Must Have Done Something Right / Scorbus

Chapter 32 / Can't Take My Eyes Off of You

A week later, and Albus' relationship problems were still as unstable and rickety as the staircase that led to the Divination classroom. In the past seven days, he had been patching up his broken and torn relationship with his girlfriend; dealing with the unsavoury and horrifying announcement that Scorpius and Eamon were apparently together; as well as trying to get his Quidditch team in shape for his first game as Captain. Albus was convinced they weren't ready—how could they be when they spent half the time ripping each others' heads off?—but it was now Saturday morning and the Quidditch pitch awaited them.
"You need to eat," Scorpius advised, holding out a piece of toast to him.
"We're going to lose," Albus replied.
Scorpius sighed and dropped the hand holding the bread. "Albus Potter, you are not going to lose," he said with clarity and determination.
His efforts to revive Albus' spirits were wasted. Albus stared morosely into his pumpkin juice. "You don't know that. Not only do I have seven Gryffindors to face on the pitch, I've also got half my team wanting nothing more than to Crucio me off my broom. It'll be a wonder I don't die." During their final practice yesterday, Matt hadn't said a word to him at all; hadn't even looked at him. But he supposed there was mercy in the fact that Matt wanted to Quidditch Cup as much as he did. Having Merrick and Raymond as his allies was also a big help.
"You won't die, you big drama queen," Scorpius said with a smirk. \""The worst that could happen is you lose."
Albus stared at him. "'The worst?'" he repeated. "Scorp, it would be suicide! I may as well write my own eulogy now. Merlin, if James wins, my life's over. I'll never be able to speak to him again!"
Scorpius rolled his eyes. "Honestly, you'd think it was the end of the world! I don't claim to understand Quidditch, but Eamon told me that even if you did lose—"
"I don't much care about what your boyfriend thinks," Albus interrupted, feeling his stomach lurch uncomfortably when he said the
b-word.
Scorpius shut his mouth swiftly, and Albus inwardly winced at the harshness behind his words. He couldn't help it though! One mention of Eamon bloody Hudson and his mind would go insane with anger, his fingers would twitch, and a million and one hexes would come to mind. He didn't bother apologising to Scorpius, even if the blond didn't look too happy with him.
"I better go," Albus muttered, gulped down the rest of his pumpkin juice and hastily stood up to leave. He stopped before he made any further movements and turned to Scorpius. "You're coming to the game right?"
Scorpius dimpled, seeming to have forgotten Albus' outburst. "You already predicted it, remember? Go Albus?"
His insides felt immediately warm. "Yeah ... I did, didn't I?" he said, a feeling of pride and happiness coming upon him from nowhere. It felt good to know Scorp would be there; and it meant more knowing that he couldn't stand the sport in the first place.
"You should go," Scorpius encouraged with a warm smile. "But not before you get rid of that ridiculous orange mustache you've sprouted."
Albus frowned and waited for further explanation. Scorpius grabbed a napkin and reaching forward, he carefully wiped Albus' upper lip.
Albus' heart beat shot up faster than the Snitch as Scorpius came to within centimetres of his own face. This close, he could see the silver flecks in his eyes and smell the subtle fragrance he had put on. Albus had to close his eyes—he felt his head spinning. All his senses were turned on and hyper aware of every one of Scorpius' movements. He didn't even care that he probably looked like a fool with his pumpkin-coloured moustache; all he could think about was that Scorpius was standing so close.
It took all of five seconds, but it felt like a year to Albus. When Scorpius pulled away, he opened his eyes again and could see the white napkin was stained with leftover pumpkin juice. "Thanks," he said in a gush of air.
He noticed that Scorp's normally pale cheeks were flushed with colour. "No problem," he replied with an equally unsteady breath. He bit his lip—a mannerism of his that Albus was steadily becoming enamored with. He couldn't take his eyes off Scorpius' lips.
"Oi, Potter!" Merrick Sims called from the Great Hall entrance. "You coming?"
Albus blinked and stepped away. "Y-Yeah, mate! I'll be there!" he yelled in response. Lowering his voice again, he spoke to Scorpius, "I better ..." He gestured vaguely in the direction of the door.
Scorpius smiled again. "Good luck, Captain."
In a daze, Albus grinned in response and rushed out the door, knowing Scorp was watching him leave.
The journey down to the pitch passed as in a dream; Albus couldn't remember how he got to the Changing Rooms. One minute he was in the Great Hall, the next he was strapping his knee and elbow pads in place. The other six boys were already there, preparing their own gear in near silence, which lasted for an extended period of time. Eventually, with a quick Tempus charm that revealed the game would begin shortly, he cast a glance around the room to observe his team. Merrick and Ray were exchanging a few words to each other, and Albus was happy to know they were discussing the Reverse Pass manoeuvre. Matt and Paul were in the corner near the showers, strapping on their gloves, with their backs turned deliberately to Albus. His two Beaters, Crispin and Bryce, were solemnly polishing their bats to allow maximal power during a swing. All in all, the scene before him was a sombre one, at best. Albus exhaled deeply—as Captain, a pre-game speech was required of him; but to this lot, it wouldn't be easy.
He cleared his throat. "Alright, boys," he began. Slowly, the six of them turned to give him attention. Matt, Albus noticed, was the last to face him. He swallowed. "I won't make this long and cheesy—" (Matt scoffed loudly) – "but we're about to get onto that pitch in front of the entire school, and everyone expects us to be a team. Now I'm aware that half of you want me dead, and believe me, the feeling is entirely mutual," he paused to stare at Matt, "but for the love of the game and the Cup, can we just agree to forget about everything else and play the game like we mean it?" He looked at his team and saw determination written on their faces. They wanted it as well. "We can beat Gryffindor; I know we can. We can fly faster, think quicker, pass the Quaffle better, hit the Bludgers harder and we can damn well play Quidditch better than they can. We may not have had as many practices as them, but ... trust in your instincts ..." he advised. Then, allowing a small smirk to appear on his, Albus channelled as much of his Slytherin nature as possible; "and do anything to make sure we bloody well win, because Gryffindor is going down."
"Amen," Ray agreed loudly, causing a few chortles out of them.
"Let's do this," Albus said.
As one, they grabbed their brooms and marched down the tunnel in their team formation, towards the pitch. As they got closer, Albus heard the cheers of the Hogwarts student body as they filled up the stands, ready to support their team. His mind instantly went to Scorpius, and he couldn't stop the smile on his face, knowing that he would be there. He mentally pictured a small speech bubble emerging from his friend's mouth with the words, 'Go Albus!' written in it.
They rounded the final corner and Albus saw, at the end of the tunnel, the bright green of the Quidditch pitch beckoning him closer, inviting him to play. The sounds of the crowd increased exponentially, and despite the chaos of his love life, despite hating Eamon Hudson, and despite the animosity that existed between him and his Keeper, this was still his first ever Quidditch game as Captain—against his own brother, as well—and the rush of excitement and adrenaline inside him overwrote all his other concerns.
This was Quidditch.
His sport.
His passion.
And nothing could ever compete with the feeling he got when he was in his element.
The Slytherin Quidditch team reached the end of the tunnel and walked out onto the pitch. It hit Albus in one go: the smell of the grass, the sounds of the students cheering, the feel of his beloved Nova, clutched in the firm grip of his dragonhide gloves. It was glorious, and Albus actually felt light-headed.
"Well, well, if it isn't my dear baby brother."
Albus smirked and faced his brother—no, his enemy—who was dressed in the maroon and gold of Gryffindor. Albus felt pride in his own silver and green, loving his uniform, and especially the small label in the upper right of his chest that read: Captain.
"Ready to lose?" he asked, staring his older brother down.
James smiled at him, as if in pity. "Oh dear, you seem to have it in your head that you'll win." He shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid you're mistaken."
"Now, now, boys, none of that," Madame Avery, the Quidditch instructor and referee, said, coming in between the two Captains. James and Albus took a step back from each other, but their gazes remained unbroken. "Alright, shake hands, Potter and—" she stopped, realising how silly she sounded. "Well ... you know what I mean."
They may have been about to wage war, but Albus and James exchanged a small grin with each other. Potter vs. Potter. It sounded almost comical. Their dad would have been so proud, had he not been stuck in some stupid work meeting. Albus knew he had wanted to come, but he had written to both he and James and offered his apologies. Whatever. It didn't matter now.
He and James grasped hands and immediately tensed their respective biceps, trying to strangle the life out of each others' fingers. It hurt, but there was no way Albus would let it show in his face. He maintained his smirk.
Distantly, Albus heard someone—he had no idea who—commentate the start of the proceedings. He heard his name called out, along with James', as they performed the traditional handshake.
"Alright, alright," the no-nonsense referee said, pulling their hands apart. "Now, keep it clean and safe, boys."
"Of course, Madame Avery," James said, complacently.
"Would you expect anything less from us?" Albus asked casually, copying his brother's smug look.
A cross look shadowed her face as she pinched her lips together. "Let's begin," she said swiftly. "Take to the air!"
Fourteen brooms rose simultaneously. Far below him, Albus saw Madame Avery bend down and reach for the clasp that held the Snitch. She released it. Albus' greedy eyes were able to follow it for a second, before the golden blur flitted out of sight, hiding until its capture. The Bludgers were catapulted out next, and out of his peripherals, Albus saw Crispin and Bryce grasp their bats tighter. Finally, Madame Avery picked up the red Quaffle, ready to throw it up. Albus bent lower on his broom—so did the thirteen other players. Every muscle he had contracted, as he held his breath.
This was it; his very first game.
And then: "The Quaffle is released! The game begins!"
The pitch sprung into action.
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[Ten minutes earlier]
Andrea and Claire were surprised to see Scorpius at the game; he could tell by their faces. While making room for him on the back row of the Slytherin stands next to him, they couldn't help but stare.
It was a minute before Andrea spoke. "You being here wouldn't have anything to do with a certain Mr Potter would it?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
"I just thought I'd broaden my horizons; get to know the sport that the entire Wizarding World loves," he said vaguely, not making eye contact, choosing instead to watch Madame Avery and a random Ravenclaw student carry a big wooden box onto the middle of the pitch. He looked around for the Slytherin team—namely, Albus—but they weren't out yet.
"Mmm, yes, I'm sure," Andrea said, smirking evilly. "And my father is the Muggle Prime Minister. Scorpius, you hate Quidditch."
"I don't hate it," he amended quickly. "I've just never been interested."
"But now you are," Claire put in.
"Perhaps."
"Because of Albus," she prodded further.
"Oh would you hush?" he hissed, knowing that he could never deny it. Below them, Madam Avery opened the big box, but it was facing away from, so Scorpius couldn't see inside.
"What's the box for?"
Andrea followed his line of sight, before sending him an incredulous look. "Oh, Merlin, you know nothing about Quidditch, do you?"
"Like you can speak!" Scorpius said. "All you care about it how well the uniforms fit the players!"
"Which is exactly what you'll be looking for as well!" Claire said happily. "Except you'll be focusing more on Albus."
"Enlighten me, what does your boyfriend think about you perving on Albus?" Andrea asked.
Scorpius sighed. Eamon's face flashed in his mind. "He's not my boyfriend," he said, knowing that Eamon would readily disagree. Even Albus suspected they were an item. Scorpius had been too stunned to correct him that morning at breakfast; Albus' sudden burst of anger at the mere mention of the Ravenclaw taking precedence in his head. "He's just ..."
"Your friend with benefits?"
Scorpius flushed pink. "No! Andrea! Sometimes I wonder if your mind never leaves the gutter."
Andrea lifted her palms up in innocence. "Your relationship troubles are far too juicy to ignore. I'm just reaping the benefits of being the best friend of a gay boy who is in anguish, torn between two much bigger, more muscled specimens of the male form—"
"Are you really as pathetic as they say?"
Andrea smacked him on the arm.
"AND HERE THEY COME!—GRRRRYFFINDOR AND SLYTHERIN!" Scorpius almost jumped out of his skin as the voice of a student he wouldn't be able to identify boomed out through the dozens of megaphones scattered around the stadium.
Scorpius, along with ever other student, stood up to watch.
The moment Albus stepped onto the stadium, his heart jumped to his mouth. He hadn't actually seen Albus in his full Quidditch uniform ever since realising he was in love with him; and the sight of him now—dressed in his Quidditch attire, Captain of his team, long mahogany broom clutched in his hand, hair already looking windswept—had Scorpius' mouth going dry.
Albus looked oh-so-fine.
Of course, they were a fair way up from ground-level, and Scorpius knew that if were face to face with Albus, he would probably swoon. He could almost imagine the focused and determined look that was sure to be making his green eyes crackle with energy; as well as his lopsided grin as he tried to treat everything casually. Besides him, the two girls were giggling their heart out, but Scorpius paid them no attention.
Dimly, he saw Albus shake hands with his brother, before mounting his broom and lift up in the air with expert ease. Albus was as comfortable on his broom as he was at breathing.
With another cacophonous announcement from the commentator, the game began. The players began to dart around like little flies, swirls of maroon and green blurring through the sky like colourful spells and charms.
Scorpius cared little for the actual game. He couldn't take his eyes off Albus, and he was glad he had declined Eamon's invitation to sit next to him in the Ravenclaw stands during the game. Eamon likely wouldn't have appreciated Scorpius' almost fanatical fascination with Albus, but it couldn't be stopped.
Albus was on fire and Scorpius wanted to be burned.

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Next Chapter: The game continues...