Penitence Part Six
May. 26th, 2009 09:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dysonrulesPosted by demands from Madame President Stalker.
The holiday break came before the situation could get any worse, much to Al’s relief. Not that he was looking forward to any holiday that involved the presence of his brother. He hoped to get permission to spend the majority of the holidays with Hell.
Al thought he might avoid Pious Malfoy altogether on the train, but when he left his compartment to say goodbye to Rose and Hugo, naturally he ran straight into the git in the corridor. Never one to miss an opportunity, Malfoy immediately slammed Al against the wall.
“Going to be an interesting holiday, isn’t it, Potter?” Pious murmured into the shell of Al’s ear. Albus shuddered slightly at the feel of the hard chest pressed against his. Malfoy’s hands lightly gripped Al’s biceps, barely a touch at all according to the Malfoy Book of Torment. For some reason, Al did not tense up the way he normally did. The touch was familiar and… something else. It surprised him for a moment, long enough that he could not find his voice.
A throat-clearing noise sounded behind them and they turned to see Bleys smirking at them.
“Pious,” Bleys said with a sigh and took the blond’s elbow to guide him away from Albus. “What did I tell you? I don’t want you touching my Albus. That means at school, on the train, or anywhere else. All right?”
Pious glared, but allowed Bleys to manoeuvre him away. Al decided he felt relieved. Yes, definitely relieved and grateful to Bleys for interrupting them.
“Sorry, muffin,” Bleys said to Al and pressed a light kiss against the corner of Al’s mouth. Al managed not to jump at the contact and Bleys winked at him. As the two Slytherins strolled away, Al turned his head to find James approaching from the other direction. His brother’s mouth twisted in a hateful sneer and then he entered a compartment, banging the door behind him. Al sighed. It was going to be a very long holiday.
Al was more than ready to return to school after the holidays. The break from school had been painful in more ways than one. He rubbed one shoulder absently. James had nearly dislocated it after one altercation. Al found it was actually a relief to return to what passed for normalcy in his life at the moment. Pious was surprisingly scarce on the train, which was a nice change. Al sat with Hell and Hugo. Rose and Lily joined them for a short time before trotting off to sit with Lily’s fellow Gryffindors. Al fairly bounced in his seat with anticipation and willed the train to move faster.
A large part of his excitement was due to the Devil’s Snare seeds packed in the bottom of his trunk. He had half-expected James to confiscate them, if only to be a prat. It was with particular delight that Al found them nestled safely where he had left them. They were useless as a potion ingredient, which was why he had felt it safe to carry them without additional concealment. James might have thought they were meant for use in Herbology or something.
Now that Al had a prank planned that would hopefully keep Pious Malfoy out of his hair without the necessity of Al submitting to Bleys, he felt more confident. In fact, his first order of business was to “break up” with the Slytherin boy. He did not bother to seek out Zabini, knowing he would find him in the Slytherin common room later. In order to avoid a scene in the Great Hall, Al and Hell avoided dinner and instead slipped into the kitchens to eat before separating and going to their respective dungeons.
Bleys Zabini was not at all amenable to Al’s idea. Al had not seen a single platinum hair of Pious Malfoy, not even when Bleys entered the door and threw himself bodily on Al’s bed with a pleasant greeting.
“We’re breaking up,” Al said without preamble.
Bleys sat up quickly, dragged the curtains shut and cast a Silencing Charm.
“What? Why?”
“I did a lot of thinking over the holidays and I also got used to the novelty of no one pawing at me,” Al explained.
“Is that all? I thought it was starting to bother you less,” Bleys said and put his hand on Al’s knee. Al whacked Zabini’s knuckles sharply with his wand.
“Hands off. I’m serious. Although it has been nice not having Malfoy mauling me on a constant basis, I feel I’ve merely traded one clingy demon for another.”
Bleys sat up as if affronted. “That’s hardly fair. I only touch you when we’re in public. I thought you were doing it to annoy Pious.”
“Pious doesn’t seem to be all that annoyed. Maybe he doesn’t want you back.”
Bleys snorted. “Of course he does. He’s livid. I didn’t hear from him at all over the holidays. He did not even send me a Christmas gift.”
“Shouldn’t that mean he’s not interested and never wants to see you again?”
“Potter, Potter, Potter. How naïve you are about pureblood politics. If Pious never wanted to see me again, he would have sent an expensive gift and inquired politely after my parents. The fact that he sent nothing means he is sulking.”
Al definitely did not understand pureblood politics and had no desire to learn. “Regardless, we are no longer a couple.”
“Come on, Albus. Just a few more days? You know that bint Parkinson will have a test for us the moment we get to class tomorrow with at least one follow-up quiz.”
“I’ll still help you with Potion,” Al assured him. “I just need the… you know, the boyfriend thing to stop.”
Bleys’s dark eyes narrowed. “So you’ve got something new to try on Pious? You don’t need me any longer?”
Al looked at him innocently. “No, I think I’m going to give up the war. Concentrate on school and all that.”
“Wow, your parents must have come down hard on you over holiday. Was it because of me?”
“That has nothing to do with it!” Al said hotly, knowing Bleys would immediately assume he lied. It worked admirably.
“All right, all right,” Bleys said, backing down. “What will you do when Pious starts touching you again?”
“I’m going to ignore him. I’ve gotten pretty good at that, thanks to you. Everyone tells me that if I don’t let it bother me, he will stop.”
Bleys smirked and Al gave him an uncertain smile, as if he had doubts about it, also. It wouldn’t do to let Bleys know he had plans for Malfoy. He knew Zabini and Malfoy still talked companionably, even though Malfoy no longer lounged on Bleys like a pale blanket. One slip from Bleys, unintentional or otherwise, and Al’s plot would be ruined.
“Well, can we at least go over some potions? Anything you think Parkinson might test us on tomorrow?”
Al nodded in relief and Summoned his Potions book from his trunk. He spent the next forty minutes coaching Zabini on Potion ingredients, mixtures, stirring techniques, and the properties of several items. Bleys had been sorely lacking in potion-making fundamentals, likely due to behaving like a complete slacker for the past four years.
Bleys scanned a page and explained to Al the process for brewing the complicated Felix Felicis potion. When he got it right, he laughed and threw his arms happily around Albus, who allowed it merely because he felt a particular sense of pride at being such a fine teacher.
“Thank you, Albus! I think I finally get it and it’s all because of you!”
Bleys leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Al’s lips. Al was so surprised he froze like a deer caught in Muggle headlights. Bleys had given him pecks now and again, but this was the first full-on kiss. Al found himself evaluating it curiously, finding it remarkably similar to the kisses of dozens—if not hundreds—of girls he had snogged. Bleys sucked gently on his lower lip and moved forward slightly as if to deepen the kiss. That was quite enough for Al. He raised his hand and put it on Zabini’s chest to push him away. At that moment the curtains were wrenched aside and Pious Malfoy stood gaping at them like a vengeful angel.
Bleys pulled away and Al envied his skin tone—any blush would be quite effectively concealed, unlike the red most likely staining Al’s cheeks like a splash of paint. Al recovered quickly and grinned at Malfoy as he cancelled the Silencing Charm.
“Do you mind, Malfoy? Ever hear of privacy?”
The blond spun on a heel and stalked out of the dorm. Al laughed aloud, but Bleys looked worried.
“We could not have planned that better if we tried,” Al said and nudged him.
“I’d better go, Al,” Bleys said and slid off of the bed. “He’s really going to be mad now.”
“Isn’t that the point?” Al asked.
“Yes. It was, but now I’m not so sure.”
~~- oOo -~~
Pious was livid. The holiday had turned out to be far worse than expected, especially after a simple diversion had turned into a debacle and left his father in a complete snit for the duration. Pious had spent most of the holiday in his room, hiding from the wrath of the elder Malfoy. He had sought out Bleys on the train and poured out the entire story, expecting sympathy, but instead the traitorous bastard had completely sided with his father. Pious had refused to speak to him after that and instead entertained himself by tormenting the younger students who unwisely had chosen to sit in the same compartment. Eventually Bleys had tired of his antics and left the car to sit elsewhere. Good riddance, Pious had thought petulantly.
And now this. It was mind-boggling. Bleys had assured him that Potter felt nothing for him and was simply allowing the farce to continue in order to avoid Pious. Either Bleys had been lying or things had altered markedly. Kissing. They had been kissing! Fucking Bleys! He had no bloody right!
The common room was suddenly too close—Pious felt a distinct claustrophobia. He hurried through the door and out. He did not pause in the front hall, but opened the large doors and fled. His sense of betrayal was nearly as great as his astonishment. How dare Bleys? Fuck, how could he not have seen it? Potter is so cute. So reluctant, Bleys had said. Pious sneered. Reluctant, indeed. Apparently that had changed.
Pious headed for the lake and quickly wished he had grabbed his cloak. The wind was freezing and rain was beginning to spit from the sky. It would be dark soon. He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. He wondered when this game he had started had gotten so out of control. He was suddenly swimming in uncertainty and he did not like the feeling at all.
Bleys found him, of course, and threw a fur cloak around his shoulders. They sat together on a boulder overlooking the lake. Neither of them spoke for long moments. The rain began to fall in earnest and Bleys cast a Charm to keep the water from soaking them.
“It’s not what you think,” Bleys said finally.
Pious shot a sardonic gaze in his direction. He did not trust himself to speak for fear that once begun the words would never cease. He could feel the rage bubbling just beneath the surface. He wanted to drag Bleys to the lake and drown him. The urge was not lost on his friend, who smiled at him knowingly.
“You’re thinking about killing me, aren’t you?” Bleys asked.
“How can you tell?”
“I’ve seen that look before. Not usually directed toward me, thankfully. It is rather curious, though.”
“What is?” Pious asked although he wasn’t sure why he was even talking to the prat. He should go back inside and ignore Bleys properly.
“I’m trying to decide what you’re so angry about.”
Pious gaped at him. He found himself spluttering and clamped his jaw shut rather than babble incoherently. The silence forced him to think rather than react. Why was he so angry? Bleys cocked a brow and Pious glared at the lake rather than face his curious gaze.
“I’m upset because you lied to me,” he said finally.
“I never lied to you!” Bleys sounded surprised.
“Of course you did. You told me you were completely straight and the next thing I know you’re snogging Albus Potter!”
“You’re angry because I kissed Albus.”
“Yes, I’m angry because you kissed Albus!” Pious yelled and then realized what he had just said. He tried to back-pedal. “I mean, I’m not upset because you kissed the git. Why would I care about that?”
Pious shut his eyes, unwilling to face the truth that was beginning to pound against his temples, demanding acknowledgement. Fuck!
“He was not exactly fighting you off, was he? It looks like Mr. Confirmed Heterosexual, the bloke who is well-known to have snogged every bloody girl in the school, the boy who cannot stand to be touched—save apparently by Bleys Zabini—is not as straight as everyone imagines.”
Pious realized he was shouting and clamped his jaw shut with effort.
“You’re jealous!” Bleys said in amazement.
“Jealous,” Pious said and huffed. “As if.”
“Scorpius! You want Albus Potter!”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Pious snapped. He threw himself away from the boulder and marched into the rain.
Bleys followed. “So you don’t want Potter?”
“No!”
“But you don’t want me to kiss him.”
Pious opened his mouth to deny it, but the words stuck in his throat. His shoulders sagged. “No,” he said quietly.
Bleys put an arm around his shoulders. “All right.”
Pious looked at him quizzically. Bleys’s white teeth flashed in the growing darkness. “What does that mean?”
“I mean the game is finished. It wasn’t working, anyway. James Potter won’t do anything to chance being thrown out of school. You should have seen that long ago. Rumour has it that James simply beat Albus half to death over the holidays.”
Pious drew in a surprised breath.
“He what?”
Bleys nodded. “I got the story when I left you on the train and went to sit with Juliet McMillan. She overheard Lily Potter telling the story to Rose Weasley.”
“But Albus looked fine,” Pious said, wishing he could identify the strange constriction that seemed to be gripping his chest.
“Of course he looked fine. His parents took him to Mungo’s and got him fixed up before school started. Frankly, I’ll bet my Quidditch card collection that James Potter has something to do with Al’s hatred of being touched.”
Pious swallowed hard. He identified part of the unfamiliar sensation. Guilt. If he hadn’t provoked James, if he hadn’t suggested the whole game with Bleys, James would not have attacked Albus at all.
“This is really fucked up, isn’t it?”
Bleys threw an arm around his shoulders and guided him back toward the castle.
“If it’s any consolation, this thing between you and Potter was always fucked up.”
“Thank you, Bleys, that makes me feel loads better.”
“What are best friends for?”
~~- oOo -~~
Al watched Bleys leave and pondered his words. Despite his forced bravado, Al felt no satisfaction at stabbing a figurative knife into Malfoy’s heart. Seeing someone else snogging someone you cared about could not have been pleasant. And Malfoy really had not done much to Al lately.
Pious appeared to be fine when he returned with Bleys. They seemed to have regained their usual chumminess. That was quick, Al thought dryly as he feigned sleep and watched surreptitiously as the blond readied himself and climbed into bed. He had expected Pious to hold a grudge against Bleys for quite a long while. Bleys winked in Al’s direction when Pious wasn’t watching and Al quickly shut his eyes.
Surprisingly, Pious did not return to his usual habits. Al had three days of touch-free bliss before he began to feel out of sorts. Hell noticed Al moping at the breakfast table on Thursday morning.
“What’s wrong?” Hell asked. “Are you upset because of Bleys and Pious? You seemed downright delirious on Monday.”
Al’s gaze slid to the Slytherin table. Bleys picked up a citrus slice and held it teasingly for Pious to bite. The blond’s eyes met Al’s as his white teeth cut into the bit of orange. Pious’s pink tongue flicked out and touched Bleys’s fingertips for a moment. Al felt as though someone had punched him in the stomach, although he wasn’t certain why.
“I… I don’t think I feel well,” Al said lamely and got to his feet. He left his breakfast largely untouched and bolted. Hell followed, concerned.
“Albus! Are you all right?”
“Yes, don’t worry about me. It must be something I ate. I’m going to go and see Rose. You know how she likes to concoct home remedies.”
“But she’s sitting at the Ravenclaw table right now…”
“I’ll wait for her in the Ravenclaw common room. Will you grab my books and take them to Potions for me?”
Al did not wait for Hell’s response. Instead he hurried to the stairs and climbed quickly. He did head for Ravenclaw Tower, but he had no interest in talking to Rose. The girl was uncanny at diagnosing Al’s problems at a mere glance. Al was not so sure he wanted to hear her thoughts about his current disgruntled state. Instead he wandered into some dusty, semi-used parts of the castle and thought about the plant that currently grew on the windowsill in the old Transfiguration classroom. It had been boarded up since the war with Voldemort—apparently the walls were unstable in that area now. The Devil’s Snare grew quickly and would be ready for Al’s purposes in a few more days.
Although he was currently having second thoughts about tormenting Malfoy. What was the point, if the blond was going to ignore him from now on? Frankly, the ignoring thing was what had Albus confused. One constant in Al’s life had always been that Pious Malfoy would be a thorn in his side. Al would get up in the morning, exchange a smirk with the blond git, and the battle of wills would begin. Now Malfoy acted like Al did not exist.
Al sighed. Surely he didn’t miss the prat? It was nice not having to fight off his wandering hands. It was blissful not to have those soft lips pressing into his neck while barbed insults were whispered into his ear. It was wonderful not to have Pious destroying his concentration in Charms by putting a “helpful” hand on his elbow and gliding his fingers over Al’s wrist…
Al swore roundly as the memories brought a rush of heat to the pit of his stomach. Perhaps he was coming down with an illness. He could not possibly miss Pious Malfoy. It was likely just the attention Albus craved. Even when Bleys was pretending to be Al’s boyfriend, Pious did not completely ignore him. Al still received the deadly glares, the sharp-tongued barbs, and the sneers of superiority. Now there was just… nothing. He once thought it would be a great gift to be ignored by Pious Malfoy. Now it felt like a curse. Be careful what you wish for, he thought ruefully.
Al noted the time with a start and raced for the nearest stairs. Professor Parkinson showed favouritism to her Slytherin students on occasion, but that favour seldom extended to Albus. He made it to the dungeon entrance with time to spare and trotted down the steps before pausing to catch his breath. He did not want to rush in to class panting like a steam engine. It was un-Slytherin. The air suddenly whooshed out of his lungs when he was grabbed from behind.
Al stiffened until a familiar scent reached his nostrils and a pair of hands skated over his torso to dig lightly into the sensitive spots on Al’s ribs. To his later horror, Al relaxed with a sigh of relief. Actually, relaxed might have been too mild a word, it was more like he melted.
“Albus,” Pious Malfoy purred before his teeth sank into Al’s earlobe. Hot breath sent shivers skittering through Al’s blood. “Did you miss me?” Another nibble, this one on the edge of Al’s jaw, made it impossible to think straight. His senses were screaming, especially when one hand moved upward to tangle in his hair and twist his head back. The grip was surprisingly gentle and Al’s breath hitched as his throat bared to the blond. Pious ignored his jugular and instead whispered, “I think you did.”
Malfoy’s lips pressed down on Al’s and met no resistance. Al’s mouth was already open and Malfoy took advantage of the fact to slip his tongue inside and taste Albus, who forgot that he hated to be touched, that he was not interested in blokes, that he hated Pious Malfoy with a passion. He forgot everything except how bloody incredible the kiss felt. Though he had kissed and been kissed hundreds of times, Albus had never before been devoured, consumed, and stripped to his very soul. Time seemed suspended as he drank in the sensations—Malfoy’s heat pressing into him from behind, the firm arm gripping his torso, the fingers in his hair, and the tongue, oh Merlin, the tongue sending jets of fire careening through Al’s body to pool in a molten pit somewhere near his groin…
Al exploded into motion and tore himself out of Malfoy’s grip with a cry of dismay. He nearly fell on the stone floor as he turned and stared at the blond. He raised a trembling hand to his lips and cursed the darkness. He could not properly see Malfoy’s expression. Was the git smirking, or was he as shaken as Al? He decided he would rather not know, so he turned and fled into the Potions classroom where he threw himself into his chair and tried to regain his composure. The attempt apparently failed miserably, judging by the horrified look on Hell’s face.
“Albus, you’re scaring me. Are you seriously sick or what?”
Al barked a chuckle that bordered on hysteria. “Oh yes, definitely sick,” he agreed and took a ragged breath. The hardness between his legs was proof absolute of his sickness. He had been turned on—extremely turned on—by Pious fucking Malfoy. Al blanched when his brain put those words together, because he had never even considered the concept of fucking Malfoy until that very moment.
Al put his head down on the desk and prayed for death.
“I’ll be fine in a minute,” he muttered, sensing Hell’s hand hovering over his back. The hand retreated.
“Let me know if I can get you anything,” Hell offered quietly. “Like a medi-witch.”
Al did not think medical magic could cure his newfound illness. He did not dare look over at the shuffling sound that announced Malfoy’s arrival to class. Al wasn’t certain he would ever be able to look at the blond again.
PART SEVEN
The holiday break came before the situation could get any worse, much to Al’s relief. Not that he was looking forward to any holiday that involved the presence of his brother. He hoped to get permission to spend the majority of the holidays with Hell.
Al thought he might avoid Pious Malfoy altogether on the train, but when he left his compartment to say goodbye to Rose and Hugo, naturally he ran straight into the git in the corridor. Never one to miss an opportunity, Malfoy immediately slammed Al against the wall.
“Going to be an interesting holiday, isn’t it, Potter?” Pious murmured into the shell of Al’s ear. Albus shuddered slightly at the feel of the hard chest pressed against his. Malfoy’s hands lightly gripped Al’s biceps, barely a touch at all according to the Malfoy Book of Torment. For some reason, Al did not tense up the way he normally did. The touch was familiar and… something else. It surprised him for a moment, long enough that he could not find his voice.
A throat-clearing noise sounded behind them and they turned to see Bleys smirking at them.
“Pious,” Bleys said with a sigh and took the blond’s elbow to guide him away from Albus. “What did I tell you? I don’t want you touching my Albus. That means at school, on the train, or anywhere else. All right?”
Pious glared, but allowed Bleys to manoeuvre him away. Al decided he felt relieved. Yes, definitely relieved and grateful to Bleys for interrupting them.
“Sorry, muffin,” Bleys said to Al and pressed a light kiss against the corner of Al’s mouth. Al managed not to jump at the contact and Bleys winked at him. As the two Slytherins strolled away, Al turned his head to find James approaching from the other direction. His brother’s mouth twisted in a hateful sneer and then he entered a compartment, banging the door behind him. Al sighed. It was going to be a very long holiday.
Al was more than ready to return to school after the holidays. The break from school had been painful in more ways than one. He rubbed one shoulder absently. James had nearly dislocated it after one altercation. Al found it was actually a relief to return to what passed for normalcy in his life at the moment. Pious was surprisingly scarce on the train, which was a nice change. Al sat with Hell and Hugo. Rose and Lily joined them for a short time before trotting off to sit with Lily’s fellow Gryffindors. Al fairly bounced in his seat with anticipation and willed the train to move faster.
A large part of his excitement was due to the Devil’s Snare seeds packed in the bottom of his trunk. He had half-expected James to confiscate them, if only to be a prat. It was with particular delight that Al found them nestled safely where he had left them. They were useless as a potion ingredient, which was why he had felt it safe to carry them without additional concealment. James might have thought they were meant for use in Herbology or something.
Now that Al had a prank planned that would hopefully keep Pious Malfoy out of his hair without the necessity of Al submitting to Bleys, he felt more confident. In fact, his first order of business was to “break up” with the Slytherin boy. He did not bother to seek out Zabini, knowing he would find him in the Slytherin common room later. In order to avoid a scene in the Great Hall, Al and Hell avoided dinner and instead slipped into the kitchens to eat before separating and going to their respective dungeons.
Bleys Zabini was not at all amenable to Al’s idea. Al had not seen a single platinum hair of Pious Malfoy, not even when Bleys entered the door and threw himself bodily on Al’s bed with a pleasant greeting.
“We’re breaking up,” Al said without preamble.
Bleys sat up quickly, dragged the curtains shut and cast a Silencing Charm.
“What? Why?”
“I did a lot of thinking over the holidays and I also got used to the novelty of no one pawing at me,” Al explained.
“Is that all? I thought it was starting to bother you less,” Bleys said and put his hand on Al’s knee. Al whacked Zabini’s knuckles sharply with his wand.
“Hands off. I’m serious. Although it has been nice not having Malfoy mauling me on a constant basis, I feel I’ve merely traded one clingy demon for another.”
Bleys sat up as if affronted. “That’s hardly fair. I only touch you when we’re in public. I thought you were doing it to annoy Pious.”
“Pious doesn’t seem to be all that annoyed. Maybe he doesn’t want you back.”
Bleys snorted. “Of course he does. He’s livid. I didn’t hear from him at all over the holidays. He did not even send me a Christmas gift.”
“Shouldn’t that mean he’s not interested and never wants to see you again?”
“Potter, Potter, Potter. How naïve you are about pureblood politics. If Pious never wanted to see me again, he would have sent an expensive gift and inquired politely after my parents. The fact that he sent nothing means he is sulking.”
Al definitely did not understand pureblood politics and had no desire to learn. “Regardless, we are no longer a couple.”
“Come on, Albus. Just a few more days? You know that bint Parkinson will have a test for us the moment we get to class tomorrow with at least one follow-up quiz.”
“I’ll still help you with Potion,” Al assured him. “I just need the… you know, the boyfriend thing to stop.”
Bleys’s dark eyes narrowed. “So you’ve got something new to try on Pious? You don’t need me any longer?”
Al looked at him innocently. “No, I think I’m going to give up the war. Concentrate on school and all that.”
“Wow, your parents must have come down hard on you over holiday. Was it because of me?”
“That has nothing to do with it!” Al said hotly, knowing Bleys would immediately assume he lied. It worked admirably.
“All right, all right,” Bleys said, backing down. “What will you do when Pious starts touching you again?”
“I’m going to ignore him. I’ve gotten pretty good at that, thanks to you. Everyone tells me that if I don’t let it bother me, he will stop.”
Bleys smirked and Al gave him an uncertain smile, as if he had doubts about it, also. It wouldn’t do to let Bleys know he had plans for Malfoy. He knew Zabini and Malfoy still talked companionably, even though Malfoy no longer lounged on Bleys like a pale blanket. One slip from Bleys, unintentional or otherwise, and Al’s plot would be ruined.
“Well, can we at least go over some potions? Anything you think Parkinson might test us on tomorrow?”
Al nodded in relief and Summoned his Potions book from his trunk. He spent the next forty minutes coaching Zabini on Potion ingredients, mixtures, stirring techniques, and the properties of several items. Bleys had been sorely lacking in potion-making fundamentals, likely due to behaving like a complete slacker for the past four years.
Bleys scanned a page and explained to Al the process for brewing the complicated Felix Felicis potion. When he got it right, he laughed and threw his arms happily around Albus, who allowed it merely because he felt a particular sense of pride at being such a fine teacher.
“Thank you, Albus! I think I finally get it and it’s all because of you!”
Bleys leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Al’s lips. Al was so surprised he froze like a deer caught in Muggle headlights. Bleys had given him pecks now and again, but this was the first full-on kiss. Al found himself evaluating it curiously, finding it remarkably similar to the kisses of dozens—if not hundreds—of girls he had snogged. Bleys sucked gently on his lower lip and moved forward slightly as if to deepen the kiss. That was quite enough for Al. He raised his hand and put it on Zabini’s chest to push him away. At that moment the curtains were wrenched aside and Pious Malfoy stood gaping at them like a vengeful angel.
Bleys pulled away and Al envied his skin tone—any blush would be quite effectively concealed, unlike the red most likely staining Al’s cheeks like a splash of paint. Al recovered quickly and grinned at Malfoy as he cancelled the Silencing Charm.
“Do you mind, Malfoy? Ever hear of privacy?”
The blond spun on a heel and stalked out of the dorm. Al laughed aloud, but Bleys looked worried.
“We could not have planned that better if we tried,” Al said and nudged him.
“I’d better go, Al,” Bleys said and slid off of the bed. “He’s really going to be mad now.”
“Isn’t that the point?” Al asked.
“Yes. It was, but now I’m not so sure.”
~~- oOo -~~
Pious was livid. The holiday had turned out to be far worse than expected, especially after a simple diversion had turned into a debacle and left his father in a complete snit for the duration. Pious had spent most of the holiday in his room, hiding from the wrath of the elder Malfoy. He had sought out Bleys on the train and poured out the entire story, expecting sympathy, but instead the traitorous bastard had completely sided with his father. Pious had refused to speak to him after that and instead entertained himself by tormenting the younger students who unwisely had chosen to sit in the same compartment. Eventually Bleys had tired of his antics and left the car to sit elsewhere. Good riddance, Pious had thought petulantly.
And now this. It was mind-boggling. Bleys had assured him that Potter felt nothing for him and was simply allowing the farce to continue in order to avoid Pious. Either Bleys had been lying or things had altered markedly. Kissing. They had been kissing! Fucking Bleys! He had no bloody right!
The common room was suddenly too close—Pious felt a distinct claustrophobia. He hurried through the door and out. He did not pause in the front hall, but opened the large doors and fled. His sense of betrayal was nearly as great as his astonishment. How dare Bleys? Fuck, how could he not have seen it? Potter is so cute. So reluctant, Bleys had said. Pious sneered. Reluctant, indeed. Apparently that had changed.
Pious headed for the lake and quickly wished he had grabbed his cloak. The wind was freezing and rain was beginning to spit from the sky. It would be dark soon. He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. He wondered when this game he had started had gotten so out of control. He was suddenly swimming in uncertainty and he did not like the feeling at all.
Bleys found him, of course, and threw a fur cloak around his shoulders. They sat together on a boulder overlooking the lake. Neither of them spoke for long moments. The rain began to fall in earnest and Bleys cast a Charm to keep the water from soaking them.
“It’s not what you think,” Bleys said finally.
Pious shot a sardonic gaze in his direction. He did not trust himself to speak for fear that once begun the words would never cease. He could feel the rage bubbling just beneath the surface. He wanted to drag Bleys to the lake and drown him. The urge was not lost on his friend, who smiled at him knowingly.
“You’re thinking about killing me, aren’t you?” Bleys asked.
“How can you tell?”
“I’ve seen that look before. Not usually directed toward me, thankfully. It is rather curious, though.”
“What is?” Pious asked although he wasn’t sure why he was even talking to the prat. He should go back inside and ignore Bleys properly.
“I’m trying to decide what you’re so angry about.”
Pious gaped at him. He found himself spluttering and clamped his jaw shut rather than babble incoherently. The silence forced him to think rather than react. Why was he so angry? Bleys cocked a brow and Pious glared at the lake rather than face his curious gaze.
“I’m upset because you lied to me,” he said finally.
“I never lied to you!” Bleys sounded surprised.
“Of course you did. You told me you were completely straight and the next thing I know you’re snogging Albus Potter!”
“You’re angry because I kissed Albus.”
“Yes, I’m angry because you kissed Albus!” Pious yelled and then realized what he had just said. He tried to back-pedal. “I mean, I’m not upset because you kissed the git. Why would I care about that?”
Pious shut his eyes, unwilling to face the truth that was beginning to pound against his temples, demanding acknowledgement. Fuck!
“He was not exactly fighting you off, was he? It looks like Mr. Confirmed Heterosexual, the bloke who is well-known to have snogged every bloody girl in the school, the boy who cannot stand to be touched—save apparently by Bleys Zabini—is not as straight as everyone imagines.”
Pious realized he was shouting and clamped his jaw shut with effort.
“You’re jealous!” Bleys said in amazement.
“Jealous,” Pious said and huffed. “As if.”
“Scorpius! You want Albus Potter!”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Pious snapped. He threw himself away from the boulder and marched into the rain.
Bleys followed. “So you don’t want Potter?”
“No!”
“But you don’t want me to kiss him.”
Pious opened his mouth to deny it, but the words stuck in his throat. His shoulders sagged. “No,” he said quietly.
Bleys put an arm around his shoulders. “All right.”
Pious looked at him quizzically. Bleys’s white teeth flashed in the growing darkness. “What does that mean?”
“I mean the game is finished. It wasn’t working, anyway. James Potter won’t do anything to chance being thrown out of school. You should have seen that long ago. Rumour has it that James simply beat Albus half to death over the holidays.”
Pious drew in a surprised breath.
“He what?”
Bleys nodded. “I got the story when I left you on the train and went to sit with Juliet McMillan. She overheard Lily Potter telling the story to Rose Weasley.”
“But Albus looked fine,” Pious said, wishing he could identify the strange constriction that seemed to be gripping his chest.
“Of course he looked fine. His parents took him to Mungo’s and got him fixed up before school started. Frankly, I’ll bet my Quidditch card collection that James Potter has something to do with Al’s hatred of being touched.”
Pious swallowed hard. He identified part of the unfamiliar sensation. Guilt. If he hadn’t provoked James, if he hadn’t suggested the whole game with Bleys, James would not have attacked Albus at all.
“This is really fucked up, isn’t it?”
Bleys threw an arm around his shoulders and guided him back toward the castle.
“If it’s any consolation, this thing between you and Potter was always fucked up.”
“Thank you, Bleys, that makes me feel loads better.”
“What are best friends for?”
~~- oOo -~~
Al watched Bleys leave and pondered his words. Despite his forced bravado, Al felt no satisfaction at stabbing a figurative knife into Malfoy’s heart. Seeing someone else snogging someone you cared about could not have been pleasant. And Malfoy really had not done much to Al lately.
Pious appeared to be fine when he returned with Bleys. They seemed to have regained their usual chumminess. That was quick, Al thought dryly as he feigned sleep and watched surreptitiously as the blond readied himself and climbed into bed. He had expected Pious to hold a grudge against Bleys for quite a long while. Bleys winked in Al’s direction when Pious wasn’t watching and Al quickly shut his eyes.
Surprisingly, Pious did not return to his usual habits. Al had three days of touch-free bliss before he began to feel out of sorts. Hell noticed Al moping at the breakfast table on Thursday morning.
“What’s wrong?” Hell asked. “Are you upset because of Bleys and Pious? You seemed downright delirious on Monday.”
Al’s gaze slid to the Slytherin table. Bleys picked up a citrus slice and held it teasingly for Pious to bite. The blond’s eyes met Al’s as his white teeth cut into the bit of orange. Pious’s pink tongue flicked out and touched Bleys’s fingertips for a moment. Al felt as though someone had punched him in the stomach, although he wasn’t certain why.
“I… I don’t think I feel well,” Al said lamely and got to his feet. He left his breakfast largely untouched and bolted. Hell followed, concerned.
“Albus! Are you all right?”
“Yes, don’t worry about me. It must be something I ate. I’m going to go and see Rose. You know how she likes to concoct home remedies.”
“But she’s sitting at the Ravenclaw table right now…”
“I’ll wait for her in the Ravenclaw common room. Will you grab my books and take them to Potions for me?”
Al did not wait for Hell’s response. Instead he hurried to the stairs and climbed quickly. He did head for Ravenclaw Tower, but he had no interest in talking to Rose. The girl was uncanny at diagnosing Al’s problems at a mere glance. Al was not so sure he wanted to hear her thoughts about his current disgruntled state. Instead he wandered into some dusty, semi-used parts of the castle and thought about the plant that currently grew on the windowsill in the old Transfiguration classroom. It had been boarded up since the war with Voldemort—apparently the walls were unstable in that area now. The Devil’s Snare grew quickly and would be ready for Al’s purposes in a few more days.
Although he was currently having second thoughts about tormenting Malfoy. What was the point, if the blond was going to ignore him from now on? Frankly, the ignoring thing was what had Albus confused. One constant in Al’s life had always been that Pious Malfoy would be a thorn in his side. Al would get up in the morning, exchange a smirk with the blond git, and the battle of wills would begin. Now Malfoy acted like Al did not exist.
Al sighed. Surely he didn’t miss the prat? It was nice not having to fight off his wandering hands. It was blissful not to have those soft lips pressing into his neck while barbed insults were whispered into his ear. It was wonderful not to have Pious destroying his concentration in Charms by putting a “helpful” hand on his elbow and gliding his fingers over Al’s wrist…
Al swore roundly as the memories brought a rush of heat to the pit of his stomach. Perhaps he was coming down with an illness. He could not possibly miss Pious Malfoy. It was likely just the attention Albus craved. Even when Bleys was pretending to be Al’s boyfriend, Pious did not completely ignore him. Al still received the deadly glares, the sharp-tongued barbs, and the sneers of superiority. Now there was just… nothing. He once thought it would be a great gift to be ignored by Pious Malfoy. Now it felt like a curse. Be careful what you wish for, he thought ruefully.
Al noted the time with a start and raced for the nearest stairs. Professor Parkinson showed favouritism to her Slytherin students on occasion, but that favour seldom extended to Albus. He made it to the dungeon entrance with time to spare and trotted down the steps before pausing to catch his breath. He did not want to rush in to class panting like a steam engine. It was un-Slytherin. The air suddenly whooshed out of his lungs when he was grabbed from behind.
Al stiffened until a familiar scent reached his nostrils and a pair of hands skated over his torso to dig lightly into the sensitive spots on Al’s ribs. To his later horror, Al relaxed with a sigh of relief. Actually, relaxed might have been too mild a word, it was more like he melted.
“Albus,” Pious Malfoy purred before his teeth sank into Al’s earlobe. Hot breath sent shivers skittering through Al’s blood. “Did you miss me?” Another nibble, this one on the edge of Al’s jaw, made it impossible to think straight. His senses were screaming, especially when one hand moved upward to tangle in his hair and twist his head back. The grip was surprisingly gentle and Al’s breath hitched as his throat bared to the blond. Pious ignored his jugular and instead whispered, “I think you did.”
Malfoy’s lips pressed down on Al’s and met no resistance. Al’s mouth was already open and Malfoy took advantage of the fact to slip his tongue inside and taste Albus, who forgot that he hated to be touched, that he was not interested in blokes, that he hated Pious Malfoy with a passion. He forgot everything except how bloody incredible the kiss felt. Though he had kissed and been kissed hundreds of times, Albus had never before been devoured, consumed, and stripped to his very soul. Time seemed suspended as he drank in the sensations—Malfoy’s heat pressing into him from behind, the firm arm gripping his torso, the fingers in his hair, and the tongue, oh Merlin, the tongue sending jets of fire careening through Al’s body to pool in a molten pit somewhere near his groin…
Al exploded into motion and tore himself out of Malfoy’s grip with a cry of dismay. He nearly fell on the stone floor as he turned and stared at the blond. He raised a trembling hand to his lips and cursed the darkness. He could not properly see Malfoy’s expression. Was the git smirking, or was he as shaken as Al? He decided he would rather not know, so he turned and fled into the Potions classroom where he threw himself into his chair and tried to regain his composure. The attempt apparently failed miserably, judging by the horrified look on Hell’s face.
“Albus, you’re scaring me. Are you seriously sick or what?”
Al barked a chuckle that bordered on hysteria. “Oh yes, definitely sick,” he agreed and took a ragged breath. The hardness between his legs was proof absolute of his sickness. He had been turned on—extremely turned on—by Pious fucking Malfoy. Al blanched when his brain put those words together, because he had never even considered the concept of fucking Malfoy until that very moment.
Al put his head down on the desk and prayed for death.
“I’ll be fine in a minute,” he muttered, sensing Hell’s hand hovering over his back. The hand retreated.
“Let me know if I can get you anything,” Hell offered quietly. “Like a medi-witch.”
Al did not think medical magic could cure his newfound illness. He did not dare look over at the shuffling sound that announced Malfoy’s arrival to class. Al wasn’t certain he would ever be able to look at the blond again.
PART SEVEN