping to dislodge Draco's hand, but the movement backfired. Draco's palm stayed flat against Potter and ended up pressed into the flat abdomen instead. The green eyes widened, and Draco reflected that they were so much brighter and darker than Martinique's. He wondered if Potter's lenses made his eyes look so large and wild.

"I thought you did not wear glasses any longer," Draco commented, and the question seemed to diffuse whatever remark Potter had meant to make. The Auror glanced around, likely recalling that he was a famous spectacle. No one in the milling crowd paid him any mind, intent on attaining snacks and beverages, or relieving themselves before rushing back to the game.

"I wear them for public appearances," Potter said. "They're cosmetic."

Draco sneered, although he had not meant to. "The trials of celebrity," he drawled. His fingers itched to move down over Potter's waistband, but he knew such an action would get him hexed insensible.

Potter's eyes narrowed. "I don't find you at all amusing, Malfoy," he snapped. "Get your hand off me."

"You just don't know me, Potter," Draco replied softly. "I'm very amusing." His fingers traced lightly over Potter's shirt, wishing he could Vanish the material. It would be worth a hex or two.

"I don't want to know you, Malfoy. Now sod off."

With that, Potter left the queue and stomped off into the crowd. The Auror ignored Draco for the remainder of the World Cup, and disappeared with his family immediately thereafter.

2 Hogwarts and Hufflepuffs

The next time he saw Potter was on Platform Nine and Three-quarters on the first of September. Draco stood next to Scorpius. The boy tried to act calm and unruffled, but Draco knew his grey eyes were darting about, seeking familiar faces. The billowing steam prevented them seeing much of anything, but the Potter clan was heard long before they were seen. Draco recognized Ron Weasley's voice just as a familiar dark head emerged from the white cloud. The ginger shrew walked beside Potter, and their three children were in tow. Draco noticed his son lock eyes with Potter's middle child, and Albus grinned in sunny abandon. The smallest grin quirked Scorpius's lips.

Martinique stepped closer, but made no move to touch her son. Draco's jaw clenched. It had taken him three owls to remind her that she even had a son, and two more to persuade her to leave her latest boy-toy in Singapore and join them for Scorpius's sendoff.

The Potter-Weasley children thundered about, tugging at their parents, yelling boisterously, and generally behaving like the blood-tainted uncultured louts they were. Draco was relieved to note an exception was Albus Potter. He stood next to a small version of Hermione Granger (Weasley), and seemed quite subdued.

Ron Weasley suddenly noticed Draco, and moved over to Potter with a comment. The green eyes slowly turned toward Draco, who waited. Potter's face remained utterly expressionless, and Draco longed to drag the Auror away, out of the public light, and provoke some emotion from the git. Even anger was preferable to indifference.

Draco kept his own features still as marble, and gave Potter a cold nod before turning back to his son, dismissing the annoying man. The steam billowed, obligingly obscuring the Potters once more. Scorpius stuck out his hand toward Draco.

"Well, goodbye, Father," he said formally. Draco grinned at the stiff jaw of his son, trying to hard to be an adult. Draco knelt and scooped the boy into a hug.

"Idiot boy," Draco said affectionately, and squeezed Scorpius nearly to the breaking point. His son laughed in delight and squeezed back. "Write me often, and do not let me hear of any antics from the staff."

Scorpius nodded solemnly as he drew back. Any antics would be reported immediately to Draco from Scorpius's own hand. His son well understood that. Unpleasant surprises were not to be tolerated.

Draco released him. "Next time I see you, you'll be wearing Slytherin green, no doubt. If not… well, we will take that as it comes."

A minute look of relief crossed his son's fine features, and Draco realized the boy had been quite worried about facing the Sorting Hat. Draco was not worried at all. Scorpius was Slytherin through and through.

"Goodbye, Mother," Scorpius said as Draco stepped back. Martinique obediently leaned down and placed a cursory peck on her son's cheek. She moved away, duty fulfilled, and Scorpius turned and hurried to the train. Draco did not stand around like Potter and the other sentimental fools, waiting for the train to leave. He needed a drink. The Manor was going to be wretchedly empty without his son. Draco did not plan to face his first night of solitude sober.

Martinique was barely out of sight of the gathered wizarding families before she sneered at Draco and Disapparated. For a moment, Draco hoped never to see her again.

Dear Father,

You might want to sit down before you read the rest of this letter.

A shard of fear slipped into Draco, and he nearly sat, until he sternly reminded himself that he was a Malfoy. Besides, Scorpius was eleven years old, and it was the second day of school. How much trouble could he have gotten into?

I hope you will not be disappointed in me, but I was not sorted into Slytherin. In fact, I've been sorted into Hufflepuff.

Draco sat down. So great was his astonished horror that he nearly missed the seat.

Hufflepuff. He read the words again, hoping his eyes had deceived him. I've been sorted into Hufflepuff.

Draco got to his feet in a seething rage and paced the room like a caged puma. My son, a Hufflepuff. He nearly incinerated the letter, but Scorpius had written more. Draco could not bring himself to read the rest.

My son, the Hufflepuff.

Draco froze. It was Potter's doing. The Potter boy had gotten to Scorpius. All of those secret meetings that Draco had condoned had come back to haunt him. The Potter boy had somehow turned Draco's beautiful Slytherin son into a fucking Hufflepuff. In fact, it had probably been an elaborate plot engineered by Potter himself.

Draco Disapparated.

Draco marched into Potter's office at the Ministry, bypassing the hoard of underlings and clerical types that tried to stop him. Everyone knew where Potter's office was located—Draco had not even needed Teddy Lupin for that information.

The Super Auror was actually at his desk. Draco assumed there was a momentary shortage of people to rescue.

"You are responsible for this, aren't you?" Draco demanded, thrusting Scorpius's letter under Potter's nose.

Potter's eyes—unspectacled again—flicked from Draco to the crowd of ineffectual minions hovering about the door. Potter waved them away casually, as though Draco was no threat at all, and they needn't worry for his safety. Draco glared, and itched to turn that assumption into a lie. Draco had over twenty years of pent-up need to be seen as a threat to Potter.

The Auror sighed, and his attention returned to scratching a quill to parchment.

"Responsible for what, Malfoy?" he asked in a tired tone.

"This!" Draco gritted, and shook the letter again. "My son has been sorted into Hufflepuff."

The green eyes rose to his, and Potter dared to smile. "I know. I was quite shocked to hear it—though not as shocked as you, obviously. My son was, also."

"I knew it was a plot!" Draco yelled.

Potter stood up and leaned over his desk. His green eyes flashed.

"That's enough, Malfoy! I cannot believe you're this hung up on something so trivial!"

"Trivial?" Draco bellowed, and then forced himself to lower his voice. He had already caused a scene. There was no sense in making it worse. "Trivial?" he hissed, planting his hands on the desk and leaning across to meet Potter halfway. "This is not trivial, Potter. The Malfoys have been in Slytherin since the founding of Hogwarts! Ravenclaw I might have accepted, Gryffindor perhaps, but Hufflepuff?"

Draco's voice throbbed with intensity as he sought to convince the Auror of the importance of the situation. Potter did not seem impressed.

"You know, Malfoy, I think you are entirely too fixated on labels. You insist on pigeonholing everyone you meet into neat little categories. Slytherin, Gryffindor, Pure-blood, Mudblood. People cannot be boxed, Malfoy, they resist. It's human nature. You, of all people, should know that."

Potter's sincere voice was mesmerizing. His eyes were like deep mountain pools, and his lips were close enough to kiss, if only Draco leaned forward a bit.

"What do you mean by that?" Draco asked softly, seeking meaning in Potter's words where perhaps there was none.

Potter shook his head, and then seemed to realize the nearness of their faces. He drew back. "Never mind. Besides, Albus said the Hufflepuff thing was your son's idea."

Potter sat back in his chair and picked up his quill. Draco reared back and pondered which of a dozen hexes would cause the Auror the most pain, and yet allow Draco to escape the Ministry without arrest. Potter watched him coolly, and the hint of a smile touched his lips, as if daring Draco to do just that.

Draco went home.

Draco felt like something of an idiot when he finally finished reading his son's letter. He poured a drink and sat in his favorite chair to ponder the news. He skimmed the parchment once more.

Before you destroy anything in a rage… Draco smiled grimly. He had not destroyed anything, but he had made a complete arse of himself in front of Potter. …allow me to explain. I was informed that the Sorting Hat will take a student's choice into account… Draco had scowled and wondered why the brat had not chosen Slytherin, if that were the case. …and it occurred to me that spending seven years in Slytherin would involve constant effort, scheming, swindling, and maneuvering for position. Well do I recall your tales and advice, Father. Draco nodded. He had tried to prepare his son for the intrigue and politics involved in being Slytherin. It seemed a far easier route would be to infiltrate the weakest House, dazzle them with my brilliance, and lead them out of their sheeplike existence. I shall become the greatest Hufflepuff ever, and I shall lead them to victory. Draco had actually stared at the page like a loon, and had been heartily glad that no one was nearby to witness the expression. They are like plums ripe for the plucking, Father, and the effort shall be minimal, especially when I have a faithful champion at my side who is no more Hufflepuff than I. Draco's lips curved. Albus Potter, no doubt, coerced into Hufflepuff, but having the soul of a Gryffindor. I shall rule Hufflepuff, for as you told me once, it is better to rule in hell than serve in heaven, and is not Hufflepuff House Hogwarts' version of hell? I await your response with hope of your understanding.

With love, Scorpius.

Draco sipped at his Firewhiskey, and thought about his son's brilliance. Truly, the boy was Slytherin beyond even Draco's wildest imagining. He had taken cunning and scheming to a new level. The Hufflepuff King.

Draco thought he might burst with pride.

Confession

After a month, Draco realized he was slowly going mad. He actually lived for the weekly visits from Teddy Lupin, who was now a full-fledged Auror. As Teddy worked directly for Harry Potter, he was a veritable plethora of information. Draco knew every bloody move the Auror Hero made. In detail.

"…and then Harry let fly with a hex I've never even seen before!" Teddy's face lit with a brilliant glow as his hands flashed in the air. He was describing a case he had recently been on with Potter—something involving a serial rapist who would Obliviate his victims. "He's so bloody fast, it's like watching a… a dance, or something! He's amazing, really amazing…" Teddy broke off, flushing. His worship of Potter had stopped irritating Draco long ago. In fact, he now found it rather endearing.

Teddy raised a hand to tug at his platinum hair in a gesture so reminiscent of Potter that Draco had to grin. Teddy smiled sheepishly.

"Well, here I am again, going on about Harry," Teddy said. "He's just so…"

"Yes, yes, everyone adores the bloody Savior."

"Everyone but you."

"Oh, never fear. I adore Potter in my own way," Draco admitted.

"Draco, why do you always ask about Harry? I mean, you seem to hate him most of the time. At first, I thought you plotted his downfall, and later I thought you were simply curious about a life so different from you own… But now, I just don't know."

Draco sighed. He had known the day would come when Teddy would ask difficult questions. He was simply too smart.

"Let's walk in the garden and I'll tell you."

The garden path was immaculate, as always, and Draco walked quickly to the lavender roses that had been his mother's favorite. He breathed in their heady scent for a moment, and allowed himself to be swept into boyhood memories.

Teddy waited patiently, and Draco sighed as he straightened.

"I've been obsessed with Harry Potter since I was eleven years old," he said, possibly admitting it to himself for the first time. He smiled self-deprecatingly. "Ask anyone who knew us back then. In sixth year, he was equally obsessed with me… although that was solely for the cause, of course." Draco laughed. "A long time to carry a torch, I'll admit."

Teddy sucked in a breath. "Carry a—? You mean you are—?"

Draco grimaced and waved a hand airily. "Yes, Teddy, but you need not worry. I've barely seen Potter in the past twenty years, and I realize he is happily married, and straight, and despises me, etcetera, etcetera."

Teddy still looked mortified, and Draco's eyes narrowed. "Speak."

"Erm… Well, you are married, too…"

"Don't remind me. I married Martinique to continue the Malfoy line. She is perfectly aware of that fact, and has been since my proposal. I performed my duty, as did she. We have no intention of spending one moment longer than necessary together."

"Then what do you do for—?" Teddy seemed unable to form a complete sentence.

"What do I do for companionship?" Draco finished for him. Teddy nodded. His face was quite red. "What did you do before you took up the gauntlet of abstinence in preparation for your impending engagement?"

Teddy's blush darkened. "Ahem. Never mind. I was simply surprised, is all. I never would have guessed."

Draco smiled. "It's nice to know my poncy behavior is not excessive."

Teddy laughed and visibly relaxed. "Definitely not. So, your fascination with Harry is motivated only by… personal interest?"

"Of course. I keep hoping he will leave his wife and rush into my waiting arms."

Teddy choked a laugh and Draco pulled a face.

"What? You're saying it's impossible then?"

Teddy stopped trying to hold it in, and burst out laughing. Draco smirked, but the boy's laugh was infectious. Draco could not stop himself, and the awkwardness between them dissolved as Draco's laughter erupted. They bonded in mutual hilarity for a few minutes.

"I never thought I'd be able to call you an idiot," Teddy said when he could speak without chuckling.

"Don't let it go to your head," Draco warned. He slung an arm around the boy, and they started toward the Manor. Teddy glanced at him sideways.

"Draco, you've never been interested in… well, me, have you?"

Draco snorted. "A homely lad like you? Honestly." He laughed when Teddy's punch caught him in the midsection. "No, Teddy, you're barely older than Scorpius. And you're not exactly my type."

"Not heroic enough?"

"Not enough of an insufferable arse."

Teddy slugged him again and Draco winced. The boy huffed, "Stop maligning my idol."

"He's my object of unrequited lust. Object trumps idol, so I shall malign him all I like."

"You're so weird."

Draco scrubbed a knuckle through the boy's hair as vengeance for the punches. "You don't know the half of it."

When Teddy had gone, Draco walked in the garden alone and wondered when the lad had stopped being Draco's informant and had turned into a genuine friend.

The Pureblood Club

Pansy dropped in later in the month, appearing uninvited in Draco's bedroom at an ungodly hour one morning. She tore open all the curtains to admit a ridiculous amount of light.

Draco flung an arm over his eyes.

"You are a hellish bitch, Pansy. Remind me why I have not adjusted the wards to block your ingress."

"Because I'm one of the few people alive that will still talk to you, Draco. It's almost noon, you selfish, lazy prat. Now get up and take me to lunch. I'm famished and bored."

Draco yanked the blankets over his head. "Go downstairs and tell the house-elves to feed you. Let me sleep for another hour."

Pansy tried to pull the covers back, but Draco had a good grip on them. He smirked at her effort.

"No, damn you! I want to rub elbows with the unworthy, and show off a gorgeous man on my arm. I also want to go shopping."

"I am notgoing shopping," Draco huffed.

"You will buy me a new pair of boots, or I will come back tomorrow morning, even earlier. And the morning after. And the morning after that. Now, get up this instant."

Draco threw his covers back with a snarl and sat up. Pansy's eyes slid over him appreciatively. Draco smiled lazily and stretched, having no problem whatsoever with being admired, even by an evil succubus with no sense of propriety.

Pansy dragged him to a café in Actu Alley, a part of wizarding London with several businesses that bordered the Channel. Draco thought the food was substandard, and the coffee was wretched. He nearly switched to tea, but he thought they might screw that up even worse.

Pansy kept her hand over Draco's for nearly the entire meal, and made fake happy greetings to several other patrons.

"Pansy, you are not going to impress anyone by being seen with a former Death Eater."

"No one cares about that anymore," she said. "All they know is that you are a beautiful man."

"Can we finish this endless meal? I have business to attend to."

Pansy pouted. "That is all you do, Draco. You never have any fun any more."

Draco grimaced. "Your idea of fun and mine are leagues apart."

"Not so far, I think. I've joined a new club, and I want you to come with me tonight. I think you'll be properly entertained."

Draco rolled his eyes and Pansy slapped his hand lightly. "Don't be that way. Come for a drink, at least. You want to know the fun part? It's a pureblood club."

Draco burst out laughing. "What is fun about that? How many members are there? Six?"

"You would be surprised," she said. Something in her tone made Draco's eyes narrow. He waited expectantly. "Your little obsession's wife is a member."

Draco did not bother to ask to whom Pansy referred. Pansy always had known Draco better than he knew himself. He sat back, contemplating her information. So, Ginny Weasley-Potter had joined a little pureblood club. Draco wondered what her hero husband thought of it. If he even knew. Pansy would not have brought it up at all unless Draco would find the information useful. Asking Pansy would gain him nothing. She would just smile at him cagily.

"All right," he said. "I'll come with you."

Draco was annoyed before they even arrived. Pansy had appeared with an idiotic uniform for him to wear, in an effort to provide anonymity, or some such nonsense. It consisted of a white silk shirt, buttonless, that fell open to his navel, topped with a hooded black cape. Black trousers covered his legs—thank Merlin—he would have balked completely at loungewear. A white half-mask concealed his face. Only his mouth and chin were left exposed.

"This is ridiculous,' Draco said. "Although you look fetching."

Pansy's mask and cape were the same as Draco's, but instead of shirt and trousers, she wore a white corset with a wisp of black silk skirt. A smile curved her red lips. "You look gorgeous, darling. I would suggest staying in, if only I were your type."

Draco smiled winningly. Pansy had known Draco's preferences nearly as long as Draco himself.

She added, "Perhaps I'll find a new boy toy tonight, and you can find a… Potter look-alike?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Stop, already. I'm not that obsessed with Potter."

She arched a brow. He could tell, even though her mask hid it. "Really? So you don't actually pay Greg to keep you posted on Potter's whereabouts whenever he is at the Ministry?"

Draco flushed. Damn Goyle and his inability to keep his fucking mouth shut. Then again, Pansy could pry state secrets from the Minister himself, if she so chose.

"I just like to keep an eye on the obnoxious git, in case he decides to fuck with my life, or something."

She smiled knowingly. "Or something. You had best take off your rings. They are fairly recognizable."

Draco sighed, but obediently plucked off the diamond and emerald ring that was his favorite, his grandfather's antique ring formed of snakes entwined in a complicated Celtic knot, and the plain platinum wedding band. The Malfoy signet could not be removed without dire consequences; instead he twisted it around so the emerald and the stylized M faced his palm, leaving the platinum band exposed.

He handed the cast-offs to a house-elf, who disappeared to deposit them in Draco's bedchamber. "Shall we go?" he asked.

Pansy Apparated them to a large house that bore a remarkable similarity to Malfoy Manor. It sat in the midst of what seemed to be deserted acres of land. Draco studied the area carefully, but the place could have sat nearly anywhere in Britain. The weather was still warm, and it was a clear, perfect night.

The house was opulent on the exterior, with colonnades and bEricwork, wrought iron and elaborate scrollwork. Light spilled onto the manicured grass through several windows as they approached the front steps.

There were two hooded and masked wizards flanking the front doors. They cast several spells on Draco and Pansy—the first to detect their pureblood status, the next to detect weapons or malicious spells. Two others had a purpose unknown to Draco, but he quickly memorized them in order to look them up when he returned home.

Once past the gauntlet, they entered a dimly lit room that looked like a converted ballroom. Several tables had been set up for cards, dice, and other games of chance. A roulette wheel spun lazily at one end of the room, flanked by a number of cheering witches and wizards dressed the same as Draco and Pansy. Trays floated about the room, laden with an assortment of drinks and hors de oeuvres.

Pansy snagged a glass of champagne for herself, and a snifter of cognac for Draco. He sipped at it and was reluctantly impressed with the quality.

"Who funds this club?" he asked.

Pansy shrugged. "We all do, for the most part. The dues are bloody insane. But the original patron is unknown. News and events are posted in the front parlour."

"What sort of events?"

"Costume balls, alternate locations for meetings, that sort of thing," she said, but her voice carried the evasive tone that Draco recognized at once. He looked at her sharply, wondering what she was hiding, but she nudged him with an elbow.

He followed her gaze across the room. A dark skinned man glided down the winding staircase, and made his way straight to Draco. Mask or not, Draco recognized him immediately. The particular caramel-bronze shade of his skin was fairly unique.

"Draco Malfoy," the man murmured and leaned forward to place a light kiss on Draco's lips.

"Zabini," Draco replied.

Blaise traced a finger gently over Draco's chest, following the faint line of the Potter-induced scar, barely visible after all these years. "So formal, Draco? After all we've been through? Good to see you, anyway. I had hoped Pansy would talk you into joining us one day."

Blaise stopped touching Draco, although his amber eyes held Draco's gaze as he moved closer to Pansy. He looked away and kissed Pansy on the cheek.

"Pansy, darling, you look lovely, as usual."

"You're charming as ever, Blaise."

Blaise stepped back and chuckled. "All right, that's enough with the names. We're supposed to be anonymous here, right?"

"You started it," Pansy muttered and sipped her champagne.

Blaise reached out and touched Draco's jaw with a cool hand. He slid his thumb over Draco's lower lip. "I hope to see you later," he purred. Draco smiled like a predator and watched Blaise stride across the room to accost his next victim.

"Fucker," Pansy hissed.

"Broke your heart, did he, Pans?" Draco murmured.

She snorted. "What about yours?" she countered. Draco shrugged. It had been a near thing. The bastard was still gorgeous, with his caramel skin and perfect smile. Draco had nearly fallen… but Blaise had gotten careless. Draco demanded exclusivity in his lovers. Blaise had known that, and had promised quite fervently that he would be faithful. Naturally, he had lied like a Death Eater. Draco had not allowed affection to cloud his natural distrust of all things Slytherin, and he had caught Blaise in no less than three affairs. It had been disappointing, but not unexpected. Draco thought it unlikely that Blaise even understood the concept of fidelity.

Draco allowed Pansy to coax him into a game of wizard whist, playing a hapless couple that was completely outclassed by the ruthless Slytherins. Draco was quickly bored once the game ended. Pansy caught him edging toward the door more than once, and finally she murmured, "Patience," in a singsong voice. Draco sighed and resigned himself to waiting for Pansy's grand revelation.

His patience was rewarded when Pansy straightened. Draco casually got to his feet and shifted until he could see the person arousing Pansy's attention. The newcomer was instantly obvious.

She was dressed much like Pansy—white corset, white mask, and voluminous black cape covering her head nearly completely. The freckles dotting the pale skin of her chest gave away her identity, at least to Draco. Ginny Weasley-Potter.

Draco was curious, so he left Pansy and sauntered over to Potter's wife. Her small breasts were pushed nearly out of the corset top, and her lips were bright red. Draco checked his own hood to ensure his hair was fully covered.

"Bon soir, Mademoiselle," Draco said softly, altering his voice slightly and affecting a French accent.

Ginny smiled prettily. Draco could not see much of her face, but she looked to have aged well. Her body was in fine shape, at any rate.

"Good evening, sir," she said pleasantly. Her blue eyes sized him up, and her smile widened.

"This is my first time here," Draco said. "I feel a little out of place."

She put out a hand to touch his arm. "Would you like me to show you around?" she asked. Draco smiled and nodded, mentally patting himself on the back. She was far too relaxed to have recognized him.

She ushered Draco around the room, pointing out the various gaming tables and points of interest while asking him questions about himself. Draco made up a colorful history about a life in France and the possibility of moving to Britain. He allowed his fingers to trail up her arm now and again, and was disappointed when she drew away each time. She finally frowned at him when he leaned close to her.

"Excuse me, Monsieur," she said, "but I have monopolized enough of your time. It was nice to meet you."

She patted his hand in a friendly gesture, and moved away into the bustle of bodies. Music had started in one dark corner of the room, and several couples were dancing. Draco made his way back to Pansy.

"Bludger to the head?" Pansy asked dryly.

"Nearly," Draco replied, somewhat disappointed. He had hoped to lure Mrs. Potter…if not into his bed, then quite close to it, merely for the opportunity of breaking the news to the Chosen One. Apparently, the little vixen was only here to play cards and mingle with the other happy purebloods. Maybe it was time for Draco to stop obsessing over Potter and get on with his life. The thought made him want to retch. "Can we go now?"

"Certainly," Pansy said instantly and stood up. She fussed with her cape for an inordinate amount of time, until Draco was ready to snatch her wrist and drag her bodily from the building. She finally started for the doors, only to stop just short of freedom. She turned. "Draco, dear, I think I left my handbag in the powder room."

Draco scowled. "You did not bring a handbag."

"I'm certain I did."

"You did not."

Her lips tightened obstinately. "I did. Go and fetch it for me."

He glared at her, knowing she could argue long into the night. "What does the nonexistent thing look like?" he snarled. She described a tiny, black beaded, bejeweled, Merlin-knew-what else, bloody handbag, and Draco stalked down the hall toward the alleged powder room. Halfway there, he halted in shock.

Blaise Zabini and Ginny Potter were locked in a heated embrace, kissing madly against the brocade wall of the dark hallway. Draco made an apology in French, and turned away. Ginny had stiffened and tried to push Blaise away, but Zabini did not even pause. His hands were beneath the corset, and his lips moved to Ginny's pale throat. Draco looked back once, to find her hands wrapped in Blaise's dark hair—apparently satisfied that her anonymity was safe.

Pansy waited with her arms crossed. Her lips were curved in a smirk. "Well?" she asked dryly.

"You're such a bitch," Draco said, but took her arm to escort her outside.

"Seeing is believing," she replied. Draco had to agree. He might not have believed her if he had not seen the proof with his own eyes. Potter's wife was having an affair with Blaise Zabini.

Rather than the expected elation, Draco found himself curiously depressed.

3 Resolutions

Draco was ranting. He knew he was ranting, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. He had imbibed three glasses of cognac at that stupid pureblood club, and the alcohol was making free with his tongue.

"How could she?" he demanded, striding across his bedchamber and waving his fourth glass of cognac, because this news simply demanded a drink. He had shucked the foolish mask and cape and shirt, leaving only the black trousers. His bare feet made no sound on the thick silk carpet, which was almost disappointing. He felt the need to stomp loudly. "I mean, I always knew she didn't deserve him, but to do this? With Blaise Zabini, of all people?"

Pansy lounged on Draco's bed, sans cape and mask. "Oh come now, Draco. You and I both succumbed to Blaise's charms. How do you expect the little Weaslette to be different?"

Draco sipped his drink and glared at her. "Because she's a Gryffindor. Because it's Potter. Because she's supposed to uphold all those morals and ideals they all hold so dear. Because… because…" His voice trailed off, and he finished quietly, "Because it's Potter."

Pansy sighed. "Draco, I worry about you. You were always obsessed with Potter. When did you become smitten?"

Draco looked into the flickering fire, not willing to meet her eyes. If he did, he would feel like an idiot. He wasn't smitten with Potter, he really wasn't. Maybe he was a bit smitten with the idea of Potter. "Well, he'd never do that to her," he said instead of answering her question.

"Of course not. The Golden Boy can do no wrong. Everyone knows that. Hell, I tried to seduce him myself."

"What?" Draco demanded, turning on her so quickly a bit of the cognac splashed his hand.

She held up a hand. "Down Draco! I said tried. It was years ago, at one of those dull Ministry functions. I went with that Ravenclaw fellow with the golden hair, the one that works in the Games and Sports Department… what was his name?" She must have noted Draco's expression, for she hurried on with her explanation. "Anyway, I got roaringly drunk and accosted Potter in a dark alcove. I used every tEric in the book, but the noble bastard simply escorted me back to… whatever his name was… and explained that I had imbibed too much and should probably be escorted home. He managed to do it without making me feel cheap and tawdry, also."

"You are cheap and tawdry," Draco growled.

"Tawdry, perhaps, but never cheap. Besides, you're just angry because I dared to make a move on your little crush."

"Moved and snubbed," Draco said, a bit smugly.

"Indeed. I doubt Blaise could even crack Potter."

Draco sat down heavily on a nearby chair, realizing the truth of her words. Blaise would definitely fail against Potter, just as Pansy had failed. And if those two could never move Potter, Draco had less than no chance at all, regardless of the fact that Potter's wife betrayed him. Draco could not even tell him, because even if Potter believed him—and he would not—then he would simply hate Draco the more for breaking the news.

"This is fucked," Draco said.

Pansy made a noise of assent and snuggled into Draco's pillow. He knew she had no intention of moving from his bed. "'Night, Draco," she said.

Draco sighed and spelled the lights out. "Goodnight, Pans."

He got up and went to seek out another bed.

Draco tried to forget about Potter. He decided that the affair between Zabini and Potter's wife was none of his concern. Martinique made a brief appearance to pick up Scorpius from the Hogwarts Express, and actually sat in the Manor library and listened to several of Scorpius's tales from his first year of school. Scorpius happily included her in his conversation, and it was almost like they were a real family, an image that disturbed Draco slightly. Martinique had gone by morning, however, so her brief flash of maternal instinct had apparently not been overly strong. Draco hated the expression of disappointment on his son's face the next day when he found his mother fled once more, but Draco was glad of her absence. He decided to make up for her disappearance by taking Scorpius to China.

Draco had business in Hong Kong, but he made certain to spend most of his time with Scorpius. They explored ancient towns, studied centuries-old wizarding lore, sought out the hidden places in the Great Wall, and ate a lot of unfamiliar foods. Draco even bought Scorpius an authentic Samurai sword, which he swung about fiendishly until he nearly lopped off Draco's foot by accident, after which the sword was relegated to its burnished wooden case for safekeeping.

His son sent a huge number of letters and postcards to his friend Albus, and Draco was nearly sorry for dragging the boy halfway across the world. When they finally returned home, the Potters were gone. Vacationing in Greece, according to Teddy, who made things a bit easier by teaching Scorpius several Quidditch moves and taking him to Diagon Alley several times.

When the Potters returned, Teddy's visits lessened, due to Potter leaping back into work and apparently dragging the entire Auror Department with him. Scorpius made several "clandestine" visits to Diagon Alley to be with his friend Albus. Draco nearly choked one day when Scorpius asked if he hated Harry Potter. Draco explained carefully that he did not, in fact, hate Harry Potter.

Scorpius seemed far too interested in the subject for comfort. It appeared that his son's friendship with Albus Potter had not diminished with the time spent apart. If anything, they seemed more determined than ever to be together. Draco tried not to worry about that.

It was quite bad enough that they were both in Hufflepuff.

Scorpius made the Hufflepuff Quidditch team as Seeker, which had Draco in quite a good mood until Martinique accosted him in a public café. Draco had more than one informant in the Ministry, in fact he had close to a dozen, although most of them had no idea they were moles—they simply met with Draco and politely listened while he tried to sway them to his point of view. They had no inkling that he rarely cared about political motivation one way or the other; he simply liked to know everything that was going on, especially things that might concern Harry James Potter.

They would listen politely as Draco concocted whatever story he thought they wanted to hear, and then they would invariably spew a wealth of information. Even gossip could be a useful tool when properly utilized.

Martinique appeared suddenly, looking ragged and out of sorts. Draco had not seen her since her cursory appearance to escort Scorpius back to school. He had assumed her to be in Argentina or Brazil or somewhere. She had not even greeted him properly, nor acknowledged the man from the Department of International Magical Cooperation. She had plopped herself into a chair like a hoyden and said, "I need money, Draco."

Draco had been furious, although he was careful to keep his expression neutral. "We should discuss this in a more private setting, darling," he had said quietly.

"I don't want a more private setting!" Martinique had shouted. "I am tired of this arrangement of yours! I need more than I'm getting from this fucked up scheme of a marriage, and if all you can give me is money, then so be it!"

The other café patrons had looked at them quizzically, drawn by her raised voice. Draco had smiled like a shark and Obliviated the Ministry official before casting a Silencing Charm on Martinique and Summoning her wand. She had dared to leap on him in a rage, and her fingers had clawed for his throat. Draco had grabbed her and Apparated them to the Manor.

A screaming row of epic proportion had ensued, and Draco had banished Martinique from the premises. He had arranged for a veritable fortune to be delivered to a French bank account in her name, and then set about divorcing the shrewish bitch. Purebloods did not divorce. It simply was not done. However, Lucius was dead, Narcissa despised Martinique, and Draco did not give a shite what anyone else in the wizarding community thought of him.

He altered the wards on the Manor to forbid her ever entering again, and said a cheerful adieu to Martinique Malfoy. He thought it a pity he could not strip his name from her, but supposed it was a small price to pay to be rid of her forever.

He drafted two letters. One to Hogwarts instructing the Headmistress that Martinique was not allowed to visit Scorpius under any circumstances. The second was sent to the Daily Prophet, informing them that his wife was moving to the south of France for her health. News of the divorce would make the rounds soon enough. Draco planned to stave off the rumors as long as possible, for Scorpius's sake. Some of the purebloods at school would gladly use the news as a weapon. For the first time, Draco was glad his son was not in Slytherin.

Draco thought his determination to forget about Harry Potter was quite successful. Granted, he still kept tabs on Potter, but it was purely from habit. He had grown fond of Teddy, who dropped by at least weekly to give Draco a play by play of his latest case with Potter. Teddy let it slip that Potter was working like a demented fiend, and hinted that perhaps things were not exactly roses with Potter's home life.

Draco perked up immediately. "What's that? Are you saying there is strife in the household of the Great Potter?"

Teddy flushed, and Draco could tell the lad was sorry he had mentioned it.

"Harry is not going to leave Ginny," Teddy said flatly.

Draco blinked. "It is really that bad?" he asked, feeling somewhat guilty. Draco had not returned to the foolish pureblood club, whose official name he could never recall, but Pansy made sure to keep him posted as to the "Zabini situation", as she called it. Draco had been quite surprised that Blaise was still entertaining Potter's spouse. Draco had expected Blaise to toss the redhead long ago. He decided it must be the thrill of pulling one over on the Savior of the Wizarding World that kept Blaise interested.

"Never mind. I shouldn't have mentioned it," Teddy said. "Harry just… well, he's been working too much. I don't think Ginny likes it."

"Understandable. Perhaps he should take time off."

Teddy shrugged. "They went to Greece over the summer. It didn't seem to help."

Draco would imagine not, with Potter's wife pining away for Zabini the whole time. It could not have made for a happy holiday. Teddy seemed to shake himself. "Anyway, Victoire and I have set a date! Are you happy for me?"

"You mean despite the fact that marriage is the most wretched arrangement any person can enter into?" Draco asked.

Teddy laughed. "You must admit that your marriage was far from normal."

Draco bit his tongue to keep from replying, Yes, but Potter's was, and look what that got him. He shrugged instead, and grinned at the pale-haired boy.

"All right then, I'm happy for you. When is the wedding, am I invited, and what sort of horrendously expensive wedding gift are you expecting?"

"The wedding is next spring, of course you are invited, and I'm not expecting any gift at all, other than your presence."

Draco gave Teddy a genuine smile, oddly touched. "All right then, I shall cross the expensive gift off my list and have the house-elves dust off some of the old, useless silver in the storage room. How does that sound?"

"It sounds perfect." Teddy smiled fondly.

Draco waved him away. "Be gone from here. Your stupidity might be contagious."

Harry Potter

"Father, can my friend Albus Potter come and visit me? Since you don't actually hate his father, as you said," Scorpius asked innocuously one morning, nearly causing Draco to choke on his tea. He recovered after a short coughing spell.

His inability to breathe had given him a moment or two to consider the question. There really was no reason to deny Scorpius the dubious joy of Albus Potter's presence, and it was not as though Potter himself was part of the package.

"Provided you give me a list of rules beforehand, detailing what you and young Mr. Potter will not be touching, reading, entering, or demolishing during his stay here… I should say he might visit."

Scorpius actually leaped from his chair with a whoop before he remembered himself and sat back down. He picked up his fork sedately, but the huge grin never left his face.

"Thank you, Father," he said quietly. Before midday, Scorpius had provided a detailed description of the places and things forbidden to Albus Potter, and in mid-afternoon, Harry Potter and son appeared outside the gates of Malfoy Manor.

Draco watched from his bedroom window as Potter and Albus appeared outside the front gates. Draco sent a quick spell to open the gates just as Potter reached for them. He grinned slightly at Potter's expression, and kept his eyes on them during the long walk to the front door.

'They're here! Father, Al's here!" Scorpius cried from his doorway. Draco smiled and followed his son down the stairs. Scorpius managed to contain his exuberance, and did not race down the steps, but Draco could see the impatience in the set of his shoulders.

Scorpius reached the antechamber first, and cried, "Al!" Draco nearly laughed aloud when Albus Potter flung himself at his son and nearly knocked him off his feet.

"Down, Al," Scorpius reprimanded, but his voice was fond.

Albus stepped back obediently, and said, "Dad, you remember Scorpius?"

"Yes. Nice to see you again," Potter said pleasantly just as Draco entered. Potter's smiled faded instantly.

"Potter," Draco said, and nearly winced when his voice held the same tone of disdain he always seemed to use on Potter.

"Malfoy," Potter retorted in the same timbre.

"Come upstairs, Al," Scorpius hissed, barely loud enough for Draco to hear, "Before they change their minds!"

He grabbed Albus Potter's hand and they hurried from the room. Draco heard them pelt down the hall, and he smiled wryly.

"Would you like a drink, Potter?"

"God, yes. I mean…please."

Draco looked at the Auror carefully. He looked tense and almost… haggard. He had been the picture of health when Draco had flirted with him at the Quidditch World Cup. Now Potter looked like he had not been sleeping well.

Draco quickly prepared a gin and tonic with a twist of lime. He handed it to Potter, who looked at him quizzically.

"How did you know?" he asked, lifting the glass.

Draco smiled and let a touch of heat enter his gaze. "I know everything about you, Potter. Your favorite drink, your favorite color, which soap you prefer, your choice of broomstick… everything."

Harry sipped at his drink. "I don't even want to know why," he said and sat on the sofa. "Thank you for allowing Albus to come. He… well, he really seems to adore Scorpius."

"My son would simply have arranged a clandestine meeting if I refused. They have been meeting in Diagon Alley for years. Did you know?"

Potter blinked at him in surprise. Draco chuckled, but made no comment about Potter's obliviousness. His gaze sharpened suddenly, and he marched forward to grasp Potter's chin. The Auror jumped, nearly spilling his drink in alarm. Draco tipped the dark head slightly, to expose a jagged line that marred Potter's skin from his ear over his jugular, and down nearly to his collarbone.

"That's new," Draco said harshly. Potter flushed and looked away.

"I… It's nothing. I was a moment too slow fighting a—" Potter scowled and knocked Draco's hand away. "Well, what do you care? Disappointed that Eric stopped the bleeding before it killed me?"

Draco scowled. "You should be more careful. You're not twenty years old any longer."

Potter glared. "Thank you for the reminder. Since when do you care about my safety?"

"I've always cared about you, Potter," Draco drawled, pouring himself a drink, as well.

Potter snorted a laugh. "You cared to see me dead for the first seven years, and cared nothing for me for the next seven." Potter held up a hand when Draco turned to retort. "Please don't try to explain. I'm certain your motivations would only confuse me."

Draco shrugged and sipped at his drink. "Perhaps not all of my motivations," he commented mildly. Predictably, Potter flushed. Draco felt a flare of amazement that Ginny Weasley was willing to give him up. Draco thought he would never tire of pulling reactions from Harry Potter.

Potter raised his glass. "One thing I can say for your company, Malfoy. It's never boring."

Draco smiled, oddly pleased by the comment. "Thank you, Potter."

The Auror finished his drink and bolted. Draco was careful not to touch the Chosen One again, mostly for the sake of Scorpius. He did not want to give Potter cause to forbid Albus to visit. And if Potter just happened to be lulled into a false sense of security, then so be it.

Chocolate Towers

Harry Potter made several more trips to Malfoy Manor over the remainder of the summer, either to drop off Albus or to pick up Scorpius. He never stayed long, and Draco found it more and more difficult to slip into the barbed animosity of their younger days. His heart simply wasn't in it. For one thing, every damned time he saw Potter, he wanted him. The Auror looked paler and thinner each time he appeared, and Draco began to question Teddy mercilessly.

Teddy had no idea what was wrong. He only knew that Potter had thrown himself into work like a madman, even coming up with his own cases when the Ministry could not produce them quickly enough.

"It's almost like he has a death wish," Teddy admitted one night, and then blanched. Draco gnashed his teeth and cursed Ginny Weasley. He knew damned well the cause of Potter's distress. Ginny was still deeply immersed in her affair with Blaise Zabini. If Potter did not know for certain, he most likely suspected.

The breakthrough came in early October. Draco had been avoiding the necessity of going over his Swiss accounts by stacking foil-wrapped chocolates into elaborate towers. He had constructed an impressive structure of nearly three hundred of them when Harry Potter Apparated into the room. Draco blinked at him in amazement, and his hand brushed a section of wall, bringing it down in a silver cascade.

Potter looked nearly as shocked. "I… erm… I really didn't think that would work. I was certain you would have wards that prevented direct Apparition."

Draco shrugged and scooped the fallen sweets into a pile. "You can Apparate into this room any time you like, Potter. I trust you." As a matter of fact, Potter could have Apparated to any damn room of the Manor that he chose, including Draco's bedchamber—although, of course that was wishful thinking on Draco's part. After Potter's first visit, Draco had reset the wards to allow Potter full access. He had not seen the Auror since the Hogwarts Express had taken their assorted children back to Hogwarts.

Potter fully gaped at him. "You do?"

Draco sat back with a sigh and began to unwrap one of the confections. "You really are oblivious, aren't you, Potter? Were you just testing my wards, or do you… want something?" He allowed his voice to rise hopefully at the end, just to see the pink tint Potter's cheeks. It worked as expected.

"I… no." Potter threw himself into a nearby chair and looked at Draco seriously. Draco slid the chocolate into his mouth and allowed it to melt. He tossed one casually to Potter, who snagged it out of the air without half trying. "Well, sort of. What do you know about a local pureblood club?"

Draco nearly choked. He was suddenly quite glad of the confection in his mouth, especially when Potter rushed over and began to slap him firmly on the back. Draco swallowed hard and coughed a few times.

"Thanks," he said shakily, struggling for breath. Potter's hand lingered in the middle of Draco's back for a moment.

"Sure you're okay?" Potter asked.

Draco nodded quickly. "Just swallowed wrong," he lied.

Potter's hand moved away, and the Auror retreated back to his seat. "Well, I doubt anyone would be surprised to find your tombstone engraved with the words 'Died of Sweets.'"

Draco huffed. "I can only think of one other thing I'd rather be dead of."

Potter actually cocked a brow at him for a moment, and flushed again at Draco's wickedly huge smile. The Auror actually grinned and tugged at his forelock. "Yeah, wouldn't we all?"

Draco sighed, wishing to extend the moment, but knowing it would simply disintegrate back into discomfort if he allowed it to stretch. "Pureblood club. I've heard of it."

"Are you a member?" Potter asked, sitting forward on his chair.

"Certainly not. I've better things to do with my time than sit around and play dull card games or watch a roulette wheel spin." Or snog Blaise Zabini in a darkened corridor, or join a pureblood orgy in one of the upstairs rooms…

"I think their entertainments may have… evolved," Potter said.

Draco waited curiously and unwrapped another chocolate. He bit off a piece, instead of popping the entire thing into his mouth this time. He shut his eyes and savored the melting sensation. Chocolate was truly exquisite. Potter watched Draco, instead of speaking.

"Evolved?" Draco prodded.

Potter peeled away the foil on his own chocolate and nodded. "Muggle-baiting. It's been going on for quite some time. We did not know who was responsible, until recently."

"What sort of Muggle-baiting?" Draco asked, licking the sweet darkness from his fingers. He resolved to have a little chat with Pansy—it suddenly became clear what she had been hiding from Draco in regards to the activities of her little club.

"Malicious hexes in random villages. Nothing life-threatening so far, mainly things Muggles can mistake for disease—boils, hair loss, an epidemic of teeth falling out, chills that cannot be dispelled… It took a while for us to even link the occurrences, but when Hermione began to research similar incidences, there turned out to be quite a lot of them. Going back at least a year."

"And you thought I was involved?" Draco asked dryly. Surprisingly, Potter shook his head.

"No, it did not seem your style."

Draco cocked a brow. "Not my style?"

Potter chuckled. "No, I simply can't envision you sneaking around in a mask and cape. If you ever perform an evil deed, you'll likely emblazon your name upon it in letters three meters high."

"Like a Dark Mark?" Draco snapped.

Potter sobered. "No. Something classier."

Draco blinked at him. "Was that a joke, or a compliment?"

Potter tossed the wadded up wrapper at Draco, who caught it before it hit him in the forehead. The Auror shrugged. "A compliment, I suppose. I think maybe you've… changed a bit in the past twenty years."

Draco picked up a piece of parchment and a quill from his desk and offered them to Harry Potter. "Can I get that in writing? I think I misheard you."

Potter tugged at the hair over his scar, a habit that Draco was glad to see had not diminished over the years. "Don't let it go to your head. I'm only learning to tolerate you for Albus's sake."

"Then why are you here?" Draco asked with a knowing grin.

Potter flushed, already retreating from his momentary bout with honesty. "I don't know. I just thought you might be able to help. Forget it."

Draco stood up and rounded the desk before Potter could escape. "No you don't! You do not drop in here and act like we are actually… friends, or something, and then try to blow it off as though it's nothing. If you want my bloody help, then cough up some of your fucking Gryffindor courage and ask for it."

That got a rise out of Potter, whose face immediately took on the irritated glare that he most often wore in Draco's presence.

"Fine! I'm asking for your help!"

Draco halted in front of the Auror, close enough to touch. He kept the smug grin from his lips with effort. "Was that really so difficult?"

"Nearly impossible," Potter snapped. He stepped back, likely in case Draco got the idea to actually touch him, even though Draco had successfully resisted such actions for months. "Do you think you can? Help me, I mean?"

Draco sighed, stamping down his elation. It figured that Potter would finally ask for something, and that something would be extraordinarily hard to achieve. "Well, I can't join their little club. It would look suspicious, after I've avoided it so studiously all this time. I would suggest using Goyle, but he is well-known to be my…"

"Evil minion?" Potter suggested.

"Loyal follower," Draco corrected with an edge to his voice. Potter chuckled, and Draco had the sudden urge to throw him down on the thick carpet and shag the life out of him. He forced the thought away. He sighed. "All right, Potter. Let me see what information I can find for you. Give me a few days." It would probably take that long for Draco to track down Pansy and bribe some answers from her.

"Okay. And Malfoy…erm… thanks."

Draco smiled, and gave Potter a look to let him know that Draco's assistance always came at a price. Potter looked away, pretending he had not seen it. The Auror mumbled a quick goodbye and Disapparated, leaving Draco pondering ways to extract payment from the Gryffindor hero. It was nearly an hour later that Draco realized he needed to actually dig something up before Potter would owe him anything. He quickly sent an owl to Pansy Parkinson.

4 Parkinsons

Pansy admitted that the idiotic pureblood club had engaged in a few instances of harmless Muggle-baiting, and Draco made certain she was aware of his disapproval.

"Oh for pity's sake, Draco," she said huffily, "It's not as though we're killing anyone."

"You've drawn the attention of the Ministry, and it won't be long before Potter and his Aurors shut down your little operation. You'll be bloody lucky not to spend time in Azkaban."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "The Ministry is as money-hungry as ever. They might not let any of us 'former Death Eater spawn' join the Ministry, but they sure as hell won't thumb their noses at our money. If any of us are caught, we'll simply throw Galleons at the problem and it will go away."

"Money can't solve every problem, Pansy."

"Money can't solveyour problem, Draco. It does patently well for the rest of us. Why are you taking an interest in this, all of a sudden?"

"Is Potter's wife still shagging Blaise?" Draco countered.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "It always comes back to Potter, doesn't it? Yes, she is. And before you ask, yes, she has participated in our little Muggle-baiting escapades. According to Blaise, she thinks it's a bloody lark. She's the perfect little wife at home, taking care of the brats and playing Sainted Woman to the Hero of the World. Can you imagine how fucking boring that must be?"

Draco could not imagine anything less boring than being partnered to Harry Potter, but he had never given Ginny Weasley credit for much intelligence. He had thought Pansy to be different, but she was rather a special case. She was an entity all to herself, at least when it came to relationships.

"I need to give him some information," Draco admitted.

"You've got to be joking. You want me to play spy so that you can get into Harry Potter's pants?"

"No, I want you to play spy because these little games are going to end in someone being hurt, and I don't want that someone to be you," Draco snarled.

Pansy's mouth curved in a pretty pout. "Oh, you do care about me."

"Of course I care about you. Do you really think these antics are going to endear the Ministry to the purebloods? We're already becoming an endangered species."

Pansy sniffed. "You and I did our parts. We're not dying out yet."

"Yes, there are possibly twenty purebloods at Hogwarts this year. As opposed to hundreds of half-bloods and Muggleborns."

"Listen to you! Muggleborns! You've really been infected by Potter, haven't you? Can you even say Mudblood?"

"I'm not getting into another argument with you over Potter. Are you going to help me with this, or not?"

"All right, yes. Fine, damn you. The whole Muggle-baiting bit was getting boring, anyway. You'd best make up for it by providing me with alternative amusement, Draco Malfoy."

Fuck. That meant ushering Pansy to dull function after dull function, and escorting her from expensive restaurant to expensive restaurant. Potter had bloody well better be worth the bother.

Stone

"Cousin Draco! Come quickly!" Teddy bellowed, waking Draco from a sound slumber. Draco threw himself out of bed, trying to shake the dregs of sleep. He tried to remember the last time he had been roused in the middle of the night. It had been years, at least.

Teddy had burst into his bedroom and then thundered back down the hall. Draco caught sight of the Auror's cloak as he rounded the corner and pounded down the stairs.

"What the hell is it, Teddy?" Draco yelled.

"It's Harry!" Teddy cried. "Hurry!"

Draco nearly broke his neck leaping down the stairs. He burst into his study to find Teddy kneeling over a prone Harry Potter. Draco joined him. Potter was dreadfully pale, and looked dead.

"What happened?" Draco demanded.

"We stumbled upon a group of hooded figures tormenting Muggles. Harry yelled at them to halt, of course. They turned on him immediately. Bloody hell, you should have seen him, Draco! He took on five of them alone. Eric and I tried to help, but there were so many. We were all hard-pressed." Teddy took Potter's hand and squeezed it. "He blocked most of the curses, and disarmed two, and then he was hit from behind. I didn't hear the whole spell, but Harry recognized it. He went down."

"Why didn't you take him to St. Mungos?" Draco asked harshly. Teddy's eyes were miserable, and Draco noted with surprise that the boy's hair was brown, instead of its usual silver-blond.

"They fled as soon as Harry fell. I ran to him, and he was still conscious. I don't know how he managed it. The pain had to be incredible. He said the spell was Dark Magic, very dark. Well, the first thing I thought of was you, of course. St. Mungo's will waste too much time trying to figure it out. I don't think Harry has that kind of time. We need to find the counter curse now!"

"You did the right thing," Draco said, praying it was true. "What was the spell?"

"Something likeMutus Calcula," Teddy said. "He's turning to stone, Draco. I cast Finite Incantatum, and every Slowing and Healing Charm I could think of. Eric did the same, and I think we managed to slow it down, but it's still spreading. Look at his hands. Draco picked up Potter's other hand, and was chilled by the unnatural feel of it.

Draco cast an urgent spell. "Find every book that mentions Mutus Calcula, Muto Calculus, and all similar variations!" Books began to fly from the shelves, thankfully few in number. Draco discarded all but the Darkest of the tomes. Despite the urgency, he was careful. Some of the books were dangerous merely to open without the proper wards and spells of protection.

"Take him upstairs, Teddy," Draco said quietly. "Make him comfortable. I'll find the proper spell and be right up. Where is Potter's illustrious partner?"

"He went to the Ministry to cover for our absence," Teddy said as he Levitated Potter and maneuvered him through the door. "It was not easy to convince him to let me bring Harry here. I'll need to send him a message as soon as possible."

Teddy continued out with his burden, and Draco turned his attention back to the books. He cross-referenced the spell, taking extra time just to be certain. When he thought he had the correct information, he picked up the books carefully and headed upstairs. The boy had placed Potter in the bedchamber adjoining Draco's. He wasn't quite sure what to think about that.

Teddy had mostly undressed Potter, leaving him clad only in boxers. His feet were already chalky, with marble-like veins. His hands looked similar, and Potter's breathing was labored. Draco hoped to hell the process could still be reversed.

He opened the book and cast the spell carefully, enunciating every syllable with precision. A thick fog seemed to coalesce around Potter's body, spilling from Draco's wand. The air cooled to almost unbearable levels. The original spell was very Dark indeed, and the counter-curse was molded from the same cloth. While researching it, Draco thought he felt Theodore Nott's hands all over the casting. It would be his style.

The spell was long and tiring. It was one that took energy from the caster, and Draco poured as much as possible into it, making damned sure he did his best to save the Auror, and not just because he looked good in one of Draco's beds.

At last he collapsed on the edge of the bed, trembling. He raised a shaking hand to his forehead and touched a sheen of sweat. Teddy, across from him, looked tense and no less worried. Draco wanted to ask if it worked, but he saw the same question in the boy's eyes. They both watched carefully to see if there was a noticeable change. Absolutely nothing seemed to happen.

Teddy sighed heavily. "I guess I'd better get him to St. Mungo's. I really thought this would be faster, and have a better chance of success." He got to his feet.

"Wait," Draco said. He had picked up one of Potter's hands, and the rough flesh suddenly felt warmer. Draco bent down and touched his cheek to it, hoping he had not been dreaming. He sensed Teddy grabbing Potter's other hand.

"Draco, I think you did it. Listen to his breathing—it seems to have eased. I'm sure of it."

Draco rested his head on Potter's chest, and listened to the thud of the Gryffindor's heartbeat. He had noticed it racing before, as Potter's body struggled to pump blood to tissue slowly hardening into stone. The heart rate seemed to have slowed, and Potter's skin was definitely warming.

Five minutes later, Potter's hand in Draco's was fully pliable. Teddy nearly sobbed with relief.

"Thank Merlin," Teddy breathed. "I need to let Eric know. I think I'd better tell him in person. Will Harry be all right here tonight?"

"I'm certainly not going to ravish him in this state," Draco said dryly, although he could not quite manage to give Teddy his usual smile. The young Auror grabbed his shoulder and squeezed gently.

"I'll come back for him in the morning," Teddy said. "Victoire will be beside herself with worry, by now. Thanks, cousin."

"No need to thank me, as you well know," Draco replied. "Get some rest, and for pity's sake don't wake me up at the crack of fucking dawn."

"It's nearly that already," Teddy said. He stood up and Disapparated.

Draco pulled the blankets over Potter, and then climbed into bed with him. He felt a distinct urge to wrap himself around the hero and keep him safe.

Draco awakened once, when the warm body against his stirred, stiffened, and began to move away. Draco's grip tightened.

"Don't go, Harry," he murmured. Slowly, the taut muscles beneath Draco's forearm began to relax. Draco sighed happily and pressed a kiss into the warm skin that lay against his face. "Love you," he mumbled, and drifted back to sleep.

He opened his eyes and wrinkled his brow in puzzlement. This is not my room, he thought, moving his gaze over the unfamiliar pattern on the hammered metal ceiling. A whisper of sound drew his attention and he turned his head to see Harry Potter reclining on the bed next to him. The Auror was fully clothed, damn it all, and he had one elbow propped on a pillow to hold his head up. Draco was glad to see a soft smile curving Potter's handsome face.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked stupidly.

"Watching you sleep," Potter replied.

"And?" Draco asked warily.

"It's nice. You don't insult me when you're sleeping," Potter said lightly.

Draco chuckled. "Obviously, you are not privy to my dreams. I assure you, there are insults aplenty."

"I'm in your dreams, then?" Potter asked teasingly, but Draco sensed on undercurrent of gravity that made him sit up in surprise. The movement seemed to startle the Auror and he hopped off the bed as if prodded. "You healed me, I take it?" Potter flexed his wand hand.

Draco nodded. "How do you feel?"

"Strange," Potter admitted. "My hands and feet are tingling. Like they've fallen asleep."

"Come here," Draco said imperiously, and shifted closer to Potter to sit on the edge of the bed. He held his hands out expectantly. Potter moved forward slowly and placed his hands in Draco's. He gripped the Auror's hands lightly and fought down his elated astonishment. A week ago, Draco would have said Potter would never take Draco's hands of his own volition.

Draco released one and cupped the other. He traced one finger over Potter's digits and across the palm to the wrist, keeping his eyes fixed on Harry's.

"How high is the discomfort level?" Draco asked. "On a scale of one to ten? Be honest."

Potter's face grew a delicate blush that made Draco's fingers tighten.

"Six," Potter admitted. Draco nearly winced. That high? It was probably much worse for the Auror to admit even that much.

Draco drew his fingers up Potter's forearm, tracing the veins to the soft flesh where Potter's arm bent at the elbow.

"Does it tingle here?" Draco asked clinically. Potter shook his head. "Tell me where it starts." Draco pulled his fingers back down over Potter's skin, marveling at the softness, and admiring the delicate blue veins beneath the skin.

"There," Potter said when Draco's fingers were a handspan from his wrist. "Although it's not so bad there. It's worse in the fingers."

"Toes, too?" Draco asked.

Potter nodded. "My socks are not too uncomfortable, but I could not quite bear to put my boots on."

Potter's eyes fixed on a point over Draco's shoulder, and the blush darkened. Draco's fingers were still pressed against Potter's wrist, and he felt the pulse, strong and steady. He released the Auror, not wanting to lose the unexpected intimacy Potter had allowed. To his credit, Potter did not move away, though he lowered his hands to his sides.

"I have a potion that might help," Draco said, and called a house-elf to fetch it, along with one that would improve Potter's circulation. When the creature returned, Potter obediently gulped both potions, another testament to how badly he suffered.

"Why did Teddy bring me here?"

"Teddy trusts me," Draco said simply.

Potter laughed. "Teddy worships the ground you walk on. He mentions your name at least six times a day."

Draco scowled. He needed to have a word with the damned brat. Their relationship was supposed to be secret. Draco shrugged.

"He thought I would have access to the exact spell used on you, and find the counter-curse faster than the do-gooders at the St. Mungo's. In that, he was probably right."

"Well, thanks. You saved my life."

"Good. Hopefully it cancels that life debt I owe you for pulling me out of… that fire.' Draco's gaze shifted away, and he realized it had been years since he had thought of Vince.

Amazingly, Potter reached out and put a hand on Draco's head. Draco looked at him in surprise. "I'm sorry I couldn't save Crabbe," Potter said softly.

Draco snorted, but lightly, so he wouldn't insult Potter's obvious sincerity. "You can't save everyone."

Potter nodded. "I know. But I can try."

With that, his hand left Draco's hair and he moved toward the door. Draco smiled softly, realizing that those few words summed up Potter completely. It was what had driven him to defeat Voldemort and save them all. It had kept him in the Auror Department when by all rights he should have been the Minister of Magic by now.

Draco nearly called the Auror back and asked him to stay a bit longer, but he simply raised his hand and watched Potter Disapparate. He still belonged to the Ginger Shrew, after all. The cheating, foolish, utterly stupid bint that did not deserve to breathe the same air as Potter.

Draco swore and went back to his own room. He wondered when the fuck his obsession with Potter had grown into something deeper and stronger.

Valentine

Potter appeared on Valentine's Day, of all the ridiculous possible days. Draco merely raised a brow and bit back a snide question about why Potter wasn't spending the day with his lovely wife. After all, he preferred the Auror to be with him, and antagonizing him wasn't the wisest course.

He coaxed Potter into the library for tea, and waited patiently for Potter to divulge the reason for his visit.

"What can you tell me about Angelica Parkinson?" Potter finally asked. That question would not have been on the top ten thousand list of questions Draco expected Potter to ask.

"Pansy's daughter? The child of immaculate conception?" Draco laughed.

"What do you mean?"

"Pansy has never divulged the identity of the father. Not even to me."

Potter blinked at him so long that Draco finally translated the expression. He snorted. "You thought I was the father."

"The girl looks—"

"Quite a lot like me, yes. Pansy's idea of a little joke. I suspect she went to Sweden or Iceland and culled through the purebloods looking for someone with my physical characteristics. When that failed to produce a sufficiently blond child, she went to America and had the infant genetically altered. Apparently, they are obsessed with looks there, and have turned such magic into an art."

Potter looked appalled. "Why would she do that?"

"She was a bit upset when I married Martinique. She got over it, thankfully, but yes, Angelica looks more like me than like any of Pansy's other boy toys. Personality-wise, she's an identical copy of Pansy."

"That is a terrifying revelation. I was hoping—against all odds, mind you—that the girl would turn out to be sweet and kind."

"Why the sudden interest in a thirteen year old girl?"

"Albus is taking her to Hogsmeade this weekend."

It was Draco's turn to be appalled. "Albus? Your delicate, gentle son? She'll eviscerate him."

"Al is not delicate! He's much tougher than he looks. He has survived all these years with James as his brother."

Draco had never met James, so he had no frame of reference, except for glimpses of the rambunctious boy at King's Cross Station.

"What possessed Albus to pursue Angelica Parkinson?" Draco asked.

Harry sighed. "I've no idea. I got a letter from Lily and she commented on it, but added that Al did not act very smitten. I suppose girls notice that sort of thing."

"Scorpius will take care of Albus," Draco said and dismissed the matter. He knew Scorpius was dating a Ravenclaw girl, so it was possible Al was simply leveling the scales. But messing with a Parkinson was akin to playing with fire. That girl was Slytherin to the core.

Potter poked at his quince tart with his fork and Draco sensed the Auror had something else on his mind. He forced himself not to drum his fingertips on the table with impatience. Finally, the Auror stopped torturing his food and set aside the pronged implement.

"I brought you something," Potter blurted abruptly. "It's probably stupid, and you might not even want it, and I'm sorry it took me so long…"

"Perhaps you should stop babbling and just give it to me," Draco suggested dryly.

Potter nodded. He reached into his robes and pulled out a beautiful rosewood box. He slid it across the table to Draco, who suddenly knew what it contained. His breath caught in his throat.

Draco cracked open the box to behold his old hawthorn wand. He looked at it for a long moment, and then his fingers caressed it gently.

"I don't know why I never gave it back. But I didn't see much of you after the war, and it seemed wrong to just owl it back to you. I suppose some evil part of me wanted you to ask for it back…"

Draco lifted the wand out, barely hearing Potter's renewed flood of words. It felt strange in his hand, and seemed smaller than he remembered.

"Anyway," Potter finished, "It's yours. It's always been yours, and I wanted to thank you."

Draco took a deep breath and cast Lumos. The wand lit up, brilliantly and effortlessly. Draco had grown comfortable with his replacement wand, but there was something… elemental about his first wand. He had always felt somewhat hindered by using a different wand, even thought it had been similar in construction and design. Draco quickly Levitated every item on the table and sent them floating around the room haphazardly. He grinned at Potter, unable to stop himself. He felt almost giddy.

Potter rose from the table and backed away to avoid the flying objects. Draco quickly got up and went to stand in front of the Auror. Potter smiled at him and Draco enveloped him in a hard embrace. He chuckled into the Auror's neck and held the stiff body tightly.

"Thank you, Potter. And Happy Valentine's Day." He had an urge to lick the soft throat beneath his lips. He fought it, and was rewarded when Potter relaxed in his arms.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Malfoy," he said quietly. His arms rose to wrap gently around Draco's shoulders, touching so lightly it barely qualified as a hug. They stood that way for a long time, until Potter's discomfort drew him away.He smiled gently at Draco before he Disapparated. It was the best Valentine's Day Draco could remember.

Teddy Lupin married Victoire Weasley at Easter. It was a beautiful spring wedding, held at the Burrow. Draco attended, but spent the whole of the ceremony with Narcissa and Andromeda. He nodded cordially to Potter, who shepherded his evil wife from Weasley to Weasley. Draco thought Potter's smile looked more strained by the moment, and wished he could rescue the Auror and escape like Albus and Scorpius had done the instant the vows had been spoken and the music began.

Draco bid the happy couple good tidings, drank a simple toast, and Apparated home with the two boys. He spent the evening teaching Albus and Scorpius how to extract the creamy filling from Easter eggs, leaving only the chocolate shell. He had never tired of that prank at Hogwarts.

Draco had given Teddy a house as a wedding gift. Of course, the proud fool would never have accepted it, so Draco simply pretended he was selling it to the boy at a ridiculously low price. Draco would forward the monthly payments to an account set up for the Lupin's eventual children. The house bordered the Malfoy estate—in fact had been part of it—and was far too large for Teddy and his wife, but it had been a self-serving gift on Draco's part. Teddy would be close by in the event that Draco ever needed him. Narcissa also seemed quite taken with Victoire, so Draco hoped they would spend more time together. All in all, Draco was quite pleased with his gift.

Potter brought Albus to see Scorpius shortly after the summer break began. Teddy had sent Draco an owl, so Draco was prepared. He met the two Potters at the front gates, and quipped briefly with Albus before the boy raced off to the house to find Scorpius.

Draco put his hands on Potter's shoulders. "What is it?" he asked.

Potter reached up and took Draco's wrists, holding them as though to keep himself upright. The Auror's head dropped forward until his brow rested against Draco's. He seemed to draw comfort from the odd pose. Their breath mingled, but for once Draco did not feel a surge of desire. Potter was obviously in too much pain.

"It's Ginny," Potter said finally. "She's part of that goddamned pureblood club. She's been part of it for months. The same group that nearly killed me, Draco."

Potter's grip on his wrists was almost bruising. Draco tightened his hands on Potter's shoulders. He tried to speak, but the truth tangled in his throat the way a lie never would. He had to speak it, even if Potter hated him for it. He deserved the truth.

"I know," Draco said.

The dark head rose, and Potter's emerald eyes flared with an altogether new pain. He tried to pull away, but Draco held on. "Listen to me! You had to find out on your own! Coming from me—would you have believed it? Look past your anger and tell me the truth! Would you have believed me?"

"Yes!" Harry cried, still struggling in Draco's grasp, but he did not use his full strength. After a moment, he sagged. Draco did not let go, fearing an Auror tEric, but Potter's voice was quiet and he shook his head. "No. No, damn you, I wouldn't have believed it. I barely believe it now."

Draco released him, more relived that he could say, but he felt nearly overwhelmed by the truth he yet concealed. God, how could he add that blow to this? Maybe Ginny would come to her fucking senses. Maybe there was still a chance she could become the person Potter so desperately needed.

"Can we go inside?" Harry asked suddenly. "I need a drink."

Draco nodded. They walked side by side up the long drive to the Manor, with Draco wishing he could reach out and comfort the Auror, but knowing Harry would never allow it.

"She said she was just having fun," Harry said bitterly. "Having a few drinks, playing cards. She said she never indulged in any Muggle-baiting. Do you know, Draco? Do you know for sure?"

Draco wondered if the use of his first name was a calculated move on Harry's part, but fuck, if so it was working.

"She participated. I know for certain. The person I've been receiving information from to pass on to you informed me. I'm sorry." Draco called a house-elf and ordered tea, even though Harry could probably use something stronger. "What are you going to do?" he asked when the elf returned. Draco poured tea into hefty mugs—he has stopped using the delicate porcelain after Potter's first attempt at drinking from the tiny cups.

The Auror took it woodenly and sipped, staring blankly at a painting of Abraxas Malfoy slaying a dragon. The event had never actually happened, but the man had commissioned several similar heroic paintings. Draco had dreamed of performing such valiant deeds as a child, but now he knew that heroism did not come with a sword. It came with a scar and a pair of haunted green eyes.

"I don't know," Harry said finally. "It's surprising, but in a way, it's not. I don't even know my own wife any longer. Somewhere along the way, we seem to have lost touch with each other. I can't even look back and see when it began…"

"People change," Draco said quietly, joining Harry on the couch, but not sitting quite close enough to touch. "Some people grow, and some people regress."

"And some people do neither. We just follow the same bloody pattern of our lives day in and day out, and expect that nothing will ever change, while deluding ourselves that everything around us is fine." Harry's voice was bitter.

"Do you like being an Auror?" Draco asked.

The green eyes flicked to him, seeming surprised and almost amused at the random question.

"Yes. I mean, I did. I still do, of course, but…" A pale hand rose to tug through the black locks. "Well, I'm not twenty any more. I can't keep doing this much longer. There are days I'm so tired or sore it's all I can do to drag myself out of bed. It won't be long before I get someone killed. I nearly got myself killed."

Draco snorted. "According to Teddy, there were five of them. Even when you were twenty, I'm not sure you could have taken them all."

Harry seemed not to hear him. "I suppose I should take some bloody desk job. Maybe if I spend more time at home, Ginny will…"

Draco laughed. He could not help himself. Harry glared at him with an expression so endearingly familiar that Draco laughed again.

"Potter, you could no more take a desk job than a Muggle child could cast a Lumos with a willow branch. You would be bored out of your bloody mind in a week. As for your relationship with the Ginger Shrew, is that really what you want?"

"Of course it's what I want. I want things to be back to what they were. Everything was so good when we were first married. I just wish I knew what happened to us. We can't even have a civil conversation without it deteriorating into a battle."

Draco set his cup down and slid over to put his arm around the Auror. Harry stiffened and Draco sighed in annoyance. "Relax, Potter, I'm not going to ravish you."

Harry relaxed with obvious effort, and then fairly collapsed against Draco's shoulder with a sigh. The capitulation amazed Draco for only a moment. He laid his face against Potter's hair and added, "Unless you want me to."

Harry made a snorting noise and tipped his head back to look at Draco, who felt the air seize up in his lungs. Merlin, Harry was in his arms, looking at him with those spectacular eyes, close enough that their breath merged. Draco's arm tightened reflexively.

"What would you do, if you were me?" Harry asked.

I'd take you straight to bed and forget all about that stupid bint I married, Draco wanted to reply. Harry's mouth was slightly parted, practically begging Draco to kiss him. Draco lowered his head, feeling desire licking through him like wildfire. Impossibly thick lashes fluttered closed over verdant eyes, as if Potter were expecting to be kissed. Draco paused, hauling hard at the reins of his lust. He knew a very Slytherin mind lurked beneath Potter's Gryffindor exterior. This could be a fucking test.

Draco's lips abruptly shifted their trajectory, and he placed a brotherly kiss on Harry's forehead. The black hair was soft as silk against his cheek.

"I'm not you, Potter. I'm about as far from you as it's possible to get."

Harry relaxed even further, and Draco breathed a mental sigh of relief. If it had been a test, Draco had apparently passed.

"Actually, you're about as close to me as it's possible to get."

Draco nearly choked in order to hold back suggestions about ways to get far, far closer.

"And you didn't answer my question," Potter continued.

"My rules don't apply to your situation, Potter," Draco managed. "Martinique and I slept together long enough to produce Scorpius. After that, we were both free to seek our own interests. We were never 'in love' the way you and the Weaselette were."

Potter moved his head a bit so he could meet Draco's eyes once more.

"So, you've never been in love?"

"Once," Draco admitted after a long pause.

"Me, too," Potter replied and dropped his head back to Draco's shoulder. Draco's fingers lightly caressed Potter's arm. "I should go home."

"You can stay the night if you'd like."

Potter sighed. "Best not. But thanks for the offer."

Even so, he stayed where he was for a long time before Apparating home.

5 Morning Visits

Draco was awakened by a house-elf. He snatched his dressing gown immediately, knowing they would only dare awaken him in the event of an emergency.

"Master Scorpius is being in the library fireplace, Master Draco."

The elf bore a large candelabrum to light his way, negating the need to light a Lumos. Draco followed the elf down stairs quickly, wondering what would drive his son to firecall in the middle of the night.

"Father, I'm sorry to wake you," Scorpius said when Draco dropped to his knees before his son's fiery visage.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked.

"Albus was attacked—don't worry, Madam Pomfrey healed him, but the noble prat won't tell me who did it. He's afraid I'll get in trouble for hexing them. I'm sure McGonagall will punish them, possibly even expel them, but that's simply not good enough."

Draco sat back on his heels, knowing his son was right. Albus was under Malfoy protection. He almost asked if Harry knew about the attack, but realized theywould have notified the Auror immediately.

"All right, the hex you want is in the special book I gave you—the one that will get you tossed out of Hogwarts should they discover it. It's called Morir Tergum. The effects will not become apparent for seven days, by which time they'll have no chance of locating the caster. Only use it if you can do so without detection."

"I understand, Father. We'll be careful."

"We?" Draco asked. Another face appeared in the fire next to Scorpius.

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy," said James Potter. "Sorry to bother you, sir, but there were three of them, and… he's my brother."

Draco sighed. "Very well, but be aware that if you two are caught, your father will use my bollocks to decorate his broom. I'd prefer to keep them where they are."

"We won't get caught," James said grimly, sounding so much like Harry that Draco nearly smiled.

"Bye, Father," said Scorpius. The flames flickered and the boys disappeared. Draco got to his feet and sighed, vaguely missing the intrigue of Hogwarts and his days of prowling the castle trying to catch Harry Potter in some act of rule breaking.

It was nearly three o' clock in the morning. He wondered if it was too early to wake Potter, and decided to owl the Auror instead of Firecalling. He was certain the Ginger Shrew would have something to say about being awakened at this hour. Potter had, predictably, decided to try and work things out with his wife, who had agreed to quit the pureblood club.

Draco had to wonder if Blaise would give up so easily. He doubted it.

Potter popped in less than an hour later.

"I thought Malfoys did not rise before noon," he said with mock amazement.

"Sometimes Malfoys do not go to bed until dawn," Draco replied.

Potter grinned. "That would explain it." He sobered. "You heard about Al?"

Draco nodded. "Scorpius told me. Do you know what prompted it?"

Harry shook his head. "Al refused to say, and he insisted it was unnecessary for me to visit. He has identified the boys, but refused to give up a Pensieve memory, so we may never know what really happened." The Auror sat heavily on the sofa and ran a hand through his hair. "It's hard to watch them grow up, and know that you can't always protect them."

"Albus is not alone, Harry."

"I know, he's got Scorpius. And James, and Lily, and Rose and Hugo." Potter laughed. "That's a formidable group in itself."

"The wonder is that the boys were foolish enough to take on Albus, knowing that."

"Lily said Albus had been spending a lot of time alone. She thinks he had a fight with Scorpius."

Judging by his son's determination to punish the offenders, Draco assumed that possibility was no longer an option. "It happens. I seem to remember you having a tiff with your favorite Weasel at least once."

Harry grinned. "The Tri-Wizard Tournament. Ron was certain I had put my name in and then lied to him about it."

"The Weasel was none to bright."

"He apologized."

"Sometimes apologies are not enough, Potter." That sentiment encompassed far too many past grievances, and they both silently pondered them for a while. Harry stood up finally.

"I should get to the office and get an early start on things."

Draco rose, wondering what he could say to get Potter to stay longer, and cursing himself for the stupid sentiment. He stood close enough to touch with a simple lean as Potter reached for the jar of Floo powder.

"You have something in your hair," Draco murmured and slid a hand into the black curls, brushing as much of Potter's neck and scalp as he could manage under the guise of innocent fuzz-removal. It was not enough. His fingers moved from the back of Harry's head to the side of his neck, and then reached up to cup Potter's jaw. He tipped Harry's head back and took the Gryffindor's lips in a searching kiss. Merlin, he had waited so incredibly long…

Harry accepted the kiss far longer than Draco had expected. Was he simply curious? Or was there something more? Draco worked his tongue gently between Harry's lips. It stroked over Potter's, driving a violent spike of desire into Draco's groin. Fuck, he needed—

Harry shoved him away and strode several brisk paces across the room, breathing heavily. The green eyes flashed with anger. And denial? Draco dared to hope.

"Are you completely bent?" Harry demanded.

Draco seated himself gracefully in a nearby chair and crossed an ankle over his knee. He watched Harry pace appreciatively. One little kiss certainly made the Gryffindor agitated.

"Not completely, no," Draco admitted. "I'm more like a piece of ash. Generally straight, but I can be bent under the proper circumstances."

Harry gaped at him, and then started to laugh. "A piece of ash," he repeated and laughed until he had to sit on the couch or risk falling. It was a sound of genuine amusement that nearly made the corners of Draco's lips turn up in response, except that Malfoys did not take to being laughed at.

"That was meant to be poetic and profound," Draco said dryly.

"It failed miserably, but probably through no fault of yours," Harry admitted, still chuckling as he wiped tears from the corner of his eyes. "You see, my partner is American. When he goes looking for female companionship, he says he is 'going to find a piece of ass.'" Harry delivered it with a horrible American accent, and then chuckled again. "It just sounded so similar. I'm sorry, I couldn't help it."

Draco's eyes narrowed at the thought of Harry's American partner, a man with whom Harry shared so much of his life. "I'll be a piece of ash for you, Harry," he said quietly. The Gryffindor's laugh stopped as if choked out of him. Harry bolted to his feet and glared at Draco.

"Why do you fucking do that?" he snapped. "You're howling mad, you know?"

Draco sat back in his chair with a sigh. He scowled. "Well, I'd rather be ash than walnut—board straight and unyielding. Rigidity can lead to breakage, you know."

Harry tugged a hand through his black locks and Draco recalled the feel of it against his fingers for a moment. Harry grinned wryly.

"Can you stop the wood analogies, please? I'd rather not get into the properties of hemlock and aspen and pine."

Draco snorted.

Harry continued, "I'm just going to pretend you did not actually pounce on me. You're likely very tired, if you've been up all night. I'll just go to work now, and I'll see you later." He took a handful of Floo powder.

"No kiss goodbye?" Draco asked.

Harry laughed and looked at him almost fondly. "You're completely mental. I'll see you later."

Breakdown

Draco was in his study, dictating a letter to the Ministry with the aid of a Quick-quotes Quill, when Harry Potter Apparated into the room. Draco took in the wild expression, disheveled clothing, and clenched fists for only an instant before striding forward.

"Draco." Potter's voice was torn and barely audible. Draco enfolded the Auror in a tight embrace. Potter's body trembled unbelievably; he clutched at Draco and his wand dropped to the carpet. A sob tore from his throat. Draco pulled back to look in Harry's face as a cold shard of dread pierced him.

"They killed… oh god, Draco, they killed him."

Tears welled in the stricken green eyes and Draco fought to speak. Albus? Scorpius?

"Eric," Harry said. "Eric is dead. I couldn't save him."

Draco's relief was almost tangible, so much so that for the space of several moments he could not remember anyone named Eric. Another shudder shook Potter's frame and Draco recalled the Auror's American partner.

Harry became a near dead weight, so Draco allowed his knees to bend. They sank to the floor with Draco cushioning them carefully. Harry sobbed in earnest and clung to him like a heartbroken child. Draco rubbed his back gently and crooned into Potter's hair, giving him permission to lose control.

The storm did not last long. Harry pulled away, rubbing his eyes and sniffling until Draco produced a handkerchief. Harry blew his nose loudly.

"Sorry," he said in a barely audible tone, not meeting Draco's eyes. "I didn't mean to—"

Draco dragged him back into an embrace and squeezed lightly. "Stop it. Come sit down. I'll get you a drink."

Harry allowed Draco to maneuver him to a sofa. Rather than leave him alone, Draco called a house-elf to fetch a drink for the Auror. He kept his arm around Harry, who leaned into him without protest.

"It was the goddamned pureblood club. They want me, Draco. I've known it for a while now. I was lucky they don't really know what they're doing, and I've been training for this shit since I was fifteen years old."

The house-elf popped back in with a steaming mug of brandy laced with cream and spices, one of Narcissa's favorite blends. Harry took it in both hands and gulped half of it. He wrapped his hands around the mug and rested it on his thigh.

"It seemed like a routine call. There has been a rash of exploding cars—the Muggles blame it on terrorist groups. Hell, some of them really were terrorist groups. When the call came today, we got there as soon as we could. One Muggle was badly wounded, lying in the street bleeding and begging for help." Harry drank again. His knuckles were white. Draco tightened his grip and stroked Harry's arm lightly.

"It was a trap. We have a procedure—had a procedure. Eric would take the wounded to St. Mungo's and then Apparate back. The hospital has a special triage ward set up so we can do it as quickly as possible."

Harry drew a ragged breath.

"They must have known. They had to have known that we would take the injured man to safety, but they did not know that Eric always did the Apparating. I always stayed behind to face any danger. We never told anyone how we operated; it was just what we did."

Harry took a drink again and almost choked. Draco took the mug from him gently and set it aside.

"As soon as Eric touched the Muggle, they both… both… exploded."

Draco wrapped both arms around Harry and tucked the Auror's head under his chin. Harry's breathing hitched and then steadied.

"It was like a Muggle bomb, likely triggered by a Proximity Spell. Hermione and her crew are studying it… God, Draco." Harry's hand gripped Draco's arm tightly. "Ginny is still involved. I know it. I don't have proof yet, but the signs are there. She says she's going to visit friends… I don't trust her any more." He sounded so lost that Draco wanted to lock him away and shield him from further pain.

"I'm sorry," Draco said, knowing the words were inadequate.

Harry raised his head and looked straight into his eyes for only a moment before leaning forward and planting his lips on Draco's.

The shock lasted only until Harry's tongue slipped past Draco's lips and the kiss deepened. Harry clung to him, pressing him back into the sofa. His mouth devoured Draco's with a sweet urgency that was as bewildering as it was touching. Draco allowed Harry to plunder his mouth, more than content to let the Auror lead. He only feared it wouldn't last.

Harry pulled away, but spoke against Draco's lips. "I know you want me. I don't pretend to know why, but you do, so fucking take me. Please, god, help me stop thinking about this. I keep replaying every goddamn 'if only' scenario, but none of them will bring Eric back." His fists clenched in Draco's robes and his lips slid over his cheek to rest near Draco's ear. "Please, Draco, make it stop, if only for a while."

Draco swallowed hard. "Okay." He enfolded Harry in a tight hug and said, "Let's go upstairs."

In Draco's room, Harry stood woodenly as Draco silently undressed him, peeling off robes, shoes, shirt, and trousers. The Auror swayed for a moment and Draco held him, allowing his hands to slide over Harry's tense shoulders and back.

"Merlin, you're beautiful, Harry."

The Auror leaned in for another kiss, and Draco kissed him and then eased him onto the bed. His eyes slid over Harry's lean body, erasing the images he had dreamed and replacing them with reality. Harry had more hair on his chest than Draco had expected, dark curls that swirled in a compact pattern before trailing in a fine line down the center of his abdomen. Harry had a long white scar over his ribcage and another on his chest near his right nipple. A small mole rested near his navel, and Draco knelt on the bed and bent to kiss it gently, earning a gasp from Harry. The black boxers he wore bulged slightly, welcome proof that the Auror was not immune to Draco's charms.

Draco leaned back and propped his head up to look at Harry. He ran his other hand over Harry's ribs, but did not move other than that. He trailed his fingers through the dark hair and found it softer than anticipated. Draco drew his name on Harry's chest with infinite slowness, making a flourish after the O as was his wont.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, sounding bemused.

"Waiting."

Harry yawned suddenly, and his eyelids dropped closed momentarily. "Waiting for what?" he asked sleepily.

Draco smiled and trailed his hand over Harry's chest, erasing his imaginary name. He drew a circle around one nipple before sliding his fingers over Harry's slim throat to cup the strong jaw. Draco's thumb traced Harry lower lip, which trembled slightly. The green eyes watched him in confusion, and then sharpened.

"You drugged me."

Draco chuckled and nodded. "If you think I'm wicked enough to take advantage of you in this state, however tempting that might be, you might want to revise your low opinion." He moved his hand into the thick hair on Harry's head and pulled him closer.

"Damn you, Malfoy."

Draco cradled the dark head on his chest and tucked his chin into the soft thatch. "Rest now. I'll stay here with you."

Harry sighed heavily and relaxed. He ungracefully wrapped his arms around Draco. He mumbled something, but within moments his breathing became deep and even.

Draco held the sleeping hero and silently vowed to do whatever it took to protect him, beginning with a chat with Blaise Zabini.

Awareness of a warm body next to his brought Draco back from the realm of dreams. He much preferred reality to any dream, as long as Harry Potter was nestled in his arms. Harry's hair was crushed beneath Draco's chin, and he grinned when he envisioned how the Auror's hair would look when he woke.

Draco's arm was clapped to Harry's chest and their hands touched. Draco wanted to link their fingers, but refrained from moving so he would not wake the Auror. It was still dark, pre-dawn judging by the purplish light he glimpsed through the curtains. He thought about Harry's kisses. Merlin, the intensity had been all he had hoped for, and more. The mere thought of it stirred his blood and his body responded accordingly.

Harry must have felt the renewal of Draco's desire, because he moved. Surprisingly, he did not pull away, but only turned over to face Draco. The green eyes were enigmatic. Draco smiled gently and Harry reached up to put his palm against Draco's cheek.

"Thank you," Harry said. Draco took the hand in his and moved it to his lips so he could press a kiss into Harry's palm.

"I don't suppose you want to continue where you left off last night?" Draco did not bother to suppress the hopeful lilt in his voice.

Potter's cheeks tinted prettily. "Best not."

Draco grimaced, but he had known the Auror would never shag him in his right mind, and overcome with grief was definitely not a right mind.

"I was stupid last night," Harry admitted.

Draco tried to mask the hurt and drew back, finding it stupidly hard to take the sting of Potter's words. Harry caught Draco's hair, an action that no one alive would get away with except him. Draco drew in an outraged breath, but Harry's hand slid to the back of his neck and pulled him closer.

"Not because of you," Harry said firmly. "You've been brilliant through all of this—through everything. More than brilliant, because I never would have thought to act the way I did last night…" The Auror flushed, but gamely continued. "I won't pretend it didn't happen and I won't pretend I didn't want you. You… god, I can't believe I'm admitting this." Harry shut his eyes and his brow wrinkled as if he were in pain. "Fuck it. I do find you attractive and I can't stop thinking about you, but I can't take such a step and still live with myself. Not until I know for sure…" Draco waited expectantly, but Harry shook his head, probably already regretting his admission.

Draco slid closer until their breath mingled. "Let's revisit attractive anduntil."

Harry grinned wryly. "I should think the attraction would be obvious after last night, and you certainly don't need encouragement." He sighed heavily and Draco could almost see the weight pressing in on the Auror once more. "I have to go to America and tell Eric's family. I met them a few times; it won't be any easier coming from me, but at least they will hear it from someone that cared about him."

Draco allowed his hand to slide over Harry's back. "Do you want me to come with you?"

Harry's eyes closed, and then he met Draco's gaze again. "That means more to me than you can imagine, but I'll be all right. I'll take Teddy along. And then I'll be back for revenge against the bastards that killed Eric."

He pulled away and stood up, once more the strong, determined Auror. Draco nearly missed the broken Harry, but he comforted himself with the knowledge that he had been the one Potter had come to for solace.

"Potter? Be careful," Draco said seriously.

"I will."

Blaise Zabini

Draco met with Blaise in a quaint but overpriced café that had popped up in Diagon Alley. The food was tolerable, but it was mainly frequented due to the privacy factor. All of the booths had high walls and Silencing Charms cast upon them, making it a favored meeting place for lovers, or those with delicate business to conduct.

Blaise slipped into the seat across from Draco, late as usual. His white smile was gorgeous. Draco used the memory of Harry to stifle his appreciation of Zabini's charm. Draco was somewhat conflicted when it came to Blaise. He was nearly grateful to the git for luring Harry's bride to bed and giving Potter an excuse to leaver her—if the Auror ever clued in to their relationship. On the other hand, Blaise's action were unwittingly hurting Harry—to the point of nearly getting him killed, and that needed to stop.

However, if Blaise determined that Draco was trying to protect Harry, the bastard would help the ringleader destroy the Auror out of sheer spite. Blaise could be like an angry snake if he felt pressured. He reached across the table and clasped both of Draco's hands warmly.

"Draco, dare I hope you called me here to request my talents in your bed again?"

"Why? Has your tendency to sleep with everything that walks taken a dramatic turn?"

Blaise pouted, an expression that should have made him look feminine, instead gave his features a sultry cast. The cretin knew it, too.

Harry, Harry, Harry, Draco thought and called up an image of the Auror. He remembered Potter touching his jaw sweetly and admitting his attraction. It steadied Draco immediately.

"You wound me, Draco," Blaise said. "I am a changed man."

"You have certainly shagged Potter's wife for quite a lot longer than anyone expected, but that does not mean you aren't stirring the cauldron with a dozen others on the side."

Blaise's dark eyes shuttered. "You know about that?"

"Do you take me for an idiot?" Draco snapped.

"I'll take you any way I can get you, Draco," Blaise said huskily and the teasing light returned to his eyes. His fingertips caressed Draco's hands. "Come back to my place?"

"So, you're not serious about the Weaselette, then?"

"Jealous?" Blaise asked, but he sat back and flagged a server with a flick of his wrist. He ordered a bottle of wine. When the waiter departed, Blaise cocked a brow at Draco. "Did you only call me here to ask about her?"

Draco nodded curtly.

"Why? Are the rumors true that Potter has been to the Manor several times? Are you falling for him?"

Luckily, Draco had expected Blaise's sharp question. Zabini always went for the jugular when he felt threatened. Draco's face betrayed nothing as he shrugged.

"Our sons are friends. Potter drops Albus off to amuse Scorpius. There is no love lost between us, as you should recall from our past history—it's you I'm concerned with."

Blaise's surprise did not seem feigned. "Me?" He blinked for a moment and then laughed aloud. The waiter returned with the bottle and two glasses, which he quickly poured before departing once more. Blaise took a sip and looked speculatively at Draco. "You've never been concerned with me before, Draco."

Draco's eyes flashed. "Just because you're an insensitive, selfish bastard that cannot commit to anyone or anything does not mean I don't care about you. If you insist on maintaining this thing with Potter's wife, you are going to be in serious danger." Draco's voice rang and he realized he was sincere. He really did care about Blaise, even if he dared not ever become involved with him again.

"From Potter?" Blaise snorted.

"Actually, from that ridiculous club you're involved with."

"The one you refuse to join."

"I've never thought of Muggle-baiting as a sport, even in my semi-Death Eater days. And neither did you."

"Things change," Blaise said mildly.

"Are you saying you've joined in that idiotic behavior?" Draco sat forward. "You heard about Potter's partner, did you not?"

"I read the paper."

"Potter will be out for blood. He'll stop at nothing to crush your little group." Draco chanced a lure. "Do you know who's in charge?"

"I might have an idea."

"Then you must know their time is limited."

Blaise laughed and leaned forward again. "Merlin, Draco, don't be so melodramatic. You act like Potter is all-powerful."

"He destroyed the Dark Lord, Blaise. I'd say that qualifies him as pretty fucking powerful."

"He got lucky. Apparently Potter actually died during the final battle. I heard it directly from his wife. Some magic of Dumbledore's brought him back. His Gryffindor luck won't hold out forever."

"You condone these attempts on Potter's life?" Draco's tone was dry and tinged with amusement.

Blaise smirked. "If Potter met with an unfortunate accident, then the beauteous Ginny would be all mine, wouldn't she?"

"Surely you're not in love with her?"

Blaise did not reply and toyed with the stem of his wineglass for a moment. He leaned forward with a wicked glint in his eye and took Draco's hands again. "Would you be upset if I was, Draco?" His tone was so artfully hopeful that Draco had to smile. The git had not lost any of his charm, that was certain. Blaise took his grin as encouragement and moved around the table to slide in next to Draco.

Blaise's dark hand cupped Draco's chin and drew him into a searching kiss. The talented lips and tongue sought to pull a response from Draco, but he miraculously felt nothing. Draco was very nearly alarmed by the knowledge that Potter's desperate assault had apparently ruined him for all other men. Blaise redoubled his effort, twisting his hands in Draco's hair.

It was at that moment that Ginny Potter approached their table. Draco caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye and pulled away from Blaise. He gave the Ginger Shrew a glare and then watched Blaise carefully.

Blaise gave her a bright smile, looking in no wise guilty. Draco was not certain Blaise had ever felt that particular emotion.

"Mrs. Potter," Blaise said formally. "How nice to see you." She turned and hurried out without a word. Blaise had not taken his hand from Draco's hair and he caressed roughly with his nails, a movement that had once made Draco purr.

"Shouldn't you rush after her?" Draco asked, fighting the effects of Blaise's practiced touch.

"No need," Blaise said with a predatory smile. "Now where were we?" He leaned in close, but Draco blocked Zabini's lips with a hand.

"We were about to tell you to piss off, Blaise. Just consider ending your association with the pureblood club, all right? It's doomed. And if you are half as intelligent as you think you are, you'll also stop shagging Potter's wife." Draco sipped his wine and ignored the way Blaise's fingers had slipped beneath his collar and drew over his skin. "Then again, you've never been terribly smart when your prick is involved."

"You still haven't forgiven me for cheating on you?" Blaise asked. He did not bother to pout and sounded almost regretful.

"Ancient history. I don't hold grudges."

Blaise threw back his head and laughed, a rich sound that would have drawn attention if not for the Silencing Charm.

"Draco, your grudges are legend. You've held one against Potter since you were eleven years old."

"Potter is different," Draco snapped.

Blaise withdrew his hand. "All right, then. I'll not be drawn into another argument about Potter. If you have no intention of sleeping with me, I'll leave you to sulk over your not-grudge."

"I have no intention of sleeping with you."

Blaise sighed and downed the rest of his wine. "Fine. I shall settle for the forbidden ginger fruit if she's not too hacked off with me." Blaise stood, but his dark eyes sparkled. Draco knew trying to save Blaise was a lost cause. He loved a challenge. Zabini blew him a saucy kiss and strode out, presumably to track down and woo back Harry's annoyed wife. Draco sighed and lingered over his wine, sulking over his grudge that had become a crush.

Dessert

Draco's crush appeared at Malfoy Manor that night. Draco was in the dining room enjoying his dessert, even though his mother had forgone the confections and retired to her rooms. A house-elf announced Harry, who looked so out of place Draco half-expected him to scuff his foot on the carpet.

"Do come in, Potter," Draco said lightly. "Have some tiramisu—I can't vouch for it, as it's not my favorite, but the mousse is quite good. I am not quite certain what the gelatinous red concoction is called, but it is very tasty. I've eaten most of it."

Harry sat down across from him and actually smiled. "Nearly every time I come here, you are eating sweets. The cane growers should send you gifts."

"No need. I own a plantation and sugar mill in the Caribbean. You should come tour it with me some day."

Potter ignored that, as Draco expected, but he did pick up a spoon and try the red confection. He shut his eyes for a moment and Draco savagely wished he had been the one to bring that expression of bliss to the Auror's face. He set down his utensils; his appetite for food was gone.

"Ginny is cheating on me," Harry said tonelessly once he had swallowed the dessert. Draco blinked at him in surprise. Potter nodded and looked at his reflection in the spoon—upside down on the concave side. "She came home in tears today and confessed all. Apparently she's been having an affair with Blaise Zabini for months."

Harry flipped the spoon around and gazed at the back of the silver as though it held the secrets of the universe. Harry's lack of emotion was alarming.

"Harry…" he said, but Potter set down the spoon and got to his feet. He started to pace.

"All this time I thought it was me. I thought if I tried harder, everything would go back to normal. I mean, yes, I worked a lot, but it was after the trouble started, when we could not be in the same room together without an argument brewing." The Auror pulled a hand through his hair, looking bereft. Draco had played the scene out in his mind a dozen times—heartbroken Harry discovering his wife's infidelity and seeking solace in Draco's arms. The reality was nothing like Draco's visions. His heart hurt seeing Harry's pain clenched around him like a smothering shroud. Draco stood, itching to touch the Auror, who barked a humorless laugh.

"Who am I fucking kidding? It is my fault. I watched Ginny slipping away and I did nothing to stop it. She seemed to want her space, her freedom—her own life."

Draco rounded the table. "Stop it, Harry. You are not responsible for her falling into bed with Blaise Zabini. That was her decision."

Harry made a bitter sound. "Allegedly, Zabini is irresistible." He stopped pacing and folded his arms around himself as if warding off a chill. "Ginny sobbed to me that she broke it off with him because she caught him with someone else. He was cheating on her, isn't that ironic?" Harry paused. "Interestingly, the one she caught him with… was you."

Harry's piercing gaze met Draco's for the first time and he winced. That was unexpected, as was the remorse generated by Harry's tone of accusation.

"Tell me, Malfoy, is Zabini really that good, or do you just try to fuck everyone you meet?" Draco swallowed, shocked by the anger in Harry's voice. The Auror continued, "Your attempts to get into my pants was just a stupid game to you, wasn't it? You goddamn Slytherin's are all the same—you don't care who you hurt."

Draco bit back a furious retort and forced himself to reply in an even tone.

"I am nothing like Blaise, Potter," he snapped. "And despite the fact that it is none of your business, I am not sleeping with him, unlike your wife, who most assuredly is."

Harry flinched and Draco instantly regretted firing that salvo. He sighed and wondered why things always degenerated into rage between them. Draco pressed his fingers into suddenly aching temples.

"What do you want, Potter?" Draco asked harshly. "Not comfort, apparently, since you still don't seem to think very much of me."

Harry looked away and nodded. He appeared even more bereft than he had when he had arrived. The space between them was barely six paces, but it felt as deep and impassable as an ocean. Draco clenched his fists and waited for Harry to Disapparate so he could drink himself into a state of maudlin depression.

Instead of leaving, Harry spoke again. He stared fixedly at the logs stacked neatly in the fireplace as if expecting them to spontaneously ignite. "The thing is, I was not exactly surprised when Ginny told me. I've known for quite some time that she was still involved with the pureblood club. I even suspected she was having an affair, since we haven't had sex in over six months." Harry did not bother to conceal his bitterness with that statement and he flushed slightly at the admission. He stopped hugging himself and tugged at his hair again. He sighed heavily. "At any rate, I was not surprised. It felt more like puzzle pieces locking into place. I was actually relieved to finally learn the truth."

Draco crossed his arms, reluctantly interested in Potter's ongoing confession.

"I wanted to hunt Zabini down and kill him, of course. With my bare hands, if necessary. Oddly, though, it was not because of his affair with Ginny." Harry looked directly at Draco; his emerald eyes were full of torment. "I wanted to kill him, not for touching my wife, Draco, but for touching you. How utterly fucked up is that?"

Draco crossed the space between them, not quite certain he had heard correctly. He wondered how so few words could dissipate an ocean. Draco took Harry in his arms, scarcely able to breathe. The Auror was stiff as a board, obviously at war with his revelation. Draco held on anyway, unwilling to let Harry go now or ever. "It was just a kiss, Harry. Blaise was being an arse, trying to provoke me. It failed. The only one I want is you." Draco slid a hand tentatively up Harry's spine, hoping for a thaw.

"You said something to me once," Harry said, and his voice muted as he spoke over Draco's shoulder. "I thought I dreamed it at the time, but I've wondered. It was right after you cured me of the stone spell."

"What did I say?" Draco asked into his hair while breathing the scent of it.

"You said you loved me."

It was Draco's turn to go rigid. He had admitted that? The ground nearly fell away from him for a moment.

Harry sighed and nodded. "I thought I was hallucinating. I should have known…"

"I meant it," Draco said. He drew back so he could see Harry's face. He met the green eyes soberly. He cupped Harry's cheek gently. "It's true."

A gorgeous blush lit the Auror's face, making Draco fight the urge to kiss him.

"Why?" The question was so typically Potter that Draco had to laugh.

"If you have a lifetime, I'll show you," Draco said and pitched his voice to its huskiest timbre. He leaned forward then and pressed his lips to Harry's, feather-lightly. "I love you, Harry." He kissed the Auror more insistently. "I love your lips, your eyes, and your impossible hair." The third kiss coaxed at Harry's lips, begging him to respond. "I love your foolish Gryffindor tendencies, and your obsessive need to do the right thing. I love the way you walk and the way you taste—"

Draco was not sure what caused the break, but suddenly Harry's arms were around Draco and his mouth was opening, welcoming Draco's kisses. It was like the night Harry's partner was killed, but better because the Auror was not weighed down with grief and driven by guilt.

The intensity, though—fuck, that was still there. Draco thought he might crack from the force of it as Harry strove to devour him. Their tongues met, fought, relented, and settled into a gentle exploration. Harry's hands were everywhere, feeling Draco's arms, ribs, and back before tucking into his hair and teasing the soft patches behind Draco's ears with his thumbs.

Draco wondered if it was possible to die of need. He kept his hands clenched in the Auror's hair, to keep from tearing the clothes from Harry's body. Their wild kiss broke, although they did not go far, panting heavily against each other's lips.

"God, Draco," Harry whispered. "I've never felt—nothing has ever been…like that."

"Good," Draco said, even though he could scarcely breathe. "It's barely the beginning, Harry. There is so much more to come."

Harry stepped back, utilizing willpower Draco could not have dredged up if his life depended on it. "I can't, Draco. I want to, god how I want to—"

Draco's hands were still in the black hair and he held tightly, not letting go, fuck no, not now. Harry winced.

"Please, Harry, just let me…" Draco untangled one hand and placed it boldly on Harry's erection, which was thankfully in the same state as Draco's. Harry gasped and Draco stroked. "Merlin, Harry, just let me touch you."

The Auror nodded once and Draco put both hands on Potter's waistband, striving for calm to keep his fingers from trembling. He felt like an untried schoolboy touching his crush for the first time, but this was Harry Potter, for fuck's sake, and Draco had never been in love before.

Harry's cock sprang free and Draco looked at it with something akin to awe. He touched it lightly, drawing his fingers over the head. It jumped in his hand and he felt wetness slick his pads. Draco quelled the urge—barely—to lick Harry's precome from his fingers, and settled for turning the Auror and pressing him back onto the dining room table. He shoved aside dishes, desserts, and utensils with a loud clatter, not caring how many hit the floor.

Draco hovered over Harry for a moment and drank in the sight of him sprawled there—hair disheveled, lips red from Draco's kisses, clothing rumpled and partly removed, cock standing at attention, and those impossibly green eyes watching him. Draco swallowed with emotion and knew he would never eat another meal in this room without envisioning Harry laid out like a dessert buffet. He bent down to press his lips to Harry's beautiful erection.

"Draco. Come here." The words caused Draco's head to snap up. Where the hell had the Auror been hiding that voice? One hand was lifted in supplication and Draco obligingly climbed onto the table, thankful that the slab of walnut was extremely broad as well as massively sturdy.

He bent and kissed Harry again, half straddling him in a kneeling position. The Auror's hand tugged at Draco's waistband.

"You too," Harry said. Draco held his breath as Harry's hands worked at the material until he released Draco's cock. Harry's hand closed around it gently and Draco shut his eyes. Harry explored it from length to tip and his touch was better than any dream Draco could have conjured.

"It's nice," Harry said and Draco opened his eyes to meet Harry's. He nearly laughed aloud in delight at the sweet comment.

"Thanks. Yours is, too." To prove it, Draco wrapped his hand around Harry's cock again. Their hands bumped together as their strokes grew faster and more determined. Their kisses became shorter and the gasping pauses longer until Harry kissed Draco hard enough to draw blood. The Auror arched beneath him, stifled a cry, and came.

Even though Harry's hand stopped moving, his release was enough to trigger Draco's orgasm. He collapsed on Harry and his raw lips burned where they touched the sweaty black curls. The Auror's arms wrapped around Draco and held him tightly as his breath panted in Draco's ear.

After awhile, Harry shifted slightly and Draco assumed he was crushing the Auror's spine into the hard wood. He rolled over and cast a quick Cleaning Charm. Harry tried to straighten his clothing, but Draco brushed his hands aside and did it for him. He ran his fingers over Harry's smooth skin, uncertain when he would have another opportunity. He fastened his own clothing and levered off the table before offering Harry a hand.

Draco pulled him off the table and into a fierce embrace.

"Are you going to go all regretful Gryffindor on me?" Draco asked. Harry sighed and returned the gesture, squeezing Draco almost painfully.

"No. I don't regret that at all. You're… amazing."

"But?" Draco prodded, sensing the word's omission.

"But I don't know if I can do this again. I'm still married and I'm… well, I'm not certain what I feel right now. So much has happened in just a few weeks."

Draco bit down on a sharp retort. He had already received more from Harry than he had expected. Giving in to impatience now would only satisfy for the moment.

"What will you do?" he asked instead. He stepped back and cupped Harry's face with both hands.

"Go home and talk to Ginny. Try and figure this mess out." The Auror's hands lightly gripped Draco's waist.

"Well, if you should come to your senses, you are welcome here. I'll give you your own wing. Or the chambers next to mine. Or my chambers," Draco said suggestively.

Harry's hands tightened and he grinned. "You never give up, do you?"

"I'll never give up on you, Harry. Count on it."

Draco loved the way Harry's chest hitched in a breathless little motion, and then the Auror leaned forward and placed a sweet kiss on Draco's lips.

"I'm not sure when you stopped being an evil prat and turned into—" He kissed Draco again, "Someone wonderful, but I'm glad it happened. I'm not quite sure how I feel about you right now, but at the very least… I trust you."

Draco kissed him hard, not caring that it hurt. Harry's words were nearly as good as a declaration of love, and far more than the Ginger Shrew could claim. He wanted to go on kissing Harry until the Auror forgot all about his foolish wife, but at last he stepped back and let Harry go.

"You might want to get out of here, Potter, before I forget myself and take you upstairs." Harry looked tempted—Draco would have sworn to it—but he smiled gently and was gone.

6 Disclosure

Two days later, Draco had heard nothing from Potter. He would have gnashed his teeth with frustration had Teddy not reported in to mention that Harry had been sent off on an urgent Ministry errand out of the country.

"They don't haveowls there?" Draco complained. He thought the comment was low enough that Teddy would not hear it, but he was mistaken. The boy laughed.

"What do you want him to say, Draco? That he misses you and will be back soon?"

Draco flushed scarlet, realizing how foolish it sounded, and yet how desperately he wished for it. Teddy sobered at his expression. "I'm sorry, cousin. You really do care for him, don't you?"

Draco gave him a cool look. "I doubt you came here to discuss Potter," he said shortly.

"Well, I sort of did. I wanted to know if Harry told you anything about the pureblood club since Eric's death. He's shut up like a bloody oyster and won't tell any of us anything. He spends all his free time trying to track down clues to discover who murdered Eric. Frankly, that's why Kingsley sent him away. He's afraid Harry will strike off on his own and get into trouble."

"Of course he'll strike off on his own and get into trouble," Draco said dryly. "It's his way. How long does Shacklebolt plan to keep him away?"

"Not long, of course. The day after tomorrow the kids will be off the train from Hogwarts. Nothing Kingsley says will keep Harry from meeting the Hogwarts Express. Harry would Apparate from death's door to be there."

Draco froze in the act of shuffling papers on his desk.

"That club has been actively trying to kill Potter, haven't they?"

Teddy nodded. His feet dangled over the arm of the chair. He always preferred to lounge rather than sit. The benefit of being raised without a father, no doubt. "It seems that way, yes."

"Then Platform Nine and Three-quarters would be an apt place to stage an attack, would it not?"

Teddy sat up with a jolt. "Damn, cousin, do you really think they would?"

"They obviously have no qualms against killing Muggles. I'm not so sure they would risk wizarding children, especially when some are bound to be their own, or at least related to some of their members, but it bears considering."

"I'll mention it to Kingsley," Teddy said, still looking thoughtful.

"Are you certain Potter is somewhere safe?" Draco asked.

Teddy's grin returned. "Draco, he's the best Auror in the world."

"He's also an idiot."

Draco gave up on trying to organize his papers. He had resorted the same pile six times and it was still a disaster. He sat back with a glare of annoyance.

"I stopped in to see Ginny this morning," Teddy commented, swinging his legs back over the arm of the chair once more. His eyes were fixed firmly on Draco, who barely blinked at the comment, thanks only to his Slytherin facilities.

"How is the lovely Mrs. Potter?" Draco asked mildly.

"Very upset, actually. She looked as though she'd been crying. I asked her what was wrong. She said she had done something stupid, but it was nothing for me to worry about."

Draco got to his feet to hide his agitation. Something stupid was a very mild way to put it. He would like to Apparate over there and explain to her just how stupid she had been.

"Really?" Draco asked as if bored with Teddy's conversation.

"I asked her if she knew anything about the pureblood club and she turned so pale I thought she might faint. She told me it was one of her stupid things. Ginny said she had originally joined because she thought they might become a threat to Harry. She planned to infiltrate them—pretend to be an Auror. She laughed when she said that, but it was one of those laughs that can turn to sobs if you let them."

Draco walked around the desk and leaned on the front edge to watch Teddy, who pulled his wand out and tapped it idly against his chin as he continued his story.

"She said it seemed quite harmless at first. She actually began to have fun, dressing up in masks and hoods and playing silly games. Apparently it was a typical club to begin with. The most daring thing they did was Apparate to the woods, drink heavily, and cast amusing hexes on one another. She said the Muggle-baiting came later, and started with silly tricks like Levitating Muggle items to the tops of roofs—bicycles, dog houses, scooters… stuff like that. Nothing even remotely dangerous."

Draco was silent. He knew as well as Teddy that something had caused the club to turn from simple pranks to eventual murder.

"I asked her what changed. She shook her head and tears started to fall in earnest. I tried to comfort her, but she waved me off angrily. She said she got in over her head, and tried to blame Harry for it. She made up excuses for staying in the club… and for seeing someone she shouldn't have."

Blaise. Draco almost pitied the foolish woman. Draco himself could barely resist Zabini; Potter's idealistic wife would have stood no chance against Blaise's charm. Any resentment Ginny held toward Potter would have been used to Zabini's best advantage. He would have fanned the embers of discontent into flame and made every careless act of Harry's seem deliberate. Admiration tinted Draco's disgust. Zabini was very good at seduction, even if he occasionally had deplorable taste.

"I think she had an affair," Teddy said bluntly. "I just… I don't know whether or not to tell Harry. He's still trying to deal with Eric's death. This could…"

"She did, and Harry already knows about it. His darling wife confessed all."

The tapping of Teddy's wand ceased. "She did? I mean… how do you know?"

"Your idol was very distraught. He came to me for solace." Draco gave Teddy a very wicked Slytherin smile, and the young Auror hoisted himself to his feet angrily.

"What do you mean? Did you take advantage of him?"

Teddy reminded Draco of one of the angry peacocks in the yard, rising to the defense of his hero. Teddy was still awestruck by Potter, even after working with him. It was almost magic in itself. "Potter is the best Auror in the world, remember?"

"You said he's also an idiot!" Teddy burst out.

Draco picked imaginary lint from his sleeve and grinned. He maintained the silence until he thought Teddy might explode, and then he laughed. "Relax, cousin. Potter is not completely moronic. Do you honestly think I could sway him?"

"Yes," Teddy snapped.

Draco's eyes widened. "Really? Why?"

Teddy combed a hand through his silver-blond hair in his Potteresque imitation. "Oh hell, I shouldn't have brought this up at all."

"Well, you did, so spit it out."

Teddy cursed. Draco nearly chastised him for it, until he remembered the lad was an adult now, married and everything. "Damn it, I think Harry might be smitten with you. I didn't dare tell you before, but now that Ginny has… well, I hope they work things out, of course…"

Draco reflected that Teddy spent far too much time with Harry, because the boy had a tendency to ramble senselessly just like Potter. "Smitten?" he prodded.

"I shouldn't have said anything. I think I'll go now."

"Plant it, Lupin. Define smitten."

Teddy sat, looking defeated. "Damn it. All right, it's just that Harry asks about you all the time. At first I just thought he was being polite, because I sort of… mention you often. Harry is very good at getting people to talk and I recently noticed that he's been drawing more and more stories out of me. He probably knows every damn thing there is to know about you by now, down to the color of socks you prefer."

"You know what color socks I prefer?"

"Well, they tend to be green with silver trim. You wear the forest ones with silver flecks quite often…"

"I'll ignore the fact that you're stalking my sock drawer. Let's get back to Potter."

"He wears dark blue socks, mostly."

Draco's expression must have been warning enough, for Teddy laughed. "All right. I don't want to get your hopes up, really. If Ginny is determined to set things right, you know Harry will put his best effort into saving their relationship. For the kids, if nothing else."

"Is she?" Draco demanded.

"Did I not mention that part? When she was finished crying, she told me in a very determined tone that she planned to do whatever it took to get her life… and her husband… back."

Disappearance

Draco turned his gaze away from the slowly approaching train when a loud babble of voices approached. The Potter-Weasley clan had finally arrived. Most of the ruckus came from Ron Weasley, whose hands waved about his head as he shouted angrily. George Weasley's laughter was echoed in a familiar chuckle that made Draco's heart seize for a moment. The green eyes lifted and met Draco's. Potter smiled warmly and Draco found himself returning the expression without thinking.

The smile fled immediately when he saw Ginny standing meekly next to Harry, although her attention was on her brothers. Ron succeeded in fending off whatever attacked him and then pulled out his wand to cast a hex at George. A blue haze enveloped the elder Weasley, who waggled a finger at Ron and said something about a Shield Ring. Draco made a mental note to ask Teddy about some of the latest Weasley products cached in that damned store that Draco refused to set foot in.

He stopped watching the ginger combatants when he saw Potter walking straight toward him. Potter wore plain black robes and a long scarf in Gryffindor red, most likely to ward off the chill of the unseasonably cold summer day.

"Draco," said Harry. "I need to talk to you."

Fucking hell. Draco recognized the expression on the face of Mr. Transparent. It was Potter's apologetic look. The one that guaranteed he had bad news to impart. In this case, it was the "I have given in to the tears and false promises of my stupid wife and I'm going to ride this broken broom straight into the ground" look.

"Save it, Potter. I already know what you have to say. I don't want to hear it."

Harry swallowed and looked away, fixing his gaze on the churning wheels as they rolled to an eventual halt. Draco tried not to study Harry's profile and failed. He had the momentary urge to shove Ginny Potter beneath the heavy metal wheels, but decided Potter probably wouldn't visit him in Azkaban if he murdered Harry's wife.

Potter turned back. "Can you at least let me explain?"

"Fuck you, Potter. You're like that stupid mirror at Hogwarts. You can see what you want, but as soon as you reach out to touch it, you find it isn't real." Unattainable, Draco would have added, but he wasn't certain he could maintain his cold façade if he said it aloud.

"You know about the Mirror of Erised?" Potter asked.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Do you honestly think you're the only one that wandered about that school at night?"

Steam billowed and the doors slid open to disgorge hoards of shrieking children. They raced past in a steady stream, leaping on relatives and causing instantaneous bedlam with trunks, animals, and brooms. The Weasley children found their parents first, and then James Potter hugged his mother before trotting over to allow Harry's arm to curl around his neck. The boy grinned at Draco.

The crowd thinned measurably and James wandered off to greet his uncles.

"How do you know what I'm going to tell you?" Harry asked doggedly.

Draco sighed and wished Scorpius would hurry. The boy always took his bloody time when exiting the train. For a Hufflepuff, he was still extremely Slytherin. "It's so obvious you might as well have badges printed, Potter. As usual, you're going to do the honorable thing, instead of…"

"Instead of what?" the Auror asked with a scowl. Instead of doing what you want. But maybe Potter didn't want Draco at all. Maybe the scene in the dining room had just been a spur-of-the-moment thing that Potter regretted. Draco sent a violent glare Potter's way, and then a pale head caught his attention when the mist thinned. Scorpius at last, thank Merlin.

"Can I come to the Manor later?" Potter asked. He was persistent; Draco had to give him that.

Scorpius suddenly bolted toward them and Draco's eyes widened at the look of panic on his son's face.

"Father! Someone's taken Albus! I turned back to hurry him up—I was looking right at him when he disappeared!"

Scorpius had shouted so loudly that everyone nearby heard him. Ginny Potter raced over and clutched at Harry's arm. The Auror's wand was out and a terrible expression clouded his face. He tried to shake the Ginger Shrew away so he could cast.

"Oh no, no, not Albus!" she cried. Her fingers dug harder into the sleeve of Harry's robes and then she straightened with a gasp. Her next words carried an edge of command. "Take the kids home, Harry."

She released him and Disapparated with a sharp crack, leaving them all staring at the place she had vacated. Potter's shocked eyes turned to Draco, who took his shoulder sharply.

"Bring the kids to the Manor. Your house might not be safe. I'll have my mother keep an eye on them while we determine how to find Albus."

It was a sign of Harry's distress that he did not argue. They hustled together children and luggage and departed for the Manor.

7 Tracking Albus

The Manor was chaos, with everyone talking at once. James Potter was shouting, Lily was sobbing, Harry was snarling curses, and Narcissa demanded to know what was happening. Teddy Apparated in at that moment with several Aurors in tow, adding to the din.

"Merlin! I'm so sorry, Harry. We were there watching for an attack on you—we never dreamed they would grab one of the kids!" Teddy said. Draco refrained from comment. He should have realized it himself. The Aurors began talking, trying to offer helpful suggestions or excuses. Draco grabbed Harry and Disapparated to his study for a moment of peace.

"Do you have any way of tracking your son?" Draco asked immediately and Harry shook his head, looking thoroughly miserable.

"I had tracking spells on them when they were younger, but when they hit thirteen…well, it seemed an invasion of privacy for a teenager. And hell, they were at Hogwarts!"

Draco refrained from rolling his eyes. Stupid Gryffindor morals. Draco could track Scorpius anywhere in the world through their Malfoy signet rings, and he planned to leave that spell in effect until Scorpius was fifty years old, privacy be damned.

"All right, then we just have to determine who took him and where."

Teddy barged into the room and gave them both an irritated look. "Thanks for leaving me there to field all the questions," he snapped, and then said glanced at his hero apologetically. "Sorry, Harry; I don't really mind. I think it's obvious the Pureblood Club is involved. They are your only active enemies, at the moment. We should start there."

Draco already had several tomes spread out on his desk in an attempt to find a Locating Spell. "Damn, this one looks promising, but it requires blood from the victim."

Harry nodded. "We use that one at work." His voice was nearly inaudible and his agitated pacing was far more pronounced than usual. "It works great in cases where blood is left at the crime scene."

"Doesn't help us here at all, though," Teddy muttered.

"How do Aurors find people when no blood is involved?" Draco asked.

"The old fashioned way," Harry snapped. "We track down people that last had contact with the victim, we talk to possible enemies, we search every possible location… Fuck! Why Al? Why the hell would they take Al?"

Draco and Teddy shared a look. "To draw you out, Harry," Draco said quietly. "I'm sure you'll be getting a message any time now. I'm trying to give us the upper hand by locating them first and taking them by surprise."

"You know where to find the headquarters of this pureblood club, correct?" Harry asked. Draco's words seemed to have calmed the Auror somewhat. He likely found it comforting to know that if his son were held as bait, at least Al would probably not be harmed.

"They would never take him there. Too public," Draco decided. At Potter's look, he added, "But I'll check anyway. Come, Ted."

He grabbed Teddy's arm and Disapparated to the mansion where he had first discovered Ginny Potter's affair with Blaise. As expected, it was deserted. He was about to return to the Manor when an idea struck him.

"Go back and keep trying to find a way to track down Albus," he said to Teddy. "I'll be back shortly. I need to fetch something."

Or someone.

Pansy Parkinson was in no mood to be fetched. Draco was glad to find her dressed and alone when he appeared in her bedchamber. Her eyes met his in the mirror as she combed her long dark locks with an abalone comb. "As much as the sight of you in my bedroom excites me, Draco, you don't look to be here for a tryst."

"I need your help."

Pansy put the comb down and turned on him with a wicked smile, scenting favors.

"Four very sweet words, coming from you. It will cost you, of course."

"I'm aware of that, Pansy. It's important. One of Potter's offspring has been kidnapped, most likely by that lovely club of yours."

She sniffed, but got to her feet. "Not my club any longer, remember? You coerced me into quitting."

"Whatever. I need your help to try and find the lad."

"Now? Angelica and I are going to tea…"

"Pansy," he said warningly.

"Oh all right. Anything for your little crush, eh?" She sighed and called a house-elf. After a few instructions and a message for her daughter, she accompanied Draco back to Malfoy Manor. Potter was shouting at Teddy, but he broke off in mid-bellow when he saw Draco. Scorpius and James were also in attendance. Draco's son huddled miserably in a chair with his arms wrapped around his drawn-up legs. James paced on the opposite side of the room from his father.

"Potter," Pansy said sharply when Harry's eyes touched her.

"Parkinson," he said in the same tone. Her eyes narrowed and she spun on Draco.

"Do I really have to help him? He's such an arse."

"You're not doing it for Potter, you're doing it for me," he said placatingly.

"I'm not sure that's good enough. Honestly, Draco, what do you see in him? I don't care how pretty his green eyes are or how fit he looks, he's got the bloody personality of a warthog. I can understand shagging him, but did you have to fall in love with the git?"

Shocked silence met her pronouncement and Draco watched Potter's jaw drop before he snapped his gaze to that of Scorpius. The lad blinked at Draco in surprise. He quirked a grin at his son and nodded sharply. The boy raised a brow in a gesture so familiar it was like looking into a mirror.

James guffawed and muttered, "Slytherins." Unlike the others in the room, Potter's eldest was obviously not prepared to believe Pansy's words. Her eyes sparkled and she smiled brightly as she watched the color creep into Potter's cheeks. At least the Auror had managed to close his mouth.

"I'll help you now," Pansy said brightly to Draco. He suppressed a grin with effort. She was utterly without scruples, but he planned to use that to his advantage.

"All right. Take me to all the places that foolish club has met, starting with the most likely for holding a kidnapped boy with intent to set a trap for his famous father."

Pansy blew Harry a kiss, took Draco's arm, and Disapparated.

Pureblood Haunts

The fifth house was the winning Snitch.

"This is it," he said to Pansy, who leaned heavily against him, panting with exertion. Their last Apparition had been a fair distance. If they were not in Scotland, they were damned close to the border by his reckoning.

"How can you tell?" she asked tiredly. The had Apparated far enough from each place to avoid audible detection, and then walked within viewing distance.

"Lurker," he said and pointed out a hooded man loitering near the front entrance. Except for the glow of his cigarette, he was nearly invisible against the dark wood of the slightly ramshackle house. Draco's Disillusionment Charm kept the man from noticing them. "Damn it. This is really bad, Pans."

She looked up curiously. "Why? It looks easy enough to take. Can't Super Potter just knock the building down or something?"

"I don't think he's quite as powerful as the Daily Prophet likes to pretend," Draco said. "In any case, that's not what I meant. This house belongs to Blaise."

She perked up curiously and a sneer curved her pretty lips as she stared at the building. "Really? How do you know? It's revolting. Why would Blaise hang onto something so run down?"

"He brought me here once, when we were teens. It belonged to his family, back when the Zabinis were nearly destitute, before his grandfather married that Benchley heiress and gained her fortune. I think they hold the place for sentimental reasons."

"Some sentiments should be burned."

"Let's go back and get Potter."

At Draco's news, Harry and James leaped forward with wands drawn. It led to an immediate argument as Harry tried to force his son to stay.

"I'm older than you were when you first confronted Voldemort!" James snarled.

"That's because I didn't have parents to look out for me!" Harry yelled.

"Spare me! I've heard enough stories of Dumbledore to know he was just like a father to you. He let you do plenty!"

"Albus is already in danger, James! I don't want to worry about you, too. Besides, you need to stay here and watch Lily and Scorpius."

Draco turned to look at his son, expecting to meet the same hardheaded argument, but Scorpius was gone. His brow furrowed, but Teddy answered his unspoken question.

"He said he needed to get something."

Draco nodded, wondering what could be so important that his son would disappear when the rescue of his friend was imminent. If he could hurry the Potters, Draco might be spared an argument with his own child.

"Let him come, Potter. He'll be safe enough with us. I assume you're bringing an army of Aurors."

Harry glared at him, but nodded. "They're downstairs. Let's go. I'll send Teddy back to guide the others."

"Pansy, you take Teddy and I'll take Potter."

"Of course you will," she muttered, but moved quickly to link her arm through Teddy's and smile saucily at him as her breasts pressed into his upper arm. "Teddy Lupin. How handsome you are." The young Auror barely had time to blush before they were gone.

Draco put his arm around Harry and drew him into an embrace that had little to do with Apparition. Potter relaxed minutely against Draco and his chin dropped to Draco's shoulder for only a moment. Draco squeezed him gently and Disapparated. As he did so, he felt a feather-light touch against his arm. At that moment, he knew where his son had gone and why.

Draco wondered if the entire Auror Department consisted of former Gryffindors, because they charged in with wands drawn and hexes flying, leaping into battle without a single hint of Slytherin guile. Draco had never seen Harry Potter in action and it was a sight to behold. He was quick—even faster than when he had been a Seeker at Hogwarts. Harry bobbed and dove and cast spells with flawless aim. After Draco's own aim had been thwarted for the fourth time by a head topped with messy black hair, Draco realized the Auror was protecting him. Draco's next curse nearly singed Potter's ear at it whizzed over his shoulder and toppled a cloaked figure.

The green eyes stared at him in surprise. Draco smirked. "I'm not helpless, Harry."

A grin quirked Potter's lips, and then he bounded after a retreating figure, leaving Draco to his own devices. The damned place was full of unskilled idiots in hindering capes and hoods. They were dangerous only by number and their willingness to use the most hideous curses imaginable. One Auror was bathed in what appeared to be acid before he screamed and Disapparated, hopefully straight to St. Mungo's. Another fell with what looked to be dozens of broken bones. Draco noticed both Harry and Teddy had gravitated to James and were subtly shielding him. The boy had been allowed to come only after strict orders that he hang back and do nothing even vaguely stupid.

Draco wondered where Scorpius had gone and hoped to hell he had not made a mistake by not calling the boy out. He would just have to trust his son—and Potter's old invisibility cloak.

Pansy had disappeared shortly after bringing Teddy through, claiming she had no intention of breaking a nail in some ridiculous battle. She had done her part and would see Draco later to demand payment. He cringed at the thought, and then raised his wand and set fire to the robes of a woman who stepped from behind a rusty suit of armor with the intent to cast a hex at Potter's back.

She screamed and a hex from Teddy dropped her, still smoldering aflame. A second spell doused her with water, but she did not rouse.

When the other opponents had fallen or fled, Harry looked at Draco. "No sign of Albus. I'll need to check upstairs. Teddy, you and James help the Aurors round up these idiots and prepare them for transport to the Ministy. Take care, there were many that escaped." He silenced James's protest with a glare and then jogged for the stairs. Draco joined him.

They encountered no one on the stairs, and met a long hallway filled with nothing but closed doors. Harry strode to the first door and flung it open with wand ready. He crossed the hallway to the next and did the same. Draco watched him and wondered if the battle below had been nothing but an elaborate feint.

Potter passed by Draco on his way to the next door. Green eyes touched his in passing and their gazes locked for a moment.

"You're wrong, you know," Harry said as he wrenched open the door with a half-crouch that Draco admired immensely.

"Wrong?" Draco echoed.

"As in not correct. Mistaken. The opposite of accurate."

"I know what it means, Potter, I simply don't know what you're talking about."

The next room was empty and Harry let out a frustrated breath, whether at Draco's words or the fact that there was no enemy showing themselves for angry hexing, Draco wasn't certain.

"When you said I planned to do the honorable thing. You were wrong."

Draco froze and Harry paused on his way to the next door. The Auror chuckled.

"I know it's a lot for you to take in, being wrong and all… Hang on a moment." Draco watched as Potter invaded another empty room and left it behind, and then returned to Draco. Harry curled a hand into the collar of Draco's robes and pulled him into a stunned kiss. It was determined and intense, and sent shivers coursing through Draco's veins. Harry pulled away and breathed, "I think it's time I gave my Slytherin side some leeway, don't you?"

Draco's arms tightened around the Auror. "Yeah," he managed.

"If we survive," Harry added. "Now, let's find my son."

Draco let him go and accompanied him down the hall. His hand tightened around his wand with newfound determination. If we survive. Draco would make damn sure of that, now that he had something to anticipate.

Ginny's Choice

The double doors at the end of the hall made Harry shoot Draco a warning look after he cocked his dark head and listened. Draco readied his wand and followed Harry's rush through the door. Whatever hex Harry was about to issue died on his lips. Draco took in the scene quickly. Four people occupied the room.

Albus Potter was the center of attention, bound to a heavy chair and held by more than ropes—a web of pink-tinted magic crisscrossed over him in an ominous dome. The dark head lolled slightly, as if he had been drugged or hit with a Confundus. The room rang with the words the boy had shouted: "I hate you!"

A dark-haired teenaged girl sat in a window alcove. She seemed to be observing the scene. Blaise Zabini stood before a large wooden desk. At his feet knelt Ginny Potter. Blaise's hand was twisted in Ginny's red hair and his wand dug into her cheek.

"Like father, like son, eh Potter?"

"You guessed it, Zabini," Harry snarled. "Now put the fucking wand down and get away from my wife!"

The words struck Draco and would have been a thousand time worse had not Potter halted him in the corridor with a confession and a kiss.

"You're slightly early, Potter, but I've been expecting you," Blaise said. Draco held his wand steady as Blaise's glare pierced him. "I was not expecting you, Draco, you bloody traitor," he hissed.

Draco laughed harshly. "You are the last person from whom I want to hear a lecture on loyalty, Blaise. What the hell are you doing kidnapping children?"

"Ridding the world of blood-tainted scum." The wand twisted into Ginny's face and she cried out. Her eyes were wide with fear and pain. "Ah, ah, Potter, I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Harry's wand tip dropped slightly and he sneered. "So you're the new Voldemort?"

"Not exactly. My motives are nothing like his, since he was obviously insane. My reasons are far more practical. I have had quite enough of the anti-pureblood sentiment that has overtaken the Ministry. It's their own fault, really, for banning purebloods from decent jobs and treating us like second-class citizens."

"They haven't been banned, Zabini," Potter said in a reasonable tone.

Blaise sneered and his hand seemed to tighten in Ginny's hair. She winced. "Shut the hell up, Potter. You and your Mudblood friends have been sitting pretty since the war. Even your new friend Draco spends most of his time locked away in his mansion rather than risk being spit upon. Pureblood and former Death Eater both. Some of us are doubly damned."

Harry glanced sidelong at Draco, who shrugged. It was true, although minding his estates and investments kept Draco more than busy enough to seek out the general populace. When he had been younger, the glares and sneers had been alarming, but those seemed to have lessened over the years. Apparently, Blaise had not noticed any change.

Blaise went on, "However, you are not here to discuss my political motivations. You are here to rescue your precious child, are you not? And quite possibly your wife, although I somewhat fear you would rather discard her. Your arrival with Draco has opened up a world of interesting possibilities. You always were obsessed with Potter, Draco. Has he finally succumbed to your wiles?"

A hex suddenly shot from Harry's wand. The startling blue light would have hit Blaise dead-on… and did, in fact, except that the effect was unexpected. A purple-blue glow crackled around Blaise and seemed to vibrate as it absorbed the energy and was gone. The girl in the window seat gasped and sat forward with her wand at the ready. Blaise chuckled wickedly.

"Oh good show, Potter. That would have knocked me for a loop, would it not? Luckily, I shop at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. They have the most fascinating items there, including these fabulous Shield Rings. Of course, I've modified this one a bit… it is quite a lot stronger than those developed by your brother-in-law." Blaise's tone went from amused to harsh in an instant. "Now put your wands down and back away or I'll split this bitch in two."

Draco saw Harry go pale, and then the Auror tossed his wand casually in Blaise's direction. Only Draco noticed the tension rippling through Harry's body.

"You too, Draco," Blaise snapped.

"I'm thinking," Draco quipped. Harry turned on him with horror-filled eyes and Blaise barked a surprised laugh. "Oh all right," Draco said. He wasn't really tempted to see if Blaise would kill Potter's wife. Well… not extremely tempted at any rate.

He threw his wand after Potter's and wondered if Harry could Summon the length of holly back if Blaise were sufficiently distracted. Then again…that Shield Ring was problematic. Harry's gaze moved to Albus, and Draco saw the boy slumped in his chair, looking tired and terrified.

Blaise barely moved his wand away from Ginny's cheek before Summoning both wands from the floor. He shoved Ginny away from him roughly and tucked the wands into a pocket of his robes.

"Very good. This will go so much more smoothly if you cooperate. Now then, here is the situation. Oh wait, we don't want to be interrupted by any of your Auror friends, do we, Potter?"

Blaise gestured to the doors, which slammed shut and locked. Draco recognized the spells and knew even trained Aurors would not be opening them any time soon. He had no doubt the windows had been similarly spelled prior to their arrival. Draco expected Harry's wife to gain her feet, but she remained on the ground. Her limbs shook visibly and Draco recognized the effects of extended Crutiatus Curses. Obviously, the love affair was over. Blaise disregarded her as though she were a rag he had used to polish his broom.

"Your son has been given a slow-acting poison, Potter," Blaise commented. Harry gasped and took two steps toward Albus, but Blaise's lifted hand stopped him. "The pretty ring around Albus will, of course, kill you if you cross it. Then again, that's the whole idea, isn't it?"

Blaise had the full attention of everyone in the room at that comment. He smiled, loving attention in a way only Blaise Zabini could. The bastard fairly glowed with delight, but Draco thought the new malice diminished his charm quite a lot.

Blaise held up a small vial of clear liquid. "This is the antidote, Potter. After crossing the field, you should have enough time to administer it to the boy before you die. You seem quite strong and fit, I'm certain you can do it. You've always been lucky, after all; you are the Boy Who Lived."

"No, Blaise," Draco said angrily. "That's enough. Whatever prompted this idiocy can be resolved. If you seek a damned position in the Ministry, I'm certain Potter would be more than happy to provide one for you or—"

"Listen to yourself, Draco!" Blaise cried. "What in Merlin's name have you become? Slytherins do not beg for help, they lurk in the shadows and strike after careful planning and preparation. You should know I will not back down after going this far. Do you honestly believe Potter will forgive and forget after I arranged the death of his partner? Will you, Potter?"

"No," Harry said flatly, making Draco consider smacking him on the back of the head with an open palm. Goddamn Gryffindor honesty. No wonder they were such piss-poor negotiators.

"Give me the antidote. I'll do it," the Auror continued in a flat tone.

"I knew I could count on you," Blaise said with a smirk. Draco readied himself to leap on Potter and wrestle the vial from him. There had to be another way to take down Blaise and rescue Albus. Draco only needed a few moments to think.

Blaise lowered the hand that held the vial, preparing to toss it. Draco hissed in annoyance, knowing Zabini planned to throw it on the off chance that Harry's Seeker reflexes would fail him. The glass container would smash on the stone floor if Harry did not catch it.

Harry never got the chance. Ginny Potter launched herself from the floor and snatched the vial from Blaise's hand. She bolted across the room and through the pink web of lines surrounding her black-haired son. A shriek tore from her lips as she collapsed on the floor. The vial slipped from her fingers and rolled away with a delicate clink.

"Ginny!" Harry screamed and it mingled with a cry from his son. He turned on Blaise with an expression of rage Draco had never witnessed. "You bastard!" Harry flung himself at Blaise with hands reaching for Zabini's throat. Blaise cried out and backed into the desk, but he was still quick. A Cruciatus Curse caught Harry moments before Potter's hands tore at Blaise's robes, struggling to reach his throat.

"Crucio! Crucio!" Blaise shouted and the bright glow of the hexes limned Harry again and again.

"Oh fuck," Draco said and raced forward to try and wrest the wand from Blaise. He yelped as the backlash of the curse hit him. Blaise kept casting, trying to shrug them off. The three of them fell in a tangle of limbs and robes.

8 Spells and Surprises

"Get the wands, Harry," Draco cried. Potter's green eyes flashed as he wrested free of Blaise's clutching fingers to tear at the man's robes. Then Harry screamed and Draco thought they were howls of pain until he made out words. "Get… Albus!"

Draco shoved as hard as he could against Blaise and raised his head to look across the room. Albus Potter was gone. Ginny still lay on the floor before the chair. The other girl was motionless in the window seat, slumped as if unconscious. Draco indulged in a moment of fatherly pride as he turned back and grabbed for Blaise's wrist.

The distraction had only taken a moment but in that time Blaise had cast another spell. Harry's scream was genuine this time and Draco watched in horror as the Auror fell back and lay still. Draco stopped wrestling with Blaise's wrist to claw at his dark-skinned throat.

"What have you done, Blaise?" he yelled.

"Backup plan," Blaise said hoarsely before Draco's hands tightened. Blaise's wand dug into Draco's ribs, but he could not get breath enough to speak again. Draco partially lifted him by his neck and slammed his head into the floor. The pressure of the wand lessened.

"What. Spell. Did. You. Use?" Draco thundered, punctuating each word with a blow against the floor. Blaise's head lolled and Draco relaxed his hold on Blaise's throat to grip the neck of his robes.

Behind them a loud splintering sound followed an explosion. Draco did not bother to look, assuming the troops had arrived.

"Tell me, Blaise," he gritted through bared teeth.

Blaise's dark eyes slid open. "Draco," he said in a rasp. "Fuck…you."

Draco thought he must have gone slightly mad then. He vaguely recalled using his fists and snarling with rage, but it was all a blur until he heard Teddy Lupin bellowing at him to stop. Three Aurors dragged him away from Blaise's still form.

Draco met Teddy's concerned eyes for only a moment before shrugging off the Aurors and turning to Harry.

"Merlin, please," he begged softly as his fingers felt Harry's neck, desperately seeking a pulse. A weak flutter met his questing touch and he gave thanks for Harry's endless Gryffindor stubbornness. Potter would not die so easily. Whatever spell had taken him, he was fighting it.

"I'm taking him to St. Mungo's," Draco snapped. "Find Albus and Scorpius."

"Scorpius is here?" Teddy asked in surprise.

"He took Albus out under Potter's invisibility cloak."

Draco wrapped his arms around the still Auror and Disapparated. At the hospital, Harry was taken from Draco's arms and whisked away, possibly forever.

Draco fought despair and went back to force some answers from Blaise Zabini.

Blaise was gone when Draco returned.

"They took him to the Ministry," Teddy replied to Draco's enraged question. "We'll be lucky if he lives. You beat him nearly to death."

"If he wakes up I plan to finish what I started."

"Which is why you can't see him."

"I need to know what spell he used on Harry."

"Zabini will be questioned when he regains consciousness. They'll use Veritaserum, Draco."

Draco sneered to let Teddy know what he thought of the Ministry's questioning methods.

"Did you find my son?"

"You've only been gone five minutes. I sent Harris and Jameson to look for them." Teddy's attention was on Ginny as he spoke and Draco felt a moment of remorse. He relented, knowing Teddy had been close to the Ginger… well, to Harry's wife. Draco had little doubt Ginny Potter was dead. Blaise had meant the field to kill Harry Potter, and Ginny had been weak before they had arrived; no doubt Blaise had treated her to a Cruciatus session before their arrival. She'd had the look of it.

"Who is the girl?" Draco asked. The dark-haired girl was slumped in the window seat. "Is she alive?"

"We don't know," Teddy said. "She's unconscious. We couldn't rouse her, even with an Ennervate. I'll take her to St. Mungo's in a minute." The Auror knelt and turned Ginny over gently.

"I'll go find Scorpius and Albus," Draco said softly and squeezed Teddy's shoulder. The young Auror nodded and then caught at Draco's robes when he turned.

"Here is your wand. And Harry's."

Draco took them and hoped to hell that he would be able to return the holly to its owner.

In the corridor, he found an Auror standing in front of a door. Her brow furrowed in concentration. She glanced at Draco.

"It's magically locked. I can't open it, and I've tried a dozen of the usual spells."

Draco lifted his wand and cast a spell at the door, which clicked open, proving Scorpius had locked it. Only the Malfoy family knew certain locking spells. Draco pushed the door open and strode into the dusty bedchamber.

Scorpius and Albus were on the bed, locked in a heated embrace and a kiss worthy of any torrid novel. Draco's brows shot up in surprise as he halted. The boys broke apart and both faces reddened guiltily.

"F…Father," Scorpius stammered and eased himself off the bed.

Draco blinked at him for a moment longer, until veracity trounced his preconceptions. Hell, he should have seen it coming, really. If he and Harry had been boyhood friends, would they have found each other sooner? His son's eyes were beginning to go wide with panic.

"I got Albus out safely," Scorpius whispered in a tone thick with dread.

Draco smiled gently and made sure it reached his eyes. "So I see," he said teasingly. Scorpius inhaled sharply. Draco turned his attention to Albus. After the initial blush, Albus had not seemed disturbed. His chin lifted in a defiant attitude that Draco recognized all too well. Hufflepuff House or not, the boy was all Gryffindor.

"Hi, Mr. Malfoy," Albus said placidly and then his brow furrowed. "Where's my dad?"

Draco sobered. "I'll take you to St. Mungo's," he said as he strode forward. "Come, Scorpius."

His son grabbed a length of silvery cloth from the bed—the invisibility cloak, no doubt—and stood next to Draco, who leaned down to slide an arm beneath Albus Potter. Draco put his other arm around Scorpius's shoulders.

He Apparated them to St. Mungo's, where the younger Potter was also taken away. One of the medi-witches gave Draco a stern look, as if he were the one responsible for the Potter maladies. He looked at Scorpius and wished he had told Albus about Harry. It would not be right for the boy to hear it from a stranger.

Scorpius watched them take Albus away with a worried expression.

"Will he be okay?" Scorpius asked.

"I'm sure of it. Why don't you go with Albus while I check on his father? I'll join you in a few minutes."

Scorpius nodded and started away, then he darted back and threw his arms around Draco's waist. Draco hugged him tightly, feeling his throat close up with emotion. Scorpius released him and hurried after Albus Potter.

The waiting room for the wing containing Harry was crowded to say the least. Teddy and James were present, as were several Aurors and, of course, an assortment of gingers and a bushy-haired ex-Granger. She glared at Draco. He silently dared her to ask about his presence. She looked away without speaking after a moment.

"Ted, how is he?" Draco asked.

Teddy gave him a miserable look. Beside him, James was pale and silent.

"They haven't given us any word. Harris said you found Albus?"

Draco nodded. "He's awake and seems fine, if tired. The staff took him away to make certain."

The door opened and those seated leaped to their feet. The mediwizard looked at them sadly. "Mr. Draco Malfoy?" he asked.

"Yes?" Draco stepped forward.

"Please come with me."

Draco allowed himself the indulgence of looking at Ron and Hermione. As expected, their faces were taut with disbelief. Draco was too worried to look smug, especially when he entered the room to find Harry lying still as death, surrounded by a Stasis Shield.

"Can you tell me what happened to Mr. Potter?" the mediwizard asked as Draco moved forward and looked carefully at Harry's face, searching for any sign of life. He explained the circumstances that led to Harry's current state.

"You have no idea what spell—?"

Draco shook his head. He had already gone over and over it, trying to recall the words Blaise had snarled, but they had been too soft and unintelligible.

"Only Blaise Zabini knows."

The mediwizard sighed. "Perhaps the Ministry can persuade him to reveal it, then."

Draco suppressed a sneer. Blaise would never talk. Now that Draco was no longer blind with rage, he knew it to be true. Even Veritaserum would be wasted. Blaise was too much a Slytherin not to have set up measures for his alternate plan. Any attempt to wrest the information from his mind would result in its permanent Obliviation.

"Mr. Potter regained consciousness for a short time. He directed us to give you a message."

Draco cringed, hoping to hell Potter had not confessed his love in a burst of dying Gryffindor nobility. If those words were ever forthcoming, Draco wanted to hear them directly from Harry—an awake and alert Harry, preferably.

The mediwizard surprised him. "It was very odd, so we wrote it down. Mr. Potter repeated it twice and said to tell you specifically. The message is 'visca penetralum' and 'perilous malium incantorum', does that mean anything?"

The words meant nothing to Draco. He looked at the still Auror in bafflement.

"Perilous malium incantorum… that sounds like a…" Book. Draco's mind went back to his meeting with Potter so long ago in the bookstore.

Looking into Archaic Magic, then?

I like to research obscure spells. You never know when they might come in handy.

That's quite a coincidence. I have a huge library full of obscure spell books.

"What are his symptoms?" Draco demanded. The mediwizard blinked at the harsh urgency in his tone.

"The spell—it seems to be degrading his tissues, especially the organs. We've slowed the process as best we can, but we cannot stop or reverse it, especially without knowing the original spell. We were forced to put him into Stasis to keep it from killing him quickly. As it is, we've only bought him some time. We think the spell was attuned to him as a specific victim. Mr. Zabini intended to cast the spell on Mr. Potter alone, is that correct?"

"Yes." Draco's mind raced. Target-specific spells. Visca Penetralum. Obscure spell books. "I'll be back."

He entered the waiting room. "Harry is in Stasis. We're not sure what spell Blaise used on him. Granger, if you want to help, go look for any spell with an incantation containing Visca Penetralum or a variant. Specifically look for a book titled Perilous Malium Incantorm."

"It's not Granger, it's—"

Draco's vicious glare cut her off. "Teddy, Scorpius is with Albus, where I'm quite certain he prefers to stay. Please see that he gets home. James and Lily may stay with me, of course. I would prefer that someone else inform Lily about her mother… she does not know me, obviously, so I would be small comfort. I'll be at home in my library until further notice."

Draco Apparated to the Manor and cast a Seeking Spell. He tried several variations and finally located an ancient book with a title similar to Harry's message: Perilous Maleficorum Incantaticus. Draco set his jaw when he saw it, surprised that Harry had even seen such a book. It was full of Dark Spells. Very Dark.

Draco cast several Protection Spells to keep insidious hexes from harming him while he read—most authors of Dark Magic possessed nasty senses of humour that lingered long after their deaths.

He began the enormous task of looking for an unknown spell in a book never designed for ease of use.

9 Reluctant Cooperation

Draco rubbed his eyes. They felt like dry stones in sockets full of sand. He picked up his wand and cast a spell to banish his headache, knowing he would pay the price later. The clock chimed four times as if mocking him; only a few hours until daybreak and Merlin knew when he would be able to sleep.

The fire flared in the grate and Granger (Weasley's) head appeared in the flames. She had been at the Manor earlier to break the news to Lily Potter, but Draco had not left the library to play host to any of his guests.

"May I come through?" she asked politely.

Draco gave assent and she stepped into the room, looking as tired as Draco felt. She carried a book—the same volume that lay open before Draco, although her copy looked quite a lot shabbier.

"You found it," he commented.

She nodded. "At Harry's. Although what he was doing with a book on magic thisDark is beyond my comprehension." Her lips pursed with disapproval. Draco felt a flash of annoyance that had little to do with her words and more to do with the fact that she had free rein to come and go at Harry's residence as she pleased. He reminded himself that things would change once Harry was well. He hoped.

"He's an Auror. It's intelligent to know what spells you could be hit with in the field, don't you think? We're damned lucky Harry has been collecting these books, or it would have taken us weeks to locate this particular spell."

Her jaw tightened. She most likely itched to fight with him, but logic won and she nodded. "Do you think we can stop it?" she asked. "There is no counter-curse."

"There is no counter-curse yet," Draco corrected. "We will have to come up with one, won't we?" He gestured to the book. "Now, some of the elements are similar to the Aging Curse, with an unhealthy dose of a Degradation Charm…"

There followed an hour of intense discussion, diagramming, arguing, and even a round or two of yelling. When a house-elf popped into replenish the tea, Draco's companion did not even pause to give him a disapproving glare. He thought there might be hope for her, after all.

Draco found his son in Albus Potter's room shortly after daybreak. The boys were tangled together like lovers and Draco felt his heart wrench at the sight. He hoped they would have an easier time of it than he and Harry. He brushed a hand over his son's fine hair. It looked almost white next to Albus's raven-black locks.

A lump next to Albus shifted and a ginger head appeared. Draco noted with surprise that it was Lily Potter. Her eyes opened and she regarded him solemnly.

Draco walked around the bed and held out his arms. She stood up and climbed into them, even though she was nearly too big to comfortably carry. Her head rested against his shoulder.

"Score said you're going to help my dad," she mumbled.

"I am. Your Aunt and I are going back to the hospital shortly. Would you like to break fast with my mother? It's still early, but she's awake."

Lily nodded. "She's nice. She said she would show me her hairpin collection."

Draco grinned. "That should keep you busy most of the morning."

"Really?"

"She seemed to have an infinite supply, but perhaps I'm no judge."

He dropped Lily off in the dining room where his bushy-haired accomplice made polite but strained conversation with his mother. Granger (Weasley) hugged Lily and miraculously said nothing when the house-elves popped in to bring the child breakfast and beverages. Although she did manage to give Draco the expected glare of disgust this time.

"The boys are still sleeping. Best let them rest," he told his mother. She nodded and smiled at Lily, who gulped noisily at a cup of juice. Draco tried not to think about what else the boys might do when they awoke. Hypocrite, he told himself and grinned ruefully. What had he been doing at that age? Experimenting with Pansy and Blaise… Merlin, the Yule Ball… If only he had recognized his feelings for Harry back then, and if Harry had not hated him, of course…

Granger (Weasley) coughed slightly and obviously waited for him to answer whatever question he had ignored while he was lost in thought. He scowled and decided to forego the Weasley portion of her name. He would always think of her as Granger and there were too damned many Weasleys, anyway. And he would never call her Hermione.

"Pardon?" he asked politely.

"Are you ready?" Her voice was snappish and ragged, likely from studying archaic Dark tomes all night without rest. Either that or she simply did not like Draco. Perhaps both. He gave her his most charming smile.

"Of course. Let us be off to rescue our favourite Gryffindor," he said, then added, "Well, myfavourite Gryffindor, at any rate."

Granger rolled her eyes and brushed past him, muttering something about, "When did Gryffindors make your list of favourites?"

Draco followed her to St. Mungo's.

The hospital was still and quiet at such an early hour. James Potter and George Weasley were asleep on small cots in the waiting room. Draco believed St. Mungo's purposefully made it difficult to sleep at the hospital to encourage family members to Apparate home rather than clogging up the rooms and corridors. Draco and Granger tracked down several staff members, and the Malfoy glare silenced those that dared to voice an opinion about their proposed unorthodox healing method. Granger's presence most likely helped. Malfoy glare or not, they might have tried to prevent a former Death Eater from casting spells on the Saviour of the Wizarding World, or at least delayed long enough to cause Harry's condition to worsen. Even though Draco was tired, he refused to allow them to wait. Blaise's spell had not been halted by the Stasis, only slowed.

Draco personally selected three of the staff he judged to be most competent—and by competent he felt they would shut up and take orders. Outside Harry's room, he quietly explained the procedure, with Granger adding details or answering questions. Once the Statis Spell was removed they would have to work quickly.

The head mediwitch was a burly woman with steely blue eyes and steely grey hair. Draco thought he would have trouble with her, but she seemed genuinely interested in helping Harry, regardless of the methods used. She allowed them into the room and they arranged themselves around Harry's bed. His condition seemed unchanged. Granger bit her lip and met Draco's eyes for a moment in shared pain. Draco longed to reach out and brush the black hair away from Potter's smooth forehead, but instead he drew his wand and gave the head mediwitch a curt nod.

When she judged they were in the appropriate positions, she cancelled the Stasis Spell. Draco and the others began to chant at once. The magic in the room flared and became almost tangible. Draco and Granger spoke evenly and without haste, standing on either side of Harry's bed. Their words rang together, identical in tone and inflection. They had practiced for nearly an hour to get it right. For the first time in his life, Draco was damned glad Hermione Granger was a quick study.

The healers frantically cast Healing Spells to slow the damage caused by Blaise's hex, no longer fettered by the Stasis. Draco stifled the urge to race through the complex words of the new counter-curse. One mispronunciation would be disastrous.

A bright yellow glow erupted simultaneously from the wands of Draco and his bushy-haired accomplice. The strange glow flowed over Harry and seemed to settle into his skin. Draco's and Hermione's words ended at the same moment. Draco dropped to his knees and took Harry's limp hand. He leaned close and murmured in the Auror's ear.

"We've done all we can, Potter. It's up to you now. Fight, Harry. Don't leave me after all we've been through."

He shut his eyes and listened to the healers chant as they continued to cast Healing Charms. Finally there was silence.

"Merlin," the head mediwitch breathed. "I think it's working."

One of the younger ones nodded. His voice was pitched high with excitement. "Yes, the effects are no longer spreading!"

They cast several spells that Draco recognized as diagnostic and checked Harry over carefully. The older witch shook her head with a heavy sigh.

"Mr. Potter suffered significant harm, in any case. Only time will tell what the consequences may be. The spell targeted his musculature and organs. We've managed to keep his heart healthy, but damage to his kidneys, lungs, and liver remain to be seen." She paused and rested a hand gently on Draco's shoulder. "Just to prepare you, he could have loss of some motor functions… or even brain damage. And that is if he regains consciousness at all. It is mainly up to his own physiology now. Magic can only do so much."

Draco swallowed hard and nodded, unwilling to acknowledge the cold knot of fear generated by her words. "Even if he's a bloody vegetable for the rest of his life, I'll take care of him," Draco said quietly and stroked the soft flesh between Harry's thumb and forefinger.

Before he knew what hit him, he was enveloped in soft female flesh. Granger was hugging him! She clung to him for a long moment and her wet cheek pressed against his face.

"I'm sorry," she said finally as she drew back. "Harry said you had changed. He spoke of you often, even though we refused to listen. His voice… when he talked about you his voice, well it was almost like he was infatuated. I admit I thought he was under a spell or the effects of a potion. Even after all these years I still did not want to trust you, even though he did. But if Harry lives at all, it will be because of you, so thank you. Draco."

He met her eyes sardonically for a moment and thought it was a peculiar Gryffindor trait that caused them to change their minds drastically in an instant, and then unload their newfound convictions on the nearest victim. He nodded solemnly, not quite willing to spoil her speech with sarcasm.

"I'm going home. Please let us know immediately if there is any change."

Granger went out, followed by two of the healers. The burly witch stayed behind for a while longer, casting spells and pursing her lips. She said nothing, however, and finally left Draco alone with Harry.

He sighed and half-stood to press a kiss on the still Auror's lips. Draco dragged a chair close and rested his head against Harry's arm, still holding his hand tightly. The gentle sound of Harry's breathing lulled him to sleep.

"Draco?"

The question penetrated the haze of sleep wrapped around Draco and he battled his way to wakefulness. The voice queried again and he raised his head. As he did so he realized he was damned uncomfortable.

His eyes met soft green and remembrance slammed home. He had fallen asleep slumped over Harry's bed.

"Merlin, Harry, you're awake!"

Draco wrenched upward, not caring that his stiff muscles twinged in protest. He enveloped the Auror in an exuberant embrace and pressed soft kisses onto his neck. Harry chuckled.

"Um…I don't seem to be able to move."

The sound of Harry's voice was intoxicating. It was not until that moment that Draco admitted to himself how anxious he had been that Harry might never awaken. He transferred kisses from Harry's neck to his lips. The Auror put up with it for a few moments, until Draco moved back slightly, somewhat annoyed at the lack of response.

"Seriously, Draco, I can't move," Harry said quietly.

Draco sat back in the chair with fresh alarm. He grabbed Harry's hand and squeezed.

"Can you feel this?" he asked.

Harry nodded. "Yes, I just can't move my fingers. Or anything else." Draco caught the note of panic in the Auror's voice.

"Now don't worry. The fact that you have sensation in your limbs is a good sign." Draco hoped. He slid his hands over Harry's arms and then moved them to different parts of his body, enjoying the examination far more than the situation warranted.

"Yes, I can feel that and my feet are ticklish, so please stop," Harry begged. The soft flesh behind Potter's knees provoked much the same response, but it was the gasp he made when Draco's lips fastened on one of his nipples that made Draco chuckle wickedly. He looked up and admired the hot blush decorating the Auror's cheeks.

"You know, I'd stop you doing that if I could move," Harry said.

Draco smiled wickedly. "Would you, now? Would you stop me doing this?" He moved his hand down to grasp Harry's cock. Harry gasped again and Draco chuckled.

"I'm beginning to see a lot of potential in this," Draco said and stroked lightly. Harry's shaft began to swell under Draco's movements and he purred slightly. "Well, something can still move, Potter."

A hand suddenly fastened in Draco's hair and drew him slowly upward until his lips met Harry's. The Auror kissed him long and hard and then pulled him back to look into his eyes.

"I refuse to be your immobile sex toy," Harry said.

"Will you be my partially mobile sex toy?" Draco asked. "How did you move your arm?"

"Superhuman effort," Harry said and Draco felt the hand in his hair shake almost violently. He reached up and took Harry's hand in his.

"All right, don't strain yourself, Potter. I won't molest you until you ask me to." He let go of Harry's cock and slid his palm over Harry's flat abdomen as he sat up. "Can you squeeze my hand now?'

A sheen of sweat slicked Potter's forehead, but he nodded. "I think so." The fingers clenched slightly around Draco's.

"What about the other hand?"

After a few moments of concentration, Harry managed to curl his left hand into a fist. Draco sighed with satisfaction.

"I think it is temporary, Potter, but I suppose an actual medical opinion might be in order." He marched to the door and sought out the mediwitch on duty. She agreed to summon some staff members to check on Harry. James Potter looked up when Draco entered the waiting room. He noticed Draco's smile and bolted for Harry's room. Draco entered to find the boy sobbing in Harry's arms. He shut the door quietly to give father and son some privacy, and turned to see George Weasley beside him. He informed the redhead of Harry's condition and George immediately sent a Patronus shooting off to Granger. Within minutes, the place was packed with ginger, so Draco offered to take the news to Albus and Lily. He Apparated home and hoped one of the Weasleys would have the foresight to let Teddy know. Family emergency or not, Teddy was still an Auror and they were currently short-staffed. The poor boy had gone to work, even with his hero languishing in the hospital.

Before seeking out the boys, Draco Floo-called the Ministy and let Kingsley know, just in case.

10 Therapy

Draco Apparated into the library of Malfoy Manor, to find his son and Albus Potter asleep on the sofa. Scorpius looked up after a moment, lifting his head from where it had lolled against the high back. The movement must have dislodged young Potter, for the green eyes snapped open.

Albus sat up quickly and winced when Scorpius's fingers could not disentangle from the black hair fast enough.

"Mr. Malfoy. Is my dad—?"

"He's awake, Albus. He's not entirely well, but we have hope."

"Not well? Hope for what?"

Draco noticed the boy's hand shoot out and entwine with that of Scorpius.

"He can't walk, but it should be a temporary condition. I'll be bringing him home shortly, since I'm certain St. Mungo's is already over capacity for Weasleys and Potter well-wishers."

Albus sat back, half-leaning against Scorpius. Draco realized their behaviour was no different than usual; they had always been a handbreadth apart. He wondered how long they had been more than friends and decided he would rather not know.

"Where is Lily?" Draco asked.

"Um…I'm not sure. I've been asleep for a while, I think."

Draco nodded. "I'll find her." He left the two boys and sought out Harry's daughter, who burst into tears at the news and clung to Draco's neck. He patted her back awkwardly and decided raising a daughter would be very different from raising a son. Girls were so emotional. Still, Draco was willing to give it a try.

Draco returned to St. Mungo's to find the place exactly as expected—a chaotic uproar. Harry's room was full of Weasleys, Aurors, and others, with mediwitches trying vainly to shoo everyone out. Teddy met him at the door and grinned.

"Bit of a madhouse here at the moment," he said.

"I'm surprised they haven't hexed the lot of you," Draco said.

"That would be yoursolution. Luckily, the St. Mungo's staff has more compassion."

"Not for long, I fear. You should gather this herd and take them to the Manor. Mother is expecting everyone; so don't fret on that account. I think they will all fit in the Blue Ballroom."

With Kingsley Shacklebolt's help the Aurors managed to purge the room of extra bodies, except for James Potter and George Weasley.

"How do you feel?" Draco asked Harry in the near-deafening quiet.

"Better now that I'm not being smothered," Harry admitted with a grin.

"The official diagnosis?" Draco prodded.

Harry sighed. "They are hoping I'll regain full movement within a few weeks. I've been put on indefinite leave from the Department, of course."

Draco made a mock sound of dismay. "How ever shall you survive?"

Harry scowled. "It's not funny. I'll most likely go stark raving mad from boredom."

"I don't think you'll need to worry about getting bored," Draco promised in his most dulcet tones. Harry flushed and his eyes shifted to James, who looked from one of them to the other innocently. His naiveté was charming and Draco recalled how James had dismissed Pansy's words out of hand. James would likely be the least accepting of Harry's new relationship with Draco. If Potter allowed it to happen at all.

"Why is that?" James asked bluntly, ever the Gryffindor.

"Because he'll be staying at Malfoy Manor until he's fully recovered," Draco said and mentally added, and for as long thereafter as I can keep him.

"What? No, I couldn't possibly—" Harry began, but Draco waved away his protests.

"The matter is not open for discussion, Potter. You cannot care for the children in your present condition. My mother and I will be more than happy to assist you." Along with a hoard of house-elves, but Draco felt it best not to mention that in case Granger's anti-house-elf sentiment had contaminated the younger Potter.

"I think it's a good idea, Dad," James said before Harry could protest—and he would have. Draco recognized the stubborn line that furrowed Harry's brow and intersected the famous scar.

Harry blinked at James, who added, "I don't think I'm ready to go home yet, without… without mum there."

Harry reached out and took James's hand as the boy fought with tears. Harry's eyes brightened for a moment and Draco's throat felt tight as he witnessed their mutual grief. Regardless of what Ginny had done, she had been a huge part of Harry's life and he was bound to grieve for her, especially for the sake of the children. Draco stepped forward and took Harry's other hand.

"All right,' Harry said. "We'll stay at the Manor for a short time. I'll send Hermione over to pick up some things for the kids."

Draco did not bother to tell him that most of the Potter possessions had already been moved to Malfoy Manor, thanks to the near-Slytherin abilities of Teddy Lupin. Teddy knew damn well that once Harry was fully ensconced in Draco's house, it would be a cold, cold day before Draco would let him leave.

"Let's get you out of here," Draco said, refraining from the last moment from using the word "home."

Draco sent James off with George Weasley, who seemed to be the boy's self-appointed keeper. When they were alone, Harry looked at Draco appraisingly.

"How did you manage to get me all to yourself again?" he asked.

"It's a gift. I'm selfish that way."

Draco picked up a shirt from the folded pile that Granger had dropped off. He wrinkled his nose at the colour—Gryffindor red. "She did that just to torment me," he muttered, but sighed and moved onto the bed to prop up Harry. The Auror put his arms through the sleeves, moving his left arm stiffly and with obvious difficulty. He allowed Draco to fasten the buttons and their eyes locked. Draco grinned at the faint blush tinting Harry's cheeks.

"I must say, in all my fantasies I never imagined I would be dressing you. Generally, the reverse was true."

Harry's blush deepened. "You've fantasized about me?"

"Every damn day," Draco breathed and kissed him. A mediwitch tapped on the door before barging in with last minute instructions and medicines. Draco pulled away reluctantly. The mediwitch was the bubbly, giddy type and if she found it odd for Draco to be kissing the Savior of the Wizarding World, she gave no sign of it.

After she bustled out, Draco put Harry's trousers on, tugging them over unmoving legs and making certain to provide a few squeezes to Harry's tight arse in the process. Harry obviously expected to be groped in other areas as well, so Draco left those studiously alone. There would be plenty of time for that later. Draco would see to it.

Once the Auror was fully dressed, the St. Mungo's staff returned and set Harry up with a wooden contraption that allowed him to stand upright. It was Levitated above the floor slightly and could be moved in any direction with a murmured spell, giving Harry nearly full mobility.

Draco gave Harry his wand and held his breath until Potter cast a few simple spells. He had been somewhat worried that Blaise's spell would affect Harry's magic.

"Can you Apparate to the Manor library?" Draco asked. Harry nodded and disappeared, closely followed by Draco. When they were both in the library, Draco nodded. "Come along," he said briskly. "As much as I would like to have you all to myself, your fans need to know that you're still the Boy Who Lived and Lived and Lived."

"I wish the media would stop with the idiotic titles," Harry complained. They left the library and headed for the stairs, which Harry glanced at in some concern. His mobility device only worked on flat surfaces. Draco bypassed them to walk down the hall, beckoning to Potter. Wrought iron lift doors stood open and Harry looked at them in confusion.

"I don't remember a lift," he said.

Draco shrugged. "Most of your visits did not include a tour of the Manor, Potter, although I would have given you one if you had asked." In truth, Draco had ordered the lift installed as soon as he had left Harry's side earlier in the day. He was impressed that the lift company had managed it in the time Draco had allotted. Apparently the ludicrous bonus he had offered had provided the proper incentive.

"I was afraid a tour would have led directly to your bedchamber," Harry said wryly as Draco pressed the button for the second floor while pretending he had done so dozens of times in the past. He stepped close to Harry.

"Would you like a tour now?"

Harry's throat worked as he swallowed hard, but his eyes were steady on Draco's when he replied, "Only if we start with the bedchamber."

Draco could not recall many times in his life when he had been rendered speechless, but hearing Harry Potter's alluring suggestion seemed to have affected his vocal abilities. Potter grinned wickedly and Draco cursed the lift company when the doors opened flawlessly. The sound of voices carried to them from the nearby ballroom. Harry's lack of mobility might have made shagging against the elevator wall difficult, he admitted as Harry floated into the hall. Difficult, but not impossible.

"Maybe later, then," Harry said with a chuckle.

Draco admired Harry's lean form until the Auror turned to look at him.

"Coming?" Harry asked.

Draco slid an arm around his waist and pressed his lips into the soft skin behind the Auror's ear. "Not yet, but I'm hoping you'll help me with that later."

He slipped around Harry with a wicked chuckle and entered the ballroom. He clapped loudly for attention. Before Draco could make a grand announcement, Granger squealed and threw herself at Harry. She was followed by a river of people who parted only to let the younger Potters through.

Albus and Lily charged at Harry with cries of delight. Harry hugged them both tightly.

"I'd lean down and kiss you both, but I can't quite bend, yet," he said with a grin. Albus looked at him with a worried expression, but Harry reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

"It's all right, Albus. They tell me it's only temporary."

Albus did not look reassured. Draco smiled at him. "He'll be fine, Albus. I'll see to it."

Albus nodded thoughtfully, but he seemed placated. It probably helped that Scorpius took his hand and pulled him away with a murmured comment. Granger smothered Harry in another hug and then the Auror was whisked into the crowd. Draco thought the entire Ministry was in attendance. The atmosphere swung from carefree to mournful and back again. Molly Weasley could not stop sobbing and she clung to Harry until Draco could stomach no more and forcibly hauled the Auror from her side. Harry's face was taut with tension, so Draco pushed him toward Kingsley, who professed sorrow for Harry's loss, but immediately turned the conversation toward the Auror Department. Harry relaxed and soon lost himself in work-related minutiae.

Draco was relieved to see Arthur Weasley take his sobbing wife home shortly thereafter. He caught sight of his mother chatting with Luna Lovegood and resigned himself to his new position as rescuer.

"Scorpius would be an excellent student if only he were not so quick to judge," Luna was saying. Draco's mother smiled, but he could see it was strained.

"Luna," Draco said in greeting.

"Draco," Luna replied. "Lovely party."

"Thank you. I'm sorry to steal my mother away, but there is a matter that needs her attention. Perhaps you could seek out…" Draco tried to think of a person he was willing to inflict her presence upon.

"Violet-winged Enmols?" she finished for him and nodded seriously. "They live in the walls of old houses like these, you know."

"Quite right," Draco said and fled with his mother in tow.

"Do you think she should be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts?" she asked and Draco laughed.

"No, probably not. That's why I spend so much time with Scorpius in the summer, undoing her teachings."

"And you simply like being with your son. Ah, there is Andromeda with Teddy. Go take care of your Harry, now, dear."

Draco started at her words, but she glided away to join her sister, leaving Draco wondering how much she knew. He shrugged. His mother always seemed to know everything, and it was likely Teddy had explained all with his usual inability to stay quiet.

Harry looked tired and he had gravitated back to a group of depressed Weasleys. Damn the woman for dying nobly; even dead she was getting in Draco's way. He marched forward and put a comradely arm around Harry's shoulders. His glare dared Ron Weasley to speak.

"I must borrow Harry for a minute," Draco said and steered him toward a corner before Harry could get his bearings and stop him. Draco did not allow him to speak. "You look tired. I think it's time to call it a night."

Harry's response was choked off as he gasped and stared beyond Draco's shoulder. Draco froze, fearing some new threat.

"Your son just kissed my son," Harry said.

Draco relaxed with a grin and asked, "Which one?"

"Albus! Scorpius kissed Albus."

Draco wrapped his arms around Harry and moved his palm over the Auror's chest as he leaned close. "Mmm, I can assure you, it's not the first time."

"But… but what if they…?"

"What if one of them gets pregnant?" Draco asked in a shocked tone. Harry flushed and scowled.

"No, of course not, but…"

"Then you are trying for the Hypocrite of the Year Award?"

Harry turned his head until he met Draco's eyes. "Stop being reasonable."

"Shall I march over in indignation and demand that they fall out of love immediately?"

Scorpius and Albus had disappeared, probably escaping the potential wrath of Potter.

"Do you really think they're in love?" Harry asked.

Draco sighed. "I see your Gryffindor naiveté has not diminished. Have you not seen them together?"

"Huh," Harry said eloquently. Draco pinched him. "Ow! What was that for?"

"Sorry, force of habit when confronted with stupidity. I'm taking you to bed now."

Harry's indignation became spluttering nonsense when Draco's words sank in. Without a word to anyone, Draco ushered the Auror out the door. He did wave gleefully to Teddy, who gave him a nod and a grin. Harry was silent as Draco escorted him down the long hallway that led to Draco's room.

The door had barely shut behind them when Draco walked to the desk and dropped his wand into the carved wand stand. He unbuttoned his robes partially and turned back to Harry.

"Shouldn't I…um…" Draco smiled at Harry's nervous stammer and waited to see where it would lead. "I'm… um.. really tired and I should—"

Draco felt a flare of amusement at Harry's sudden shyness. He marched forward and crooned, "Well, we had better get you into bed then, hadn't we?" His fingers made quick work of Harry's hideously colored shirt and he slipped it off of the unresisting Auror.

Draco gazed at Harry's naked torso before reaching out a hand to touch his chest. He splayed his fingers over the Auror's heart in a reverent motion and then drew his hands down over Harry's ribs to curve around the his waist and pull him close. Their first kiss was sweet, full of the love Draco wanted Harry to feel. He gently teased the Auror's lips, hoping to melt the silly nervous reserve Potter had developed. Draco held the kiss as long as possible and was rewarded when Harry relaxed against him. The Auror's hands touched Draco's waist and he took it as a sign to deepen the kiss.

He snogged Harry thoroughly and well until the Auror's hand tightened in his robes and he made an impatient sound. Draco's hands moved freely over Harry's skin, caressing his back and moving down to cup his fine arse. Draco pressed their pelvises together and delighted in the feel of Harry's hardness against his own.

"Still tired, Potter?" he asked against the wet lips before dipping his head to taste Harry's neck. The Auror made a sweet huff of sound.

"No," he admitted. His hands pulled at Draco's robes and Draco stopped touching Harry long enough to shuck free of them. He wrapped Harry in another embrace and moved him gently to the bed before he borrowed Harry's wand and cast a Finite Incantatum. Harry toppled backwards onto the bed as the mobility charm ended and the device fell to the floor. Draco tossed the wand haphazardly on the edge of the bed, near enough for the Auror to Summon it if he felt it necessary.

He pushed Harry to the center of the bed and then hovered over him. His hand caressed Harry's erection lightly to keep from losing him back to nerves.

"I had planned to let you top, Potter, but under the circumstances…" He leaned down and mouthed Harry's cock through his trousers, chuckling when the Auror gasped. Draco made quick work of the fastenings and eased the trousers down Harry's inert legs, making sure to caress the length of them as he did so.

Draco reared back for a moment and paused to admire Harry's naked body.

"Merlin, Potter," he managed and then straddled Harry to gather him into a wanton kiss. Harry's hands caught in his hair and he made a cute sound when Draco gripped his erection before moving his fingers lower. Draco broke the kiss and backtracked until his face hovered over Harry's groin. He dipped his head and nuzzled Harry's testicles with his lips, teasing them gently and delighting in the gasping response. Sensitive, then.

Draco raised his head and grinned at Harry while trailing his fingers through the dark curls at the base of Harry's cock.

"Want more, Potter?" he asked playfully.

"Yes, damn you."

"Then you'll have to move your toes for me."

"Pardon?"

"Simple. You move the toes of your right foot and I take this—" He blew gently on Harry's lovely cock. "Into my mouth. Understand?"

"Is that your idea of physical therapy?" Harry demanded.

"Take it or leave it."

"I hate you… but I'll take it."

Draco sat back and clinically watched Harry's foot. He waited hopefully while the Auror's brow wrinkled in concentration. For a moment, Draco thought the Auror would not be able to do it and he nearly regretted his impulse.

Then the toes flexed, not once but three times. Draco laughed in relief. "We'll have you good as new in no time, Potter. All you need is the right incentive."

"Slytherin bast—" Harry's words cut off abruptly with a cry as Draco fulfilled his part of the bargain, taking Harry's entire length as though trying to swallow him whole. Draco's fingers gently probed Harry's nether regions and the Auror tensed.

"Draco, wait, I—"

Draco released him and slid up to cup the Auror's cheek. "Harry. I won't hurt you."

Harry swallowed and let out a breath before he nodded.

"You know I love you," Draco added. The Auror visibly relaxed and his gaze softened.

"I know. All… all right, then."

Draco prepared Harry as gently as possible, using fingers, lips, and tongue to keep Harry gasping on the edge of orgasm until the Auror's hands nearly tore the covers from the bed.

"Okay, fuck, do it already," Harry said as Draco's fingers—three of them—flexed again inside the Auror. Draco obligingly removed his fingers and slid his cock into the willing depths of his lover. He kept his eyes on Harry's as he did so and smiled when the green orbs grew wider and wider.

"All right?" Draco asked when he was fully sheathed. Harry nodded. Draco's hands held Harry's hips tightly as he pulled out and thrust in quickly. He repeated the motion and the Auror made a choking cry.

"Still all right?"

"Better than all right," Harry breathed. "Do that again."

Draco did. And he repeated the motion until he felt his orgasm beginning to take over. Harry's cock was leaking and Draco reached down to pull it in time with his thrusts. The mere touch did it for Harry and his cock twitched in Draco's hand as hot come sprayed between them. Harry's release tore an inaudible cry from the Auror's lips. The tensing of already tight muscles sent Draco spiraling out of control and he poured himself into Harry in explosive release.

He dropped limply onto the Auror and pressed his lips against Harry's salty neck.

"Wow," said Harry and Draco laughed.

"Such eloquence, Potter."

"Then how about brilliant, astounding, incredible, and why the fuck didn't we start doing this twenty years ago?"

"Because you were a complete prat then?"

Harry chuckled. Draco loved the way the Auror's hands glided over Draco's back, holding him in place.

"No dredging up the past," Harry said. "Let's just move forward."

Draco lifted himself enough to kiss Harry tenderly on the lips. "Here's to moving forward."

Harry's arms tightened and Draco sighed in contentment. "Let me know when you want some more physical therapy," Draco mumbled sleepily as he settled his head against Harry's shoulder.

"I foresee needing alot of physical therapy."

Draco hugged him closer with a smile. There was quite a lot of Slytherin under all that Gryffindor.

 End

Summer Camp

Author's Note: This fic takes place about three weeks after the end of The Slytherin Hufflepuff.

Al thought the place looked brilliant, but he could tell that Score was less than thrilled with the accommodations. The horrified sneer on his friend's face was a telling clue.

"What is this hideous place?"

Al tried to placate him with reason. "Well, back in the 60s some hippies came here and turned this place into a commune. You know, sex, drugs, and debauchery."

"Apparently they had little time left for cleaning," Score said, ignoring Al's suggestive tone. He made a strangled noise. "Look! I've got dirt on my sleeve and I haven't even touched anything!" Scorpius cast a Cleaning Charm and followed with several more to scour everything within reach. Al danced away to avoid being a target of said Charm. He leaned out of a square opening that served as a window and surveyed the place. The complex was made up of structures similar to small cabins, but set high in the treetops and connected by rope bridges.

"It's not my fault yellow is a dust magnet," Al said and waved at Amber and Zephyr Abbott, who stood on a rope bridge nearby. They did not wave back as they were busy holding on and screaming. Hugo Weasley occupied the other end of the bridge. He was leaping up and down to keep the thing rocking precariously. Al grinned.

"Well, black is no better, Shadow. Look at you. You're filthy."

Al did not bother to take in his appearance. He knew Score liked him better without clothes, anyway. He turned back and enveloped Scorpius in an amorous embrace.

"Maybe you can give me a bath later," he murmured against Score's neck. A cold sluice of water poured over Al's head, drenching him. Scorpius leaped back with a laugh to avoid getting wet. Al spluttered and blinked water from his eyes. "What was that for?"

"These ridiculous cabins have no doors, in case you haven't noticed. We haven't a jot of privacy."

"So? No one can see us unless they climb up here," Al complained. He yanked out his wand and cast a Drying Spell just as Lily's head appeared in a window opening.

"Hey, I figured you two would be lip locked by now. What's wrong?" she asked.

"Score is being modest," Al explained. "How did you get up here?"

Lily rose higher to disclose the broom she rode. "I'm supposed to make sure everyone Portkeyed in okay and made it to the proper cabins."
"I'm not being modest," Score snapped and turned his Cleaning Charm on one of the four cots that lined the vaguely hexagonal room. "Not everyone is as accepting of our relationship as your family, Albus. I am trying to avoid adverse attention."

Al rolled his eyes. Ever since they had become lovers, Score acted like a complete prat in public. They had spent six of their school years fairly wrapped around each other, albeit in a mostly platonic fashion, and Score had never objected. Now he avoided Al like the plague in public, not seeming to realize his behavior drew more notice than their old easygoing affection.

Lily caught Al's eye and gave him a commiserating eyeroll. "Malfoy and Potter. Check," she said and took off.

"Will you at least rub some sunscreen on me?" Al asked and produced a tube of lotion from his robe pocket.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Al."

Albus glared at him, wondering if the blond planned to act like a tetchy prat for the next two weeks. "Fine. I'll get Ethan to do it," he snapped. He stalked through the door opening and one the first rope bridge, ignoring Score's attempt to call him back.

Al avoided Score until later that afternoon when they were all required to gather in the Hub, which was a magically expanded edifice high in the branches of an oak tree. It was also in a wretched state of disrepair, festooned with cobwebs and animal nests.

"I think this place hasn't been used since the 60s," Hugo said and nudged Al.

Rose piped up. "Actually, it was last used in 1987. The Harrisons' purchased it and set it up as a summer camp for Hogwarts students, but when their children died in a horrible accident, they closed it down completely. Ramona Harrison died earlier this year and apparently her will decreed that it be donated to Hogwarts and restored. Don't any of you read the Daily Prophet?"

"Why should we when we have the Encyclopedia of Rose?" Hugo asked sardonically.

"Well, I think it's perfect," she continued. "They have allowed upcoming seventh year students to earn extra credits as Guidance Counselors. It's an excellent summer job."

"I'm glad I didn't sign up for that duty," Al muttered. He had agreed to come to camp mostly to give his father some kid-free time to heal from a paralyzing injury. Rose gave him a chastening glare for his implied laziness and flounced away to give "guidance" to some third year Ravenclaws.

It wasn't long before the Counselors forced them all into teams in order to clean and repair the Hub. Albus volunteered for cobweb removal and pest extermination, mostly in order to wander the crowded room and hunt for Scorpius. He could not stay mad at the blond for long and already missed him terribly.

Al found him in the center of the room, selling lemonade by the glassful.

"You're supposed to be cleaning," Al complained.

"Malfoys don't do house-elf work. Besides, my father wanted me to get a summer job. Do you want a glass or don't you?"

Albus refrained from mentioning that Draco Malfoy probably would not consider a lemonade stand worthy of job status. Al coughed up the necessary coins, knowing that being Score's boyfriend did not gain him any special privileges when cold hard cash was involved. Albus tipped his head back and drank slowly, intentionally allowing a droplet to escape and trickle down his chin and throat to disappear beneath the open collar of his shirt. He watched through his lashes as Score's grey eyes followed the path of the drip. The blond's mouth parted slightly and his tongue flicked out to touch his lips. Al suppressed a wicked smirk and handed the empty glass back to Scorpius.
"Thanks," he said huskily and wandered off to eradicate more pests.

The Hub was completely renovated in time for the evening meal. Albus found it interesting that the campers gravitated toward the same groups they frequented at Hogwarts. Score sat like a golden king in the midst of his Hufflepuff followers, including Al, of course, although Albus was careful not to snuggle against Score's shoulder as he used to. The Gryffindors held court with Rose Weasley and Jason MacMillan acting much as they did at Hogwarts—domineering and loud. There were exceptions, of course. The Ravenclaws were primarily loners and they were scattered throughout the room. Only a few Slytherins were in attendance, including Angelica Parkinson. The Slytherins all looked carefully bored to tears. Hugo sat with the Hufflepuffs—sandwiched between Amber and Zephyr Abbott. He acted like a Kneazle with a pot of cream.

After a dinner of assorted barbequed selections—Al suspected the adults had Hogwarts house-elves squirreled away in order to prepare food—they were introduced to the Chief Councilor, who was none other than Oliver Wood. The famous Quidditch player sauntered into the room and waved to the gleefully cheering students. Wood wore nothing but a pair of Quidditch trousers and dragon-hide boots.

"Welcome to the world of scantily clad celebrities," Hugo muttered and held the near-swooning Abbott girls tightly.

"He's so handsome!" Zephyr cried.

"He's older than your dad," Scorpius said and snickered.

"I don't care, he's still gorgeous," Amber said with a dreamy sigh.

"What do you think, Al?" Scorpius drawled and Al grinned at him mischievously.

"He's pretty hot," Al admitted and winked.

Score's gaze turned frigid for a moment and then he switched his attention back to Wood, who divulged planned camp activities in a loud voice, pausing when whistles and applause interrupted him. Al wasn't interested in games. He was here for the sole purpose of shagging Scorpius Malfoy under the stars.

After the announcements, the Hub was deserted as the students flew, Levitated, or climbed down to the central grassy sward beneath the trees where a huge bonfire had been lit. Apparently it was a common practice at camp to gather round a fire and sing songs, so the adults forced the unwilling children into doing so. Albus thought the singing would have gone over much better after copious amounts of alcohol consumption. Unfortunately, alcohol was banned from the camp.

Al refrained from singing and instead spent nearly an hour trying to coax Score into the dark forest with suggestive glances. Unfortunately, Score was either playing stupid or being an obstinate arse. Al finally admitted defeat and stood up.

"I'm going to bed," he said to Hugo, who barely grunted in acknowledgement. He was busy comparing the taste of Amber Abbot's neck to that of her sister. It seemed to take quite a lot of tasting and involved an excess of giggling on the part of the girls.

Al cast one last glance at Scorpius, who seemed to be engrossed in conversation with Rose Weasley—probably talking about some complicated Arithmantic theory—and did not even glance in his direction. Albus made his way up to their cabin, finding it somewhat difficult to navigate the rope bridges in the dark. He lay awake on his cot for what seemed forever until he finally heard the sound of Score's. Al's heartbeat quickened and he wondered if Score would come to him or if he would be forced to seek out his reluctant boyfriend and coax him into some amorous activities. Given Score's behavior, the latter seemed most likely. Al didn't mind.

He froze when he heard the sound of voices.

"Thanks for letting me bunk here tonight." The voice belonged to Randall Deakes, a Slytherin of all people. "Twigs wanted to be alone with his Betts. I offered a threesome, but she's not the adventurous type."

"No problem," said Scorpius. Al heard undressing sounds and then two cots creaked at different sides of the room. "Goodnight, Randy. 'Night, Al." There was a long pause and then Score repeated, "Al?"

Albus glared into the darkness and pretended to be asleep. Damn Scorpius for inviting Deakes here when he knew damned well that Al planned for them to sleep together. What was his fucking deal today?

"Hey, Malfoy?" Randall asked after such a long time Al had nearly fallen asleep for real. He roused himself briefly to hear the question.

"Hmmm?" Score murmured.

"Are you and Shadow Potter… you know… boyfriends?"

There was a long silence and then Scorpius said quietly, "No. No, of course not."

Al could hardly breathe for a moment at the confession. He wondered if Score would have changed his mind if he thought Al was awake.

"Huh," said Deakes. "It doesn't matter. I just wondered."

Shit. Suddenly Al hated summer camp. He wanted nothing more than to leave his not-boyfriend here and go home.

PART TWO

Al slid his feet onto the chilly floor and rubbed his lower back. Sleeping on a cot left something to be desired. His eyes went to the strip of blond hair visible between the blanket and pillow on the cot opposite his. His eyes went to the other cot, but only jumbled blankets met his eyes. Deakes must be an early riser—he was gone.

Al sighed. So much for his grand plan to spend quality time with his boyfriend. Or my not-boyfriend, he thought with a renewed flare of annoyance.

Score rolled over and his face emerged from the covers. The grey eyes blinked open slowly and focused on Al. A soft smile curved Score's lips and Al felt his irritation melt away in a familiar rush of emotion. Merlin, he loved it when Score woke up with that drowsy tousled look. At home, Al would slide his hand over Score's abdomen and lean in for a lingering kiss…

"What time is it?" Score asked and flipped the blankets over his head. "It's bloody freezing! Can't you cast a Warming Charm?"

Al took his wand from beneath the pillow and cast a few spells. "It's just after eight."

Score groaned. "Wake me when it's noon."

"Can't. We're supposed to meet in the Hub at nine for some activity Oliver cooked up."

"They can start without me."

Al shot a spell toward Score's bed and the blankets tore away from the Hufflepuff and tumbled to the floor.

"Hey! Damn you, Al!" Score reached for his wand.

"Accio wand!" Al yelled and Score's slender length of chestnut flew across the room into Al's hand. He laughed at the glare he received in accompaniment to his prize. "I'll give it back… for a price."

"What price?" Scorpius asked peevishly. He was so not a morning person.

Al shrugged. "Just a kiss."

Score's gaze flicked to the open doorway and back to Al. "All right."

Al grinned wolfishly and sauntered across the room to join Scorpius on the cot. The prat looked as tense as a hyena surrounded by a lion pack. Al leaned over and pressed their lips together gently, just a tease, a bit of pressure with a delicate suction. He refrained from bringing his tongue into play, even though the simple fact of Score's nearness made his heart jump erratically. He quelled the need to shove the blond down on the mattress and force a response. He knew Slytherin tactics worked better on his not-boyfriend.

Al sat back and held out Score's wand. "Here you go," he said. Score watched him suspiciously as he took the wand, obviously expecting Al to pounce. Instead, Al got up and walked to his trunk where he pulled out a set of clothing. Keeping his back turned to Scorpius, Al pulled off the t-shirt he had slept in. "It's actually quite warm outside, despite the clouds. I'm wearing shorts and sandals, I think."

He shucked his pyjama bottoms and pants and then made a show of looking in the trunk for replacement undergarments. He could practically feel Score's eyes boring into his naked backside and struggled to suppress a chuckle.

"Al," Score said, sounding a bit strangled. "What if someone comes in?"

Al stood and faced his friend with one hand cocked on his hip. "Well, I suppose they'll get a show, won't they?" Al shimmied suggestively and Score's eyes went exactly where Al hoped they would go. A faint flush tinted Score's cheeks, making him look even more fuckable. Al's cock twitched and started to rise, so he turned away and dragged on a pair of briefs and some shorts.

He sat on the cot and dangled his shoes. Score had not moved, although his expression bordered on petulant. Al nearly laughed. Malfoys hated to be ignored. It was some sort of universal law or something. He asked, "Will you help me fasten my sandals? I hate these stupid tiny buckles—I always have a charley horse by the time I get them done up."

"Can't you spell them?"

Al gave him a look and Scorpius sighed heavily. He made his way across the room and Albus allowed himself to admire Score's boxer-clad form, especially when it knelt at Al's feet and picked up a sandal. Al slowly tucked his foot inside, knowing Score had a strange weakness for his feet. Al intentionally spent extra time getting pedicures from the Malfoy house-elves so that his toenails were pristine and nicely shaped.

Score tried not to touch him. He held the leather straps and buckled them around Al's ankle, but Al jostled him, sliding his bare skin against Score's fingertips as if by accident. The blond bit his lip and quickly fastened the buckle.

The second sandal went nearly as smoothly, until Scorpius looked up and met Al's smile. He was certain it reflected the blissful devotion he felt watching Score perform such a trivial, domestic task. Score looked away, but his fingers curled over the arch of Al's foot. Al reached down and slid his fingers over the edge of Score's jaw, urging the soft grey eyes back to his.

"Albus," Score said with a whisper of sound that Al recognized as capitulation. He dropped to his knees, joining the blond on the floor and capturing his lips in the kiss he had denied them earlier. Score moaned into his open mouth and his hands curled into Al's hair.

Al eased him back onto the wooden floor and stretched out over Score's lean body. The erection he had tried to suppress burst into full bloom and he pressed it against Score's crotch with a huff of desire. Score groaned and lifted his hips to return the favour, building the friction between them as their kiss deepened.

"Score, I missed you," Al panted when he came up for air.

"It's only been one day," Score said dryly, but his hands slid over Al's back to hold him closer as they rocked together, lost in pleasure.

"Oi, Blondie! Shadow!" The loud voice boomed in the room.

Score shoved Al away with an oath. Al's elbow scraped across the floor when he landed and his chin barely missed whacking the hardwood.

"Bloody hell, Score, it's only Hugo!"

"I was right, though, wasn't I? We have no privacy at all!"

"You guys making out?" Hugo asked as he sauntered in and perched cross-legged on a vacant cot.
Al groaned. Normally he adored his cousin, but he could cheerfully have throttled him at that moment.

"Hey, no need to stop on my account," Hugo continued. He paused to take a slurping bite out of the ripe peach in his hand. "I've seen you snogging before. It's kinda hot, actually."

Al buried his face in his hands, having no desire whatsoever to know when his cousin had previously spied on them. Another slurp made him look up to see juice dripping down the chin of the red-haired boy.

"Where did you get that?" Al asked, suddenly craving peaches.

"Nicked it from the supply room. There's a whole box in there."

"Isn't the supply room locked?"

Hugo twirled his wand like a Muggle cheerleader. "Your point?"

Al had no comment. He figured his trespassing, kleptomaniac cousin was headed for a bad end, but it was Uncle Ron's problem, right?

"I'm going out," Score snapped. Al rolled over to see the blond fully dressed. He glared at Al and stalked outside.

"Got a bee up his arse, eh?"

"Yeah, or a whole hive."

"So, what's his problem?"

Al shrugged and got to his feet to make his bed with a flick of his wand. He made Score's bed, too, although he knew it would never be acknowledged. "I don't know, I guess maybe he's not ready to be another gay Malfoy, especially after the field day the press had with our dads." The Daily Prophet had been downright vicious, showing little sympathy for the Auror whose wife had died "so tragically". They had gone so far as to malign Draco Malfoy for taking advantage of Al's father's grief and debilitating injury.

Al knew his dad worried about it, but Mr Malfoy seemed to think it was hilarious. He eased Al's dad out of every newspaper-induced snit.

"Yeah, that's enough. I think you've just thrown him for a loop, Al. You know you've wanted him for years, right? But for Score it's only been a few weeks. He'll go publick when he's ready. Maybe you should trust him and give him some space."

"I do trust him. But the space thing is harder to deal with."

Hugo grinned. "You're lucky. I have a hard time trusting people. I just never wanna jump unless I'm sure somebody's gonna catch me."

"Oh, I'll catch you. And if I miss for any reason, I'll sit by your bedside and nurse you back to health. Or scrape you into a bucket."

"I can always count on my relatives. Thanks, Al."

Al decided to take Hugo's advice, which unfortunately became a lot easier later that day. A sprinkling rain began to fall, cancelling the planned outdoor activity, much to Oliver Wood's disgust. While he and Albus thought there was nothing wrong with playing broom tag through the trees in the rain, Angelica Parkinson went into a veritable frenzy at the idea, stating that her hair would be simply ruined. Al wasn't sure how a little water could ruin hair, since she apparently washed it in water on a daily basis, but he was smart enough not to ask. She might have been ignored if seven other girls (and two bookish boys) had not sided with her.
Al went back to his room, looking forward to seeing Score alone finally, but wondering how he was supposed to keep his hands to himself and giving the blond some space.

Except that Score was not alone. Al entered their room to find a reedy blond boy seated on Score's bed. They seemed to be discussing Arithmancy and the boy was hanging on Score's every word.

Ravenclaw, Al thought in disgust.

Score smiled at Al. "Hi, Albus. This is Zebulon Smith. I offered to explain Tembold's Theory of Mystical Numerology to him."

"Why?" Al burst out. He tried not to sound accusatory, but Score seemed to be going out of his way to avoid being alone with him.

"What sort of question is that?" Smith demanded.

Score chuckled. "You'll have to forgive Albus. He does not have much interest in the fine art of Arithmancy."
Smith sneered at Al as if he were the lowest form of life. Al sneered back. "Sorry to disappoint you, Zeb."

The thin boy glared. "That's Zebulon, not Zeb. My father is Zacharias Smith. He is a very important man at the Ministry. Perhaps you've heard of him?"

"I'm afraid not. My father is Harry Potter. Perhaps you've heard of him?"

Score gave him a disapproving look and Al was instantly ashamed. He hated using his father's name to impress people, but the pompous little pissant had deserved it.

"Forget it," Al muttered. He threw himself onto his cot and pretended to read a book while tuning out the most boring discussion in the whole of Britain. It was so mind-numbing that Al fell asleep.

Al sat up with a gasp when a horrendous crack shook the room. Al's wand was in his hand instantly.
"What—?"

Zeb Smith snickered. Al glared. Score and his little lapdog were playing Wizard's Chess. Light flared and thunder crashed through the room. Al glanced at the window to find a veritable downpour outside.

"It looks like you won't be going anywhere for a while, Zebulon," Scorpius said. "Perhaps you should spend the night. We have several open cots."

Zeb's little piggy eyes lit up and Al got to his feet. "Fuck this," he said angrily and headed for the doorway.
Score's eyes narrowed. "Where are you going?"

"Out," Al snapped. "It's bloody obvious I'm not wanted here."

He stepped into the rain and was immediately drenched. I probably should have cast an Umbrella Charm, he thought belatedly, but it took both hands to maintain his grip on the slippery rope bridge. The dark downpour suited his mood, anyway. He cringed at every lightning strike and made his way slowly to the Hub.
A group of students were huddled around Oliver Wood, who was cavorting like a wild man while he told Quidditch stories to his rapt audience. Hugo sat near Rose, who had her face buried in a book. Hugo gave him a thumbs up and Al suddenly remembered the peach his cousin had eaten earlier. Al had not been in much of a mood for lunch, so he was quite hungry, even though dinner was scheduled to be delivered to the individual rooms before long.

Al cast an Umbrella Charm and slipped back into the storm. The Locking Spell on the storage room was almost ridiculously easy to disarm—Al figured it would keep out the first and second year students, but not many beyond that. Several boxes of fruit were stacked inside along with assorted snacks. Al selected a few choice peaches and tucked them into his shirt before returning outside. He thought Score might like one, and possibly Score's new best friend. Sometimes Al wished he were better at holding grudges.

As he made his way over another rope bridge, he though he heard someone yell. He paused and looked around carefully, straining his ears to hear over the pounding rain.

The cry came again and then Al noticed a nearby set of ropes that dangled almost to the ground—one of the bridges had broken. Al cast a Levitation Spell on himself and dropped over the side of his bridge. Mud squelched over his sandals when he landed and he wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Help me!" he heard, so he ignored the ruination of his shoes to trot toward the voice, which came from a pit in the ground. Albus edged close and peered inside. A dark-haired boy stared up at him with large frightened eyes. "Oh thank Merlin!"

"Hey!" Al called. "How did you get down there?"

"The bridge broke and I fell. When I started walking the ground just collapsed. Can you get me out?"

"Yeah, sure," Al said and stepped closer to the edge for a better view. He raised his wand to cast, but his feet suddenly whooshed out from under him as the ground disappeared. He yelped as the brief sensation of falling ended in a bone-jarring thud.

"Ouch!" The brown haired boy stared down at him. Al climbed to his feet in annoyance. Shit, he had mud all over his arse.

"Now you are stuck down here with me," the boy said sadly. Al looked him over curiously. He looked randomly familiar. Slytherin, Al thought, although it was hard to tell with the muddy trousers and formerly beige shirt the boy wore.

"Not to worry," Al said. "I'll get us out. I'm Al Potter."

"I know," the boy replied. "Everyone knows that. I'm Jacob Nott."

Al remembered him then. Definitely Slytherin and a year younger than Al. He was a strikingly handsome boy. Rumour had it that his mother was part Veela, which accounted for his delicate features and huge blue eyes.

"Well, Jacob Nott, let's Levitate you out of here. Why didn't you just do that to begin with? I know you learned that spell in first year."

The boy launched himself at Al, crushing the wand between them. His eyes were wide and terrified. "No! No flying!"

"What? Look, it's barely two metres." Al gestured to the opening above them. It's hardly flying, more like… floating."

Jacob did not release Al. Instead his muddy hands clenched even tighter. "No flying or floating! I know it's stupid, but I can't help it! My father says no Slytherin should have such a stupid fear, but…" Tears welled in the blue eyes and Al felt a rush of pity. He patted the boy's shoulder awkwardly and wondered how to detach himself.

"All right, we'll think of something else. How about I fly up and grab a rope—?"

The panicked grip tightened until Al found it hard to breathe. "Don't leave me! I've been down here forever shouting for help! What if you don't come back?"

Al gnashed his teeth. For a Slytherin, Jacob Nott certainly was a bundle of kittenish terror. The other Slytherins probably teased him mercilessly. Or they would if he weren't so cute.

"Okay, okay. Unhand me and I'll try to think of something else."

Jacob reluctantly let go and looked at him warily, as if expecting Al to fly out anyway. "Why are you all lumpy?"

Al grimaced and realized he was covered in peach juice as well as mud. He pulled a couple of the peaches from his shirt and offered Jacob the least damaged one.

"Hungry?"

"Merlin, yes!" The boy fell on the peach like a starved animal while Al explored their prison. It was not much of a pit. Water pooled on the floor and dripped from above. Al tugged hard at a tree root, wondering if they could climb it. It gave a bit, so he yanked harder and suddenly a huge portion of the wall tumbled down in a shower of dirt, rocks, and mud.

"Hey! A passage!" Al said. He lit his wand and stepped into the dark space. A rocky, root-filled passage stretched beyond the light from his wand.

"Are you sure you should go in there?" Jacob asked.

"Either that or you let me Levitate you," Al said. Jacob nearly ran Al down shoving into the passageway next to him, which was fine with Al. He hated to let a perfectly good secret corridor go unexplored.

The perfectly good corridor turned out to be perfectly boring. It was a warren of corners and dead ends with nothing at all of interest. Al began to wonder if a pack of giant rabbits had made the insane maze. Jacob seemed close to hyperventilation the longer they were underground, sticking closer and closer to Al until he was nearly plastered to his side.

"You don't act much like a Hufflepuff," Jacob said after Al scrambled up a pile of debris to poke at the ceiling, hoping to find a way out.

Al laughed. "Yeah, I probably should have gone to Gryffindor. It was Score's idea to be Sorted into Hufflepuff."

"What do you mean? You get Sorted wherever the Hat puts you."

"Not if you argue with it," Al assured him and slid down the pile. He batted at the dirt on his buttocks, realizing he was utterly filthy.

"Score is Scorpius Malfoy, right?"

Al nodded.

"I've been to his house. His father and mine went to school together."

"So did his father and mine."

Jacob smirked. "Yes, I heard about that."

Al looked at him sharply. "Does that matter to you?"

Jacob shrugged. "Why should it? Purebloods always do what they want when it comes to that sort of thing. I'm sort of surprised at your father, though. Big hero and all."

Al tried not to think about his father's relationship. He was glad his dad was happy with Mr Malfoy, but he did not want any details. He started down another passage.

"We can't always choose who we fall for," he said.

"Like Scorpius Malfoy?"

Al grimaced. "Yeah, like Scorpius Malfoy."

"So you're gay, then?"

The corridor branched. Al lifted his wand and looked down two identical passages. Right or left? "Yes. Definitely gay."

"Scorpius, too?"

"You'll have to ask him," Al snapped more sharply than intended.

"So," Jacob asked after Al chose the right hand fork. "What kind of homosexual are you?"

Al debated hexing the Slytherin to shut him up. "The kind that fucks men," he said peevishly.

Jacob snorted a laugh. "I know that. I meant do you prefer to top or bottom?"

Al stared at him. "What sort of question is that?"

Jacob nodded. "Top, I'll bet."

"Can we talk about something else?"

"I plan to have sex with a guy one day," Jacob confided. Apparently no subject change was in order.

"With anyone in particular?" Al asked absently and froze when he sensed something different. What was it?

"Maybe," Jacob said cagily.

Ah, the air was fresher. Al quickened his footsteps.

"Come on, Jake, I think there's a way out."

"Good. I feel like we have been down here forever." Al heard him cast a Tempus Charm. "Bloody hell! Three hours!"

"No wonder I'm tired and starved."

The passage sloped upward and finally allowed them to shove through a tangle of brush and into the fresh air. Night had fallen some time past.

"Hey, it stopped raining!" Jacob said. Al though he was very odd for a Slytherin.

Al cast a Directional Charm to seek the camp and resigned himself to more walking. There was no telling how far they had wandered.

They reached the camp an hour later and walked into the Hub gratefully. Al was surprised to see a large group gathered. He had expected most of the campers to be in their beds. Rose saw them first and launched herself across the room with a shriek.

"Albus!" she shouted. "We were so worried! We were just organizing a search party!"

Al's eyes swept the crowd and latched onto Scorpius, who pushed his way forward.

"It was great!" Jacob cried. "Albus saved me! Just like a true hero. Hooray for Albus!" The boy jostled Rose aside and took her place in Al's arms right before he planted a kiss on Al's lips. There was stunned silence throughout the room. Jacob stepped back quickly, possibly fearing Al's reaction, but Al's eyes were one Score, who had stopped moving forward. The grey eyes raked over Al's dishevelled form and his glare became positively glacial.

Oh fuck, Al thought.

PART THREE

Al let the water sluice over his head, rinsing the suds from his hair. The amount of mud that had accumulated there was quite remarkable, considering he had only fallen in it once. He sighed heavily, not looking forward to the trek back to his quarters. Score had stalked off without even greeting him after Jake's irritating manoeuvre. Jake had been hustled off by his group of worried cronies, so Al had not been able to strangle some answers out of the brat.

As he shut the water off and climbed out, he wondered if Zeb was still sharing their cabin. Not that it mattered at this point. For certain Al would be getting the silent treatment, something Score excelled at when he was enraged. Still, Al wouldn't be Al if he didn't at least try to explain. He dragged on the pair of pyjama bottoms Hugo had brought for him and made his way outside to navigate the slippery path to his cold bedchamber.

The lights were out, so Al cast a dim Lumos as he made his way to Score's bedside. He was not above grovelling at this point, despite the fact of his innocence.

Score's bed was empty. Al stared at it in shock for a moment and then noticed the bedside table had been cleared of Score's most precious items—such as his emerald-encrusted silver comb. Al quickly spelled open the trunk at the end of the bed. Empty.

Fuck.

Al nearly broke his neck racing across the rope bridge to Hugo's room. The Gryffindor boy had managed to acquire a cabin all to himself—probably with the intention of using it as some sort of love nest of debauchery, knowing him.

"Hugo!" he yelled. "Score is gone!"

Hugo sat up in his bed, grumbling. "First one of you and now the other. Can't you just stay in camp like normal people?"

"He can't have gone far, unless he got his hands on a Portkey."

"Yeah, Rose told me the anti-Apparition wards extend to the edges of the property. That's what… at least an hour's walk in any direction?"

"He might have taken a broom."

Hugo shook his head. "Oliver locked them all up after a homesick second year tried to fly home."

"So he's walking. I've got to go after him."

Hugo sighed, but he reached for his clothes. "I'll go with you."

"No, we're going to be in enough trouble. No need to drag you into it."

"Forget it, cousin. Your brother would have my bollocks for potion ingredients if I let anything happen to you."

Albus scowled, but he knew Hugo feared no one except James Potter.

"Well, let's look on the bright side. Road trip!" Hugo yelled suddenly, opening his trunk and tossing items haphazardly into a knapsack. "You'd better put some clothes on. And don't try to leave without me, or you'll regret it."

Al nodded and hurried back to his cabin.

At least the Directional Charm seemed to be working. Al and Hugo trudged through the forest, guided by the dim light of their wands. Hugo sang snatches of a song while they walked. "I feel alive, I feel a love, I feel a love that's really real. I feel alive, I feel a love, I feel a love that's really real. I'm on sunshine, babeeeeeee! Oooooooh! I'm on sunshine baby, ooooooooh! I'm walkin' on sunshine, woooooooah oh!" Al ignored him, intent upon reaching his stubborn not-boyfriend. Hugo began making up his own lyrics after a while.

"Aaaaaaalbus Severus Po-o-otter, Aaaaaalbus Severus a-and Scorpiuuuuuus. Star-crossed lovers tiiiiiiiiill the end, oh Aaaaalbus… Dude, your initials together totally spells ASS." Hugo snickered.

"Thank you, Hugo. I wasn't depressed enough."

"Always glad to help. ASS." He laughed. Al rolled his eyes.

After an hour Al was nearly staggering with weariness. It had been a long day trekking through the tunnels with Jake and now he was walking again. If it were anyone but Score, he would have given up.

"I think someone is following us," said Hugo. "Why don't you rest here for a second and I'll go check it out?"

"Wait, I don't think we should split up," Al said, but it was too late. Hugo had disappeared into the darkness. Al leaned against a tree and rubbed his eyes. When they caught up to Scorpius, Al was going to wring his neck.

Hugo returned with someone in tow. As they entered the circle of light cast by Al's wand, he saw that it was Jacob Nott. Irritation twisted in the pit of his stomach.

"What the hell are you doing here, Jake?" he demanded.

"I wanted to find you and apologize. I was just trying to help you out… you know, before. But Scorpius seemed pretty upset. I got to your room just as you and Hugo were leaving, so I followed you."

Al sighed. "Maybe you should take him back to camp, Hugo."

"No way! I'm not babysitting this little demon!"

Jake glared at him. "I don't need a babysitter!"

"Oh just come on!" Al snapped. "We'll never catch up to Score at this rate!"

Jacob's presence at least put a damper on Hugo's need to sing, so it was in relative silence that they continued their trek.

"I'm really sorry, Albus. Do you forgive me?" Jake asked and turned the power of his adorable gaze on Al, who was largely immune.

"Yeah, whatever, just don't do it again. You can explain it to Score when we catch up to him."

"Who's there?" someone snapped. Al restrained himself from racing forward and flinging himself on Scorpius, knowing that jumping out of the forest was a good way to get hexed into a mass of pain.

"It's me!" he yelled.

He heard a growl of disgust and then he did throw himself forward and launched himself at the blond. He pressed kisses against Score's face and ignored the efforts of his not-boyfriend to detach him. "What are you doing here, Albus? Get off of me. I'm angry at you."

"You have no reason to be angry at me. I came to find you and give you a proper hex or two for being a total prat. Lucky for you I'd rather do other things." He whispered the last two words into Score's ear and grinned mischievously when the blond stopped trying to push him away.

"How did you find me?"

"It wasn't hard. Hear this now, I'll always come for you," he intoned solemnly.

Score snorted. "Right. How can you be sure?"

"This is true love. Do you think this happens every day?" Al drew back and tilted his head for a kiss, but Scorpius gasped and pushed him away forcibly.

"You came to find me with him in tow?" Score snarled.

"No. He followed us."

"Us?"

Hugo stepped forward and waved. "Hey, Score. I couldn't let my cousin wander off alone."

"Were you camping?" Al asked, looking around. Score had set up a tent.

"I obviously wasn't going to make it beyond the wards before morning. I did not expect you to follow me.

Al glared at him. "You didn't expect me to follow you?"

Scorpius looked away and Al felt a surge of vindication. Score had known Al would come for him. He had probably just expected Al to come alone and, once again, Al had botched it.

"We didn't bring tents," Al said lamely and tugged at his hair.

"But we brought provisions!" Hugo said and dangled a bag of marshmallows.

Score shook his head in disgust. "I'm going to build a fire and pretend none of you are here."

Hugo skewered marshmallows and dangled them over the fire.

"Why are you doing that?" Jake asked.

"It's a Muggle tradition." When he judged them appropriately toasted, he handed a skewer to Al. "Here, try it."

Al grabbed a warm marshmallow, but the toasted skin peeled away from the melted centre, leaving a gooey string to connect them. Al nibbled his way up the string and then bit daintily at the crispy bit. He noticed Jake watching him with a rapt expression and stopped, wondering if his marshmallow eating technique was too much for the boy. He nearly swore off eating the sweets until he glanced at Score only to find the same expression on the blond's face. Al's eyes narrowed and he licked the inside of the marshmallow seductively before putting the whole of it into his mouth and then sucking on his fingers. Score's jaw hung open before he closed it with a snap.

Hugo threaded another marshmallow and handed it to Jake before leaning back and crossing his arms behind his head. "Ah, it's good to be here, under the stars."

Al lay back, too, but he was not feeling content at all. He had envisioned himself stargazing with Score, cuddled together, preferably unclothed. Instead, he was with the bristly hedgehog version of Score, fully clothed, and in the company of his chatty cousin and an unwelcome guest. He knew Score would not even dream of kissing him while Jacob was with them.

Jake's marshmallow caught on fire. He leaped to his feet and danced around, waving the flaming object while squealing in alarm, until the burning missile shot from the stick and splattered against a nearby tree. It continued to flame there malevolently while Jake looked at the others sheepishly.

"Yeah, they're flammable," Hugo commented.

"Good thing it didn't fly off and land in my hair or something else would be burned to a crisp tonight," Score muttered.

Jacob instantly skewered another and set about making marshmallow torches. Hugo sat up with a gasp. "I almost forgot! Today is the fifth anniversary of the death of my third hamster!"

The others looked at him blankly.

"What? I just remembered. We need to observe a moment of silence." Hugo bowed his head and a look of great sadness came over his freckled features. "Oh, Scampers, how we miss ye. Thou wert a fine pet and finer tormenter of Rose. We shall miss her screams most of all as we remember ye tangled in her hair prior to that terrifying moment when ye shuffled off this mortal coil."

Al rolled his eyes, but Jake giggled.

"Enough grief!" Hugo cried. "Tonight we shall celebrate! Let us dance around the fire like the natives of old!" He leaped to his feet and took off his shirt with a flourish before cavorting around the fire, whooping like a banshee.

"Um… Hugo?" Al asked.

"Yes, Albus?"

"Why do you have glitter on your stomach?"

Hugo stopped dancing for a moment and grinned widely. "One of the Abbott twins wears glitter lipstick."

Jake cocked his head. "Then why is it on your stomach?"

Hugo waggled his eyebrows and Jacob gasped. Scorpius burst out laughing.

"Bloody hell, Hugo, you work fast."

"I'm irresistible. What can I say? Now, who is going to dance with me?"

Al shook his head. "No dancing. I'm exhausted. In fact, I'm going to bed." He looked hopefully at Score, who seemed to be lost in thought, staring into the fire.

"Me, too!" Jake piped up. He nearly trod on Al's heels as they entered Score's tent. Al tried to ignore his crushing sense of disappointment. The tent was a generic summer camp version—one room only. Al had hoped it was one of the multiple room types, but no such luck. Not surprising, considering his luck had been fairly shite lately.

Several sleeping bags were tucked into a cabinet on one wall, so Al grabbed one and rolled it out, followed by his new best friend. He sighed.

"Jake, you are planning to tell Scorpius that your kiss didn't mean anything, right?"

"Sure, Al! I'll tell him in the morning. I'm too tired right now."

With that, the Slytherin leaped into his blankets and seemed to fall instantly asleep. Al cast a glance at the doorway, but Score seemed perfectly content to stay up all night chatting with Hugo. Al crawled into his own sleeping bag, tossed a few times, and fell asleep.

PART FOUR

Al woke up wondering where the hell he was, which happened far too frequently these days. He blinked at the ceiling for a moment and then turned his head to see a brown-haired boy snuggled against his shoulder.

Ah damn. Jake. He sat up quickly, not caring when Jake's head thumped against the ground. Al looked around for Scorpius, but he was nowhere in sight. Neither was Hugo. Surely they didn't stay up all night?

"Albus?" Jake murmured sleepily. Al ignored him and got to his feet. He hurried to the door and peered out. Two sleeping bags flanked the dead fire pit. One disclosed Hugo's red hair and the other showed the silver blond of Scorpius. Al sagged in relief. He had been afraid Scorpius would continue his trek and leave them before dawn.

He shivered, suddenly noticing the chill. He dressed, retrieved his wand, and went outside to stoke the fire. The flames were blazing high when Score finally stirred. Al had settled himself close to the blond. He smiled down at him and was rewarded with a sleepy smile that made his heart lurch.

"Morning," Al purred and wished he dared to lean down for a kiss. "Want me to warm you up?"

The smile widened and then the grey eyes blinked and grew shuttered. Score's head disappeared beneath the blankets. He muttered something unintelligible and Al sighed. A pebble bounced off Al's chest and he glared at Hugo, who grinned at him from beneath his own covers.

"Thanks for giving us some heat, cousin. Got anything to eat?"

"You're the one who brought provisions, remember?"

"I think Jake burned all the marshmallows last night."

"That doesn't sound like a good breakfast, anyway."

"Probably not," Hugo muttered and copied Score's turtlelike motion by disappearing beneath the sleeping bag. Jake wandered out of the tent.

"You guys slept out here? That's nuts."

Scorpius threw back his covers and crawled out of the cocoon before marching past Jake and into the tent. Al figured the blond would have a shower and briefly entertained the notion of joining him. The knowledge that he preferred to keep his testicles intact kept him where he was. Scorpius was obviously still fuming over the Jake situation. Al gave the boy a glare. Jake grinned sheepishly and settled himself close to Hugo.

"I need to convince Scorpius to return to camp with us," Al told them.

Hugo's head popped up again. "Already done."

"What? How did you do that?"

Hugo grinned. "I have to have some secrets, Albus. Let's just say I can be very persuasive." His tone was suggestive and Al immediately pictured Hugo in a compromising position with Scorpius, Hugo's smirk was too crafty to entertain that notion for long.

"Prat," Al snapped.

Hugo laughed. "Hey, Al, I set him up for you. It's your job to knock him down. Like that Muggle game. The one with the funny bottles."

Al didn't bother to ask what Muggle bottle games had to do with winning Scorpius back, but he was grateful to Hugo, regardless. Jake looked disgruntled.

"I'm hungry," said the Slytherin.

"You should have thought of that before following us into the wilderness."

"And torching my provisions," Hugo muttered as he crawled from his blankets and tugged on his trousers.

Scorpius strolled out of the tent, looking impeccable in mustard yellow, a color he only wore when he was irritated. Al frowned. Scorpius said, "All right. I'm leaving now. Anyone coming along is welcome to try and keep up."

A quick spell collapsed the tent, shrank it, and popped it into Score's backpack. Without a glance at Al he strode into the forest.

"I guess we're leaving," Hugo quipped and drowned the fire with a deluge of water from his wand.

The storm from the previous day had dissipated completely, leaving the sky clear and cloudless. They had apparently gotten a late start, because the temperature quickly rose until they were all sweltering. Score grew even testier, threatening to turn Hugo into a birch tree if he sang one more bloody song.

Jake, apparently tired of Al ignoring him, made his way up to walk with the blond. Soon the two were chatting like old chums. Al watched them suspiciously, not trusting the little Slytherin any farther than he could toss him without the aid of a Weightlessness Charm. He hoped the brat was explaining yesterdays' misunderstanding to Scorpius, but when the boy looked over his shoulder at Al with a calculating grin, he doubted it. Jake was likely making things worse.

Hugo glanced at Al. "So. What's your plan?"

Al snorted. "Plan? Do I look like someone with a plan? Score won't even let me get near enough to apologize. Not that I have anything to apologize for." He shook his head, frustrated. "My life is a mess."

"At least you're pretty."

"Yeah, well pretty don't pay the rent," Al muttered and then glared at his cousin. "Will you shut up?"

"Bu you don't pay rent!" Hugo pointed out. "You still live at home."

"Reprise the bit about shutting up."

Hugo stuck out his tongue, but managed to keep quiet for another quarter hour. By then they were nearly back to camp. Al recognized a landmark as they approached. He cast a worried glance at Scorpius, who had foolishly worn a short-sleeved shirt. Al could see a hint of pink on his upper arms and knew the pale-skinned boy would likely have a sunburn if he didn't get under cover soon.

Loud screams alerted them of the presence of the camp before they reached the boundary. Al was alarmed until he heard the sound of laughter mingled with the shrieking.

They strolled into the clearing to find it transformed into a makeshift beach complete with sand and a decent-sized body of water. A group of young children ran past them spraying water at each other from their wands. A huge sprinkler had been rigged at one edge of the clearing and it drenched giggling children in large wet passes. The Abbott twins were building an enormous sandcastle.

Al and the others stared for a moment, transfixed. Lily spotted them and ran over quickly. Al frowned when he saw the skimpiness of her pink bikini. She glared at him.

"You guys are bloody lucky I covered for you. No one noticed you were missing. Except that baby Slytherin's friends have been wandering all over looking for him." She gestured to Jake, who shrugged.

"Shove off, baby Slyth," Hugo said and nudged Jake ungently. The Slytherin glared at him, but walked away and waved to his mates.

Hugo's jaw dropped and Al followed his gaze to see Oliver Wood clad only in a black Speedo. He was surrounded by a gaggle of admirers, most of which were female. Bloody hell, but the Quidditch star was fit. Al thought if he were a few years older, he would certainly think about chatting up Wood. But only if Scorpius were out of the picture, of course. No one could hold a candle to him.

Hugo snorted. "I can do better than that." Hugo cast a spell and was instantly dressed only in tiny white swim trunks adorned with strawberries. He waved and bellowed loudly, "Oh, Amber! Zephyr! Over here, girls! Did you know my fruits are edible?"

He wandered toward the pool and the Abbott twins squealed and raced for him, quickly creating a Hugo sandwich. Al laughed and shook his head. He turned and grinned at Scorpius, who met his amused gaze for only a moment before marching toward the Hub.

Deep freeze it is, Al thought morosely as he followed his not-boyfriend. He thought maybe he should have been the one to keep walking last night and go home.

The round tables were still in place in the Hub and laden with all types of breakfast food. Al quickly threw himself into a chair and loaded a plate. Scorpius seated himself on the other side of the table, not surprisingly.

Al slathered a piece of toast with raspberry jam and wolfed it down before picking up a succulent-looking banger and taking a blissful bite. Food was good. He was lost in a reverie of culinary delight until he heard a throat-clearing noise and glanced over at Score, who was glaring at him.

"You have jam on your face."

Al immediately stuck out his tongue and licked the corners of his mouth to locate the offending bit of raspberry. Score blanched. Al raised a brow and Scorpius nodded before turning his attention back to his plate. His cheeks were pink and Al wondered how much of it was sunburn. Al shrugged and resumed sucking the innards out of his banger. Another throat-clearing noise drew his attention.

"What? Did I miss a spot?" he asked.

"Do you have to fucking do that? Can't you just eat it like a normal human being?"

Al looked at him blankly.

"You're a sucking on that like it's a… a…" Scorpius drew his lips into a thin line and his grey eyes flashed.

Al smirked wickedly and bit delicately into the sausage before deliberately licking his lips suggestively. He then licked his fingers one at a time and sucked on the tips. He spied a bowl of sliced peaches and reached for one. He ate it as suggestively as possible without taking his eyes from Scorpius, who had given up eating in order to watch him with what seemed rapt attention.

"Not fair, Albus," the blond hissed.

"All is fair in love, Scorpius," he retorted sharply.

Al bit into the last bit of peach and the juice dribbled from the edge of his lips to trickle down toward his chin. Scorpius growled and stood so fast his chair threatened to fall over. Al sat up in alarm, expecting the blond to storm out of the room, but instead Scorpius rounded the table in a rush and gripped the collar of Al's shirt.

He hauled Al to his feet and planted a hard kiss on his lips. Al sucked in a startled breath and then relaxed against his not-boyfriend. The tension that had been choking him melted away and his arms slid around Scorpius's waist to pull him closer.

"Score," he murmured as the blond pulled away to suck at the peach juice near Al's mouth. "I've missed you so much. I swear there is nothing between Jake and me."

"I know. He's a little Slytherin prat," Scorpius said. "Hugo told me the little monster is trying to break us up."

"He is?"

Scorpius pulled away long enough to scowl at him. "Albus, can you get any more clueless?"

"Maybe."

"Shut up and kiss me, all right?"

PART FIVE

Al knees nearly buckled when Scorpius pulled him into a passionate kiss. Bloody hell, it seemed like weeks had passed since Score had given him any sign of affection. Scorpius was not at all gentle, plundering Al's mouth as if staking his claim. Al held back nothing, trying to make it clear that he belonged to Scorpius alone. His hands explored his lover's shoulders and neck, hating the barrier of clothing between them. It had been too long since they had shared true intimacy. He felt Scorpius caress him, sliding his hands over Al's ribs and pulling him closer.

A startled squeak from the doorway made Al want to scream in frustration. He fully expected Scorpius to push him away and resume his former cold stance, but the blond simply broke the kiss without releasing his grip on Al, who didn't bother to see who had interrupted them. He wondered if he could hex them without his wand—sometimes wandless magic worked, if a person got angry enough.
"Um… I just came to get something to eat."

The voice made Al even more determined to hex the intruder. Bloody damned Jacob Nott! Had he been placed on the planet to fuck with Al's life?

"Perhaps you should come back later," Scorpius suggested coldly. "I would like a few private moments with my boyfriend."

Al's heart almost stopped. He gaped at Scorpius and turned to see Jake doing the same. The Slytherin boy recovered quickly and glared at them. "I thought he wasn't your boyfriend. Randall Deakes has been telling people that Albus is fair game."

Al cocked a brow at the blond, trying to keep the smug expression from his face as Score's words came back to bite him in the arse. Scorpius flushed.

"I was in a bit of a snit when I said that. I didn't mean it. Of course he is my boyfriend. I would never, ever let go of my adorable little Albus." To emphasize his words, Scorpius moved his hands over Al's back again and then downward to cup his arse. Al gasped and Scorpius smiled wickedly. "Now fuck off, Nott."

The Slytherin spun and stalked out, muttering.

"You're awfully sexy when you're possessive," Al purred.

"If you were a bit cleverer, I would accuse you of setting up that whole situation merely to make me jealous."

"You think I—? Hey! I'm clever!"

"No, you're not, but I love you anyway," Scorpius said and kissed him again. Albus decided he could put up with any number of insults as long as they were followed by molten kisses and a declaration of love.

"So you're officially my boyfriend now?" Al asked when he could breathe again.

"I suppose."

"Will you tattoo my name on your arse?"

"Don't push it."

Al chuckled and Scorpius continued, "However, that does not mean that I plan to engage in public displays of affection, so you can forget about shagging until we get back home."

Al scowled. "But that's days away!"

"I am certain you will survive."

"You are a cold, cold man, Scorpius Malfoy."

"Thank you. Now can we finish our breakfast? Without you getting pornographic with the food?"

"No promises," Al warned, but he took pity on his boyfriend, content to bask in the warm glow of Score's perusal as they ate, as well as a soft touch on his arm or shoulder now and again.

They returned to their hut after breakfast and Score went off to have a shower. A piece of parchment floated in the center of the room, announcing the day's activities, which included Oliver Wood's postponed broom tag, a rousing game of bingo, and a cookout. Al tossed the flyer on Score's bed and grinned at the thought of what he would say about the activities. Albus could think of a dozen better things to do and all of them involved Scorpius in various states of undress.

His boyfriend returned from the shower with gleaming wet hair and his t-shirt clinging damply to his skin. Al watched from a cross-legged perch on his bed as Scorpius dragged a brush through his hair for what seemed a ludicrous amount of time. His blond hair was fully dry by the time he set the brush aside and then peered into the mirror to check on the perfection of his eyebrows. Al shook his head in bewilderment.

"Look, I'm just curious. How many hours a day do you spend grooming yourself?"

Scorpius met his eyes in the mirror and smirked. "Some people are not lucky enough to be as naturally adorable as you are."

"Stop it. You're making me blush," Al said sardonically, but it was true, his cheeks warmed when Scorpius let his gaze slide over him and apparently liked what he saw. Al looked away, feeling suddenly overcome with the need to touch him. Bloody hell, he was going to have to move to another room to keep from shagging Scorpius in the middle of the night.

He was thankfully distracted by a large red, yellow, and blue beach ball bouncing into the room. It ricocheted off the wall and ceiling a couple of times before exploding in the centre of the room with a shower of confetti.

"Damn it!" Scorpius swore as he shook the multicolored bits from his hair. "Now I have to brush it again."

Al laughed and levered himself off the bed to catch the sparkling card that hovered in midair. Gold writing gleamed upon it.

"It's from Hugo."

"There's a fucking surprise," Score muttered through a curtain of hair.

"We are invited to a party in his room. Apparently he was unimpressed with the entertainment our fine counselors have contrived."

"Oh, Merlin. Knowing Hugo there will be alcohol and Spin the Bottle."

"Does your rule against public displays of affection include party games?"

Scorpius frowned. "I will not engage in any foolish, naked party games with Hugo Weasley. Frankly, the thought of seeing those freckles unclothed makes me a bit nauseous."

Albus laughed, but he was secretly relieved by Score's words. If anyone had enough charisma to charm Score away from him, it would be Hugo. Not that his cousin had ever expressed an interest in boys, but one could never be too careful.

"All right. I don't really want you kissing the Abbott twins, anyway. You might be tempted to switch back."

Scorpius sniffed. "Those girls had six years to coax me away from you, Albus. Their time allotment has expired."

Al enveloped Scorpius in a happy hug and then offered to brush his hair for him. He would have to send Hugo a note of thanks for the confetti. He loved touching Score's fine, beautiful hair. "We are still going to the party, though, right?"

"I suppose. Regardless of the debauchery level, it will still be better than watching the girls ogle Oliver Wood's bare chest."

They arrived at Hugo's hut at the appointed time and were surprised to find it dimly lit with no one in attendance but Hugo, who stood in the centre of the room fondling a bright yellow Frisbee. He smirked when he saw them.

"Are we early?" Scorpius asked.

"Did I forget to mention that this party is only for you two?" Hugo said innocently. Al laughed happily and Scorpius raised a pale eyebrow. Hugo used his Frisbee to gesture around the room. "You will note the dim lighting, the romantic music, and the fine selection of stolen food for your dining pleasure. Additionally, I have provided a cooler full of Fortescue's finest ice cream, artfully borrowed from Oliver Wood's private stash and kept cold with a superior Cooling Charm cast by yours truly." The Frisbee made one final flourish as Hugo indicated the last and most prominent item in the room.

"The hammock is for you to figure out."

"What about the Frisbee?" Albus asked, nearly speechless and trying to cover his amazement with inane babble.

Hugo smiled dreamily and caressed the yellow disk. "Oh, this is mine. I have so many good memories associated with this… and a bucket of strawberries and some chocolate syrup… I'll never part with it." He coughed. "But I digress. I'm locking the door behind me. The Abbott twins don't know it yet, but I'm spending the night with them. See you in the morning."

Hugo's brow wrinkled suddenly and he yanked out his wand to tap the Frisbee. It Transfigured instantly into an inflatable beach ball. Albus blinked at it. "What happened to never parting with the Frisbee?"

"Those were yesterday's memories. Time to make new memories. 'Night!"

The door slammed shut and a tingle of magic announced the Locking Charm. Al turned a predatory gaze on Scorpius, whose grey eyes widened slightly.

"Alone at last," Al purred. "How do you feel about private displays of affection, Scorpius, darling?"

Score backed away slowly, looking nervous. Albus advanced, making a mental note to buy Hugo the most extravagant gift on the planet for his next birthday.

"Now, Albus, don't be hasty, you know how your cousin loves to pull practical jokes. How do you know this is not—?"

Al pounced. Score leaped backward and his head hit the curved wall of the tiny cabin. Albus did not bother to apologize. His lips fastened greedily on Scorpius's and he heard a low growl. It took him a moment to realize it issued from his own throat.

"Albus, you…" Score trailed off in a low moan when Al's lips moved to his delicate collarbone. His tongue flicked over the ridge and into the dip behind it, loving the taste of the blond, as always.

"…have waited long enough," Albus finished for him. His fingers unbuttoned Score's shirt and his mouth followed the line of flesh revealed. Score's hands moved into Al's hair, but they made no attempt to pull him away. Instead, Scorpius sighed softly and then gasped when Al's mouth fastened greedily on one nipple. He teased it with his tongue and teeth, feeling a surge of lust when it hardened in his mouth, knowing something else would be hardening soon, if it wasn't already. He slid his hand down to verify.

Oh Merlin, yes. Scorpius length strained at his trousers, tight and throbbing beneath Al's palm. He pressed gently and earned a moan from his boyfriend. Albus wasn't sure how long he could hang on--his cock felt harder than he could remember and he practically quivered with the need to feel Scorpius. He did not particularly care whether he was inside of Score or Score was inside of him, so long as someone was inside. He stroked Score's lovely prick through his trousers and groaned aloud when the blond rocked forward against his hand. Fuck.

"Albus," Scorpius whispered.

Al slid to his knees and moved his hand lower, cupping Score's testicles as he pressed his face against the hardness, kissing and biting Score's cock through the cloth barrier.

"Fuck, Albus." Score's voice was a husky rasp and Al thrilled to hear it. There was nothing better in the world than the heady sensation of causing his cool blond boyfriend to come undone.

"Love you, Scorpius," Al replied, raising his hands to tear at the erotic lacing of Score's trousers. He insisted on wearing traditional wizarding clothing in large gatherings, something Albus could hardly fault him for, because it was hotter than hell. Score's cock practically leaped free when the binding separated and Al felt heat surge straight to his groin when he realized Scorpius wore no pants. "You are a fucking tease," he muttered.

"It's more comfortable," Scorpius insisted, meeting Al's eyes for a moment. His long fingers tightened in Al's hair and he tugged, not quite subtly, begging for Al's mouth, but Albus had recovered his wits slightly--he suddenly did not want it to end so easily. Instead of granting Score's unspoken wish, he lurched to his feet. A frown marred the blond's beautiful mouth and Albus grinned at the flash of annoyance that crossed his boyfriend's features.

"Hugo mentioned ice cream," Al said and left Scorpius leaning against the wall, looking sexier than any human being had a right to. It took every iota of Al's willpower to keep walking toward the plastic cooler near the hammock.

"What? Now?"

"There is always time for ice cream," Al replied with a grin. "Come here."

He heard a growl behind him and then a rustle as Scorpius shoved away from the wall. Al glanced over his shoulder to see the blond fidget with his clothing and reach down to grip the waistband of his trousers, obviously intending to replace his erection.

"Leave that out," Albus demanded with an edge to his voice that made Scorpius's silver eyes shoot to him and widen in surprise. Al smiled wickedly and Scorpius blushed, but left his beautiful cock on display. Albus touched the tip of his tongue to suddenly dry lips as he let his gaze wander over his disheveled boyfriend. Scorpius was unbelievably gorgeous and he was Al's. The thought made him want to launch himself across the room and pounce, but he dragged his eyes away and knelt to open the cooler. The blast of cold released when he opened the lid was a welcome sensation on his overheated skin.

"Chocolate, vanilla, or persimmon?" Al asked, surveying the contents of the freezing box.

"Persimmon?" Scorpius asked in disbelief.

"It's Hugo. You'll have chocolate, of course." Al jerked his head, not quite trusting himself to look at Scorpius again. "Get on the hammock."

"You can't be serious."

Al shot him a look and was quite surprised and pleased when Scorpius rolled his eyes, but obediently walked over and threw himself into the knotted rope hammock. It swayed for a moment before stabilizing. Albus made his selection and then approached the hammock. He stared down at Scorpius, who looked like a sexy sailor with his shirt and trousers open, exposed from neck to groin. Albus began to have second thoughts about taking his time. He wasn't sure he had the ability to wait.

A seductive smile curved Scorpius's lips--the bastard knew damned well how he must look. Albus upended the ice cream and dropped it onto Score's navel. The hammock rocked dangerously as Scorpius yelped and threw Albus a glare. "Damn you, Albus!"

Albus made up for it by leaning over and licking a stripe through the melting chocolate, dipping his tongue into Score's navel. His left hand drew a trail with the ice cream, up and over Score's sternum to circle one nipple and then the other. Albus followed the path with his mouth, unsure whether the confection tasted better than Scorpius, but finally decided they were both brilliant.

"Merlin, Albus," Scorpius breathed with a moan when Al once again laved eagerly at Scorpius's nipples. He knew they were crazily sensitive and always had the blond panting within minutes. He often thought about bringing Scorpius to orgasm just through toying with his nipples, but now was not the time. He dragged the melting cone downward, slashing it over Score's skin and stopping at the base of his cock, touching it only lightly with the cold substance.

Without warning, Albus dragged the slick ice cream straight up over Score's cock, earning a strangled cry from the blond. Al chuckled wickedly and erased the stripe with his tongue, causing Scorpius to issue a few choice curse words, but his hands twisted pleasantly in Al's hair and his quivers belied his angry words. When the sticky sweetness was gone, Albus focused his attention on Score's throbbing hardness in earnest, the cone in his hand falling to the floor, forgotten. He had something better to taste now.

"Albus, I think I'm going to—"

Al stopped immediately and looked at Scorpius, who nearly screamed in frustration. Albus appreciated that his boyfriend always announced when he planned to come in order to spare him the shock, but sometimes his consideration worked against him. "Not quite yet," Albus said huskily, his voice rasping slightly from the pounding his throat had taken when trying to swallow Scorpius whole.

"You're getting even, aren't you?" Scorpius growled. "Sometimes you act like a bloody Slytherin, you know that?"

"I'm a Hufflepuff and proud of it," Al said. "I want to fuck you."

"Bloody hell," Scorpius said with a moan. "Come here, then."

Albus first divested Scorpius of his shoes and trousers, although he left the shirt on. It always turned him on to see the blond half-dressed and utterly debauched. It made Albus feel strangely powerful to put him in that state. He tore off his own clothing in record time, enjoying the gleam of silver eyes watching as he did so.

He tried to climb into the hammock with disastrous results. First the thing dipped nearly to the floor, causing Scorpius to yelp and grab for the ropes. Albus let go immediately and it righted itself with a perilous swaying.

"Albus, maybe we shouldn't…"

"I know, I'll jump on," Albus said and leaped.

For a moment it seemed to have worked. His weight settled onto Scorpius with a thump and a double-whoofing of breath… and then the rocking hammock flipped over completely, depositing Albus on the floor with Scorpius atop him.

"Ouch," Albus said, finding the wooden floor painfully hard against his backside. Scorpius smiled down at him, looking something like a snake ready to pounce on a hapless rat.

"Well, well, well, Albus. Isn't this fortuitous?" he purred.

Feeling Scorpius's hardness against his own seemed quite fortuitous indeed, so Al merely nodded. He felt a soft sigh against his face and then Scorpius's lips pressed gently against his own, carrying tenderness the blond seemed to have difficulty conveying with words. The kiss deepened and Albus wrapped his arms around Score's neck, pulling him closer and arching his body up to extend the contact of skin on skin. Scorpius seemed determined to eradicate the taste of chocolate from Al's mouth, scouring every last nook with his tongue.
Al's hands were beneath Score's open shirt, touching him from neck to arse and back again, adoring the feel of the hot flesh beneath his hands. He wanted more. He cupped Score's fine arse with both hands and rocked his hips upward, grinding their erections together.
Score tore his lips away from Albus and they both gasped for air for long moments until Albus metered, "Lube."

Scorpius stretched out a foot and snagged his forgotten trousers to drag them closer. He fumbled through the cloth for his wand, gasping when Al's questing hands delved into the curve of his arse to drag his fingers over his balls.

The instant Score's wand was in hand, he cast several Charms and Al grinned when he felt the near-painful effects of the Stretching Charm until it was partially soothed by the Lubrication Spell. Scorpius was getting damned good at those. He never missed any more.

Al's legs fell open wider when Score shifted. A moment later he felt the pressure of Score's hardness against his hole, seeking ingress. No fingers today, his lover was in a hurry, apparently. Albus only smiled and shoved his arse forward, impaling himself and causing Score to cry out—he wasn't the only impatient one.

"Fuck me now," Albus ordered and Scorpius complied. All tenderness had evaporated, leaving only urgency and frenzied passion. Score slammed into him over and over, driving Albus into the hard floorboards. He didn't care. His fingers gripped Score's hips tightly, urging him faster and deeper.

Al's eyes were half-lidded, open only far enough to admire the concentration on Score's face as gasping breaths panted through his partially-open, kiss-reddened lips. Score's fingers held him just beneath his ribs, gouging painfully, using Albus for leverage. It was blindingly brilliant, especially when Score began to graze that wonderful spot inside that made Albus see stars with every thrust. His aching cock began to weep with anticipation and his balls tightened. He was close, so very close…

Scorpius cried out and froze, pausing as shudders wracked through him. Albus opened his eyes and watched, enthralled as he always was when ecstasy shattered Score's perfect control, leaving him completely open. He looked like perfection. The sight was enough to trigger Al's orgasm and he came without being touched, even though he knew Score would have taken care of it if he had held on a bit longer.

Scorpius smiled gently down at him. "Albus," he said tenderly.

Al swallowed hard and let go of Score's hips to cup his face with both hands. His lover sagged slightly against him, covering Al's twitching cock with his warmth.

"I love you, Albus," Scorpius said.

Albus pulled his face down for a sweet kiss, a gentle play of tongue and lips against raw flesh, bruised from the urgency of previous kisses. "I love you, too," Albus replied softly.

"Did I hurt you?" Score asked.

"I think I have thirty splinters in my arse and my shoulder blades are bruised, but other than that, I'm fine," Al replied jokingly.

"Well, let's roll you over and see to those splinters, shall we?" Scorpius purred.

"You just want to get your hands on my arse," Al said with a chuckle.

"Because it's such a nice arse," Score said and kissed him again.

"Can you please Transfigure something in to a bed first?" Al asked. "I think the hammock is beyond use."

"Maybe we just need to practice?" Score suggested.

Albus grinned. "That might take some time."

"We have all night," Scorpius replied. "I think I'll start with some ice cream. Do you prefer to wear vanilla, chocolate, or persimmon?"

 End