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Shedding Old Skins	By : WillGirl Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Albus Severus/Scorpius Views: 5165 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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.

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“So,” said Albus.

“So,” Scorpius agreed. He found himself smiling rather stupidly at his boyfriend, who was wearing very much the same sort of expression himself.

“Your dad knows, now,” said Albus.

“Yeah,” said Scorpius.

“Knew all along, actually. Before we did.”

“Yeah. Clever git.”

Albus laughed. “Yeah. Your mum too, even.”

“Yeah,” said Scorpius.

Albus squeezed his hand. “And they’re happy,” he said. “Or your dad is, and he says your mom will be…”

Scorpius nodded. “I know. I’m…I can’t believe it, not really, but…yeah.” He grinned. “Yeah,” he said again.

Albus beamed at him, then tugged the pale boy closer so that he could kiss him. Scorpius melted into his mouth, his whole body going limp against Albus as tension bled out of his limbs.

Scorpius had been worried—so worried—about telling his parents. Their regard, especially father’s, meant everything to him, and he had been terrified that his relationship with Albus would jeopardize that.

And it wasn’t just that Albus was a boy, which would have been bad enough. Scorpius understood the importance of family and lineage in the way that only someone who can trace his line unbroken all the way back to Constantine can understand, and he had never really given much thought to the idea of marriage and children only because he had always sort of vaguely assumed it to be a simple inevitability. And children weren’t out of the question, of course not, but being gay certainly made things more complicated from a genetic standpoint. Family was, after all, about bloodline and inheritance and everything that went along with that, and this would make those particular things quite a bit harder.

But father hadn’t mentioned anything like that; hadn’t said a word along the lines of, “dally to please yourself all you like, my boy, but keep in mind that you’ll eventually have to do your duty and find a witch to marry who’ll continue the line respectably,” which sounded horrible, but Scorpius knew people who’d gotten that exact speech from their parents. He was still wondering, a little bit, if it was coming eventually. Father hadn’t seemed to be thinking about that at all, but there was still plenty of time…

And then, of course, there was the matter of which boy, in particular, Scorpius was in love with. Because Albus wasn’t just any boy, oh no; he was Albus Severus Potter, and his identity was quite as big of a deal as his gender. The Malfoys—Draco and Astoria, at least, and certainly Scorpius himself—no longer gave even lip-service to the old prejudices and ideals of pure-blood superiority. And Scorpius’s grandparents had, from all accounts, mellowed considerably these days, although they were still inclined to scoff a little bit at those who were Muggle-born, even if they generally kept their scorn discreetly to themselves.

But the Malfoys were still an old, very old, family. Their wizarding lineage stretched back for centuries with very little hiccough; on the paternal side, the only Muggle involved was that first forgotten daughter of Constantine the family had started with, way back in the Fourth Century. That was when the Malfoy line had formed, and it had never dealt with Muggles since. They were quite as pure-blooded as it was possible for a wizard to be, these days.

And Albus Potter was very, very much a half-blood. His mother’s family was pure-blooded too, of course, but his father’s mother—Albus’s grandmother—had been born to Muggle parents. That was very half-blooded. That wasn’t something that could just be swept aside or overlooked or hushed up. And Scorpius had thought that it would matter, just a little bit, to his father. They were, after all, the Malfoys, and just because they had come to their senses enough to realize that one’s magical heritage, or lack thereof, did not inform upon one’s own abilities did not mean that when it came to the family line, they did not care.

Only it seemed that they didn’t.

And, more than that, they did not care in specific, because Albus was more than just any half-blood. He was Albus Severus Potter, and he was a Weasley. And the only people who had ever given the Malfoy family more trouble than the Potters had been the Weasleys. And Scorpius had very much thought that his father would care about that.

He saw how stiff and strained their families were whenever they were forced to meet, how carefully polite they acted and the snide things they would mutter to themselves later when they were alone. There was quite a lot of bad blood between the families, on both sides. And Scorpius had really, really thought that his father would care about that most of all.

But he hadn’t.

And now the anxiety that had been steadily growing in Scorpius since that first kiss with Albus had all of it simply evaporated. It left him feeling strangely empty and a little bit giddy. He couldn’t stop smiling, even as they snogged. Yes, they still had to tell Albus’s parents, and the rest of his family, and Scorpius’s grandparents; yes, they still had to face all their friends; no, it could not possibly all go this smoothly and yes, there were undoubtedly going to be some very hard times and quite a lot of trouble to deal with. But Scorpius couldn’t bring himself to worry about any of that right now.

Because he had Albus in his arms, and his father loved him anyway.

Scorpius moved forward insistently, practically climbing into Albus’s lap to kiss him, touch him, be with him forever. Their lips were pressed so close that they nearly melded into one, and their tongues thrust hungrily inside one another’s mouths. Scorpius delighted in the taste of Albus but it wasn’t enough, he wanted more—needed more, needed to touch and taste every inch of him.

He pushed forward, bearing Albus down onto the plush couch. He fumbled blindly with Albus’s shirt for several minutes before he realized that he couldn’t find the buttons because there weren’t any; Albus was wearing his shirt loose, hanging open to reveal the thin T-shirt beneath. Those silly Muggle clothes, that Scorpius loved so much; they were loose and tight and always hanging open, allowing Scorpius to slide his hands up the back of Albus’s shirt any time he liked, with no one in the room any the wiser as to why Albus’s breath had suddenly hitched and Scorpius was smirking and…

Scorpius did that now, pushing the shirt out of the way and breaking their kiss so that he could trail his mouth down the revealed skin of Albus’s chest and torso instead. Albus gasped and shivered beneath his slight tan that was really more of a sunburn. Albus was not as pale as Scorpius, but he was close, and the sun was only slightly kinder to Potters than it was to Malfoys. Albus, for some reason, went shirtless a lot in the summer anyway; not that Scorpius was going to complain about the view, even if it did make it sometimes a bit harder to concentrate at Quidditch practice. But that led to the occasional sunburn, and the ensuing tanned skin the followed. Scorpious loved the way Albus’s skin looked in the summer, tinted ever so slightly with pink and brown.

Of course, he loved how Albus looked in the winter, too; frosted and red with cold, like berries in snow. And really, every season, any weather; Albus was always gorgeous, and Scorpius loved the look of him, and the taste...

“Scor, wait,” Albus panted. “Your dad, what if he comes back in…”

“Good thing we told him we’re dating then, or wouldn’t he be perplexed?” Scorpius murmured back, his lips brushing against Albus’s skin with every word.

Albus groaned. “Stop, Scor, really…we’re going to get caught…”

Scorpius ignored Albus’s protests. He knew the other boy didn’t really mean them; he was squirming in that delightful way that always preceded the most remarkable noises, and…

“Scor, seriously.” Albus caught Scorpius’s wrists and dragged them and their exploring hands away from his sides. He pushed back until Scorpius was forced to sit up, at least a little bit; forced to pull his mouth away from Albus, at least, and meet his eyes instead. “I don’t want your dad to walk in and find me ravishing his only son less than five minutes after we told him we’re dating.”

“First of all,” Scorpius said, “father’s thought we were dating for over a year, so even though we’ve just told him, he’s actually ‘known’ longer than we have…and,” he pointed out helpfully, “technically, I’m the one doing most of the ravishing right now.”

Albus rolled his eyes.

Scorpius sighed and rolled his right back. “Oh, all right,” he said reluctantly, sitting back and sliding off of Albus’s lap. He linked their fingers together as he stood up and pulled Albus with him.

“Come along, then,” Scorpius said, trying to look aggrieved rather than giddy. He had a distinct feeling that he wasn’t quite pulling it off as well as he might have hoped.

“Where?” Albus asked, allowing his boyfriend to tug him towards the door.

Albus freed one hand and pulled his shirts back into place as best he could; fortunately his hair was always rumpled, so he didn’t even bother trying to smooth that back down. Scorpius instinctively ran a quick hand through his own hair as soon as Albus released his fingers; the smooth blond locks fell neatly into place. Albus was too distracted—and delighted—to be jealous.

Scorpius smirked. “My room,” he said. His gray eyes gleamed with mischief and lurid promise.

“Oh,” said Albus. His cheeks grew hot.

“That should be private enough, don’t you think?” Scorpius asked innocently.

Albus grinned. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, that should be brilliant.”
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Shedding Old Skins