Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Scorpius opened his eyes the sunlight slanting in through the tall balcony window was the deep, lazy, honey-gold color of late afternoon. He woke up to feather-light kisses and smiled happily.

“Hey,” he whispered.

“Hey,” Albus whispered back. His green eyes practically glowed with bliss and his swollen-lipped smile was really just indecently satisfied.

Scorpius reached up and brushed messy, sweat-tangled locks of black hair away from Albus’s pale face. He felt sticky and gross and completely disheveled and he hardly minded at all. Scorpius grinned and stretched, then winced at a sudden twinge of pain.

He smiled again, quickly, when Albus’s brows snapped together in concern. “Are you all right?” he said, his tone already sliding upwards towards distressingly intense concern.

“I’m fine,” Scorpius said, summoning his most reassuring smile. It was the sort of smile he gave his mother when he was sick, or the school Healer when he wanted to get back on his broom after a tumble. It was generally pretty potent, but Albus had seen it in use too many times to be completely convinced. Scorpius distracted him with several long, soft kisses, soothing the other boy’s nerves until he felt tense limbs sag loosely against him once again.

He wasn’t fine, not quite; he ached, like he’d just endured a truly brutal Quidditch match, but the muscles that ached had never been involved in Quidditch, and they were all inside. Scorpius could feel them twitch uncomfortably, and kept a grimace off his face by force of will.

He didn’t want to worry Albus.

Not that there was any way to stop the other boy from doing that; he was a consummate worrier, and prone to occasional bouts of random over-protectiveness. Scorpius found that particular trait alternately endearing or annoying, depending on who was being protected from whom, and why and when.

When Albus sprang to Scorpius’s defense against his older brother, for example, that was amusing; if he tried to defend him from their own housemates, though, that was exasperating. Scorpius could take care of himself, especially where other Slytherins were concerned. He understood how to fight those sorts of battles better than Albus did, anyway, and while it was nice to have a friend that one could always count on to back one up, no matter what, it would be even better if Albus could always be trusted to wait for his cue in such matters, and allow Scorpius to take the lead. He was, after all, a Malfoy, and thus a natural expert at Slytherin infighting.

If, however, any Gryffindors were involved, then Scorpius was generally only too willing to concede to Albus’s expertise and follow his lead; while Albus was as Slytherin as Scorpius, nearly all of his relatives were lions, and he thus had a great deal of experience in dealing with them.

Besides, Scorpius was pants when it came to Muggle brawling, and at least half the time, Gryffindors seemed to prefer to eschew magic entirely and rely on their fists to settle insults instead of fighting a proper duel. They were so barbaric.

Scorpius was a brilliant dueler but he couldn’t throw a punch to save his life, and he knew it.

That didn’t bother him very much, generally. A gentleman was supposed to be tough and resolute, of course, but a broken nose was nothing compared to a magical defeat. It was far more important to be good with a wand, which he was, than to be skilled in the crass and vulgar art of fisticuffs, which was hardly an appropriate pastime anyway. Scorpius would take the ability to resist an Imperius Curse over being able to block a punch any day, and he was a very talented Occlumens for a sixteen-year-old. Let’s see how well James Potter could manage that, and if he was still laughing then.

Still, Scorpius knew that he sometimes appeared weak, because he was so slim and delicate-featured, and he disliked that very much. Never mind that boys twice his size couldn’t knock him off his broom; never mind that he’d been successfully dueling sixth years when he was only in his third; never mind that he could confront the Bloody Baron without flinching and argue unabashed with Professor Vector; never mind that he could face down grandfather at his most imperious; people sometimes looked at him and assumed that he was frail and fragile, because he looked small and skinny.

Albus had never made that erroneous assumption, thank Merlin, and Scorpius was not about to have him changing his mind now. So he certainly wasn’t about to admit to being a bit sore—

Or he had planned not to, at least, but that was before the two of them had gathered enough energy to get up from the bed and head to the shower to clean all that gunk off. Albus slipped off the bed and Scorpius followed, but winced dreadfully when he touched the floor. He didn’t even have a chance to try and hide his limp before Albus was at his side, wide-eyed and terrified, pulling him back down to the bed and holding him tightly in shaking arms.

“I’m fine,” Scorpius interrupted the other’s panicky babbling. “I’m only sore, it’s perfectly natural, don’t make a fuss,” he ordered waspishly. He struggled to pull away, miffed, but Albus had him locked in a protective embrace and wasn’t letting go.

Albus turned big, watery green eyes on him and his lip trembled in a pout that threatened imminent tears. “Scor…” he murmured, on the brink of hyper-ventilating.

“Oh honestly,” said Scorpius, and rolled his eyes. “Get a hold of yourself, now, it’s hardly anything to throw a fit over. It’s perfectly normal, I’ve read all about—”

“I hurt you,” Albus whimpered. “Oh Merlin, Scor, I’m so sorry…why didn’t you stop me…I never meant to hurt you, never…Salazaar’s herbs, I’m such a horrible bastard…”

“Now stop that,” Scorpius interrupted tersely. “What nonsense.” He frowned. “You didn’t hurt me, you idiot, stop gibbering.” Albus shut-up, looking wounded and repentant.

Scorpius leaned forward to take the sting out of his words with a kiss. It was the discomfort and, more than that, his annoyance with himself for feeling it, that was making him short-tempered and curt, but he couldn’t take his exasperation out on Albus, no matter how annoying the other boy was being. It was, after all, only because he cared.

“Now, you didn’t hurt me, all right? So calm down, first of all,” Scorpius ordered.

Albus nodded hesitantly, although he didn’t look convinced.

“It was just new, is all, and it was a bit of a strain, I guess, and we did get a little over-enthusiastic—the both of us,” he added firmly when Albus opened his mouth to apologize. “I didn’t try to stop you at any point, did I?” Scorpius demanded. Albus was forced to shake his head. “No,” the pale boy continued decisively, “as I recall, I did pretty much just the opposite, didn’t I?”

Albus shrugged, then reluctantly nodded once, stiffly.

“So,” said Scorpius, wrapping his arms around Albus’s neck and nosing at him until he had to look up and meet Scorpius’s eyes. “You did exactly what I asked you to, I had as marvelous a time as I’m pretty sure you did, and we got a bit carried away. It’s not a big deal,” he continued with a reassuring kiss. “We’ll just take it easy for a day or two, and be a little less, ah…enthusiastic, next time. You know, until we’re more, um…accustomed to it.” He cleared his throat, trying to fight the urge to blush.

“You…you want to try it again?” Albus gaped.

“Well, not right now,” Scorpius grinned. “But, yeah. I mean, I enjoyed it…didn’t you?”

Albus nodded quickly. “Oh,” he said, “yes. I just…”

“Have gone all Potter and overprotective?”

Albus blushed. “Well…yeah, I guess so,” he admitted. He shrugged and offered a shamefaced smile.

Scorpius rolled his eyes affectionately. “Well, don’t,” he commanded with a kiss. “Can’t help it,” said Albus. “I know. Love you anyway.”

“And you’re a snarky git,” Albus smirked, “and a pain in the arse.”

Scorpius couldn’t help but giggle. “Actually,” he pointed out, “in this case, I think you’re the one who was a pain in…”

“Ah!” Albus gasped. “You berk!” He punched Scorpius in the shoulder.

Scorpius snickered. “Guilty,” he confessed with a grin. “Also, I feel terribly messy. I know it’s really only fair of me to allow you a chance to have a little freak-out moment of your own, but honestly, do you mind cutting it short so we can clean up, please?”

Albus laughed. “All right, you ponce, we can go wash up.”

Scorpius stuck his tongue out, so Albus leaned in and captured it.

They snogged playfully for several minutes until Scorpius pulled away, laughing, and tugged Albus to his feet. “Shower now,” he said firmly. “Dinner’s soon, and I don’t imagine you want to go down there looking so grotty.” Albus paled.

“Crap,” he said, “no. Very no.” He hurriedly followed his boyfriend to the bath and tried hard not to notice how gingerly Scorpius was walking. “You, um…you don’t think your parents will know what we, um…what we were…?”

Scorpius shrugged. “No idea,” he said, fiddling with the taps. “Why?”

“Oh, Merlin…” Albus groaned. “Just kill me now?”

“Nope,” Scorpius replied cheerfully. “You’ll just have to wait until you can die of embarrassment at the dinner table like the rest of us do,” he said with a smirk.

“Wanker,” Albus muttered.

“Not today,” grinned Scorpius, and yanked Albus with him underneath the warm stream of water.

Albus sputtered, dashed sopping hair from his eyes, and scowled at his best friend. “Every day,” he said firmly. “Every single day.”

Scorpius laughed.

* * *

Despite his blasé bravado in conversation with Albus, Scorpius was careful not to limp when he walked into the room where his parents were sitting. He felt awkward and stilted, and wasn’t entirely certain of how to act. He was afraid that they were going to see right through him—

Not that it mattered, of course; he just wasn’t keen on his parents knowing all the details of what he and Albus had just been doing. They were going to be insufferable enough already, Scorpius was certain, now that he and Albus had confessed to being a couple. Added details would only make them more excruciatingly exuberant.

Sure enough, when they hurried in—running late, and still damp from the shower that had taken rather more time than they had anticipated; extracurriculars had extended the cleaning process—mother stood up and caught Scorpius on his way to his seat.

She pulled him into a tight hug and kissed both his cheeks and his forehead—which gave Albus plenty of time to dodge past and make it safely to his own seat—and, when she released Scorpius at last, she beamed at the both of them so intensely that she couldn’t speak.

Scorpius rolled his eyes which earned him a censuring eyebrow from his father—don’t roll your eyes at your mother, it said—so Scorpius rolled them at him as well.

Draco grinned.

Astoria’s broad smile lasted through the entire meal and several times she nearly lost the thread of conversation because she was too absorbed with staring in delight at her precious son and his brand new boyfriend to remember to pay proper attention to anything else.

Scorpius did his best to pretend that she wasn’t acting so silly, but Albus shrugged down in his seat and gave bashful, slightly shame-faced smiles in response whenever he noticed her staring at him, which really must only have encouraged her.

“So,” Draco asked over lavender-glazed quail, “did you boys have an enjoyable afternoon?” His smile twitched smugly and his grey eyes danced with mischief.

Albus turned crimson.

“Yes, thank you father,” Scorpius replied primly. He tried to kick Albus under the table but fell a few centimeters short. He thought about edging his chair in closer, but decided it would be lacking in subtlety.

“Well, I only ask because you both seem a bit tired,” Draco continued innocently, “and as I didn’t notice you out on the pitch, I just thought I’d make sure that everything was all right, and you weren’t perhaps feeling ill, or anything like that.”

Albus paled dramatically. He took an extra-large swallow of wine and coughed when it went down the wrong way in his anxiety. Draco leaned over to pat him on the back obligingly and Albus wondered, vaguely panicky, if he had imagined the brief flash of accusation in his chilly eyes.

Does he know? Albus thought wildly. Did he notice Scor limping, is he mad at me? Oh, Merlin...he hates me now, he knows I hurt him...

It occurred to Albus that eating dinner at a Slytherin Potioneer’s house right after not only revealing that you were dating his only child but also shagging said scion upstairs in his own bedroom, and a bit more roughly than you’d intended to to boot, was probably not on the list of smartest things ever done.

He put his fork down shakily and tried to smile.

Scorpius, meanwhile, did not notice his boyfriend’s sudden discomfort because he was too focused on ignoring his own. He was concentrating very hard on not shifting back-and-forth in his seat, knowing that the motion would be noticed by and, no doubt, commented upon by one or both of his parents, not to mention likely contribute to Albus’s narrowly-avoided panic attack from earlier.

But it was terribly awkward, sitting there with his arse aching, trying to ignore the way mother kept beaming and simpering at the both of them, and the smug smiles that father wasn’t even trying to restrain.

Scorpius reminded himself that he should be glad they were both so happy; reminded himself that a scant handful of hours ago he had been practically breathless with fear of disappointing them, of being issued impossible edicts, and of an imminent disownment. He reminded himself that he had no call to be disgruntled when his parents were so obviously, genuinely pleased with what he was choosing to do with his life, and who he was choosing to spend it with.

But it was hard, when they were being so blatantly obnoxious.

Only they weren’t, really, and he knew it.

They really weren’t acting out of the ordinary, not under the circumstances, and Scorpius ordinarily adored his obsessively doting parents, even when they went a bit overboard. He was just cross, right now, because of his current discomfort and the embarrassment that sprang from it. Scorpius told himself, again, that some soreness was to be expected; that it was a perfectly normal reaction; that it did not mean that he was weak, or pathetic.

He didn’t listen. He never did.

Scorpius reviled any trait of his own that even hinted at weakness; he was a Malfoy, after all, and he was thus supposed to be perfect. Perfection did not include weaknesses.

More than once he’d been carried off the Quidditch Pitch half-dead because he’d been too stubborn to stop playing after an injury that he really should have heeded. More than once he’d landed himself in hospital through sheer stubbornness and a refusal to bow to a physical ailment or magical malady. But malingering in hospital smacked of weakness; getting hurt or falling ill was a mark of failure in the first place, after all, so the convalescent period to recover from such troubles was only made all the worse.

Consequently, Scorpius hated going to see healers, and even more hated being confined to bed rest for any length of time, for any reason. As healers have a great tendency to issue orders of just that sort when confronted with a recalcitrant patient who refuses to rest properly when unsupervised, Scorpius simply avoided such situations as best he could.

Being prone to duels, confrontations, Quidditch playing, and experimental potioneering, however, he found it difficult to avoid the ailments themselves. It was, thus, simply the treatment that he eschewed, for as long as he could get away with it.

As Scorpius was extraordinarily strong-willed, that tended to be rather more often than it should have been, in all honesty.

Right now, of course, he wasn’t so much trying to avoid the healers; he was in no way injured enough to require medical care. He was simply sore, and trying to disguise his discomfort from his parents. Just because they seemed happy with Albus didn’t mean that Scorpius wanted to immediately confront them with certain physical realities of their relationship, especially given how new this particular aspect was.

Besides, there was always the chance that they wouldn’t find it upsetting, and Scorpius didn’t think that he could handle either of them being any more smug or elated than they already were. Best they not be made aware of what, exactly, had gone on upstairs quite yet.

Scorpius chanced a glance at his father and grimaced.

Of course, there was always the chance that he already knew.

Draco Malfoy could speak volumes with nothing more than a tilt of his eyebrows and a quirk of his lips and, as Scorpius possessed much the same talent himself, he could usually tell exactly what it was his father wasn’t saying. And right now, what he seemed to be saying was, “I know what you’ve been doing.”

Scorpius gave him a withering glare, which only made Draco’s smirk widen. Then he winked.

Giving up, Scorpius quickly brought up the subject of Quidditch to distract everyone, and he spent the rest of dinner determinedly avoiding his father’s far-too-knowing eye.

Quidditch finally trailed out over dessert, but ordinary gossip prevailed—Scorpius’s parents perhaps taking pity, and avoiding badgering their precious son too much on the subject of his new romance, despite their keen delight at seeing him so happy—which allowed Scorpius to relax, slightly. He could gossip about society with half his brain on vacation; after sixteen years, such discourse was entirely automatic.

Albeit made thoroughly more enjoyable when it caused Albus to snort his sorbet out his nose.

That sent mother into such a fit of hysterics that she had to leave the table to compose herself. Scorpius took that as the perfect opportunity to escape himself, and quickly requested that he and Albus be excused. Upon father’s amused acquiescence, Albus hesitated only a moment before abandoning his last few scoops of sorbet, and joining Scorpius in hasty (determinedly-not-limping) retreat.

Scorpius didn’t get far, however. His father caught his arm at the doorway and drew him aside, nodding to Albus to indicate that the other boy could keep going, if he wished. Albus paled dramatically, gulped, nodded, and chose to lurk just the other side of the door, terror in his bright green eyes.

Scorpius pulled on his best haughtily-ignorant expression of innocent boredom and turned to face his father. “Yes, sir?” he said. “Was there something else?”

“I thought perhaps you might not turn down a healing charm,” Draco replied, his tone utterly bland but his mouth twisted into a smug smile that almost hid his concern.

Scorpius could feel his face turn dark pink. “I—that’s really not—necessary—that is to say—”

“I didn’t say it was necessary,” Draco said mildly, his smirk still appallingly smug. “I merely thought it might be appreciated.”

Scorpius blushed harder. He refused to look over his shoulder at Albus, but he was certain that his friend must be moments away from apoplectic shock at this point. He didn’t meet his father’s eyes, either, but rather fixed on the empty air just to the left of Draco’s face, which seemed slightly less mortifying than actual eye contact.

“I...I suppose,” Scorpius said grudgingly.

Draco’s smirk twitched and he reached into his vest for his wand. A practised flick of the shaft made Scorpius wince, then relax as the sharp twinge of the charm faded into cool relief. He still ached, a bit, but not nearly so much as before; now it was more the soreness of over-tired muscles, rather than the tearing feeling of being so strenuously overstretched.

“Thank you,” Scorpius said, as primly as he could with his face on fire and his dignity shattered.

“But of course,” his father drawled. Over Scorpius’s modestly turned-away head, Draco caught Albus’s gaze. He gave the dark-haired boy a quirked eyebrow that, to Albus, seemed to say quite clearly that Mr. Malfoy would overlook the situation this one time, due to their inexperience, but that if Albus ever hurt his son again...

Albus gulped, and nodded, and retreated with Scorpius, who was very deliberately not looking at his father for fear of dropping dead from sheer embarrassment.

Draco’s serious (yet still irrepressibly smug) expression held while the two boys fled, but the moment the door shut behind them, he broke into a grin. He turned and headed off in the opposite direction, following the path that Astoria had taken when she had sought composure after Albus’s hysteria-inducing misfortune with the sorbet.

She would no doubt be wondering what Draco was up to, and why he had not yet joined her in the library for their usual evening interlude of reading and...recreation.

His thin smile turned lascivious, and he walked a bit faster. It was, after all, quite rude to keep a lady waiting, and Draco Malfoy might be many deplorable things, but he was still a gentleman.

And Astoria was an awfully pretty lady.

* * *

“Oh, Merlin!” Scorpius collapsed on his bed and buried his face in the nearest pillow. He wondered if his cheeks were burning hot enough to actually catch the silky fabric on fire, and decided that he didn’t much care if they did.

Albus flopped down next to him with a lengthy groan.

“I can’t believe my dad sometimes...or my mum,” Scorpius muttered. His words came out very muffled due to the pillow that was nearly suffocating him, but he could feel the bed tremble as Albus shook his head violently in fervent agreement, so he must have been intelligible nonetheless.

“I kind of thought he was going to kill me, for a minute there,” Albus confessed in a small voice. He shuddered.

“Don’t be absurd,” Scorpius replied automatically, “he wouldn’t dare. Your death would upset me, see, so—”

“Oh, you’d be upset, would you?” Albus interrupted. “I feel so flattered.”

Scorpius elbowed him in the side. “Prat,” he said. “Do you want to be comforted or not?” He raised his head from the pillow just far enough to pair his words with a glaring pout.

Albus seemed to think it over very hard. “I could probably stand some comforting,” he mused after a few minutes. A smirk played teasingly as the corner of his mouth. “Although personally, I think I would prefer less logic-based comfort, and more cuddling.”

Scorpius sniffed. “Well, all you get is logic,” he said primly, and dropped his face back into the pillow. “Take it or leave it,” he mumbled into the down-stuffed bag. He sniffed again; yes, the sheets had definitely been replaced with fresh ones. That was good, in that they really had gotten the last set terribly messy, but Scorpius did rather miss the way his pillow had smelled like Albus when he’d woken up. He wondered if he could instruct the Elves to leave the pillows aside the next time they changed the bedding.

His reverie was interrupted by sharp fingers prodding at his ribs. Scorpius squawked and thrashed away from the tickling. “Hey!” he yelped.

Albus grinned wickedly, moving forward after Scorpius, not letting him escape. “I think I’m going to leave the logic, and take the cuddling anyway,” he said. “What do you have to say to that?”

Scorpius’s reply was lost in shrieked laughter as Albus attacked him, tickling every inch he could reach. The pale pure-blood toppled over, and Albus followed, prodding him mercilessly. Scorpius was not really particularly ticklish, but there was this spot on his sides, right along his last few ribs, that really was extraordinarily sensitive. Albus always knew just where to touch, too, to make him writhe...

“I thought that’s what you’d say,” Albus nodded smugly. “I think you’ll find my response pretty convincing, though.”

Scorpius tried to squirm away and pressed his elbows against his sides, ready to try and fend off more tickling, but Albus leaned over further and instead he captured Scorpius’s mouth with his own.

Scorpius immediately stopped trying to shield himself, and wrapped his arms around Albus’s neck. They didn’t stay there long, as Scorpius arched up into the kiss, running his fingers along Albus’s neck and down to his waist, where he could un-tuck his shirt and reach up underneath the soft fabric to find his bare chest.

Albus shivered, and pressed himself down against Scorpius, rubbing their most sensitive bits together right through their clothes. The clasp of Scorpius’s belt was cold on his bare stomach, and Albus gasped into the other boy’s mouth.

Scorpius captured his lip and teased at it with his teeth, sucking gently before he thrust his tongue inside and swirled it around exploratorily. Albus gasped again, and moaned into the kiss. He tangled his fingers in the silky paleness of Scorpius’s hair, tugging just hard enough to make the other boy wince and squirm closer. Then there were fingers at Albus’s waist again, but this time they were groping at his trousers rather than his T-shirt.

Albus squirmed, not sure whether he was trying to help or hinder, and Scorpius got the fly undone and started easing the aged denims—and the boxers squashed beneath—down his thighs. “Scor...” Albus panted, in between kisses and nips, “wait, come on...bad idea...healing charms aren’t...they take a while to set...you don’t...don’t want to...”

“Obviously,” Scorpius sneered right through a heady kiss, the word vibrating along Albus’s jaw-line. Scor leaned back just enough so that Albus could make out the grin on his face, and the faint hint of a restrained eye-roll. Al didn’t know how, but Scorpius made condescension look hot. He licked the pale arch of his neck.

Scorpius let Albus get good and distracted, then suddenly grabbed his shoulders, scissored his legs, and rolled Albus over onto his back. He climbed after, following, and settled himself straddled splay-legged across Albus’s waist. Albus yelped, then grinned.

“Oh,” he said, blushing furiously, “okay then...we can, um...do that, s-sure...”

But Albus had apparently misinterpreted and Scorpius, it appeared, was not taking requests right now, either. The pale boy ignored Albus’s half-formed assumptive offer, running his hands up the inside of Albus’s shirt, then dragging his smooth nails lightly down the sensitive skin, making Albus shiver.

His shivers turned into a full-on jolt of shock when his cock was suddenly encased by something warm and wet and blissful. Albus gasped and Scorpius licked the tip, his pink tongue flicking out to lap up the beads of pre-cum glistening on Albus’s eager shaft. Albus squirmed in delight.

“You were saying something?” Scorpius said, glancing up at Albus, as if his ears had just caught up, and passed on the delayed message.

“No,” Albus said firmly, because whatever he had been saying, it was not only irrelevant but forgotten, and the most important thing right now was that Scorpius stop talking and return his attention—and his mouth—to what he was doing before.

Scorpius grinned, and did so with enthusiasm.

This time, it was Albus who writhed.

Thanks for the reviews, guys, on this and everything else. And for Chester25: yes, the Potter-Weasley Clan will be appearing in the next chapter, actually!
- 4
- 5
- 6
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Shedding Old Skins