AN: Omg it is the end- thank you so so much to my lovely and kind reviewers who followed and read this story and offered criticisms to punch it up or guided me- sometimes I completely agreed and sometimes I couldn't work things out in your favor, but I always loved reading them on a bad day or after a crappy class. I *may* revist the missing years alluded to by Draco and Harry between their post-war romance and their eventual reconciliation as an outtake but that wouldn't be anytime soon, since I'm working on three fics at once and I really want to focus on the post-war H/D story I'm going to post soon. All the best and cookies and confetti for everyone!
One Year Later
Albus slid into his armchair and pet his kneazle Calliope. As soon as the Floo fired to life though she jumped off the armrest with a hiss and fled into the kitchen.
"James," Albus said, surprised.
Though he and James had kept up a sort of relationship for the sake of their parents and Draco, Albus and James were notoriously cool. Perhaps because James and Scorpius notoriously weren't. No one knew exactly what was going on with the pair of them-Lily said they shagged, Mum said they didn't, Draco prayed that Scorpius remembered his protection spells, and Dad just kept out of the whole deal altogether.
"Can I come through?" James asked.
"Alright," Albus said, curious.
James had a rolled up newspaper under one arm.
"I suppose you haven't heard, then," James said, unrolling the paper.
Scor Malfoy Signs to Montrose Magpies
Albus sat down. "Merlin and Morgana," he whispered. Scorpius would be moving to Scotland. For the first time in a year he and Scor would be living in the same country. But unfortunately he and James would be as well.
"Why are you showing me this?" Albus accused.
"I'd like tea," James said with a smirk. "No veritaserum, little brother, I'm an Auror and I know the signs."
Albus busied himself heating the water with his wand and levitated the leaf box down from the high shelf in the cupboard.
"Aren't you and Scor seeing each other?" Albus asked, glaring into James' face. If he was here to gloat, family or not, Dad would have to arrest Albus for assault and battery.
"Not recently," James sipped the tea. "Not in the last eight months or so."
"Eight months?" Albus frowned. "I thought you lot had been through when he finished Hogwarts and moved to the States?"
"It lingered," James smiled, a little ruefully, and a little bit happily at the memory. "Friends with benefits as they say. We tried to make it work for a bit-he tried to because he wanted you, and I tried to because I thought I was in love with him."
He wanted you. Albus felt his heart thump.
"You thought you were in love with him?" Albus said, avoiding the issue.
"Yes," James shrugged. "I had a lot of issues with Dad, who left Mum for a Malfoy. Shag a Malfoy, resolve all problems. Or at least come to understand the filial state. I don't know, that's what my therapist says I was getting at. You're missing the point which is Scor is in love with you, currently lives in Scotland and all of that."
"How are you so sure?" He had learned a long time ago not to trust James. Stealing Scorpius away had actually been the icing on the cake of a childhood of treachery.
"Scor and I are friends," James snorted. "We actually talk you know. And if you must know, for Merlin's sake, I'm seeing Sheila Chang in Accounts and Receiving now."
Scor is single, Albus thought with glee. And James is taken.
"Why are you still here," James said, sipping his tea. "he's staying at the Montrose Horseless Carriage."
"Thanks, James." Albus said, grinning.
Just before the roar of the fire took him away, Albus swore he heard the words I'm sorry for everything.
Albus expected the Horseless Carriage to be a huge, expensive hotel like the Grand Lyon in Paris, with huge gas lights, and gold leaf paint in the halls; something that said Scor Malfoy rose from the reserves in Massachusetts to lead seeker in three months. Instead it was a simple cottage bed and breakfast with a simple sign that a wizard being drug through a lane by a snarling unicorn.
"Hello," Albus said to the welcome witch. "I'm looking for Scor Malfoy."
She turned up her nose. "He's not staying here," she said, self-importantly.
Albus sighed. "I'm his friend-Albus Potter."
"Oh," She grinned, her plain face turning bright pink. "He's upstairs. The press crew and management have take rooms three and four, and Mr. Malfoy is in room five. You have to knock three times to let him know you're not someone from the outside-we've had a bit of trouble with fans and the tabloids."
"Right," Albus swallowed nervously. "Thank you."
He took the stairs glacially slowly. What if James had set him up? Honestly in his gut it didn't feel that way, he knew his brother, and James felt as though he were being truthful. Fine then. What if Scor wasn't interested in him? What if James had heard or misread Scorpius in some way?
Albus was at the foot of the stairs. His palms were sweating, and his chest hurt. It was now or never.
He knocked three times in quick succession. Albus Potter wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing.
Scor was in a white scarf and a Montrose Magpies t-shirt. There was a large bronze mirror on one wall, and he was looking into it, fixing his hair with his wand. A golden cowlick in the back would stand up, no matter what he would do.
"This will never suit," Scor sighed. His drawling accent had faded just a little, it was a little sharper, a little quicker-just like Scor himself. His once thin and childlike body had leaned up into sleek definition-his chin was sharper, and his face was all points-he looked sleeker, lovelier, and far more dangerous to Albus' worshipping eyes- like a bird of prey.
"Oh," his mirror said back in a familiar brogue. "You look lovely, lad."
I agree, Albus' heart thumped like an over-eager school girl.
Scor twisted around.
"Bussy," he grinned. "You're here-I was going to fire-call you in the morning, Embry and Julia have me going over all sorts of murderous publicity packets for tomorrow, and I can't seem to remember what I'm allowed to say and what not."
"I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to mention Dad and Draco," Albus said wryly, sitting down on the bed.
"Or your mum," Scor said tiredly, "Or my mum, or anything negative of any kind whatsoever. Ugh, Albus, can you mention something cheerful?"
I love you? Albus thought with a mental wince. Or is that something awful as well?
Scorpius stared seriously into Albus' face. "Did you talk to Jamie today?"
"Why?" Albus asked, trying to ignore the fact Scor called James Jamie.
"You know what James does with the Aurors?" Scorpius asked, twidding a piece of parchment with the Montrose Magpie letterhead. "He's an interrogator. James is very good at getting someone to admit what they don't want to say-or what they've been keeping secret for a long time."
Albus stood up, his stomach twisting in knots, his chest aching with hope and heat and love, true love- "What do you mean, Scor?" he asked desperately.
Scorpius smiled gently. "I've loved you all this time, Albus. I've tried to tell you-and when I couldn't actually say it and then I couldn't admit it to myself-well, James and I-"
Albus kissed him. The kiss was nothing like when they were children at eleven. There was experience behind it now, and honesty, and understanding. There were no barriers now-now more waiting, no more hatred or angst or expectations. Albus swiped his tongue across Scor's scar as he they held each other close, and if he tasted the salt of the tears, he made no sign of noticing.
"I love you," Scorpius said in his hair, as Albus unbuttoned his robes. "I love you."
Albus nodded back, his throat was choked. Scor's chest had a tiny scar he had never seen before. He hadn't been there to learn that- had Scor fallen from a broom, or been in a pub fight in the States? Albus didn't know. Scor didn't know things about him either- about how he had slept with Gem, or how he had cried afterwards in the bed alone, miserable and horrified and ashamed. But he pushed those thoughts out of his head- it was all over now. All of it, and he'd make it all up to Scor and himself, if he had this chance.
Albus pushed him down onto the bed, and traced the scar with his tongue, learning it, re-learning Scorpius. Scor's hands were on his backside, tracing his spine, cupping his cheek.
"Albus," Scor's eyes were green and brown and bits of grey. Albus wanted to drown in them, wanted to drown in this moment. He kissed him, pulled their bodies close, feeling heat and hardness and this beautiful closeness-
Scor's hair was like a blond corona against the pillow and Albus thumbed the silken strands, slid his spelled-wet fingers down, lower-
Albus' fingers were absorbed by tight, silken heat, and then he was home, whole, he was drowning, he'd never be himself again without this-
Scor was looking into his eyes as if he could see something, something he wanted, something he needed-Albus needed it too, by all the gods-
Albus pulled him closer, closer still- "I love you, Scor-"
The world exploded into pure light.
In the morning a dark-skinned man with wavy, sleeked back hair and dressed in professional robes entered the room with a spell. He didn't look at Albus twice, naked but hidden under two layers of sheets, next to a sleeping Scor, who had thrown a bare arm and leg over Albus in his sleep, as if holding him there.
Albus remembered everything, the warm and heavy heat and bursting taste of Scorpius on his tongue-
Scor laughing as he pinned him down, the texture of his strong hands then cuddling Albus close-
The kisses, moist and loving and hot and delicious-
But would it last?
Albus pushed the thought out of his mind as the well dressed wizard turned to Albus.
"I'm Embry Whinestaff," he said in deep tones. "I'm Scor Malfoy's manager."
"Albus Potter," Albus said.
Embry rolled his eyes-Slytherin, Albus' mind provided. "I'm well aware of whom you are," Whinestaff continued. "Excuse me."
With that Whinestaff took out his wand and applied a mild stinging spell to Scor's leg. He glared briefly into Embry's face, and then beamed happily at Albus, as though he had received an amazing gift. The soft look warmed Albus' chest for a brief moment, but soon enough the room scurried into action.
"You need to get dressed," Whinestaff said. "We need to be at the stadium in fifteen. Make sure you bring the sheet Julia provided you with last weekend as well as the PR sheet the Magpies gave you on general facts on Scotland."
"I went to school in Scotland," Scor glared as he slipped on his informal Magpies uniform.
Whinestaff nodded. "Make sure to mention that. Is Potter coming, then?"
Albus ran his hand through his hair.
"Absolutely," Scor grinned.
It was obvious that Scorpius had been well coached. Albus watched as he said a lot of nonsense about how he loved the Scottish highlands and the quality education of the north. When one journalist asked about his father relationship with Harry Potter he said simply that he could not comment on anyone else's personal life.
"I see that Albus Potter is with you today," someone said from the Daily Prophet. Albus could see his badge because he was sitting close to the press booth. "Can you comment on your relationship with the Potter children?"
"Absolutely," Scor smiled. "I'm friends with both James and Lily Potter."
Then Scorpius smirked. It was the smirk that he often wore when he was going to pull of a prank in Gryffindor or was just about to catch the snitch- it said watch me and see what I can do.
"And Albus Potter?" the journalist prodded gleefully.
"Albus Potter is the love of my life," Scorpius Malfoy said calmly.
The room descended into chaos, but Albus could not stop beaming.
Albus Severus Potter lives in a sweet little thatched roofed cottage in Scotland with his lover Scorpius Malfoy. They have a kneazle, and a crup named Orion that Daphne Zabini gave Scor when the UK won the World Cup.
Whenever strangers, like new employees at St. Mungo's, or foreign Quidditch players ask how he and Scor got together, Albus always says that it was obviously through their fathers, but that this brother James that set them up. Then Albus and Scorpius share a secret smile or a kiss and politely change the subject.