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Alleyway Altercations	By : WillGirl Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Albus Severus/Scorpius Views: 2262 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter novels (or movies), nor the characters contained therin. All rights remain with JKR. No monetary reconpense is gained from the writing of this story, which is purely for entertainment purposes.

Chapter List
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This is a continuation of the events detailed in “The Dangers of Quidditch Captaincy,” and "What They Say About Potioneers," and "Garbled Parseltongue," and "Shedding Old Skins," although those pieces by no means need to be read first for this one to be understood. Personally I would suggest starting with "Shedding Old Skins" at least, because it is the direct set-up for this story. If you don't feel like reading that first, I really doubt you'll miss much; basic plot is, Al and Scor are dating, and not everyone's happy about this. Now you're caught up. Anyway, do please enjoy!

Two long days passed before the boys saw each other again.

The sky over Diagon Alley that Tuesday was a sickly, muggy sort of grey, wet and heavy, but Scorpius was too anxious to notice the threat of rain. He paced back and forth in the narrow alley behind Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes and gnawed at his knuckles to avoid biting his nails. What if Albus had changed his mind? What if the time apart had given his family the chance to convince him that he was better off without Scorpius? What if someone else has caught his eye, someone more acceptable; someone better muscled, better looking? What if—

Albus, looking pale and twitchy, came hurrying around the corner, his face drawn and his bright green eyes searching. When he spotted Scorpius, his expression lit up and his tight lips parted in a broad smile.

Scorpius grinned and started forward, his mouth opening in a relieved greeting, but before he could speak there was Albus, pressed against him, hands clutching desperately and lips tugging at his own. Scorpius stumbled, but they caught each other and swayed upright as one wobbly figure of encircling arms and trembling legs.

They spoke between kisses, their words coming out in fragments and spurts—things like you—missed—need—please—hold—and eventually were lost in moans and gasps. They ended up against the far wall of the alley, Albus pressed up against the bricks with Scorpius’s hands tight against his chest, pinning him there; Scorpius’s thigh pressed between Albus’s; Albus’s arms around Scorpius’s waist; and one of Albus’s legs wrapped around Scorpius, holding him in place as surely as Albus was held.

They were rubbing together hotly, not even realizing—or caring—that the shadows of the narrow street barely hid them from passerby crossing Diagon Alley, and they probably would have been gasping together in ecstasy in only a few minutes, but then a heavy hand landed on Scorpius’s shoulder.

The boys were wrenched apart, both stumbling; Scorpius was held up by that tight grip, but Albus, his weight having been distributed more between Scorpius and the wall than upon his own leg, went down flailing. He scrabbled at the wall behind him, skinning his palms on the rough brick, and barely managed to stop his fall before landing in the street.

Albus struggled upright, his eyes burning, and snarled at the source of the interruption: “What are you doing?!”

James Potter ignored his little brother, turning his own angry brown gaze on the boy he was holding at arm’s length. “What are you doing?” he snarled, his furious tone unconsciously echoing Albus’s.

“Saying hello to my boyfriend,” Scorpius replied sharply. “Do you mind?” He knocked James’s arm away and yanked his rumpled clothes back into place, glaring despite knowing that it was Albus’s embrace more than James’s grasp that had disarranged his garmets.

“I do mind,” James growled back. He grabbed Scorpius’s robes and lifted the other boy onto his toes before shaking him like a rag doll. “You smarmy, arrogant git,” he said, and shoved Scorpius backwards into the wall. “Let’s get a few things straight,” James began threateningly.

“That seems unlikely,” Scorpius sneered. A startled laugh burst from Albus’s lips. “I mean, given current evidence...” Scorpius waved languidly to indicate Albus and himself, and smirked at James.

James’s jaw worked a few times, a muscle in his cheek jumping, and his brown eyes blazed. He was a tall, solid boy, made of muscles and freckles and wild, flyaway, dull red hair. There was a slight tan to his pale features and across his wiry arms. He looked like the sort of boy who was forever skiving off his homework in order to sneak down to the Quidditch pitch, and he was; he looked like the sort of boy who was always straying outside the rules, and serving fewer detentions than he really deserved, always with an unabashed grin. He was. James Sirius Potter deserved his names, and reveled in the reputation of the two Marauders who had come before him. He was brash, and loud, and reckless, and very proud of his family, his flying, and his house—Gryffindor, of course.

James practically breathed red and gold and he had never really been able to understand his quieter, shyer little brother. Nor had the two boys ever really gotten along; they were too different, and James too quick to say whatever crossed his mind and Albus too quick to take his brother’s words straight to heart. It wasn’t that James was mean; he just wasn’t thoughtful, and Albus had always been sensitive about his brother’s teasing of him. James also tended to hit or hex first, and stumble his way though well-meant but poorly-phrased apologies afterward.

He and Scorpius had never gotten along.

Now James practically loomed over the smaller boy, glaring fiercely. It wasn’t that Scorpius was all that much shorter than James—less than a head—but Scorpius was slight and delicate-featured, a Seeker’s build despite his position as Chaser, while James came from the burly side of the Weasley family tree; the side that had Charlie on it, who worked with dragons. Next to Scorpius, James just looked big: solid muscle, wild hair, and a very square, stubborn jaw.

Scorpius’s face was thin and pointed, but his chin jutted out just as stubbornly as he glared up at the boy holding him captive. “Let me go,” he said, his icy tone a warning.

“Say you’ll leave my brother alone first,” James replied immediately.

“Sod off,” suggested Albus.

“I refuse,” Scorpius replied to the elder Potter.

“Then I’ll teach you a lesson first, and then you’ll say you’ll leave him alone,” James said.

“Precedent would indicate that, as you’ve never managed to ‘teach’ me any ‘lessons’ before, despite your efforts, I’m unlikely to ‘learn’ anything now,” Scorpius answered, his words a mocking drawl.

“Won’t know until we find out,” James said with a shrug, and dropped one of the hands that was holding Scorpius against the wall in order to draw it back in a fist.

Albus wrapped himself around his brother’s arm. “Don’t you dare,” he snarled, “don’t you dare hit him, James, I’m warning you—”

“Stay out of this, Albie,” James said shortly, trying to shake his brother off without letting go of his captive. “It’s for your own good.”

“Screw you,” Albus replied.

“I just want to put a stop to this before that bastard screws you,” James said bluntly.

Albus’s cheeks flushed. “Are you and dad on some sort of team?” he demanded, his voice thick with embarrassment.

“Huh?” said James, looking over at Albus properly for the first time.

Scorpius took advantage of his captor’s distraction to twist, agile as the snake that represented his house, and slip free of James’s hold. He yanked his robes back into place, again, and stepped back, hands raised nervously to defend himself. Scorpius silently weighed the pros and cons of going for his wand. He knew he could take James Potter in a magical duel—could probably take him—and here in the middle of Diagon Alley, there was no way the Trace could possibly sort out who had cast what spell, but if anyone saw them fighting with magic, and reported it to the Ministry, he would still be in trouble, and Scorpius knew that as a Malfoy, he was on thin ice there already...

“I asked,” Albus was still speaking, his face bright with humiliation, “if you and dad have teamed up, trying to keep me from being properly shagged.”

James shook his head, his face wrinkled with confusion.

“Between him bursting in on us,” Albus explained angrily, “and you trying to beat the shit out of my boyfriend—what’s your game?” Albus demanded.

“Dad burst in on—he was trying to fuck you?” James yelped.

“Well yeah,” said Albus, “we’re dating, did you miss that?”

James’s eyes went wide as saucers, then narrowed in rage. He rounded on Scorpius. “You bastard!” he roared, “you poncey little stuck-up evil snakey freak!”

Scorpius stepped backwards instinctively, then froze with a scowl, hating himself for being weak enough to run, and revealing his cowardice to James Potter of all people. He hated even more that Albus had seen him flinch, although he knew that Albus was well aware that Scorpius didn’t suffer from the foolhardy bravery of Gryffindors and Weasleys. That had never mattered before, but now suddenly Scorpius wished that he could pretend to be brave (even though that also meant stupid) in front of Albus.

His angry hesitation earned him a punch in the face that he was too slow to dodge. Scorpius gasped and crumpled around a broken nose, one hand clutching at his face and the other reaching instinctively for his wand. He was bent half-double, his vision blurred by shock and sudden tears, and so he missed seeing Albus leap onto his brother’s back and try to pull James away from his boyfriend. He also missed the leg that James swung out, catching Scorpius around the ankles and sending him sprawling across the dirty paving stones of the alley.

“Scorpius!” Albus yelped. “Are you all righ—”

James threw Albus off with two sharp elbows, and Albus’s breath whooshed out of his lungs in a loud gasp. Albus landed hard on his tailbone, but shot right back to his feet, his fist already swinging at James.

James took the blow on his forearm, barely grunting, and answered Albus’s swing with one of his own. That punch caught Albus on the side of his face, and Albus yelped, his green eyes tearing, and then he simply lunged.

He caught James around the middle and both Potters went down in a sprawling cluster of arms and fists and kicking feet. They rolled two or three times across the alley, fetching up against the soot-streaked brick wall. James had the advantage, and sat up, straddling his brother, so that he could rain blows down on Albus’s head and shoulders. Albus flung his arms up to protect his face, although James was not hitting nearly as hard as he could have; angry as he was, and as happy a brawler as he generally was, he could never bring himself to hit his little brother with all his strength.

That was little comfort to Albus, who had no idea that his brother was—literally—pulling his punches. He would have only been offended if he had known, thinking that James regarded him as too weak and inconsequential to be worth his full efforts, never suspecting that it was affection that held James back rather than scorn.

Scorpius, squinting through eyes already beginning to darken, scrambled to his feet. He wiped blood from his face, accomplishing little more than to smear the bright red liquid across his chin and the back of his hand, and grimaced at the agony of shattered bone. He got a good grip on his wand nonetheless—despite his bloody fingers—and stumbled forward.

James was in the middle of a diatribe that neither of the Slytherins was paying much attention to—railing against snakes, Malfoys, freaks, seducers, naïve brothers, and worthless good-for-nothing evil Death-Eater-spawn, amongst a host of other, baser insults—with Albus thrashing angrily, trying and failing to throw his big brother off. James was older, and larger, and stronger, and much heavier. Once he got settled in, he was hard to budge, as Albus had learned from bitter experience—but that didn’t stop him trying.

Then a thin, long-fingered hand wrapped itself tightly in James’s untidy mop of hair, and the slim point of a wand pressed against his neck. “Leave him be,” Scorpius hissed.

James stilled, blinking and panting. “You wouldn’t dare,” he said. “The Ministry will be on your scrawny arse so fast—”

“I wasn’t aware you were interested in my arse, James Potter,” Scorpius sneered, trying to hide his wince at the way his broken face protested the grimace.

“Oh, fuck you!” James snarled, recoiling from the pale blond despite the sharp pain it caused his scalp.

“Not even in your dreams,” Scorpius spat. “But hex you—that I would do. And let the Ministry try and prove it was me, right here in the middle of Wizarding London.”

“It’ll be my word against yours, you arrogant berk,” James snarled. “And when they take your wand away for underage magic—”

“I’ll tell them you’re making it up,” Albus interrupted.

James gawked at the little brother he was still sitting on. “You’d lie to the Ministry? For this tosser?”

“I’d lie to anyone for him,” Albus replied firmly. “He’s my best friend—and I love him.”

There was a long silence as the three boys regarded one another. Scorpius’s eyes watered, probably not entirely from pain, and his bloody lips curled into a shy smile. Albus’s face was very red, his brows set in a determined frown and his mouth a childishly stubborn pout. James was slack-jawed, staring down at his brother with wide eyes. He glanced sideways, trying to sneak a peek at the boy holding him at wandpoint, but without wrenching his hair right out of his head he could barely manage a glimpse out of the corner of his eye.

At last James gave up and turned his full attention back to Albus. “You love him?” he repeated, frowning.

Albus’s red face turned even redder, but he nodded sharply.

“Really?” said James, his lip curling with disgust.

“Yes!” Albus cried, his voice squeaking.

“Oh,” said James. “Well...I guess that’s different, then.”

He raised his hands to indicate surrender, then elbowed Scorpius in the gut to shake him off. The pale blond stumbled backwards, wheezing, and snapped his wand back up to point at James again.

James just leaned down and offered a hand to his little brother. Albus slapped the hand away and levered himself up off the ground without assistance. He and Scorpius immediately moved to stand next to one another, linking hands. Scorpius didn’t lower his wand, but he did permit his hand to tremble a little; his face really hurt, and breathing was a struggle, and it didn’t look like he was going to have to hex James Potter after all...probably...

James studied the two sixteen-year-olds in front of him. He cocked his head to one side and ran his eyes up one Slytherin and down the other, his gaze lingering at their clasped hands. Finally James shook his head, a bemused expression twisting his freckled face, and shrugged. “Well,” he said doubtfully, “I guess if you love him, that’s all right, then.”

Then he scowled and stepped forward, shaking a finger threateningly in Scorpius’s face. “But if I find out you’ve done anything to hurt him; if it turns out you were just toying with him, or you cheat on him; if you’ve got him bewitched or seduced in any way...” Albus gave a squawk of protest, but James ignored him, continuing darkly, “If you hurt him, I’ll break you into so many pieces not even your grandfather will be able to hire enough people to put you back together again.”

“I tremble in fear,” Scorpius sneered, his defiant attitude somewhat marred by the sharp wince as he face throbbed in protest.

“You should,” James said bluntly, “I mean it.” He turned to his brother and shook his head again, looking even more bewildered than before. “And you, Albie...you’ve just lost your mind I guess, haven’t you?”

“Don’t call me that,” Albus replied immediately. His brother ignored him.

“I mean I knew you were crazy,” James said, wiping sweat from his eyes, “but this...this is really crazy, Al. I mean...Scorpius Malfoy? Why the hell did you fall for him?” James asked plaintively. “Not just a bloke, Albie, but this bloke?”

“Yes,” Albus said firmly, “this bloke.”

James sighed and shrugged, puffing his cheeks out in a long whistle. “You’re totally barmy,” he proclaimed, “but I guess you have some balls after all. Who’d have thought?”

“Hey!” said Albus.

“I mean, when the hat put you in Slytherin,” James continued, “I figured it was because you were a coward, right? But damn if I wasn’t wrong, because you have sure as hell got to have some serious guts if you’re going to bring a Malfoy home to our family.” James shook his head, the hand he ran through his hair only making it more disheveled.

“You got balls, Al,” James finished, sounding both impressed and baffled, “and you are for sure going to need them.” He shook his head, tossed a nod at Scorpius that was both friendly and threatening at the same time, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and walked away.

The two Slytherins stood for a long moment, just blinking, not sure if the fight was over or not. When James turned around the corner with no indication of plans to continue the altercation, Scorpius finally lowered his arm.

Albus immediately grabbed his boyfriend by the shoulders, turning Scorpius to face him so that he could inspect his bloodied face. “Ow!” Scorpius cried, Albus’s gentle touch making him flinch.

“Sorry,” said Albus, “sorry, sorry...dammit, that’s broken...”

“I know it’s broken,” Scorpius said thickly, “I can feel it, thanks.”

“I’m so sorry,” Albus said, “he’s such an arse, I’m so sorry...”

“Albus,” Scorpius said firmly, “I have never, ever blamed you for anything that that neanderthal you are forced to call ‘brother’ does. I’m not about to start now.”

Albus grinned weakly. “No,” he said, “I guess you aren’t. Still...I’m really sorry.”

“Help me get healed and cleaned up before I have to go home and explain this to my parents,” Scorpius said, gesturing unhappily to the blood dripping down his chin and the bruises darkening his eyes, “and I will forgive you for anything.”

Albus leaned in and very, very gently brushed his lips over Scorpius’s bloody ones. “Deal,” he said.
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Alleyway Altercations