1. Secret Agent Man (needs practise).
Hugo nudged Albus in the ribs with his elbow, then jerked his head to the Slytherin table. Al stole a quick glance over, and was met with the sight of a blond head peeking out over the top of a newspaper.
Scorpius Malfoy was off his nut, wasn’t he? Albus would have chalked it all up to Pureblood inbreeding, but seeing as his mum was a Pureblood, be thought better of it. What was Albus? A Three-Quarter-blood? Did it matter that Scorpius was a cousin, at least twenty times removed? Wizarding genealogy was a bit tricky.
Anyway, the inbreeding. No, if it were inbreeding, Scorpius would be an ugly git with too-close eyes and not enough (or too many, Al wasn’t sure how that worked) teeth, instead of the fucking gorgeous boy he was. And if Scorpius Malfoy wasn’t gorgeous, then Albus needed to have his eyes checked and his dick rewired, because something was off somewhere.
Pity they never talked. Albus was sure they’d have loads to say, what with their family history and all. The Potter-Malfoy thing was legend! Perhaps Draco had forbidden him from knowing Al, who was half-Weasel, and therefore much worse than just a regular Potter? Of course not. Time has a way of throwing things into perspective, even for a bitter Malfoy.
Al kept stealing looks over to the Slytherins, and each time he did, he caught Scorpius peeking over the paper, then suddenly ducking behind it. Was he getting enough iron? Perhaps it was protein he was lacking. Al would be more than happy to share his, if Scorp only asked. With a wicked and knowing grin, Al turned back to his own breakfast and waited for time-tables to be handed out. This could be an interesting year, if Scorpius’ antics were anything to judge by.
2. A little effort goes a long way.
Albus got to his first class, Potions, earlier than everyone else. He had an important matter to discuss with Professor Holloway, and the more private, the better.
He had to ask her to force inter-house partnerships so he could work with Scorp, who no doubt would be taking the N.E.W.T-level class. This, if Albus weren’t such a Gryffindor, would have been a Cunning Slytherin Plan. He supposed you had to think like the opposition to really have a chance against them, although the only thing Al really wanted to have against Scorpius was his naked body.
Albus paid for his request by volunteering to grade First Year quizzes on the next three Friday nights. All right, perhaps he was a little less Slytherin than his plans called for, but the Professor had guessed his motives, and wanted something back for possibly facilitating what she personally, privately, and unprofessionally considered to be the hottest match-up since the rumoured (read: made up completely by Honora Holloway) romance of one Mr Sirius Black and one Mr Remus Lupin when she was a student.
It would have been an understatement to describe Albus’ reaction to Scorpius’ reaction of his forced partnership as disappointed. He’d have thought that Scorp would be happy about the arrangement, if not at least agreeable. But he was visibly upset by it, and Albus was trying to hide the fact that he was a bit crushed.
If you’re going to gawk at someone from behind a newspaper, Al thought, you should be prepared for what comes next.
Time to step things up a bit.
Al reached across the work table for the beetle eyes, and was careful to brush Scorpius’ hand on the way back. His face went pink so fast, that Al almost swallowed his own tongue trying not to laugh.
So that’s how it was, eh?
Too glad that his professor-manipulation wasn’t for naught after all, Albus accepted Scorp’s feeble allergy excuse and completed their potion himself.
3. A tough nut to crack.
It could be said that perhaps Scorpius was a bit unstable. Or just extremely rude. Albus considered him a bit of both, but then imagined what he would do if a boy he hadn’t ever so much as said hello to suddenly wanted to know his favourite colour and what sorts of magazines he liked. The more Albus talked, the more Scorpius didn’t. Just when he was about to give up, there was a breakthrough.
Scorpius’ favourite colour was midnight blue, and he didn’t like magazines. He liked Shakespeare, and had read every one of his plays at least a half-dozen times. MacBeth was his favourite.
Albus’ heart stopped.
His childhood gerbil was called MacBeth. It was surely Fate!
4. Lead him into temptation, and deliver him to me.
Albus could not help it. Whenever he saw Scorp, he had to smile. His mouth acted of its own accord, and the next thing he knew, there was a grin plastered onto his face. It was almost disturbing.
Scorpius rarely smiled back, and when he did, it was so tight-lipped it seemed painful. Did his diet need to be adjusted? Was he sleeping well? What was wrong with the boy?
Undeterred, Albus kept grinning. When Scorpius finally returned the favour some weeks later, Albus nearly came in his pants.
Scorpius Malfoy was gorgeous, but a grinning Scorpius Malfoy was fucking edible. Or edibly fuckable. Maybe a bit of both.
That mouth of his begged to be kissed. No, worshipped. His lips should be lovingly bitten, his tongue gently sucked.
Gods, but Al was in love.
5. You’re right. He does.
He wondered if it were too early in their not-relationship to drag Scorpius into an empty classroom and suck him off. Or ride his cock into the sunset like a hero-cowboy. Probably, on both counts.
Albus wanted that cock. He spent nights imagining what it would feel like inside him. Was it big? Was Scorp’s hair there as pale and soft-looking as the hair on his head?
Did Scorpius like his balls licked? Had he ever had them licked? Could Albus please lick them?
Perhaps he would do one better and lick Scorpius’ arsehole. He’d had his licked once, and just the thought of doing it to Scorpius or having it done to him was enough to put him in the wanking spirit. He silenced his bed, as was standard procedure for a teenage wizard sharing a room with six others, and stroked himself off.
With his legs open and braced on the bedstead, he came to images of Scorpius over him, fucking him hard and into oblivion.
Yes, he bit his lip.
It tasted of raspberry trifle and desire, but mostly raspberry trifle.
6. If I give you an inch.
Knowing that Scorpius at least felt something toward him, be it love, lust, or just a crush, Albus decided it was time to accelerate his plan a bit. His hands were getting crampy.
It was obvious the prat was never going to make the first move, so it was all up to Al. He talked to Professor Holloway again before class, buying her cooperation with three Fridays of ingredient labelling. She told him he’d have made an excellent Slytherin. He couldn’t disagree, and wondered what James would have said.
Finally, when class began, Albus sat himself as close to Scorpius as possible without being obvious. Every few moments, he scooted over more, and eventually they were nearly touching. Al could hear Scorp’s breathing change a bit and see his face flush, so he knew he was on the right track.
Then things went a bit pear-shaped.
Albus hadn’t meant for the book to go up in flames, and he certainly hadn’t meant to hex his own eyebrows off, but he was paying so much attention to the way Scorpius was twisting the pestle he was using to grind his coriander, he put the emphasis on the wrong syllable of the charm.
Whoopsie-daisies.
Ah, well. At least Professor Holloway didn’t think anything was amiss (aside from what they had previously arranged, of course), and dutifully took the ten points from Slytherin before sending Al to the hospital wing for emergency eyebrow regeneration.
Scorpius looked Confunded, and Albus wanted to lick him.
7. Making amends, or a good show thereof.
Albus had to replace the book he’d ruined, there was no doubt about that. The poor tome was far too gone to be magically repaired. Albus didn’t even know what manner of Dark curse he’d uttered to cause such a mess, but he had to make up for it.
The latest edition of Advanced Potion-Making was not cheap, and he’d had to explain (almost) everything to his dad when he’d asked for the twenty Galleons (daylight robbery, really) to replace a classmate’s book. He conveniently neglected to name the classmate or reveal that his predicament was the result of an ill-carried-out plot to get under said classmate’s robes.
Really, he just wanted to peek his head in and see what sort of pants Scorpius wore. And maybe give his cock a good suck whist he was under there. Under where? Exactly.
The worst part of it all was trying to convince Rose to trade points with Slytherin. He appealed to her sense of honour, and explained that the incident wasn’t Scorpius’ fault, and it was all Al’s. The only thing he wanted Scorp to do was to go to Hogsmeade with him. If he agreed, he would get his points back, and Gryffindor would lose them. It took nearly three hours and a promise of Honeydukes’ finest chocolates, but Rose relented.
Maybe James had been right seven years ago- his little brother should have gone to Slytherin.
It should be said that Albus didn’t think Scorpius would agree, but after breakfast, Al walked over to collect him for their date.
8. A bit of something.
Fucking hell, Scorpius’ mouth was hot.
He kissed like he’d go crazy if he stopped.
But wasn’t he a bit already?
Chapter One: Scorp's Descent Into Madness
Chapter Three: One Hell of a First Date
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