Disclaimer: Oh how happy I would be if I didn't have to include this…

A/N: Sooo, I wrote this because I need Scorpius/Al fluff in my life. And I don't know where all of these ideas come from. And this may be some of the gayest 3,000 words I've ever written. And for whatever reason, I love it. XD

Oh, and I also wrote it (mainly) because it's pigeonattack's birthday. And Pigeon is like my number one fan, and I love her. So, happy birthday, Pigeon :)

It's kind of funny, actually, that Al gardens in this… because I've never made a plant grow in my life. The one time I got flowers, I swear they dried up by the time I woke up the next morning… o_O

Enjoy!


Albus Potter breathed in the fresh morning air gratefully, warmth ghosting over the exposed skin of his lean chest as he remained clad in only his blue plaid pajama pants.

He stretched long, lightly toned arms over his head, being careful not to spill the tall cup of water in his hand.

In an irrevocably good mood, he was smiling as he looked down at the flower bed in front of him. Everything was blooming as well as he could have hoped, the petals of purple and blue and white boasting their saturated hues from atop strong green stems. The other assorted greenery was also doing quite well, causing an overall effect of color and texture and variety that was worthy of a bouquet, sans soil.

Lips never moving from where they turned upward, he lightly drizzled the water from the cup onto the soil, tending to the natural art has he had been for years now. As undeniably feminine a hobby it was, one that screamed middle-aged housewife at that, Albus actually enjoyed gardening. It was stress-free, and hardly required any work past planting the seeds. It was a hobby that was primarily founded on rewards with only a minimal amount of risk and guesswork involved. It was… nice.

He was nearly finished carefully emptying the cup evenly into the dirt when the screen door to his room's balcony rattled and slid open.

Al froze, heart dropping, embarrassed beyond only blushing for a few different reasons, the most prevalent being that he was shirtless and doing the most girly of everyday tasks in front of Scorpius Malfoy.

"Hey," The taller blond boy greeted, leaning against the doorframe casually, wearing almost as few articles of clothing as Al, in silver and green striped pajama pants that represented their Hogwarts House and a sleeveless gray tank top that bared more of his creamy pale skin than Al thought he could handle so early in the morning. The way his silvery eyes moved from Al to the flowers and back asked every question he didn't vocalize.

The Potter's face still burned, and it took him a bit to gather his thoughts. It was nerve-wracking enough to have the boy he'd more or less been in love with since Fifth Year spending the week at his house, but for him to catch Al in the act of what he considered his most shameful interest was another thing entirely… But awkwardness wasn't really any option when they'd been best friends for much longer than Al had been gardening (or had had a crush on him).

"I'm watering my plants," He explained simply with a nonchalant shrug, trying to hide how self-conscious he was without proper clothing. His entire upper half was so conspicuously bare, his pajama bottoms riding low on his hips and exposing the waistband of his boxers. And even though they'd lived in the same dorm for years, Al's self-awareness never faltered around Scorpius.

"Why?" Scorpius asked, brow furrowing.

"Because I like it?" Al was confused as to what he was actually asking.

"No, why are you just putting water on them?" Scorpius pointed to the clear liquid dripping from the cup.

"It's a part of gardening," Al said slowly.

"Can't you just use a spell on it to make them grow? Or a potion?"

Al smiled. "I'm using Muggle Herbology, Scorpius."

"What do you mean?" The Muggle-challenged Pureblood looked puzzled, stepping closer to Al for a better look.

"Well, how do you think Muggles make trees and flowers grow?" Al asked amusedly, emptying the last bit of water.

"I don't often wonder about the daily lives of Muggles, sorry," Scorpius bent slightly forward, closer to the flowers. He used one hand to comb his straight platinum blond hair back from his high forehead and silver eyes. Somehow, it was otherwise perfectly styled even though he clearly just woke.

Albus longingly patted his own short, unruly black hair that was in a permanent state of bed-head. "It's simple. You plant it, give it water, put it in sunlight, and it grows. No magic required." He explained in terms that anyone could understand.

Scorpius looked almost impressed, brows rising. "And they're just like our plants?" He probed, glancing at Al.

He laughed at the mental image of his purple petals moving of their own free will like the plants of the Magical world. "Not really… they don't talk or move or try to eat anyone. At least these don't." He lightly ran a finger along the petal of the tallest. "These are mostly just to look at."

The blond nodded, straightening up again.

"But I guess that they're basically the same otherwise, though. They have roots underground, leaves, buds, all of that." He said thoughtfully, hand at his chin.

"What's that?" Scorpius gestured to a box just beside the flower bed.

Al's eyes widened and he flushed. Quickly debating the lesser of two evils, he sacrificed the discomfort of his own overexposure to hide the box from the blond's view. "It's nothing."

"What's wrong?" Scorpius asked, eyebrow rising at Al's odd behavior.

"It's just… you… weren't supposed to see it." Al mumbled. He felt like he should curl up into a ball and die right there, on the balcony of his parents' house.

"Why?"

"It's embarrassing." He looked at the ground.

"Well what is it? I can't tell,"

It was then in retrospect as Scorpius nudged him to the side to further inspect the box that Al realized that the blond probably wouldn't have spared the "empty box" a second glance had he not had such a reaction.

Scorpius picked up the only thing in the cardboard shoebox: a single piece of folded parchment with a heart carefully sketched on the front. "A heart?"

"So it can… grow." He felt infinitely cheesy. It had seemed like such a good, sentimental idea two years before when he was fifteen, but now it seemed… dumb.

Scorpius's lips twitched like he was fighting laughter. "What's inside?" He began to unfold the parchment.

Al groaned. "It's just a stupid mushy letter I wrote when I was fifteen. I don't even remember what it says." The Potter honestly didn't remember what he wrote… the only part he clearly recalled was a section about friendship and future love, where he'd cryptically, craftily began every sentence with either a letter or a group of letters that eventually spelled "Scorpius Malfoy, I love you" if anyone was to take the time to deduce as much. Though he was sure Scorpius wouldn't catch it, it was still shameful and humiliating that he did something so hopelessly romantic and immature when he was a love-struck fifteen-year-old. He merited himself with maturity points, the dreamy-eyed aspect of his crush having faded over the years, though the actual feelings only strengthened.

Scorpius didn't bother to hold back his chuckles by the end of the letter. "That was the sweetest thing I've ever read, Al," He wiped a fake tear from the corner of his eye.

Al snatched the parchment out of his hand, huffing.

"I was just kidding," Scorpius defended himself.

"Why are you always like this when no one else is around? You're never such a prat when we're at school." In reality, Al secretly loved that he knew a side of Scorpius that the Malfoy never showed anyone else, a side that was actually rather innocent and naïve, constantly joking and laughing and grinning instead of sitting quietly, stone-faced.

"Because I never talk at school," Scorpius pointed out.

The black-haired boy didn't acknowledge the fact that he was right, instead busying himself with folding the note and setting it back in the box.

"I remember when we were fifteen," Scorpius said wistfully, leaning against the wall of the balcony, memories playing across his eyes.

Al couldn't help but smile, remembering his Fifth Year as well.

"Back when you thought everyone didn't already know you were gay," Scorpius joked and slung an arm around the smaller boy's bare shoulders.

Albus glared at Scorpius. The blond had a point, he had to admit. Fifteen was a hard age from him because he struggled to accept his sexuality… little did he know that everyone close to him had already suspected and more or less come to terms with the fact that he was homosexual. He'd been more grateful than surprised when Scorpius had told him that they would remain best friends no matter what, unbeknownst to him that he was really a large factor in Al's insecurity. "Don't make fun of me," He grumbled, shrugging off the arm that was doing incredibly strange things to the pit of his stomach at the direct skin-on-skin contact.

"I'm not making fun," Scorpius declared harmlessly.

Al looked at him, the skepticism he felt showing clearly on his face.

"I'm not," He insisted, "I'm just saying… it's always been pretty obvious."

Al narrowed his eyes dangerously.

Scorpius grinned the type of full, wide grin that was reserved for Al alone, reaching his hand out to lightly pinch his cheek. "You're so cute."

The Potter only glowered more intensely, trying his hardest to disregard his pounding heart as he stalked into his room.


Now feeling more secure that he didn't need to sneak outside, Al leisurely took his time watering his plants the next day. He predicted that some of the buds would be blooming in a few days' time as he looked on with affection, causing his good spirits to only raise further.

Scanning his eyes across the edge of the balcony that held his beloved flower bed, something out of place caught his attention.

Brows knitting, he investigated, and his first thought was that it was his piece of parchment from the box. He'd barely realized that it wasn't when the screen opened.

Al smiled at Scorpius and asked, "Is this yours?"

The blond's cheeks tinted pink, arms folding over his, again tank-top clad, chest. He pointedly looked away, a frown on his face.

Amused, the black-haired Potter moved to pick it up.

"Don't!" Scorpius suddenly cried, causing Al to retract his hand in reflex.

"What?" He asked worriedly.

"You'll pull up the roots," Scorpius explained in such guileless sincerity that Albus felt somewhere in between melting into goo and having his heart ripped out at the adorable innocence.

"It'll be fine," He assured the anxious blond, "I'll replant it."

Scorpius still looked half-indignant, half-concerned as he chewed on his lower lip.

Al picked up the piece of parchment that was nearly identical to his own: folded, with an ink drawing of a heart on the front that differed from his only in that it was splotchy where water had been apparently dripped on it.

"You don't water parchment, Scorpius," He said with a grin that threatened to split his face.

"You said water and sunlight!" The Malfoy looked outraged.

"For plants, not for—" The genuinely distraught look on Scorpius's face made Al stop and just continue to open the page.

He should have been less surprised than he was to find such a short note on the inside. Scorpius had always been an intellectual, not a romantic like his best friend.

It only took a few seconds for Al to read the words and heat beyond fever because of them:

"You wrote this when you were fifteen, but I can only hope it's still relevant. I bet you thought I didn't see it, but I did.

And I agree with what you're trying to say here… Love should grow like in Muggle Herbology: no magic required—

Scorpius"

"You are so stupid." Albus said affectionately, setting the piece of parchment back onto the wall of the balcony before crossing the small space so they stood nearly chest-to-chest (Al grateful that he'd had the sense to put on a shirt that morning), looking up at the taller boy with soft eyes.

"You're the one who thought you were being so crafty with your little code. 'Scorpius Malfoy, I love—"

He only stopped when Al, with honestly no clue where all of his confidence came from, leaned up and pressed his upturned lips to Scorpius's.

After a beat missed by his heart, Al pulled back. "You weren't supposed to see that," He said, much too lost in his ecstasy-laced daze to be properly embarrassed.

Scorpius slipped his strong arms around Al's thin waist. "Oh please. That was the first thing I noticed when I was reading." He grinned again, and that in addition to the warmth caused by their bodies pressed together rendered Al incapable of any thought or action.

Once out of his momentary trance, Al twined his arms around Scorpius's neck and countered, "Well, I'm not the one who put water on paper, expecting it to grow." He paused for a moment, taking time to fully appreciate the way Scorpius blushed up to his light blond roots, "'Love should grow like in Muggle Herbology—'"

Al was the one cut off this time, letting his eyes fall closed and his entire body be swept up in the moment, a small insignificant corner of his mind reminding him to keep his feet on the ground for fear of floating away entirely. He was already halfway there, with how lightheaded he felt.

Their second kiss was sweet, and simple, and had a certain comfort to it that Al could only attribute to years of friendship. Every second of the last two years had been leading up to these invaluable moments, and suddenly, as Scorpius tilted his head just a bit further and tightened his hold on Al's waist oh-so slightly, the shivers that ran down his spine made everything worth it.

Scorpius was the one who broke the contact this time, corners of his lips curling up, causing two charming dimples on either of his cheeks. "Shut up, would you?" He requested stubbornly.

"You can't make fun of me for being gay anymore." Al smirked.

"I can do whatever I want." He dipped his head for yet another chaste kiss that made Al's vision go blurry around the edges. "Though that does seem a bit hypocritical now, doesn't it?"

Al was sick of Scorpius's mouth being too occupied by talking to kiss him. He was quite sure that the blond would give anyone at school successive aneurisms and heart attacks if they were to see how much he was speaking. He leaned up again, but Scorpius pulled away. He furrowed his brow, trying his best not to pout.

"You never would have told me, would you?" He asked teasingly.

"Nope," Albus replied simply, eyes trained on the pink lips that he'd just experienced to be just as soft and plush as they looked.

"You would have just lived your life as a lonely wannabe-Muggle in your garden, with your water and your sunlight…"

"Oh, shut up!" Al finally said, impatience getting the best of him.

Finally, Scorpius obliged with a grin and closed the gap between the two.

This time was somehow different from the three previous, while at the same it the familiarity of it all was exactly the same. They kissed slowly, letting their mouths move together at a comfortable pace, savoring and drawing out every moment of lips pressing and smiling against each other simply because they could. It couldn't have been past ten in the morning, and it was summer break; Scorpius would be there all week, and they had the luxury of nothing but time.

So, Al didn't rush as he threaded his fingers through Scorpius's perfect hair, and Scorpius parted his lips on Al's to taste him just a little more with every second.

Al couldn't remember a time when he'd felt more carefree and sure, relieved beyond comprehension that he was finally assured that Scorpius wasn't just getting more touchy with him because they'd been friends for what seemed close enough to forever, that he wasn't just imagining it when he saw Scorpius's eyes linger after they broke eye contact.

Scorpius wanted this too.

The Potter found his knees weakening as he felt Scorpius's tongue languidly swipe across his bottom lip.

Scorpius chuckled against Al's pink, kissed lips as he had to literally hold the smaller boy's weight up to keep him from falling.

Under any normal circumstance, Al would have been beyond mortified. Now, as goosebumps covered his skin and warmth pooled simultaneously in his chest and stomach, he couldn't manage any emotion less than elation.

He was still smiling as he opened his mouth to allow Scorpius entry. Al felt an unfounded confidence in this, as if he'd been doing it for years, and as their tongues touches truly for the first time, Al saw stars behind his eyelids.

A certain heat was steadily building, but the teenagers still felt no need to hurry. Their kiss was all about tongues lazily sliding together and leisurely pauses to breathe and smile and indulging in everything they'd wanted for so long; it was about not wasting a single moment and making up for every second of lost time.

When they finally broke apart, Scorpius's hand had found its way to the back of Al's neck, where it idly teased the hair on his nape. One of Al's legs had tangled in between Scorpius's, so they were fully pressed together from chest to knee. The intimacy of the embrace sent sparks through Al's nerves, and he felt more sentimental than he thought was possible as his gaze locked with Scorpius's, lively green meeting excited gray to somehow mix into mutual contentment.

"I want to hear you say it." Al said playfully, though breathlessly.

"You didn't say it either." Scorpius was ever-challenging.

"Well you read where I wrote it."

"I could have been just guessing at what I read. I could have missed it." He reasoned.

"But you didn't," Al pointed out.

"You don't know that," Scorpius raised a brow.

"Yes I do," The Potter began, "Because otherwise you wouldn't have waltzed out here and—"

"I like you."

The words surrounded Al and sank into his skin, raising his body temperature with their incredibly satisfying warmth. "Well, I love you."

"Well, I love you too!" Scorpius said in an almost childishly competitive manner, "I didn't know if it would weird for me to say that,"

Al laughed, heart feeling lighter than air. He moved one of his arms from Scorpius's neck to pinch his cheek. "You're so cute."

Scorpius glared at him icily, and Al felt more than happy to acknowledge the euphoria and illogical nerves he felt as the blond turned away and stomped into Al's room.


A/N: This was exhausting, mainly because I sat down in my chair and literally didn't get up until I was finished handwriting this. And then typing it. At two in the morning. Sometimes my dedication to FF is unhealthy, considering that I'm probably about to fail my biology test tomorrow and I really should be studying… O_o'

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this to some extent :) Please review and favorite, or author alert me for more updates :D

(Oh, and the whole penname-changing thing is still relevant. But I'm not going to change it until I post this one super-ambitious oneshot that I'm so gay—um… excited, I mean?—for right now, so… yeah. Anticipate it :D)

Happy Birthday, Pigeon :)

Till next time,

KitKat Pyrophobia