charade | scorbus

CH2: Little Impact

CH2: Little Impact (9,517 Words)

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Beneath Albus' feet, the steaming Hogwarts Express rattled along the tracks. The rhythmic clunk indicated that the train travelled at a high speed, yet Albus struggled to believe such a thing, given how long the journey back to Kings Cross Station happened to be. Outside, snow swirled in an everlasting flurry. The white spots flashed by the windows; their patterns unidentifiable. The sky showcased shades of grey; clouds packed together like bricks – inhibiting sunlight from breaking through. So, in the glass windows, Albus' melancholy expression shone back at him. Still, he glanced through his mirrored cheeks, examining the twisting tree trunks they passed by.

Inside the compartment that he shared with Scorpius, the air was warm. While the glass by his head radiated a chill, the fleece track pants around his calves kept him safe from any lurking shivers. He'd shed his jumper some hours before, and it was currently laid in a crumpled ball between the woven cushions of Albus' bench seat. Instead, he wrapped his arms around his knees, tugging his thighs to his chest to ensure he remained as warm as possible.

Opposite him, Scorpius flicked through the pages of a book. Albus believed he'd hardly shifted throughout the journey, yet couldn't be certain, as he'd whiled away the hours with a long nap across the bench seats in his designated half of the compartment. Scorpius had only bothered him once, announcing the arrival of the trolley witch. He'd been kind enough to offer Albus a small handful of gold galleons, which Albus had used to purchase an assortment of goods. He'd picked away at his sweets for the last hour until he'd earned a stomach ache. Though, still Scorpius had remained – his eyes trained on the lines of text.

When he next shifted, Albus' eyes fluttered away from the window. He watched his friend lift his heels onto an unoccupied third of Albus' bench. His purple dinosaur socks contrasted against the worn, faded seats. Sleep lingered in his emerald eyes, and he scrubbed his eyes; awoken from his daze. He lowered his hand to his side, grabbing the crumpled paper bag that held the remains of his pumpkin pastry. He picked at it, lifting small mouthfuls to his teeth to entertain himself.

"We'll be in London soon," Scorpius said softly.

His voice caught Albus' attention. He glanced over. Scorpius tucked a bookmark between his pages and lowered it to the seat by his side. Albus extended the remains of his pasty to Scorpius, who leaned over to tear off a small amount for himself. The blond then sat back, crossing his legs, chewing at his mouthful.

"It's cold," Scorpius said, cringing.

"It's been here a while," Albus mumbled. He placed the paper bag back by his side. He began to spin his bracelet around his wrist. The woven band hung loosely, yet never so lose it would fall from his arm.

"So, I realised that we never discussed the details of our... charade," Scorpius announced. However, he didn't seem too bothered.

Albus frowned. "Which details?"

Scorpius shot him an endearing grin, affectionately rolling his eyes. "Well, what kind of boyfriend would you like me to be?"

"...What?"

Scorpius sighed, clearly frustrated that Albus required an explanation. The brunet, however, stared at Scorpius with concern – attempting to conclude himself. He failed, however, and stared at his friend.

"I've read a lot of books about fake dating. I flicked through them the other day, too – I wanted to make sure we had an adequate understanding," Scorpius explained. He tugged one of his feet atop his knee. Albus bit back a snort, unsurprised Scorpius had researched for such a thing. "And there seemed to be a greater level of success when the couple talked about how their relationship beforehand – you know, so we know how to act around one another. Let me get some parchment—"