Summer Camp Part One (AS/S Drabble)
Nov. 21st, 2008 07:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dysonrulesTitle: Summer Camp
Pairing: Albus Severus/Scorpius
Rating: NC17 (eventually)
Words: 1,860
Warnings: Excessive fluff? Maybe not.
Summary: This is a direct sequel to the Slytherin Hufflepuff and takes place approximately three weeks after the end of that fic... So, yeah, the boys be Huffles. (so cute) This was written over the summer for the AS/S Carnival and there are five parts...
SUMMER CAMP
Prompts: sunblock, summer job, lemonade, tree house, "Back in the 60s...", "Welcome to the world of scantily clad celebrities...", and the bonus prompt of a confession.
Al thought the place looked brilliant, but he could tell that Score was less than thrilled with the accommodations. The horrified sneer on his friend’s face was a telling clue.
“What is this hideous place?”
Al tried to placate him with reason. “Well, back in the 60s some hippies came here and turned this place into a commune. You know, sex, drugs, and debauchery.”
“Apparently they had little time left for cleaning,” Score said, ignoring Al’s suggestive tone. He made a strangled noise. “Look! I’ve got dirt on my sleeve and I haven’t even touched anything!” Scorpius cast a Cleaning Charm and followed with several more to scour everything within reach. Al danced away to avoid being a target of said Charm. He leaned out of a square opening that served as a window and surveyed the place. The complex was made up of structures similar to small cabins, but set high in the treetops and connected by rope bridges.
“It’s not my fault yellow is a dust magnet,” Al said and waved at Amber and Zephyr Abbott, who stood on a rope bridge nearby. They did not wave back as they were busy holding on and screaming. Hugo Weasley occupied the other end of the bridge. He was leaping up and down to keep the thing rocking precariously. Al grinned.
“Well, black is no better, Shadow. Look at you. You’re filthy.”
Al did not bother to take in his appearance. He knew Score liked him better without clothes, anyway. He turned back and enveloped Scorpius in an amorous embrace.
“Maybe you can give me a bath later,” he murmured against Score’s neck. A cold sluice of water poured over Al’s head, drenching him. Scorpius leaped back with a laugh to avoid getting wet. Al spluttered and blinked water from his eyes. “What was that for?”
“These ridiculous cabins have no doors, in case you haven’t noticed. We haven’t a jot of privacy.”
“So? No one can see us unless they climb up here,” Al complained. He yanked out his wand and cast a Drying Spell just as Lily’s head appeared in a window opening.
“Hey, I figured you two would be lip locked by now. What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Score is being modest,” Al explained. “How did you get up here?”
Lily rose higher to disclose the broom she rode. “I’m supposed to make sure everyone Portkeyed in okay and made it to the proper cabins.”
“I’m not being modest,” Score snapped and turned his Cleaning Charm on one of the four cots that lined the vaguely hexagonal room. “Not everyone is as accepting of our relationship as your family, Albus. I am trying to avoid adverse attention.”
Al rolled his eyes. Ever since they had become lovers, Score acted like a complete prat in public. They had spent six of their school years fairly wrapped around each other, albeit in a mostly platonic fashion, and Score had never objected. Now he avoided Al like the plague in public, not seeming to realize his behavior drew more notice than their old easygoing affection.
Lily caught Al’s eye and gave him a commiserating eyeroll. “Malfoy and Potter. Check,” she said and took off.
“Will you at least rub some sunscreen on me?” Al asked and produced a tube of lotion from his robe pocket.
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Al.”
Albus glared at him, wondering if the blond planned to act like a tetchy prat for the next two weeks. “Fine. I’ll get Ethan to do it,” he snapped. He stalked through the door opening and one the first rope bridge, ignoring Score’s attempt to call him back.
Al avoided Score until later that afternoon when they were all required to gather in the Hub, which was a magically expanded edifice high in the branches of an oak tree. It was also in a wretched state of disrepair, festooned with cobwebs and animal nests.
“I think this place hasn’t been used since the 60s,” Hugo said and nudged Al.
Rose piped up. “Actually, it was last used in 1987. The Harrisons’ purchased it and set it up as a summer camp for Hogwarts students, but when their children died in a horrible accident, they closed it down completely. Ramona Harrison died earlier this year and apparently her will decreed that it be donated to Hogwarts and restored. Don’t any of you read the Daily Prophet?”
“Why should we when we have the Encyclopedia of Rose?” Hugo asked sardonically.
“Well, I think it’s perfect,” she continued. “They have allowed upcoming seventh year students to earn extra credits as Guidance Counselors. It’s an excellent summer job.”
“I’m glad I didn’t sign up for that duty,” Al muttered. He had agreed to come to camp mostly to give his father some kid-free time to heal from a paralyzing injury. Rose gave him a chastening glare for his implied laziness and flounced away to give “guidance” to some third year Ravenclaws.
It wasn’t long before the Counselors forced them all into teams in order to clean and repair the Hub. Albus volunteered for cobweb removal and pest extermination, mostly in order to wander the crowded room and hunt for Scorpius. He could not stay mad at the blond for long and already missed him terribly.
Al found him in the center of the room, selling lemonade by the glassful.
“You’re supposed to be cleaning,” Al complained.
“Malfoys don’t do house-elf work. Besides, my father wanted me to get a summer job. Do you want a glass or don’t you?”
Albus refrained from mentioning that Draco Malfoy probably would not consider a lemonade stand worthy of job status. Al coughed up the necessary coins, knowing that being Score’s boyfriend did not gain him any special privileges when cold hard cash was involved. Albus tipped his head back and drank slowly, intentionally allowing a droplet to escape and trickle down his chin and throat to disappear beneath the open collar of his shirt. He watched through his lashes as Score’s grey eyes followed the path of the drip. The blond’s mouth parted slightly and his tongue flicked out to touch his lips. Al suppressed a wicked smirk and handed the empty glass back to Scorpius.
“Thanks,” he said huskily and wandered off to eradicate more pests.
The Hub was completely renovated in time for the evening meal. Albus found it interesting that the campers gravitated toward the same groups they frequented at Hogwarts. Score sat like a golden king in the midst of his Hufflepuff followers, including Al, of course, although Albus was careful not to snuggle against Score’s shoulder as he used to. The Gryffindors held court with Rose Weasley and Jason MacMillan acting much as they did at Hogwarts—domineering and loud. There were exceptions, of course. The Ravenclaws were primarily loners and they were scattered throughout the room. Only a few Slytherins were in attendance, including Angelica Parkinson. The Slytherins all looked carefully bored to tears. Hugo sat with the Hufflepuffs—sandwiched between Amber and Zephyr Abbott. He acted like a Kneazle with a pot of cream.
After a dinner of assorted barbequed selections—Al suspected the adults had Hogwarts house-elves squirreled away in order to prepare food—they were introduced to the Chief Councilor, who was none other than Oliver Wood. The famous Quidditch player sauntered into the room and waved to the gleefully cheering students. Wood wore nothing but a pair of Quidditch trousers and dragon-hide boots.
“Welcome to the world of scantily clad celebrities,” Hugo muttered and held the near-swooning Abbott girls tightly.
“He’s so handsome!” Zephyr cried.
“He’s older than your dad,” Scorpius said and snickered.
“I don’t care, he’s still gorgeous,” Amber said with a dreamy sigh.
“What do you think, Al?” Scorpius drawled and Al grinned at him mischievously.
“He’s pretty hot,” Al admitted and winked.
Score’s gaze turned frigid for a moment and then he switched his attention back to Wood, who divulged planned camp activities in a loud voice, pausing when whistles and applause interrupted him. Al wasn’t interested in games. He was here for the sole purpose of shagging Scorpius Malfoy under the stars.
After the announcements, the Hub was deserted as the students flew, Levitated, or climbed down to the central grassy sward beneath the trees where a huge bonfire had been lit. Apparently it was a common practice at camp to gather round a fire and sing songs, so the adults forced the unwilling children into doing so. Albus thought the singing would have gone over much better after copious amounts of alcohol consumption. Unfortunately, alcohol was banned from the camp.
Al refrained from singing and instead spent nearly an hour trying to coax Score into the dark forest with suggestive glances. Unfortunately, Score was either playing stupid or being an obstinate arse. Al finally admitted defeat and stood up.
“I’m going to bed,” he said to Hugo, who barely grunted in acknowledgement. He was busy comparing the taste of Amber Abbot’s neck to that of her sister. It seemed to take quite a lot of tasting and involved an excess of giggling on the part of the girls.
Al cast one last glance at Scorpius, who seemed to be engrossed in conversation with Rose Weasley—probably talking about some complicated Arithmantic theory—and did not even glance in his direction. Albus made his way up to their cabin, finding it somewhat difficult to navigate the rope bridges in the dark. He lay awake on his cot for what seemed forever until he finally heard the sound of Score’s. Al’s heartbeat quickened and he wondered if Score would come to him or if he would be forced to seek out his reluctant boyfriend and coax him into some amorous activities. Given Score’s behavior, the latter seemed most likely. Al didn’t mind.
He froze when he heard the sound of voices.
“Thanks for letting me bunk here tonight.” The voice belonged to Randall Deakes, a Slytherin of all people. “Twigs wanted to be alone with his Betts. I offered a threesome, but she’s not the adventurous type.”
“No problem,” said Scorpius. Al heard undressing sounds and then two cots creaked at different sides of the room. “Goodnight, Randy. ‘Night, Al.” There was a long pause and then Score repeated, “Al?”
Albus glared into the darkness and pretended to be asleep. Damn Scorpius for inviting Deakes here when he knew damned well that Al planned for them to sleep together. What was his fucking deal today?
“Hey, Malfoy?” Randall asked after such a long time Al had nearly fallen asleep for real. He roused himself briefly to hear the question.
“Hmmm?” Score murmured.
“Are you and Shadow Potter… you know… boyfriends?”
There was a long silence and then Scorpius said quietly, “No. No, of course not.”
Al could hardly breathe for a moment at the confession. He wondered if Score would have changed his mind if he thought Al was awake.
“Huh,” said Deakes. “It doesn’t matter. I just wondered.”
Shit. Suddenly Al hated summer camp. He wanted nothing more than to leave his not-boyfriend here and go home.
Pairing: Albus Severus/Scorpius
Rating: NC17 (eventually)
Words: 1,860
Warnings: Excessive fluff? Maybe not.
Summary: This is a direct sequel to the Slytherin Hufflepuff and takes place approximately three weeks after the end of that fic... So, yeah, the boys be Huffles. (so cute) This was written over the summer for the AS/S Carnival and there are five parts...
SUMMER CAMP
Prompts: sunblock, summer job, lemonade, tree house, "Back in the 60s...", "Welcome to the world of scantily clad celebrities...", and the bonus prompt of a confession.
Al thought the place looked brilliant, but he could tell that Score was less than thrilled with the accommodations. The horrified sneer on his friend’s face was a telling clue.
“What is this hideous place?”
Al tried to placate him with reason. “Well, back in the 60s some hippies came here and turned this place into a commune. You know, sex, drugs, and debauchery.”
“Apparently they had little time left for cleaning,” Score said, ignoring Al’s suggestive tone. He made a strangled noise. “Look! I’ve got dirt on my sleeve and I haven’t even touched anything!” Scorpius cast a Cleaning Charm and followed with several more to scour everything within reach. Al danced away to avoid being a target of said Charm. He leaned out of a square opening that served as a window and surveyed the place. The complex was made up of structures similar to small cabins, but set high in the treetops and connected by rope bridges.
“It’s not my fault yellow is a dust magnet,” Al said and waved at Amber and Zephyr Abbott, who stood on a rope bridge nearby. They did not wave back as they were busy holding on and screaming. Hugo Weasley occupied the other end of the bridge. He was leaping up and down to keep the thing rocking precariously. Al grinned.
“Well, black is no better, Shadow. Look at you. You’re filthy.”
Al did not bother to take in his appearance. He knew Score liked him better without clothes, anyway. He turned back and enveloped Scorpius in an amorous embrace.
“Maybe you can give me a bath later,” he murmured against Score’s neck. A cold sluice of water poured over Al’s head, drenching him. Scorpius leaped back with a laugh to avoid getting wet. Al spluttered and blinked water from his eyes. “What was that for?”
“These ridiculous cabins have no doors, in case you haven’t noticed. We haven’t a jot of privacy.”
“So? No one can see us unless they climb up here,” Al complained. He yanked out his wand and cast a Drying Spell just as Lily’s head appeared in a window opening.
“Hey, I figured you two would be lip locked by now. What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Score is being modest,” Al explained. “How did you get up here?”
Lily rose higher to disclose the broom she rode. “I’m supposed to make sure everyone Portkeyed in okay and made it to the proper cabins.”
“I’m not being modest,” Score snapped and turned his Cleaning Charm on one of the four cots that lined the vaguely hexagonal room. “Not everyone is as accepting of our relationship as your family, Albus. I am trying to avoid adverse attention.”
Al rolled his eyes. Ever since they had become lovers, Score acted like a complete prat in public. They had spent six of their school years fairly wrapped around each other, albeit in a mostly platonic fashion, and Score had never objected. Now he avoided Al like the plague in public, not seeming to realize his behavior drew more notice than their old easygoing affection.
Lily caught Al’s eye and gave him a commiserating eyeroll. “Malfoy and Potter. Check,” she said and took off.
“Will you at least rub some sunscreen on me?” Al asked and produced a tube of lotion from his robe pocket.
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Al.”
Albus glared at him, wondering if the blond planned to act like a tetchy prat for the next two weeks. “Fine. I’ll get Ethan to do it,” he snapped. He stalked through the door opening and one the first rope bridge, ignoring Score’s attempt to call him back.
Al avoided Score until later that afternoon when they were all required to gather in the Hub, which was a magically expanded edifice high in the branches of an oak tree. It was also in a wretched state of disrepair, festooned with cobwebs and animal nests.
“I think this place hasn’t been used since the 60s,” Hugo said and nudged Al.
Rose piped up. “Actually, it was last used in 1987. The Harrisons’ purchased it and set it up as a summer camp for Hogwarts students, but when their children died in a horrible accident, they closed it down completely. Ramona Harrison died earlier this year and apparently her will decreed that it be donated to Hogwarts and restored. Don’t any of you read the Daily Prophet?”
“Why should we when we have the Encyclopedia of Rose?” Hugo asked sardonically.
“Well, I think it’s perfect,” she continued. “They have allowed upcoming seventh year students to earn extra credits as Guidance Counselors. It’s an excellent summer job.”
“I’m glad I didn’t sign up for that duty,” Al muttered. He had agreed to come to camp mostly to give his father some kid-free time to heal from a paralyzing injury. Rose gave him a chastening glare for his implied laziness and flounced away to give “guidance” to some third year Ravenclaws.
It wasn’t long before the Counselors forced them all into teams in order to clean and repair the Hub. Albus volunteered for cobweb removal and pest extermination, mostly in order to wander the crowded room and hunt for Scorpius. He could not stay mad at the blond for long and already missed him terribly.
Al found him in the center of the room, selling lemonade by the glassful.
“You’re supposed to be cleaning,” Al complained.
“Malfoys don’t do house-elf work. Besides, my father wanted me to get a summer job. Do you want a glass or don’t you?”
Albus refrained from mentioning that Draco Malfoy probably would not consider a lemonade stand worthy of job status. Al coughed up the necessary coins, knowing that being Score’s boyfriend did not gain him any special privileges when cold hard cash was involved. Albus tipped his head back and drank slowly, intentionally allowing a droplet to escape and trickle down his chin and throat to disappear beneath the open collar of his shirt. He watched through his lashes as Score’s grey eyes followed the path of the drip. The blond’s mouth parted slightly and his tongue flicked out to touch his lips. Al suppressed a wicked smirk and handed the empty glass back to Scorpius.
“Thanks,” he said huskily and wandered off to eradicate more pests.
The Hub was completely renovated in time for the evening meal. Albus found it interesting that the campers gravitated toward the same groups they frequented at Hogwarts. Score sat like a golden king in the midst of his Hufflepuff followers, including Al, of course, although Albus was careful not to snuggle against Score’s shoulder as he used to. The Gryffindors held court with Rose Weasley and Jason MacMillan acting much as they did at Hogwarts—domineering and loud. There were exceptions, of course. The Ravenclaws were primarily loners and they were scattered throughout the room. Only a few Slytherins were in attendance, including Angelica Parkinson. The Slytherins all looked carefully bored to tears. Hugo sat with the Hufflepuffs—sandwiched between Amber and Zephyr Abbott. He acted like a Kneazle with a pot of cream.
After a dinner of assorted barbequed selections—Al suspected the adults had Hogwarts house-elves squirreled away in order to prepare food—they were introduced to the Chief Councilor, who was none other than Oliver Wood. The famous Quidditch player sauntered into the room and waved to the gleefully cheering students. Wood wore nothing but a pair of Quidditch trousers and dragon-hide boots.
“Welcome to the world of scantily clad celebrities,” Hugo muttered and held the near-swooning Abbott girls tightly.
“He’s so handsome!” Zephyr cried.
“He’s older than your dad,” Scorpius said and snickered.
“I don’t care, he’s still gorgeous,” Amber said with a dreamy sigh.
“What do you think, Al?” Scorpius drawled and Al grinned at him mischievously.
“He’s pretty hot,” Al admitted and winked.
Score’s gaze turned frigid for a moment and then he switched his attention back to Wood, who divulged planned camp activities in a loud voice, pausing when whistles and applause interrupted him. Al wasn’t interested in games. He was here for the sole purpose of shagging Scorpius Malfoy under the stars.
After the announcements, the Hub was deserted as the students flew, Levitated, or climbed down to the central grassy sward beneath the trees where a huge bonfire had been lit. Apparently it was a common practice at camp to gather round a fire and sing songs, so the adults forced the unwilling children into doing so. Albus thought the singing would have gone over much better after copious amounts of alcohol consumption. Unfortunately, alcohol was banned from the camp.
Al refrained from singing and instead spent nearly an hour trying to coax Score into the dark forest with suggestive glances. Unfortunately, Score was either playing stupid or being an obstinate arse. Al finally admitted defeat and stood up.
“I’m going to bed,” he said to Hugo, who barely grunted in acknowledgement. He was busy comparing the taste of Amber Abbot’s neck to that of her sister. It seemed to take quite a lot of tasting and involved an excess of giggling on the part of the girls.
Al cast one last glance at Scorpius, who seemed to be engrossed in conversation with Rose Weasley—probably talking about some complicated Arithmantic theory—and did not even glance in his direction. Albus made his way up to their cabin, finding it somewhat difficult to navigate the rope bridges in the dark. He lay awake on his cot for what seemed forever until he finally heard the sound of Score’s. Al’s heartbeat quickened and he wondered if Score would come to him or if he would be forced to seek out his reluctant boyfriend and coax him into some amorous activities. Given Score’s behavior, the latter seemed most likely. Al didn’t mind.
He froze when he heard the sound of voices.
“Thanks for letting me bunk here tonight.” The voice belonged to Randall Deakes, a Slytherin of all people. “Twigs wanted to be alone with his Betts. I offered a threesome, but she’s not the adventurous type.”
“No problem,” said Scorpius. Al heard undressing sounds and then two cots creaked at different sides of the room. “Goodnight, Randy. ‘Night, Al.” There was a long pause and then Score repeated, “Al?”
Albus glared into the darkness and pretended to be asleep. Damn Scorpius for inviting Deakes here when he knew damned well that Al planned for them to sleep together. What was his fucking deal today?
“Hey, Malfoy?” Randall asked after such a long time Al had nearly fallen asleep for real. He roused himself briefly to hear the question.
“Hmmm?” Score murmured.
“Are you and Shadow Potter… you know… boyfriends?”
There was a long silence and then Scorpius said quietly, “No. No, of course not.”
Al could hardly breathe for a moment at the confession. He wondered if Score would have changed his mind if he thought Al was awake.
“Huh,” said Deakes. “It doesn’t matter. I just wondered.”
Shit. Suddenly Al hated summer camp. He wanted nothing more than to leave his not-boyfriend here and go home.