charade | scorbus

CH5: canoodling

CH5: canoodling (7,665 WORDS)

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Albus gazed distantly into the crackling grate before him. Some flames licked the bricks in shades of pastel, while other crimson ribbons devolved into smoke that lifted through the chimney. Thankfully, the ashy scents did not diffuse into the air. He doubted that he'd have smelt it, anyway, as daffodil nectar drowned him; embedded into the fabric of the hood around his neck and the damp fringe passing through his fingers. He knew that his frequent touch had likely returned the grease to Scorpius' hair. He did not still his hand despite such a fact, though; he was fearful that Scorpius would stir beneath his arm.

Albus had lost feeling in his legs forty minutes previous. He occasionally swirled his ankle, careful not to shift his hip. His movements hardly lightened the weight that settled in his feet. His toes ached with pins and needles. However, the discomfort died in his chest before it had the chance to evolve into annoyance. Some benefits could not be outweighed — Scorpius radiated a large amount of heat and kept his side at a regular temperature.

Despite Albus' quiet presence on the couch, his body raged in an internal war. His heart thumped against the walls of his chest, and electric bolts stung his fingers each time his nails passed over Scorpius' skull. Despite his lengthy shower after lunch, he had not managed to lift the gunky sensation from his bloodstream; muck continued to decompose in his intestines. His emotions heightened each time he fell down the rabbit hole in his mind, yet he managed to breathe deeply through much of the pain. thankfully, after a lot of effort, he found himself thinking about James. For once, he wished he was far away from Scorpius (as horrible as such a thought made him feel), even if that meant being at a Quidditch game. He wanted something mindless to focus on; something that didn't cause him to feel as though he had to itch off the surface layer of his skin.

Molly Weasley's needles clicked in her fingers. She focused on her knitting, yet occasionally lifted her eyes to smile at Albus. When her eyes left him, they'd flitter down to the figure curled beneath his arm. Arthur read a book about muggle cars in his armchair. Thankfully (for Albus), Lily had disappeared upstairs a long while ago and had made little sound since. Albus was pleased for some peace; his head still ached due to how loudly she had talked at lunch.

The lights of the Christmas tree flashed in the corner of the room. The bulbs cast rays of light across the scuffed walls; beams reminiscent of the weak sun rays that had poured through their bedroom window that morning. The window reflected the image, causing the room to feel brighter than it was. However, it likely would not last, as the sky was steadily fading to grey with the rising of the moon.

Albus' eyes ached around the edges. He blinked to dull the pain when a furry tail flashed in his peripheral vision and broke his focus. At the reminder, the scratches on his hands began to sting. He shifted his fingers, noticing that the ointment had dissolved into his skin. Thankfully, the edges of the cuts were already scabbing over. His eyes narrowed as the feline strutted through the room. He resisted the urge to throw his foot out as it passed by. He knew that the animal would likely pounce at his face if he dared. The cat settled on the mat before the fire, stretching its fluffy body.

"What are you up to, Chessy?" Molly cooed softly.

The cat turned to her, blinking its large blue eyes. Albus found himself slightly amused as it continued to roll around on the floor. He continued to pass his fingers through Scorpius' fluffy fringe, unconvinced that the cat would tolerate Scorpius' interest. Selfishly, he didn't want Scorpius to move. Albus glanced at the clock. He took a deep breath, his eyebrows knitting together. He slipped his fingers over his friend's eyes and bounced his leg, gearing himself for the cold that would hit his exposed thigh when Scorpius shifted.