Chapter Text
In hindsight, maybe Albus should’ve asked Scorpius when his birthday was back when they were first getting to know each other. That is a perfectly normal question to ask someone, after all. It also would’ve saved him the sudden rising panic when, near the middle of February, Scorpius nonchalantly mentioned, “I can’t believe it’ll be my first birthday outside the manor.”
Cue Albus accidentally cracking his neck as he whipped his head to face his friend.
“Are you alright?!” Scorpius shrieked when Albus cried out and hunched over the table, pressing his hands to the back of his neck. The noise definitely attracted some attention and most certainly caused a ripple of snickers across the Great Hall, but Albus was too busy trying to process what he just heard.
Scorpius's birthday. Scorpius's birthday.
“You didn’t tell me your birthday was this month,” Albus said, waving away Scorpius's hovering hand. He blinked back at him.
“Oh. I didn’t?”
“No.”
“Oh.” He blinked again. “Well, my birthday’s on the fifteenth of February. Day after Valentine’s Day.” He giggled, “It’s great because all of the sweets get discounted after Valentine’s Day, so I always get loads of—”
“You didn’t tell me,” Albus repeated, and Scorpius suddenly looked very small.
“Oh… I’m sorry.”
“Wait.” Albus finally straightened himself and turned his body towards his friend, who had shrunk back shyly and was now suddenly very focused on his marmalade toast. “I’m sorry. I’m not mad. I was just surprised. I can’t believe I never asked when your birthday was.” He waited until Scorpius peeked at him again before asking in earnest, “How old are you turning?”
Scorpius seemed to relax, raising his chin in exaggerated pride as he announced, “Twelve.”
“Damn,” Albus hissed, and Scorpius flinched in confusion. “So you are older than me.”
“Well, yes.” Scorpius snickered and raised a hand above Albus's head, referencing his shorter height. Albus swatted it away in protest as Scorpius poorly swallowed back his amused laughter.
“Is there anything you want for your twelfth birthday?” Albus asked, vaguely teasing. Scorpius's eyes widened, and he went to wave his hands in dismissal.
“You don’t—”
“I’m getting you a birthday present, Scorpius.”
“But you already got me a Christmas gift—”
“Your fault for being born so soon after the holiday.” Scorpius gaped as Albus turned away to wrap up a muffin for later, his plate holding a single pancake about a third of the way eaten. (And he wasn’t purposefully avoiding eating, he just wasn’t very hungry that morning.) “But really, is there anything specific you’re hoping for?”
Scorpius didn’t answer right away, fiddling with the sleeves of his robes as he averted his gaze again. “Some nice quills?” he admitted cautiously. “Coloured ink? So I can annotate the book you gave me.”
A pleasant warmth bloomed in Albus's chest, and he fought back the smile that threatened to overtake his lips. Instead, he leaned down to catch Scorpius's eye. “Okay.” He winked. “I’ll see what I can do.”
A faint flush seemed to be crawling up Scorpius's neck, but his lips quirked in a faint smile as Albus grinned and sat back up, sliding the muffin into his pocket. “And what about you, huh?” Scorpius challenged, having shook away the embarrassment (why would he be embarrassed?) to fix Albus with a questioning stare. “When’s your birthday?”
“June twenty-first.” He nodded at the answer and scrunched his face in thought, eyes suddenly serious as he seemed to contemplate. Albus couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s still ways away, you don’t need to think—”
“I’m getting you a birthday present, Albus.” He gave a smug look as he repeated Albus's words back at him. “And since it’ll be the summer holidays, I won’t have the chance to ask you what you want. Best to start thinking about it now.”
(Why were his cheeks getting hot?)
“Whatever you say,” Albus relented. Scorpius nodded in victory and took another bite of his toast. Maybe it was just his imagination, but Scorpius's entire demeanour seemed brighter, lips curled upwards and eyes sparkling like the snow currently covering Hogwarts grounds. With a calming ease settling throughout his nerves, Albus ripped off another piece of pancake and popped it into his mouth.
He only came to regret it later when he was sat in the library, quill shaking over a piece of parchment. For eating so little, the pancake made a great knot in his stomach, heavy and nauseating. He crossed out yet another line of the letter he had been attempting to write for the past fifteen minutes, the excessive pressure he applied causing a thick glob of ink to pool across the text. With a huff of frustration, he practically slammed the quill back into his inkpot and laid his face in his hands, fingernails digging into the skin above his eyebrows. Though he initially had other plans for his free period that day (the plans in question: laying on one of the Slytherin Common Room couches and watching Verne in the lake), he instead resolved to send out a letter in order to acquire Scorpius's birthday gift. He had been excited at first, scribbling away his request. But it didn’t take long for clarity to set in, and he had paused mid-sentence, quill hovering ominously over the parchment.
What was he doing? Writing home about Scorpius Malfoy again? Asking to get him a gift again? Acting like Aunt Hermione didn’t already go out and buy books on Albus's behalf or that his mum didn’t help him wrap them up mere weeks ago? And what would his father think, what would he say, would he write Albus another passive-aggressive letter trying to pressure him into invading his family members’ friend groups or would he drop the kind, caring pretenses and accuse Albus of… of what? What was he doing wrong? What was wrong with his and Scorpius's friendship? He was better off keeping it to himself at this point, wasn’t he? But how else could he get Scorpius a birthday present? He wasn’t even allowed to go into Hogsmeade yet, and though he was sure Neville would keep quiet about it should he ask him to go into the village on his behalf, that would just lead to his godfather asking him questions which, while they would be well-meaning and only out of concern, he really didn’t want to deal with, so—
Oh bloody hell.
Oh bloody. Fucking. Hell.
Scorpius would owe him big time for this.
(Of course he wouldn’t, Albus was doing this because he wanted to, but let it be known that Slytherins could also be kind and selfless and brave because Merlin, he would almost rather take his chances walking into the Forbidden Forest than doing what he was about to do.)
He felt ridiculous, lingering in the Entrance Hall as students trickled in for lunch. He stood pressed against the railing halfway up the stairs, allowing him to clearly see who was coming from both the corridors and the upper levels. In an effort to appear less lost and pathetic, he had quickly run back to the dormitory and grabbed Jekyll and Hyde to idly flip through while he waited for the sight of a certain annoying Gryffindor.
“Aw, poor lonely Slytherin Squib waiting for his Dark Lord in Training,” Polly Chapman cooed mockingly as she passed him on her way down the stairs. She was of course accompanied by Yann Fredericks and Rose Granger-Weasley, the trio of Gryffindors glancing him up-and-down. Yann outwardly snickered as Polly gave an exaggerated pout, but Rose did nothing except sneer at the sight of the book Albus held. She was the only one without laughter as the three turned into the Great Hall.
None of them were the annoying Gryffindor he had meant, Albus mused as he returned his eyes to the pages. In fact, this annoying Gryffindor would most likely be alone—
Someone shoved their shoulder against Albus's wrist, sending the book toppling from his grasp with a thump that went mostly unheard over the talk and movement of students. Albus could almost believe it had been an accident, except he caught the faint smirk on Karl Jenkins’s lips as he kicked the book further down the stairs. A lone figure, but not even a Gryffindor, Albus thought bitterly as he watched Karl kick the book to the side before marching merrily into the Great Hall. So much for “Hufflepuff kindness” or whatever.
Then suddenly, before the book could get trampled further, someone darted forward and scooped it up from the floor. Craig Bowker Jr dusted the front cover off before jumping up the few steps to reach Albus. “Here,” he said with a gentle smile, holding the book out to him. Albus blinked a few times before he took it.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, running his hand along the pages to ensure there were no creases. Thank Dumbledore, there were none. Craig nodded and stuck his hands in his pockets.
“Of course.” Then, after a beat of silence, he continued, “Karl’s a knob. He’s trying to act all tough, but really he’s just making a fool of himself. Don’t let him bother you.”
If it wasn’t for that “foolish knob” opening his mouth, Albus wouldn’t be stuck with the title of “Slytherin Squib.” He wouldn’t be surprised if one of the many names students called Scorpius came from Karl too. Still, he wasn’t about to spit in the face of Slytherin kindness (Ironic, wasn’t it? He wondered what his dad would say.), so he swallowed back this spiteful venom and nodded. “Yeah, I won’t.”
Craig smiled wider and nodded again. He took a step back down the stairs and jabbed a thumb over his shoulder towards the Great Hall. “I’ll see you in there?” Albus simply nodded, a gesture which Craig returned as he spun on one foot and hopped back down the stairs. Albus watched him go until the dark green beanie he always wore disappeared from view. That was… Huh. That was probably one of the most pleasant interactions he’d had with another Hogwarts student since… ever. Though considering the many jeers and insults and mockeries and now apparently physical intimidations he had been subjected to courtesy of other Hogwarts students, that wasn’t too grand of an achievement. He didn’t have much more time to dwell on it though, when he finally spotted the person he had been waiting for strolling into the hall.
“James!” Albus hissed, eyes darting around frantically to make sure his volume didn’t attract too much extra attention. Luckily, James bounded over as soon as he heard his name, a faint surprise in his smile.
“Hey, Al!” he exclaimed, stopping on the step below and leaning casually against the railing.
“Albus.”
“Huh?”
Albus winced and clutched Jekyll and Hyde tight against his chest, wrapping his arms completely around it until it seemed he was hugging himself. Apparently this whole “blurting out whatever came to mind” thing was continuing on from the holiday break. (And what was he even thinking? It was just a nickname.) He briefly sucked on his teeth before shaking his head and mustering out, “Nothing, forget about that.” James's smile had fallen and he looked like he wanted to press his brother more, but Albus quickly continued before he had the chance to get a word in, “Anyway, will you be in Hogsmeade this weekend?”
James continued to blink up at him in confusion. “Yes,” he answered, drawing out the last syllable as his eyes flickered uncertainly over Albus's face. “It’s Valentine’s Day weekend. I have plans. At least for this Saturday.” A smile suddenly returned to his lips, this one full of teasing. “What, you didn’t think your big brother could get a date for Valentine’s?” Albus groaned as James waggled his eyebrows. “I’ll have you know that I had to turn down several proposals these past two weeks. There are plenty of girls who want a piece of—”
“Do not finish that sentence,” Albus pleaded, pressing his hands to his ears. James's obnoxious laughter still slipped through his fingers.
“Don’t you want to know who it is?”
“So I can apologise to her in advance?”
“Why don’t you have faith in me? I know how to treat a girl right!” Albus stared back at him blankly. James dismissed him with a quick wave of his hand. “Ah, whatever. Just wait ‘till you fancy a girl. You’ll be practically begging me for advice on how to talk to her.” Albus continued to stare at him. James was, of course, unphased and continued, “But yeah, I’m spending the day with her in Hogsmeade on Saturday and then because Wood has no soul, he’s scheduled a Quidditch practice on Sunday. Said it would be perfect because the pitch was unreserved — no shit, it’s Valentine’s Day weekend! Everybody will be in Hogsmeade! But that just made it the perfect opportunity for the team to run some drills before the last few games of the season, Wood said. It will ensure Gryffindor wins the Quidditch Cup this year, Wood said. Like father, like son, I guess.” He shook his head in an appalled disbelief before offering Albus a small smile again, “Anyway, why’d you ask?”
Bloody. Hell.
“Nothing,” he quickly dismissed, ducking his head as he moved to rush down the stairs. “Forget it.”
“Hey hey, wait.” James caught his arm and brought him to a gentle stop. The two brothers were now stood on the same step, and any trace of a smile had disappeared from James's face as he regarded his younger brother with worry. “You clearly had something to ask me. You wouldn’t wait for me out here if it wasn’t important.”
“But it’s not.” Albus wiggled his arm out of James's grasp, focusing his attention on his scuffed loafers rather than his eyes. “Important, I mean. And besides, you have your own plans and I don’t want to—”
“It’s important to you, so it’s important to me.” He rested a warm hand on Albus's shoulder and gave it a light shake, as though trying to coax Albus open. “What were you going to ask me?”
The corridor had cleared out by this point, the clinking of cutlery and resounding laughter echoing from the Great Hall. Albus tightened his grip around his book. Scorpius would be sat at the Slytherin table by now, calmly enjoying his lunch and ignoring the stares or snickers of anyone else around him. There would be so many people around him, yet he would still seem to sit alone.
“It’s Scorpius's birthday on the fifteenth and I was going to ask if you could stop by a shop in Hogsmeade to pick up a gift for him for me but you’re gonna be busy all weekend so I’ll just figure something else out,” Albus burst in one breath. He wanted to shrivel up on the ground from the embarrassment of it all — Merlin, what had he been thinking?! All this waiting around, all this build-up, and for what? Something so trivial, so ridiculous, he was ridiculous—
“You didn’t write to Mum or Dad?” James asked. He was studying Albus, brows drawn together in thought, eyes holding anything but scorn. It was softer, gentler, a mulling curiosity that was far from judgemental, only seeking to understand. (How much easier his life at Hogwarts would be if people only took the time to understand.) “Or you wrote to Aunt Hermione for help with Christmas, right? You didn’t ask her again?” Albus mutely shook his head. A flash of understanding lit up in James's eyes, but it only made the furrow of his brows grow deeper. “What about Neville? Or Hagrid? I’m sure either of them would be more than willing to help, and it helps that they’re already on castle grounds.” Albus shook his head again. “I could ask them for you if you’re too shy—”
“They’ll ask questions. I don’t want to explain that it’s for Scorpius,” Albus interrupted sharply.
“Al…” James started hesitantly (if he noticed Albus bristle up at the nickname, he didn’t react). “You do know that… everyone here knows you two are friends, right?”
Oh yeah. Like Albus needed a reminder that his business was on the tips of everyone’s tongues, shared excitedly through fleeting whispers, not at all quiet, laced with mocking giggles which echoed along every corridor, every crevice of that blasted castle where his stomach was twisted into knots and nausea overcame him like waves and a heavy weight was lodged in the pit of his throat. Now would it really be all that surprising if he wanted to avoid all of that as much as possible, opting to duck his head and shrink in on himself and dart nearly invisibly throughout the day lest he accidentally look someone in the face, their eyes scanning him up-and-down only in judgement and scrutiny and barely-contained sadistic curiosity because was it true? Was Albus Potter really friends with Scorpius Malfoy? Was Albus Potter really not a true Potter? Was Albus Potter really the pathetic, bumbling, Slytherin Squib?
The worst part of it all was he wouldn’t be able to prove any of these questions wrong.
So, again, would it really be all that surprising if he sought to avoid all of that?
“That’s not the point,” was what he ended up mumbling because really, how could he say all this to James in a way that he would understand? How could he say it to anyone and expect them to understand? He could barely understand it all himself. He shuffled his feet back, subtly trying to walk out of James's grip. But James still had his hand on his shoulder and was gnawing on his bottom lip in serious thought, gaze no longer on Albus but towards the Great Hall doors. He was about to insist again that he would figure the gift out himself, but then James brightened and whipped back to point a stern finger in his face.
“Don’t move. I’ll be, like, two seconds.”
And then he was jumping down the steps and flying into the Great Hall, his robes billowing out like a cape behind him. Albus watched him go for a moment in a stunned stupor before contemplating rushing back to the Slytherin dormitories and hiding out there for the rest of lunch — for the rest of the day more likely, which okay wasn’t the most responsible thing to do, but he had never once claimed to be a responsible student and besides it wasn’t like he was even close to top of the class — he’d leave that responsibility to Rose — so it’s not like any of his professors would miss his absence and his classmates certainly wouldn’t and—
Maybe he should’ve spent less time ruminating and more time running because suddenly James was coming back up the staircase side-by-side with—
“Hi, Albus,” Dominique Weasley greeted warmly, and suddenly he wondered if maybe he should’ve taken the easy route and thrown himself down the staircase instead. At the very least, he would’ve been taken to the refuge of the Hospital Wing rather than speaking to his cousin on actual Hogwarts grounds for the first time since arriving there.
“Hi, Dominique,” he managed to say, pressing his book against his stomach as though it could act as a blockade to the whirlpool of bile currently swimming up his throat. What was this? What was he doing? What was James doing? He tried to communicate that question with his eyes, flicking quickly between the Ravenclaw in front of him and the Gryffindor beside her.
“Since you two seemed to reconnect a bit over Christmas, I thought you’d be more comfortable asking Dominique for help,” James easily explained, flicking the end of a pink ribbon that his cousin had braided through her hair. His smile appeared carefree, but his eyes lacked the usual mischievous twinkle. Instead, they seemed heavier, carefully gauging Albus for any sort of negative reaction.
“What did you need help with?” Dominique asked. Her pleasant smile had fallen at James's words, and she glanced at him before fixing her gaze back on Albus. Though they also held worry, Dominique’s eyes were soft and gentle, reflecting the afternoon light softly like a warm crackling fireplace on a snowy night. Albus breathed deep and remembered her words on Christmas Eve, the smiles she shot him, the reassurance when he opened his Slytherin jumper, how she said he was lucky to be getting a Christmas present from his friend. From Scorpius.
“Would you be able to stop by a shop in Hogsmeade over this weekend?” he rushed out as he exhaled. He screwed his eyes shut and shifted slightly away so he wasn’t looking at her head-on. “I know it’s Valentine’s and a lot of people have plans so no worries if you can’t, I just—”
“Take a breath, Albus,” Dominique interrupted soothingly. He tried not to gasp as he inhaled. He hadn’t even realised he’d just started rambling excuses. After a few beats, he risked turning back towards his cousin, who was once again smiling at him. “I actually don’t have any Valentine’s Day plans, so I can definitely stop by a shop or two for you.”
“You don’t?” Albus couldn’t help but ask, genuinely shocked. Dominique seemed used to this sort of reaction as she giggled.
“I don’t,” she repeated. “Believe it or not, some people just aren’t interested in pursuing a romantic relationship.” Her tone was teasing, but it was impossible to miss the slight edge her words carried. As though she had been forced to repeat them over and over again. Like a constant defense of herself, who she was, a fight against outside perceptions and judgements that never ended. That she could never quite win. Albus felt his cheeks grow hot and his eyes widen.
“I-I wasn’t judging you!” he quickly defended himself, waving his free hand frantically. “I didn’t mean to-to judge, I was — I mean, I guess I was — I’m sorry, I—” He cut himself off with a small jerk as Dominique stepped forward and gently took his hand in hers, lowering it to his side.
“I know you didn’t mean to, Albus, it’s alright.” She held his hand for another moment before stepping back again, her smile turned sheepish. “I’m sorry if I seemed cross. Some people just… just don’t get it.”
“No, I understand,” Albus quickly reassured her. “I mean… It’s okay.” He finally managed to smile back at her, any tension previously stretched taut throughout his body slowly coming unwound. James, who had stood aside throughout their whole encounter, seemed relieved as he marched forward and squinted at Albus.
“So you’re shocked that Dominique doesn’t have a date, but you can’t believe I have one?”
“We weren’t talking about you, James,” Albus grumbled. Dominique fixed him with an amused look.
“Quite frankly, I still can’t believe you managed to snag a date,” she said.
“How dare you?!” James cried. “I even had options!”
“I know. Even more surprising.” Leaving James to be offended, Dominique hopped up the few steps to reach Albus. “So,” she started, eyeing the book in his arms knowingly, “is this about who I think it is?”
“It’s not for Valentine’s Day!” Albus suddenly yelled, watching Dominique press her lips together in an attempt to hold back laughter.
“I never said it was,” she said evenly, even as James nearly choked on his own laughter and had to turn around to recover. Albus wished (not for the first time) that he was better at magic so he could hex him. Nothing bad, just give his brother a quick electric shock or something! Then he realised (not for the first time) that these kind of thoughts were the reason he was sorted into Slytherin in the first place, so he shook his head and focused his attention back on his cousin.
“It’s Scorpius's birthday and I was hoping you could get me some things for him. I promise I’ll pay you back!”
Dominique waved a hand to dismiss him, “Don’t worry about that. I’m honoured to be doing this for you.” She glanced around before skipping up the rest of the stairs to the landing, where she plopped herself down and smoothed out her skirt. She patted the space next to her, and Albus slowly climbed up before sitting down. James followed, stretching out on the step below them and only shrugging when Albus sent a questioning eyebrow in his direction. “Now, what can I fetch for you?” Dominique asked Albus, James waiting curiously for his response too. With Jekyll and Hyde in his lap, he ran his hand over the cover and felt himself begin to smile as he answered.
The usual stone grey corridors of the castle were now draped with shimmery pink fabric. When a student walked past, white hearts formed above their shadow’s head. Couples were snogging in every possible crevice, which made Albus all the more grateful that he had made it a habit to walk with his head down. Even the library wasn’t safe from the Valentine’s Day fervour, paper hearts fluttering overhead and small bouquets of roses placed at the center of each table.
Which made this entire thing all the more embarrassing.
The Great Hall was notably emptier for lunch, mostly first and second years who weren’t yet allowed into Hogsmeade. The older students who were present sat among smaller groups, such as a huddle of Hufflepuffs who were comforting a crying girl, or by themselves. At the Ravenclaw table, Albus spotted Louis Weasley hunched over and drawing in a sketchbook the Potters had gifted him for Christmas, sandwiches untouched on the plate beside him. At least he actually managed to set food onto his plate. Albus couldn’t even look at the platter of sandwiches without feeling a bout of sudden dizziness.
(Some may argue that this dizziness was due to the lack of food currently in his system. Albus would argue that everyone should mind their own business and leave him be.)
Of course, the sight of his cousin forced his thoughts towards his other cousin — Louis’s older sister that was currently trudging through the lovey-dovey couple-invested Hogsmeade on his behalf. So he could get a gift. For Scorpius. On this weekend of all weekends. Why was he asking this of Dominique again?
“You alright, Albus?”
In his usual seat beside him, Scorpius leaned over and examined his face, eyes widened with a slight alarm. Albus blinked back. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”
“Your face is kinda… red,” Scorpius said, raising a hand and letting it hover for a moment before ultimately gesturing widely towards Albus's face. Albus pressed the backs of his hands to his cheeks and — why were his cheeks warm? “Are you feeling ill? Do you need anything?” Scorpius continued, his worried eyes now reflecting the light from the candles hovering above them and — oh yeah, this was why he had asked Dominique to do this.
“No, I’m alright,” Albus insisted, smiling in an attempt to put his friend at ease. “Just a bit warm, is all.” Scorpius relaxed, lips quirking into a tiny smile as he nodded before taking another bite of his sandwich. This was why. Because Scorpius was so thoughtful and caring and kind so of course he deserved a birthday present. The timing of it all didn’t matter in the slightest.
“Happy Valentine’s Day!”
Albus jolted as a box of chocolates hovered in front of his nose. He craned his neck to look behind him, and Dominique smiled wider when he met her eyes. “I always get the family sweets for Valentine’s Day,” she explained. “And now you and Rose are here! So… here!” She shook the box, and Albus gingerly reached up to take it.
“Thank you,” he said, quickly taking note of the flower-patterned tote bag slung over her shoulder. Dominique beamed and crouched down to meet his eyes.
“I won’t tell Aunt Ginny if you won’t,” she teased, and Albus snickered in spite of himself.
“We are sworn to secrecy.” Dominique chuckled as she stood back up. He fully expected her to approach either her brother or their other cousins at the Gryffindor table, but instead she turned to Scorpius as she reached into her bag.
“And here’s one for you too, Scorpius!”
Scorpius, who had turned his focus to his lunch the moment Dominique first spoke, startled and whipped around to find her holding out a chocolate box. To him. For him. “Happy early birthday!” she sang quietly, not to draw too much attention. Scorpius, like in most of his interactions with Albus's family, seemed startled as he glanced repeatedly between the chocolates and Dominique’s smile.
“Th-Thank you!” he finally managed to muster, slowly taking the chocolates as though it would turn to mist between his fingers. He brought it close to him and examined the bright pink and green box before looking up again with a smile so bright it put all the candles in the Great Hall to shame. “Thank you! I’ll be sure to enjoy these!”
“I hope you like them.”
“Oh, I know I will! Thank you! Wait, I said that a lot already, haven’t I? Sorry—!”
“You’re welcome, Scorpius,” Dominique affirmed, both hands gripping the straps of her tote. Scorpius began to speak again, but instead pressed his lips firmly together and set the chocolates in his lap, fingers tapping against the sides. “Anyway, I’m meeting a friend in the library in about five-ish minutes?” She jostled her tote as though readjusting the way it sat on her shoulder. “So I gotta go, but I’ll see you both again at dinner?”
“Yes!” Scorpius exclaimed before running a hand over his mouth as people turned his way, his volume impossible to go unnoticed in the reduced noise of the hall. “I hope you and your friend have a good meeting.”
“Thank you, Scorpius. I do too.” She turned to smile at Albus, giving a nearly imperceptible nod before strolling out of the Great Hall. And Albus may have been daft in all things magic, but he knew subtlety when he saw it.
(Just as a cunning Slytherin would.)
“Thank you,” Scorpius said again, but this time he said it to Albus. His smile was gentler now but just as bright with ecstasy as he traced his fingers along the cardboard box. Albus stuck his own box in his pocket.
“Why are you thanking me?”
“I know you told her it was my birthday.” He chuckled, “I mean, you’re the only person here who knows, so it was pretty obvious. But still… That was nice of you.” His smile suddenly turned sheepish as he mumbled, “So, thank you.”
“I really didn’t do anything,” Albus insisted. “Dominique was the one who got you the chocolates all on her own. I didn’t tell her to do that.”
“But she wouldn’t have even thought to do it if you hadn’t told her my birthday’s coming up,” Scorpius argued. “So yes, you did do something, and I need to thank you.”
“You really don’t—”
“It’s the polite thing to do.”
“I know how to be polite!”
“But you’re rejecting my politeness, which is impolite.”
“That doesn’t count!” Albus protested as Scorpius opened the box and began admiring the assortment of chocolates stacked inside. “For example, I am now politely excusing myself to the bathroom.”
“Don’t get attacked by a troll,” Scorpius said as Albus stood. “You know… like Minister Granger in her first year and your dad and uncle had to—”
“I got the reference, thanks,” Albus dismissed, and Scorpius gave an awkward laugh before turning back to his chocolates. Albus had to consciously control his pace as he exited, and before he left, he caught Scorpius smiling into the chocolate box. A smile wormed its way onto his own face.
Yeah. This was why.
Dominique was waiting for him by the library doors. She held a small compact and was drawing hearts on her cheek with white eyeliner. Her pink eyeshadow glittered with each blink, and as Albus approached her, he became distinctly aware of the longing stares and sheepish giggles from students as they walked past her. Dominique, for her part, seemed totally unbothered as she snapped her compact closed and waved Albus over. “I hope it was alright that I surprised Scorpius with the chocolates,” she said as the two entered the (mostly empty) library. “Don’t want to steal your thunder or anything.”
“No, he loved it,” Albus quickly reassured her. “Thanks for that. I haven’t seen him smile that wide in ages.”
Something across Dominique’s expression shifted, and she bit her tongue as she absentmindedly twirled the ends of the lacy ribbon she had draped as a headband over her hair. “He’s very kind,” she murmured, and suddenly Albus's stomach twisted.
“Yeah.”
“You know I was made a prefect, right?”
“Uncle Bill sent Mum an owl about it.”
“Right…” She quickly glanced at him, her usual calm demeanour giving way to an uncharacteristic hesitation. “So you know that if anyone is… giving either of you a hard time—”
“Let’s go to the Muggle Studies section,” Albus said, turning his back on his cousin and marching over to the reclusive corner of the library. “Just in case Scorpius wanders in.”
The twist in his gut sat heavy with a knot of guilt as he heard Dominique’s soft footsteps follow his swift movements away. He shouldn’t be dismissing her this way. If anything, he should be nothing but grateful to her, for her kindness and concern. For her reassurance on Christmas Eve. For her actions today. For her offer of help. But still, a bitter thought lingered heavily like a thick fog over Albus's mind: Where was this before? Where was she before?
(Ungrateful. Just another ghastly Slytherin trait.)
He fought to recompose himself as the two cousins took a seat across from each other. He idly gathered the sleeve of his jumper in his fist and squeezed as Dominique reached into her bag and brought out the purchases: a pack of elegant, black-feathered quills and several different coloured inkpots. “I also found this,” she said as she set a tin of colour-changing ink on the table with a soft clunk. She shrugged, “Thought it’d make a fun addition, no?”
“It’s great,” Albus said in earnest, picking up the items with both hands as though he feared damaging them in any way. To be fair, that’d mean Dominique would have to go back into Hogsmeade to repurchase the same items which would mean more time and money wasted on his behalf not to mention the already wasted time and money spent getting said items in the first place making him that much bigger of an inconvenience and screw-up than he already was and maybe that’s why she avoided him all throughout first term and—
“I’m glad.” Dominique was practically beaming, bright with a pure sincerity that couldn’t for one moment be denied by anyone. Even Albus, who slowly set the items back down on the table as she repeated, “I’m really glad.” A smile of his own slowly crept onto his face, though she perked up and reached back into her tote before he could respond in any way. “Oh! And I got a nice bag to put it in. And tissue paper — green and silver because they’re your House colours and I’m not creative.”
“All the creativity went to Louis, huh?” Albus drawled only to realise that maybe that sounded just a bit rude and who was he to be saying these things about his cousin before Dominique laughed.
“Clearly,” she chuckled as she slid the bag and tissue paper across the table towards him. “Ask to see his drawings sometime. He could move to France and be an artist there if he really wanted to.”
“And your parents would be fine with that?” Albus couldn’t help but ask as he examined the tissue paper, sparkling with a dust of glitter.
“Maman would jump at any excuse to go back to France,” Dominique chuckled. “And Papa wouldn’t mind — After all, at the end of the day, don’t parents just want their kids to be happy?”
You would think so, wouldn’t you?
Albus fought to keep his face neutral as he offered her a tiny nod, focusing instead on packing up the quills and inkpots. The gift bag she had picked out was black and patterned with silver stars. They glistened with the glittering paper as he wrapped the items within the sheets and gently placed them in the bag. With the remaining sheets, he bunched them up on top so they stuck out above the bag’s handles. When he was done, he gently rotated the bag around so he could admire it from all angles. A starry night sky shimmering silver and green.
“It’s beautiful, Albus,” Dominique said. “Scorpius will love it.” This time, Albus was able to match her smile with one of his own.
“Thank you, Dominique. For everything.”
“Of course. What is family for?” If she noticed his smile begin to tremble at the edges, she didn’t react. Instead, she began to shoo him away, “You better go hide it in your dormitory, then get back to the Great Hall. Scorpius might start to worry if you’ve been gone for too long.”
“I’ll just tell him I ran into James coming back from his date,” he easily said as he slid off the library chair.
(Because of course he would be a quick liar as a Slytherin.)
“Let me know how he reacts to the gift,” Dominique said as Albus moved to leave. “And Albus?” When he looked back at her, she had stood too and leaned her body towards him, hands pressed against the tabletop. Her gaze was as intense as it was gentle, words firm yet as soft-spoken as her usual speech. “Remember that I’m always here for you.”
The lump that formed in his throat was near immediate, and he resisted the urge to hug the gift bag to his chest lest he risk crushing it. “Thank you,” was all he could manage to say, and when Dominique’s lips quirked up in a hesitant smile, he took that as a sign to turn and rush out of the library.
He blamed the dampness of his eyes on the sudden cold air that rushed over him as he descended into the dungeons.
(Because all Slytherins deserved to be sent to the dungeons.)