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spacerockwriting · 6 years

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Museum Art

Thanks to @littlerose13writes for Shipmas Prompt Day 5!

✨🎄Shipmas day 5: The Quibbler’s Guide to Avoiding Nargles in Your Mistletoe This Christmas🎄✨

Pairing: Albus Potter x Lorcan Scamander, Albus Potter x Scorpius Malfoy (mentioned) Rating: General Words:3149 Summary: Scorpius was in Switzerland; Albus was at the Scamanders. The Potters get to have a holiday get together at the Scamander's house. Read on A03

“Al, go brush your hair again,” Ginny chastised her middle son. “James, do not under any circumstances bring those with you. We do not need another lecture about how those are made with animals. Lily,” Ginny says, and glances at her youngest. “Put on a jacket. It’s cold this time of year. But yes—“She’s learned over the years to let the small battles win. Some fights are not worth the tears. “You can wear your flower crown.”

“Am I alright?” A teasing voice pops into view. Ginny glances over at her husband. He’s in a normal dark grey jumper with slacks, his wild hair famously remaining untamed.

“Handsome as always,” Ginny replies, going to kiss her husband.

“Ew, gross.” The first voice is from their eldest son. He’s making a gagging motion with his finger to his throat. Hopping off the landing, James leans against the staircase railing. “Dunno why you’re so keen on us looking proper. Auntie Luna rejects those sorts of things.”

“She says free expression is the window to the soul,” Lily says, twirling off the landing and modeling off her flower crown. “Do you like these, Mum, Daddy?” Her eyes shone.

“Pretty as a petal, Flower.” He presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Now where is that brother of yours? Al!” He calls up the stairs.

“I’m coming,” he calls back. He hops down the last step onto the landing. “I’m ready,” he declares, going to tie up his black converse shoes.

“Good, because we’re flooing there. We’re set to arrive in no more than ten minutes.” Harry taps his watch, instructing his children to gather towards the fireplace.

Albus hates flooing. It makes him dizzy and nauseous, and he feels himself getting sick. He steps out the fireplace of the Scamander’s residence and winces. He feels even more nauseous and Ginny immediately goes over to her youngest son.

“Drink this Al,” Ginny instructs her son. She sits him down on a nearby chair and spoons a potion into his mouth. Albus swallows the spoonful and winces at the taste. It’s the most dreadful potion he’s ever tasted and he hates it. Ginny smooths at her son’s hair as he rests, then kisses the top of it. “You’ll be fine in a few minutes. Why don’t you go say hi to everyone?” She suggests, although it’s less of a suggestion and more of a force.

Albus immediately runs into his Aunt Luna, his mother not far behind at all.

“Albus, hi,” she greets him. She’s wearing some sort of odd colourful dress, the skirt swirling about as she walks. “Ginny!” She greets his mother with slightly more enthusiasm. “I invited your brother along too, but he declined. He says not until Lorcan and Lysander learn to behave. Lyssie didn’t mean to bite; he was only checking to test Hugo for mites. Some of them live on skin, you know. I think his shoes are rather too tight, don’t you? He needs to expand his horizons more.”

Albus ducks away as his mother chats with her best friend. He takes a seat on the couch as he eyes the living room. The Scamanders house was the most colourful place Albus has ever visited. All the rooms were painted different colours, and the furniture was arranged to make the place more zen. Albus isn’t very sure what that means, and he always tunes his aunt out when she starts talking about it.

Everything is very minimal, with several books and things littering around the house. The decorations are scarce, but are still visible. There is no holiday tree, but there are stockings on the fireplace and trays of food in the dining area. The house feels open. It is nothing like the strict world of visiting Malfoy Manor with rules and the smell of clean floors.

He didn’t bring anything to do, strictly because he didn’t have time. Normally, he’d bring a book to read, or his sketchbook to draw. But his family was in such a hurry, he didn’t have time to grab anything. Plus, his family were stuck in the ideas of Albus socializing more.

Albus hated social events with his family. While the Scamanders weren’t as horrible as his muggle cousins were, it was still an uncomfortable situation for the antisocial Slytherin. Plus, he always mixed up the twins, despite having a teeny crush on one of them. The twins always seemed to hype up their alike-ness when Albus was around, as if it were some kind of game.

As if on cue, the two twins came down the stairs. Both had their mother’s blond, but their fathers sun kissed skin. Both boys didn’t seem to care too much for shoes, and right now their hair was combed the exact same way and style. The only thing keeping them apart were their clothes. Lysander was in an oversized jumper, while Lorcan was dressed in a ripped t-shirt with a niffler printed on the front. But even different clothing didn’t stop Albus from knowing who was who.

“Hey Albie,” they both greet in unison. Albus nods to both of them. He squints, because he knows he should be able to tell the two apart. But even in their different attires, he can’t. He recalls the last time he could tell them apart, and that was back when Lysander had cut his hair short, and Lorcan hadn’t. But now both boys have their hair the same length again, and currently styled the same way.

“Lorcan, Lysander,” Albus greets the two with a mumble. Pink creeps to his face because he has a teeny crush on Lorcan, and right now both were messing with him. “If the two of you are going to fuck with me, then I’m going to take a nap,” he mumbles, and excuses himself from the boys. Sometimes if he’s lucky, he can convince his mum that he was getting overwhelmed and needed to go lie down. He’s hoping the nausea from the floo would be more convincing this time around. The trick doesn’t always work, and his mum encourages him only use it when necessary. Mostly, he ends up using it during a rather long party at the Burrow. But today just seems to fit one of those needing to escape moods.

He knows his way around the Scamander household, having been visiting it all his life. Going up the stairs, he takes the left to their guest room, crashing onto the bed. There are a variety of books piled on tables and maps everywhere. Rolf was probably working on something like his grandfather, something that would no doubt fill Scorpius with glee.

Scorpius.

Albus’ heart aches for Scorpius. The boy is away on holiday with his father. They left right at break, and wouldn’t be home until the train left. Scorpius had mentioned his father wanting to do a ski holiday in Switzerland, so that’s where they’re spending their holidays.

Scorpius was in Switzerland; Albus was at the Scamanders. Then, not too long into the New Year, Albus and his family would be forced to spend an awkward tea session with his Uncle Dudley. Once a year, the Potters would dress up in their muggle best and go off to play muggle. Harry and Dudley would sit in silence, occasionally making the smallest of talk about the weather or the kid’s school, while the children would be forced to mingle. The only reason for this was Dudley’s wife, encouraging her husband to spend time with his remaining family. She seemed far more interested in the families getting together than both boys did. Surely, she would be appalled at how her husband and his cousin didn’t care for the family gatherings.

Lying on the bed of the Scamander guest room brought out horrid memories of times when Albus was forced to be babysat by his Auntie Luna. She wasn’t into routine, and that lack of routine absolutely devastated the four year old who loved it when people played into things how he wanted them. Luna always did things her own way, and that included babysitting Albus. There wasn’t a telly in the house, and not being able to watch his silly cartoon after naptime used to seem like the end of the world.

She always brings up how he’d cry at bath time, because he hated having his hair washed and brushed, and how he was such a free spirit eater, which was just a polite word for Albus was king at getting food mashed into his fringe. Albus is sure next time he heads downstairs, his Auntie Luna would bring that story up, while Rolf would add on to how him and Albus used to hunt for bugs in the garden together. Then, one of them would show off the cute photograph of a young Albus and younger twins, together in a large mud puddle.

Although, the stories are usually better than the ones his Gran often tells.

Albus lays on the bed and stares at the books piling high around the table. There are maps scattered and tacked to the wall with dots on them. He knows what the dots mean, as it’s something to do with traveling and beasts. He knows that both twins have an interest in following after their father and great-grandfather, and Scorpius too, yearns for those quests.

He grabs at one of the plush animals on the bed and curls up with it. He misses Scorpius, and Scorpius should be here because Scorpius loves the twins and gets along, and they never do that stupid switching thing on Scorpius. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to force himself to sleep. He supposed he’ll just deal with the disappointment talks later.

“I told you that was a dumb idea, Lys,” the boy snips, crashing up the stairs. “Dressing to fuck with Al like that. Scor isn’t here to set it straight, leaving him to just be even more confused. His mum said he’s practically blind without his glasses.”

“It was funny, and you know it was. Al needs to stop closing himself off so much. He’s a nice kid, but Merlin, does he need to stop sometimes. All that introversion can’t be good for him.”

Lorcan huffs. “He’s not doing it on purpose. Aunt Ginny has said he has some disorder or disease or something. You know as well as I that he’s always been like this.”

There are a few things that can trigger Albus awake. One, is thunderstorms, and two, certain words. Albus has trained himself to immediately awake when hearing certain phrases. The words disorder and disease being some of them. Sitting up, his hands fling to his hair and he moves his knees to his chest.

Oh no, oh no, oh no

A panic is sent through Albus as he hears the door knob jingle. The door opens and Albus looks at the blond haired, sun kissed boy. It’s only one of them, as the other seemed to have left. He’s pretty sure it’s the one he has the teeny crush on—Lorcan.

“Hey Al,” he greets, and goes to shut the door. “I figured you’d be up here.”

“Being an antisocial freak and all,” Albus spits back.

“Lysander didn’t mean it like that,” he defends. The clarification is all he needs to know. The boy up here isn’t Lysander, its Lorcan. “But you heard him, didn’t you?”

Albus moves his knees closer to his chest. “If you’re here to try and convince me I’m not some antisocial freak, then you should probably go.”

“You’re not a freak,” Lorcan replies. “I’ve known you longer than Scorpius, and I can confirm that you’re not a freak. Yeah you’ve got your quirks, but Lysander’s being a dumbarse. Part of being open minded is understanding that not everyone has your same views and values.” Lorcan doesn’t go sit on the bed and goes to grab his copy of The Quibbler sitting on the table. “Mum’s still trying to teach him that. Them, sorry,” Lorcan corrects.

“Right,” Albus replies with a brow raised.

“Yeah,” Lorcan continues. “Lys just doesn’t seem to understand just what they say sometimes. You’re not the most closeminded person. Your Uncle Ron is way more close minded than you. And Mum says you’ve been to those brain wash people when you were little. They teach you those things. You’re not a freak.”

“Therapist,” Albus corrects. “It’s not brain washing,” he defends, but only slightly. He thinks maybe Lorcan could be right. He had to be taught a lot of basic skills and mindsets. He had to follow whatever he was being taught. If his therapist was in a certain mindset, there was no doubt that he’d of picked up on said mindset.

“To help your manners. Not saying you didn’t need it,” Lorcan teased. He turns pages in the magazine he’s holding. “Even Mum thought your manners were deplorable, and she’s the least worried about those things. Besides, you’re way more creative than Lys. Your creativity is more like, museum art, whereas Lys’ is street art.”

Albus raises his brow at the compliment. “Museum art?”

“Yeah! The way you draw and paint is good. Mum used to love your finger paints. Your music, too. It’s actual talent. I’ve seen your writing, too. You can’t be a creative person and be closeminded. You also can’t be a close minded person and pierce your lip and eyebrow, and play that music you like. It’s not possible.” Lorcan shifts the magazine upside down, staring intensely at one of the pages. “Next time ignore Lys. They try to be more open than they are.” Lorcan tilts his head to the side. “We should probably get downstairs.”

“Mum’s calling me?” Albus feels a bit better. The one on one talk didn’t seem to hurt him, in fact, it seemed to make him feel a bit more comfortable. Lorcan was better at getting through to him than his twin was. Lysander seemed to not understand anything about introversion. Lorcan, however, seemed to understand Albus’ needs. Not at the same level of Scorpius, but, it was good enough.

“No,” he responds, looking around the room. “I think the nargles might be hiding in the closet.”Albus rolls his eyes in response. The Scamander family always talked about nargles, but no one ever saw them. Nargles were always something to be avoided, yet they were never found. “They’re probably attracted to your energy. And there could be mistletoe downstairs, and nargles love hiding in mistletoe.” Lorcan grabs Albus’ wrist around his hands. The touch is warm, and Albus feels the difference between him and Scorpius.

Scorpius has hands that are long and delicate, where as Lorcan’s are rough. Calluses line the boy’s hand from all the outdoor work he had done with his father and great-grandfather. There are dents from bite marks of various creatures, and dirt lives under the fingernails of the Scamander boy.

Albus tries to push the blush down and nods quietly, following along. He passes the room where Lysander is talking wildly to his younger sister. They seem more engaged with each other. Fitting, considering Lysander is probably the more extroverted of the two.

Lorcan holds onto Albus’ wrist and reaches over the banister, causing a look from his mother. “Lorcan, what’re you doing?” She questions.

“Moving the mistletoe Mum,” he calls back. “Nargles. “ There’s a pause, and Luna nods, as if that were explanation enough. Albus just tags along, his wrist still being gripped by Lorcans. “If you move the infected mistletoe away from the general public, you’re less likely to get infected. Nargles are drawn to large crowds. Makes it easier to nest. They don’t like the cold weather, so mistletoe should be placed in outdoor locations.”

Albus doesn’t disagree, having never seen a nargle. He presses his lips together and looks at the boy. “I don’t have my outdoor gear.”

Lorcan purses his lips, removing his hand from Albus’ wrist. “Here,” he decides, as they pass a coat closet. He plucks off a tweed coat from the hook along with a yellow and black scarf. He grins. “I always thought you’d be a good Hufflepuff. Even as a kid,” he compliments. “You’re much sweeter than you give yourself credit for,” he mumbles, but then realizes what he’s holding. Lorcan shakes his head, bouncy hair flying around his face.

Albus blushes. He knew the hat’s second choice was Hufflepuff. His Gran had desperately been on the team Hufflepuff as well. Albus remembers getting a knitted scarf in the first week from his Gran, the colours yellow and black. The sight of the scarf made his heart ache, and he started crying again over his sorting. He only stopped when eleven year old Scorpius Malfoy taught him a charm to fix it.

“Lets get this outside,” he says, and then wraps his hand around Albus’ wrist once again. He pushes his way through the crowd and out the door. He still has no shoes on, his feet bare on the icy snow. He’s only wearing his niffler shirt and a pair of jeans. “Hold my ankles Albie,” Lorcan instructs, shaking the plant then standing on the railing of the porch to hang it on the lamp.

He jumps down and turns to the brunette boy. “There’s one other thing we have to do,” he tells Albus with a soft look in his eyes. He grabs the boy’s wrists in both his hands. Gazing into the green eyes, Lorcan smiles softly.

Albus has always been different. He’s always been kind, even in the days where he wasn’t so kind. Lorcan could tell that Albus was a good kid, even when he didn’t act like it. All his little quirks and frustrations never irritated him like they did his twin. Lorcan had no problem pausing, or slowing down so Albus could catch up. He never had any problem with Albus’ behavior quirks, and like Scorpius, he too, enjoyed Albus’ little mispronunciations and speech quirks.

“Lolly,” Albus breathes out quietly. His breath hangs in the air.

Lorcan gives off a smile at the nickname. Albus had been calling him that since they were children. Albus had a habit of shortening names, whether they be needed or not. He cups the boy’s cheek and presses his lips to the other.

Albus pulls apart, and Lorcan nods his head. “Right,” he whispers. “We successfully got rid of the nargles. There’s none left.”

Albus’ face is pink from the chill. He rubs his hands up and down his body to give more warmth back. He doesn’t get how Lorcan can be sitting outside in just a t-shirt, not at this temperature. “I-I think there’s one more left,” Albus whispers. He lets the cold hang in the air again, his breath lingering.

Lorcan smirks and kisses Albus again.

#shipmas 2018 #scorbus #lorcan x albus #albus severus potter #lorcan scamander #luna lovegood #lysander scamander #james sirius potter #lily luna potter #ginny weasley #harry potter #Scorpius Malfoy #Museum Art #ccsquad

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thethreebroomsticksficfest · 3 years

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home (is wherever i'm with you)

Day 14 is another mod submission, this time from @lazyweekendmornings, read it on AO3 here

Title: home (is wherever i’m with you)

Author: lazyweekendmornings

Pairing: Albus/Scorpius

Warnings: N/A

Prompt: X’s first Weasley jumper

Summary: Scorpius’s first Christmas at the Burrow.

“You’re funny when you’re nervous,” Lily tells Scorpius. She’s curled up opposite him in their compartment on the Hogwarts Express. It’s just the two of them in the compartment: Rosie and Al have left in search of more sweets, and Lorcan and Lysander are in the other compartment with Roxanne and Hugo. Lily hasn’t been talking to them all day - is why she’s sitting with him and Al instead - but Scorpius hasn’t asked why, too afraid to be on the bad side of her temper.

“I’m not nervous,” Scorpius says. He got dressed in a hurry this morning, and he has a feeling that the jumper he’s wearing is Al’s, not his, but he refuses to admit that it gives him comfort.

“You are,” Lily insists. “Although I don’t know why you would be, you’ve spent the Christmas holidays with us before.”

“But I’ve never visited the Burrow before,” Scorpius mumbles. “Or, you know. Met your grandparents and your entire family at once. It’s enough to make anybody nervous.”

“So you are nervous, then?” Lily says.

It’s impossible to outsmart a thirteen year old girl. “Well… maybe a tiny bit,” Scorpius admits.

“I knew it,” Lily says, and then gets to her feet, throwing her long red hair over her shoulder. “I’m going to go find Lorcan, and give him another chance to apologise.”

“That’s very nice of you,” Scorpius says.

“You don’t have anything to be nervous about, you know They’ll love you. Everyone does,” Lily says, like it’s obvious. She hugs Scorpius on his way out, and he leans back against the back of his seat once she’s left. He really wishes he had siblings sometimes.

Teddy’s waiting for them at the station, instead of the Potters. “Vic reckons I could use the driving practice, and Gran wanted to catch up with Harry and Ginny,” he says, leading them out of the station and towards the car.

The problem, Scorpius thinks a bit later on, once they’re settled in the car, is that everything about Albus is lovely. Al’s sitting next to him now in the backseat, with Lily. Teddy’s driving the car, and Jamie’s sitting in the front seat with him.

“So it really depends,” Jamie’s saying, “but we know we want to travel, we’re not sure where we’ll go once we graduate.”

“You should go to Europe,” Lily says. “It’s meant to be so great there. Oh, and you can visit Aunt Fleur’s relatives in France!”

“Europe’s a bit mainstream though, isn’t it?” Jamie says.

Al, in the window seat next to Scorpius, snorts. “You’re the Quidditch Captain for Gryffindor, dating the Head Girl. Your life is already very mainstream, Jamie.”

“He’s right, Jamie, you’re very popular,” Scorpius puts in.

“Yes, but not mainstream, because Leah and I are doing it ironically,” Jamie says.

“Oh, are you?” Teddy asks, amused.

“Oh, and is Freddie the Head Boy ironically, too?” Al asks.

“Absolutely, yes,” Jamie says.

“I think you should just accept that you’re all very normal and boring,” Al says.

Jamie gasps, very loud and very theatrical, but all Scorpius can look at is Albus. There’s a devious glint in his eyes. The kind he gets when he’s teasing someone. Scorpius doesn’t understand when everyone thinks of Al as reserved or quiet or closed off, because it’s always been so easy to read him. His eyes, bright green and honest, always give him away. It’s one of the reasons Scorpius likes him so much: he’s genuine, down to the bone.

Which is the problem, because he feels so nervous about spending Christmas with all of Al’s family that he could be sick. He’s spent summers with the Potters before, but never with all of them.

Next to him, Al nudges him. Gentle, subtle, but reassuring. Albus in a nutshell, Scorpius thinks. “You alright?” he whispers to him.

Scorpius looks out of the window, focuses on a fixed point in the distance to try and get himself to calm down. “Yeah,” he says. “Just fine, thank you.”

By the time they get to Grimmauld Place, Scorpius doesn’t feel any better at all.

“You alright, mate?” Jamie says, once they’re all out of the car and Teddy’s fumbling with attempting to open the boot of the car. “Do you get carsick? I suppose they don’t have many cars at Malfoy Manor, do they?” he muses.

“I–um, I guess not, no,” Scorpius mumbles.

Jamie claps Scorpius on the back by way of reassurance. “Do you know when the Portkey’s leaving?” he asks, looking around at the others.

“Oh… no, I don’t,” Scorpius says.

“Oh, sorry, mate, not you. I was asking Teddy,” Jamie says and gives Scorpius an absentminded smile before going over to Teddy’s side. The both of them fall into a conversation too quiet for Scorpius to overhear. Albus is talking to Lily about something, and Scorpius doesn’t want to intrude, so he leans against the car and waits.

“Fuck it, I’ll send your things to the Burrow later, let’s just go in now. Come on, we should hurry or you’ll miss the Portkey,” Teddy calls out, a moment later. Al catches up to him, and offers him a quiet smile that Scorpius does his best to reciprocate.

Mr and Mrs Potter are waiting for them in Grimmauld Place, talking to a woman Scorpius recognises as Mrs Tonks.

“Hi, Gran,” Teddy says cheerfully, going to hug her.

“Was the drive here alright, then?” Mrs Potter says, at the same time.

“Dad, did you hear the news about what happened in Wales, with the rogue Bludgers during a Quidditch game?” Jamie says.

“When are the others getting to the Burrow?” Lily asks.

Scorpius turns to look at Al with wide eyes. It’s different, being with the Potters. He’s stayed with them every summer since the summer after first year, but he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to it. It’s quiet back home, just him and Mum and Dad, but there’s barely a second to get a word in edgeways with the Potters. It’s not that it’s bad, not at all. It’s just… different from what he’s used to at home, being around the Potters. Al’s not like the rest of the Potters, really. He’s quieter, softer around the edges. It’s one of the reasons that Scorpius likes him so much, really. Part of what makes him so lovely.

“Alright,” Mr Potter calls out, after a moment or two of overlapping conversation. “Let’s go, we’ve got a Portkey to catch. James, Lily, go with your mum. Al, Scorpius, you’re with me.”

“Wait, what about Teddy?” Jamie demands.

“Gran and I are coming on Christmas Eve, with Vic,” Teddy says. “We’ve both got work until then, so we’re staying in London. Closer to Mungo’s and the Ministry.”

“But you’ll be there for Christmas, right?” Lily asks.

“Course we will, we wouldn’t miss it,” Teddy says.

“Have fun at the Burrow,” Mrs Tonks says.

“We always have fun at the Burrow,” Lily says, leaning in to give Teddy one final hug.

“Not too much fun, though,” Teddy says, amused.

“Oi, don’t go getting all boring on us now that you’re married,” Jamie says.

“One minute,” Mrs Potter says.

Scorpius doesn’t know where to look, or where the Portkey even is, so he looks at Mr Potter. And then Mr Potter gets out what looks like an old quill. “Come on,” he says.

“Come on,” Al echoes, quieter, just for Scorpius, and holds his hand as they both reach out to touch the Portkey, getting their fingers on it just in time.

The Portkey drops them off outside, in some kind of orchard. In the distance, Scorpius can see a tall, uneven house. It has the look of a place that’s been added to over the years, and even from a distance, he can see that all the windows are lit up. Scorpius thinks of home, which is large and perfectly decorated and quiet and colder and darker during the winter, and he thinks he understands why it is that the Potters like this place so much.

“They’ll be inside, we might be the last ones to get here,” Mr Potter says.

“I don’t think Freddie’s here yet,” Jamie says.

“How can you be so sure of that?” Al asks.

Jamie snorts. “You’d know if he was here, believe me. Should we wait for them?”

“It’s too cold, let’s wait inside,” Lily says. Without waiting for them, she . “Do you know if Luna’s family is joining us for Christmas?” she asks Mrs Potter.

“I think you’d better ask Mum, but if you want to see Lorcan that badly–”

“It’s not just about Lorcan, Mum!”

“I’m just saying–”

Scorpius doesn’t attempt to keep up with the conversation; instead, he falls into step next to Albus and Mr Potter.

Scorpius thought that Grimmauld Place was overwhelming with the Potters, but it’s positively serene compared to the Burrow. They walk inside, and the first thing they’re met with is Mrs Weasley – Al’s gran – who comes up to them and envelopes them all in warm hugs. Scorpius loves his family. Really, he does. But they’re not very… demonstrative. So when Al’s gran leans in and hugs him, he has no idea how to react. His hug is quicker than the ones the rest of the family receives, and he can’t help but notice that. Then again, he isn’t a part of the family, not really.

“Is everyone here already?” Mr Potter asks Mrs Weasley delightedly.

“No, Ron and Hermione only get here tomorrow morning, and George –”

“George is here,” announces a new voice, and Scorpius turns to see Freddie and Roxanne, and their parents, striding in.

“George!” Mrs Potter says, and she and Lily rush to hug him immediately.

Jamie goes up to Freddie immediately, and even Al says, “Hi!”

“How’s the love life going, Freddie?” Mrs Potter says.

“Mum!” Jamie hisses.

Freddie’s face falls. “Don’t ask,” he says.

Scorpius exchanges a knowing glance with Al. They’re in a different house from Freddie, but despite that, they’ve heard all of the gossip about him. It’s impossible not to hear all of the rumours about the Head Boy; everyone delights in talking about it, especially since the Head Girl has been dating James Potter for years with no trace of scandal.

“Now,” Mrs Weasley cuts in, before any of them can say anything else, “Teddy already sent your trunks and things, I’ve sent them to your rooms.”

“Where are we staying?” Lily asks.

“You’re staying with Roxanne, and the others –”

Al nudges Scorpius, diverting his attention from Mrs Weasley. “Do you think we’ll be able to share a room without any of the others?” he whispers.

Scorpius considers it. “Well, we shared a room when you stayed at mine, didn’t we?” he says, and feels his cheeks heat up at the memory. It was a good two weeks, when Al came to stay with him over the summer.

“Yes, but I don’t think –”

“And Albus,” Mrs Weasley says, interrupting Al, “you’re in the old attic bedroom, with Scorpius and James.”

James makes his way over, slings his arm across Scorpius’s shoulders. “It’ll be fun. What are your thoughts on festive Dungbombs?”

“How is a festive Dungbomb different from a regular Dungbomb?” Scorpius asks tentatively.

Jamie sighs, disappointed. “We clearly haven’t taught you enough. Don’t you think, Freddie?”

“Absolutely. Oh, young Scorpius,” Freddie says, “you’ve got so much to learn about a Weasley family Christmas.”

Scorpius can’t sleep that night. It’s been a long day, with trains and cars and Portkey travels, and he’s at Al’s grandparents’ house, the Weasley house, a proper part of their family Christmas, and he’s so exhausted and nervous that he can’t sleep despite the fatigue thrumming under his veins. Next to him, in the camp bed next to his, Al’s snoring softly. Jamie’s missing – in Freddie and Hugo’s room, maybe, or snuck out somewhere, Scorpius isn’t sure.

With the absentminded idea that a cup of tea might help him feel better, Scorpius carefully gets to his feet. He can see Al in the dim moonlight that filters in through the window, a smudge of messy black hair visible over a nest of duvet and blankets. He really is unfairly attractive, Scorpius thinks, not for the first time.

He makes his way downstairs. It’s quite late – nearly midnight, he thinks – and the house seems to be asleep by now. When he gets to the kitchen, though, he can hear voices, voices he recognises at once: Mr Potter, and James. Even before he gets to the doorway, he can hear what they’re saying, clearly.

“Just don’t see why he was allowed to come, Dad,” Jamie’s saying. Scorpius pauses, his hand hovering inches away from the doorknob. Trepidation washes over him; is Jamie saying what he thinks he’s saying? Surely he can’t mean what Scorpius thinks he mean, surely he isn’t talking about–

“I already told you why,” Mr Potter says.

“You haven’t! And Mum just told me to talk to you about it – it just seems unfair, it’s such a double standard–”

“Look, I understand why you feel that way, but the fact is that Leah’s parents wanted her to join them on their trip to France–” Mr Potter is starting to sound as frustrated, almost as annoyed as Jamie sounds.

“But if you’re going to let Scorpius come, then I don’t see why –”

Something about that, about the way Jamie spits out Scorpius, as if Scorpius is the last person he wants here, gets to him. Scorpius’s blood feels like it’s turned to ice inside his veins. He likes the Potters, but he’s been nervous about coming with them for their family Christmas. He thought it was all in his head but now… now he’s starting to wonder if they want him around here at all.

He doesn’t need to hear anymore. He can’t. There’s a sick feeling in his stomach, festering and making him feel like he might be physically sick. He doesn’t want to hear more about how James doesn’t want him here.

He turns around and walks back upstairs, almost as if he’s in a trance. A cup of tea is the last thing on his mind right now.

He feels out of sorts the next day. He does his best to hide it, but Albus can tell. He knows that Al can tell, because somehow, Albus always knows what’s going on in his mind. He’s always known, ever since that first day when they met on the Hogwarts Express, all those years ago. Luckily, Al doesn’t get to confront him, because of everything that seems to always be going on in the Burrow. They wake up to the sound of Jamie and Freddie setting off some sort of explosion in the garden outside, and then it’s a blur of activity: breakfast, everyone but Mrs Weasley and Mrs Potter (who’s working from home, working on her next Quidditch novel, apparently) leaving for work, Hugo and Rosie arriving with their dad. It’s the one time he’s grateful for the chaos of the Potter family Christmas, because it means he doesn’t have to talk to anyone too much.

In the afternoon, too, all of them go to the orchard, shooed out there by Mrs Potter. “It’s a lovely day, go and have some fun. I’d come join you if I didn’t have to reach my infernal word count today,” she said, and Scorpius traipsed dutifully after them all.

“We should play Quidditch,” Jamie says. “Freddie, what do you think? Might cheer you up a bit.”

Freddie sighs. “Alright, fine.”

“I’ll take Al and Lils and Scorp,” Jamie says, “you can take Rosie and Hugo and Roxanne. Potters versus Weasleys.”

He’s torn between wanting to say he won’t play, and not wanting to draw too much attention to himself.

“I don’t want to play,” Al says, surprising him.

“Oh, uh – me neither, I don’t think,” Scorpius says.

Jamie sighs. “Alright, fine. We’ll do three-a-side, then. Lily, you come here, then, and Rose–”

“Are you alright?” Albus asks him, quietly.

Scorpius nods, but his throat feels a little thick, so he doesn’t say anything else. “Fine,” he whispers.

Albus looks at him for a long moment, his green eyes boring into him like he can see right into his soul, and says, “Do you want to take a walk?”

They don’t go very far; they settle down in the garden, where they have a clear view of both the orchard and the slowly setting sun on the horizon.

Al doesn’t press him for details. Instead, he talks about Transfiguration, telling Scorpius about the meeting he had with Headmistress McGonagall right before the end of of term.

“So McGonagall thinks I’ll be able to get a good OWL result in it, if I keep it up, which makes me think about whether I can–”

“Of course you can, you’re amazing at Transfiguration,” Scorpius says.

Albus beams at him. “You have to say that, though. It’s a boyfriend thing. And a best friend thing.”

“No, I don’t have to say it. I’d tell you if you weren’t good at it. I mean… we both know you’re rubbish at Herbology,” Scorpius says.

“Hey, I maintain that that plant killed itself and that Professor Longbottom was wrong!” Albus says, but when Scorpius giggles, Al joins in.

It’s easier to not be so worried about everything now that it’s just him and Al, and they both can fall into the sort of easy conversation that’s never been difficult for Scorpius, no matter his mindset.

“Do you think it’s weird that I’m here?” Scorpius asks suddenly a little while later, when there’s a lull in the conversation. It’s the way Al’s looking at him that gets him to blurt it out. Al looks soft, and concerned, and Scorpius suddenly feels as if he might cry.

“What? No, not at all. Why would you think that?” Al demands, scooting slightly closer to Scorpius on the grass.

“I don’t know. Just… do you think it’s okay with your family?” Scorpius asks, tentatively. Al looks at him, right into his eyes, which gets Scorpius to keep talking. “I kind of heard Jamie talking to your dad yesterday. Saying something about… how it’s a double standard that he let me come here, or something, Kind of seemed like he didn’t want me here,” he finally admits.

Al snorts. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. He’s just annoyed that Dad didn’t let him bring his girlfriend here. He wanted to have her stay with us for Christmas, but he and Mum said no. Has nothing to do with you, Scorp.”

“He seemed really angry, though,” Scorpius says in a small voice.

“That’s just Jamie though, isn’t it? He gets really angry, but it never lasts too long. It’s just a storm in a teacup,” Al says, and takes Scorpius’s hand. “I, um. I’m really glad you’re here, for the record,” he says. The tips of his ears have gone pink, and Scorpius can’t help but smile. It’s impossible not to smile when he’s faced with Albus Severus Potter, being sweet and holding his hand.

“Oi,” Jamie calls out, just as Al is leaning in. “Enough time off, you’ve got to come and play now. Team Potter, let’s go.”

“See?” Al whispers, completely ignoring Jamie so he can kiss Scorpius. “Team Potter, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Scorpius does his best not to think about it, for the rest of the holiday. Jamie’s nothing but nice to him, including him in what he and Freddie call the Annual Potter-Weasley Christmas Firework Show.

“It started the Christmas after Uncle Fred passed away,” Freddie tells Scorpius, on the morning of Christmas eve after he wakes up him, Al, and Jamie by thundering into the attic bedroom.

“Mum and Uncle Ron got Uncle George to do it,” Jamie tells him through a yawn.

“And when Jamie and Freddie were fifteen, they decided to take over the tradition,” Albus says, and rolls over, burying his face in the pillow. “We know.”

“I didn’t know,” Scorpius points out.

“And it’s important to get young Scorpius used to the Potter traditions,” Freddie says.

“So that he’ll be able to teach them to your children one day,” Jamie adds solemnly.

Scorpius thinks about a baby with chubby cheeks and Albus’s black hair and green eyes and feels his face heat up. He’s definitely getting ahead of himself.

“Can’t we sleep in a bit, though. It’s not until evening!” Al says. His face is still hidden by the pillow, so Scorpius has no way of knowing if he feels as suddenly self-conscious as he does.

“No, Al, you’re right. But this year, you and Scorp are helping us, too,” Jamie announces grandly.

“I’ll help,” he says, mostly so he’ll divert himself from his trail of thought.

That’s how he finds himself spending the day, with Albus and Freddie and Jamie, organising a fireworks display. The message that they spell out is different every year, Freddie tells him, and they spend ages deciding what this year’s should be– or, rather, Al and Jamie argue about it, Freddie throws a suggestion in now and then, and Scorpius does his best to stay out of the way.

Scorpius doesn’t like fireworks too much, as a general rule; they’re loud and overwhelming, two things he doesn’t get on with very much. But he likes the Potters, and the Weasleys, and he wants them to like him.

“Right,” Freddie says, in the evening. The sun’s just set, and it’s almost time for dinner – which means it’s almost time for the fireworks. “We’ve got it all ready to go. But we should still go get backup fireworks from the shop, just in case.”

“Just in case Albus accidentally gets water on the ones we have and ruins them, you mean?” Jamie says.

“Precisely,” Freddie agrees.

Al makes a very rude gesture at Jamie, which makes Scorpius grin.

“Do you want to come to the shop with me, Scorp?” Freddie asks, slinging his arm around Scorpius’s shoulders. It feels… brotherly, which is strange. Not altogether unpleasant.

“Oh– er. Me?” Scorpius says.

“Yeah, it’ll be fun,” Freddie says, and looks around, even though it’s just the four of them in the cramped attic room. “If either of you see Roxie, tell her that she couldn’t come because I’m picking up her present, okay?”

“Sure,” Albus says, and gives Scorpius a small smile.

“We’ll deal with things here, don’t worry. Get me some Nosebleed Nougats, will you?” Jamie says.

“Will do. Come on, Scorpius, we can Floo,” Freddie says. His arm’s still around Scorpius’s shoulders, and he tugs him downstairs. Scorpius is too nonplussed to do anything but follow.

“Where are you two young sprogs off to?” Freddie’s dad asks them. He’s sprawled out on the sofa, with an open book propped up, face down, on his chest.

“To the shop,” Freddie says with no hesitation.

“Going to cause some mischief, are you?”

“That’s the plan,” Freddie confirms.

“That’s my boy. Good to see you getting in on the family mischief, Scorpius,” Freddie’s dad says and then, with a yawn, “If you see your mum, tell her I didn’t approve of this. Got it?”

“See Mum, tell her it was all your idea. Got it,” Freddie says, and throws a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace. “Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, Diagon Alley,” he announces, and tugs Scorpius in with him. The last thing Scorpius sees is Albus at the bottom of the stairs, waving at him with a smile.

“I thought you couldn’t travel with someone if you’re travelling by Floo,” Scorpius says, when he steps out of the fireplace an indeterminable amount of time later. He’s never been to the joke shop after hours before; it’s dark, with only the emergency lighting illuminating the shop, and quieter than he’s ever seen it. He feels a bit sick, the way he always feels after Floo travel, and his nice jumper’s got soot all over it.

“Oh, Uncle Percy changed the rules,” Freddie says, following Scorpius out. “Apparently there was this incident where Uncle Harry got lost in Knockturn Alley when he Flooed alone for the first time. So now you can take underage wizards with you.”

Scorpius blinks. “Mr Potter got lost?” he says. He can’t imagine it.

“Apparently so,” Freddie says, and points his wand at Scorpius’s jumper. Some sort of steam billows out from his wand, cleaning the soot off Scorpius’s jumper.

“Oh– thank you,” Scorpius says.

“No problem,” Freddie says, putting his wand away and leading them down one of the aisles of the shop.

“Are you looking forward to the firework display?” Scorpius asks.

“Oh, yeah. It should be fun. Get my mind off things a bit,” Freddie says. “Or so Jamie thinks, but then again, he hasn’t met a problem he can’t solve with fireworks or Dungbombs.”

“Don’t you like fireworks and Dungbombs, too?” Scorpius says, thinking of all the firework shows Freddie and Jamie have been responsible for at Hogwarts.

Freddie grins. “Course I do. I’m only human, after all. You’d have to be mad not to enjoy some fireworks and Dungbombs. Here we are.” He hands Scorpius a gift-wrapped box. “There we are. That’s Roxie’s present, I hid it in the shop ages ago. And now, we go find the fireworks.”

It takes them longer than Scorpius thought it might to find the specific kind of fireworks Freddie and James had in mind, and they get back just in time for dinner.

“There you are,” Jamie greets them, when Scorpius steps out of the Floo. “We were starting to get worried that you kidnapped Scorpius, Freddie.”

“I thought about it, but then I decided it was too much effort, so I brought him back,” Freddie says.

“Did you have fun, Scorpius?” Jamie asks him.

“Er… yeah, it was fun,” Scorpius says.

“Good, yeah. That’s great,” Jamie says, and takes the box out of Scorpius’s hands, handing it to Rose. “Come on, then. We saved you a seat, dinner’s in a minute.”

Scorpius wonders why Jamie’s being so warm towards him, and then sees the slightly sheepish smile on Al’s face and wonders if that has anything to do with it.

“Did you talk to Jamie?” he asks Al, later, when they’re all gathered in the garden.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Al says, but he won’t look Scorpius in the eye.

“Al,” Scorpius says.

“It’s starting,” is all Al says, and slips his hand into Scorpius’s.

Scorpius knows what’s coming, but he still grins as he watches the fireworks. Jamie sets them off with his wand, and they go off, zooming into the sky. And then the sky, formerly dark, starry, is absolutely lit up in a blur of bright colours. The red and green lights move together, forming together to form the words Happy Christmas, bitches.

Scorpius hears Al’s gran gasp. And then, in the split second it takes for them all to absorb the messages, the lights rearrange themselves, correcting the message to Happy Christmas, witches (and wizards).

A pause. And then, everyone gathered in the garden burst into laughter, and when Scorpius turns to look at Al, his face is bright and happy under the lights.

“Happy Christmas Eve, Al,” he whispers, squeezing his hand.

Presents in the Malfoy household are on Christmas morning. They wake up, meet for breakfast downstairs – Scorpius’s dad usually cooks them something – and then open their presents at the breakfast table.

It’s a completely different scenario at the Burrow, Scorpius finds out. He’s awoken by a pillow to the head. When he blinks his eyes open, heart racing a mile a minute, he’s greeted with the grinning face of Lily.

“Hi,” she says. “Come on. It’s time for presents. Let’s go!”

Before Scorpius can recover, she goes to wake Al and Jamie up. Jamie, the only morning person among the three of them, joins Lily happily enough, and Al and Scorpius stagger down the stairs sleepily after them.

“Happy Christmas,” Mr Potter greets them cheerfully. He’s sitting with Mrs Potter and Rose and Hugo’s parents, and he doesn’t get up before he gestures to their pile of presents. Everyone else – Freddie, Roxanne, Rose, Hugo, Freddie’s parents, Al’s granddad – are already up, sitting and sipping from steaming cups.

Mrs Weasley, Al’s gran, comes bustling into the room, an apron tied around her waist. “Good, you’re all finally awake,” she says, even though the sun hasn’t so much as come up yet. “Hot chocolate, dears?”

“Ooh, yes please, Gran,” Al says, and sits down right there on the carpet. He tugs Scorpius down with him, and Lily sits down on his other side.

Scorpius opens the first present he sees with his name on it: it’s from his parents, and his eyes light up when he sees the leatherbound journals, engraved with his name on them, and a matching set of eagle feather quills. “This is amazing,” he says.

“Only you’d ask for journals and quills for Christmas,” Al teases.

“They’re very fancy journals and quills, shush,” Scorpius says, grinning at Al.

“Hey, Scorpius, this has your name on it,” Lily says, tossing Scorpius a present.

It’s soft, lumpy to the touch, and Scorpius wonders whether his grandmother sent him another set of formal, scratchy dress robes that he needs to pretend to like. When he opens it, though, he sees that it’s not a set of robes, but a jumper. It’s red, hand-knitted, and has a navy blue S on the front. “Oh,” he whispers.

Jamie looks up at him. “Oh, your first Weasley jumper,” he cheers, leaning over and ruffling Scorpius’s hair.

Scorpius, eyes wide, turns to look at Al’s gran, who’s giving him a fond smile. “Happy Christmas, dear,” she says, setting a cup of hot chocolate in front of him.

Scorpius gets to his feet and leans up, hugging her suddenly. He’s not the hugging kind, not unless it’s his mum or Al, so it feels stiff at first, but also warm, like family.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“Of course. You’re family now,” she says.

Scorpius sits back down next to Al, feeling overwhelmed and close to tears, and leans into his side. “Told you,” Al whispers to him, “you had nothing to worry about. Happy Christmas.”

Scorpius feels– brimming with emotions, close to tears, and so happy that he might explode. He looks up at Al, and thinks I love you I love you I love you. “Happy Christmas,” he whispers.

#submission #ttb yule bash #scorbus #scorpius malfoy #albus potter #hp fanfic

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