"Sit, boys, sit!" A hand with garish, elaborate nails gestured to a couch opposite the chair the woman was already sitting in. "Anything we can do to make you comfortable!"

"Which is why you're planning on grilling us – our comfort."

"Never mind him," said the other, elbowing the first as they both sat down. "You know Scorp. Always a kidder."

"That is his reputation." She laughed nasally. "Well part of it, anyway. So speaking of reputations, let's get right to it – the latest cover of Quidditch Illustrated has done a lot for both of you. Any comment on how it's changed your lives?"

"I don't want to sound ungrateful, but can I say not really?"

"And why would you say that Mister Potter?" She smirked as her quill wrote away. "Famous enough already?"

"Can I say yes to that too?"

"You can say whatever you like, Al, it's an interview not an exam."

"I don't want to come off sounding like a git!"

"Don't worry, the quill will manage that no matter what we say."

"Ah, your acerbic wit emerges." Red lips spread wide in a leer. "It's why we love you, Mr. Malfoy."

"I can't think of a few reasons why women love me and none of them involve me opening my mouth to speak." A flash of teeth matched her, smirk for smirk.

"Which brings us around nicely to your cover. One Fine AS/S – very lovely title by the way. Did you come up with it? No? Publicist? Well, anyway, they say it was the fastest selling edition of the magazine ever – and it's already on a third printing."

A shrug. "I wouldn't know. Al and I hardly have the time to pay attention to banal things like that. Other things to do. Practice, promotions, spending time with people like you."

"Although we're very pleased and grateful for the support of all of our fans. We wouldn't be…"

"Shut up, Al."

"So whose idea was it to have the shirts unbuttoned?"

"Our publicist's," came the drawl. "We got paid to flash the boxer brand, 20,000 galleons each."

"Scor, don't make it sound so mercenary!"

"The photo spread inside, though; surely you didn't get paid for that." Another grin. "And you know which photo I'm talking about."

"All him! Entirely him."

"Don't point like that, it looks vulgar."

"I'm vulgar? He should talk! We're posing for the cameras and he starts grabbing my ass! And then he tells me we should go for it, staring directly at the girl holding the lights – who looked like she was about to pass out, I might add – and then he makes out with me like it was some sort of joke!"

"And?"

"And what?" A sigh. "Really, if you're asking what it was like…"

"Not just me, Mr. Malfoy. I'm only representing the interests and curiosities of a massive readership that wants to know what it's like to kiss the famous Albus Potter. Or, for that matter, the famous Scorpius Malfoy."

"Bit weird actually. I mean, Scor and I have been friends for so long it's a bit awkward."

"And you could have brushed. It would have been better if you had brushed."

"Well you didn't tell me you were going to do that!"

"It's a matter of hygiene. I brush. Assiduously. Just in case."

"In case what? In case the urge to snog somebody comes upon you without warning?"

"So I take it there's no actual tension between you?" She seemed vaguely disappointed.

"We didn't say that." A hand ran along the other's thigh.

"Stop that or she won't think you're joking!"

"I assure you, I can make up my own mind on what to think." The quill scribbled away. "And what of the poster that came out of that photography session? I'm sure it adorns the wall of many a young witch. Or wizard. How does that make you feel?"

"I only hope that they think of our accomplishments in Quidditch first and our…"

"Jesus, Al, could you sound any swottier? Did you rehearse these answers ahead of time? Personally, I'm rather proud of the fact that I'm a masturbatory fantasy for witches and wizards everywhere."

"Scor! You can't say…"

"Stop sounding scandalized." He rolled his eyes. "Seven years in Slytherin and I still never managed to break him of some unfortunate habits."

"Managed to corrupt me in other ways though."

"Oh? Please tell."

"Well there's the obvious getting into Slytherin."

"Which I did without your help. Really, I barely knew you."

"I'm a fast worker."

"Friends from the start – not entirely unlike your father's story?"

"Not really. My father made a few stupid decisions."

"I assume you're referring to his reputed refusal of the friendship of Draco Malfoy?"

"I'm referring to a lot of things."

"Sounds like there are some unresolved issues. Is it difficult to live in his shadow?"

"I don't live in his shadow!"

"Really? Youngest Seeker in centuries, defeated the Dark Lord, meteoric rise to the top of the Auror department – none of that makes you feel a bit shabby in comparison?"

"Al, she's only baiting you, don't…"

"I don't care if he manages to cure cancer and save whales! Besides, I earned my fame! I fought for it!"

"And then of course, there was the issue of your brother. You know, they say James Potter was on track to become a star Seeker just like his father. Until, of course, the championship match his final year."

"We were Beaters; we did our job and I'm not going to apologize for that."

"A double bludger team up that crushed his ribcage and permanently damaged his heart; there are some who would call that excessive."

"Take a breath, Al, before you hyperventilate. You look like you're going to burst an artery. As for what happened back then, James Potter was a prick who got what he deserved. We didn't break any rules. We did what Beaters were supposed to do and we won the championship that year. Job well done as far as I'm concerned."

"He never supported me, you know. Living with him, what a hell! And of course my parents never stepped in, always took his part, telling me I should be more supportive…"

"Calm down!"

"Have you spoken to your father since then?" Silence. "I'll take that as a no. You've always remained rather tight-lipped about that particular time in your life but I certainly hope you will open up to the readers of the Prophet. We're dying to know, what happened at that critical juncture in your life? A year to go in school, falling out with the family, your Quidditch future by no means assured and the ministry not an option having earned your father's ire… how did you make it through?"

"I have him over here to thank for that."

"Nonsense. You always had talent, even if you never had the confidence to recognize it. And really, I didn't do anything for him that a good housemate wouldn't. And it wasn't really me."

"There have always been rumors about Lucius Malfoy. Care to elaborate?"

"That man… Lucius was like a father to me. Took me in when I had nowhere else to go, everybody else in my family royally pissed at me…"

"Now you're talking like a normal person."

"…and he stepped up so I didn't have to struggle through my final term at Hogwarts begging from my dad. I don't care what he did or what anybody else said he did, he's a class act and I owe him."

"Do you believe he always loved your brother best? Harry Potter that is."

"I know who you meant. Names James after his dad and his dad's best friend, names me after a man he doubted and a man who loathed him. You do the math on that one."

"Not that you needed him. After all, you were quite the duo with Scorpius here without him."

"And that's the other part of it. I would have never been paired with Scorp at Falmouth if not for his grandpa."

"Ah, yes, that's right. He pushed through the sporting legislation to allow Beaters to be drafted as a two person unit. Along with Horace Slughorn, I believe."

"Slytherins stick together. And grandfather knew you couldn't split us up. After all, we were simply too perfect, if only for the acronyms."

"And the tattoos. Don't forget those. Sometimes I wonder if my initials doomed me to Slytherin from the start. I mean, A.S.P., really…"

"Have you gotten them yourselves?" A sly tone crept into her voice. "We didn't see any in your photos and, believe me, we all looked very hard."

"Maybe. And of course you didn't see them. Where do you think we would get them? Don't blush, if you were that shy about it you wouldn't have gotten it."

"So you do…"

"I was drunk and it was his idea!"

"Blame it all on me. Really, though, they're quite nice. An asp twined around a scorpion. And before you ask, we're not showing them unless we're getting a check for it."

"I wouldn't dream of asking. And do I detect shades of another certain sort of tattoo in that design?"

"Surely not."

"Was that sarcasm?"

"…no."

"I see. Well! While we're on the subject of family…"

"This is going to be about Rosie, isn't it?"

"You anticipate me, Mr. Potter!"

"She's… well… I mean, I suppose she…"

"Don't gape, Al, it makes you look like a fish. She's a bit of a know-it-all bitch, her mother's genes I think, but nowhere near as bad as the rest of his family. And a hell of a keeper as much as it galls me to say it. I'd like to see her play for Falmouth; between the three of us we'd never lose. She probably won't leave the Harpies, though."

"The Harpies were your mother's team, weren't they?"

"Yeah, but you knew that didn't you?" He scoffed. "Like she's upholding some sort of stupid tradition…"

"Hot as hell, too. No slight to Al, but I'd tap that. Assuming of course I could get her away from Victor Krum. Not sure I could do that even with Al's help. But yeah, if I got the chance, I'd be on her like white on rice."

"You would turn your back on your partner in crime, your fellow…"

"I didn't say it was a matter of 'either/or.' I like to think of myself as equal opportunity and she's an opportunity I'd love to look into."

"Spoken like a true gentleman."

"Now you're being sarcastic."

"You mistake me…"

"Back to the point, she should come and play for Falmouth. Her style of play is better suited to ours. I mean, she barely plays for the Harpies as it is. She just got another suspension didn't she Al?"

"Yeah, she punched a ref in the mouth. Three game suspension for that one."

"Do that at Falmouth and they give you a bonus."

"Would you do a photo shoot with her if she ended up on your team?"

"Oh, I don't…"

"Yes. And you'd do it too, if I asked."

"How charming. The two of you, really what a team."

"That's what they pay us for."

"And that's the only reason why your two are so close?"

"No, no really," he sighed and laughed. "I suppose I would care about this goof even if he wasn't my fantastically talented Quidditch partner."

"High praise!"

"Ow!"

"Hey, you earned that elbow in the side."

"You two are absolutely darling. Do you know that? In a very tough, rugged way of course. So gentlemen, our time is unfortunately running short. Last question – which of your grandmothers would you be more afraid of in a fight?"

A low whistle. "Whoa. That is a tough one. Think I'm going to hand this one off to Scorp."

"Being totally unbiased, I'd have to say mine. Molly would scream at you and maybe get a hex in. Grandma Cissy would eviscerate you when you weren't expecting it and smile while doing it."

"True. He's right. I'd have to agree."

"Well this has been lovely gentlemen and very enlightening. That's all we have time for today. But you'll be sure to let us know when your next big cover is coming up? Perhaps Playwitch?"

"You'll be the first to know. Now come on, Al. I'm starving."

"Thanks so much, we really appreciated the oppor…"

"Al! Now!"

"Coming!"

A/N: So I tried something a little bit different for this one-short, obviously a mostly dialogue style. Let me know if you think it worked of if it was just confusing, if you enjoyed it and so on and I would be most appreciative!