Not Good at Talking

Music listened while writing : Can’t Help Falling in Love (Dark Version) feat. brooke - Tommee Profitt

Scorpius should have known it was a mistake.

Albus had suggested they play video games, a Muggle invention that Scorpius had no experience with, but which Albus claimed was wonderful. He was staying with the Potters for the holidays, so he decided to try out the machine. In the end, it wasn’t anything special, and Scorpius quickly grew bored of watching Albus and his brother twist and turn in front of the screen. Naturally, James had to join in, of course.

Scorpius had always had a hard time tolerating the oldest Potter. He was a show-off, convinced that the world belonged to him because of his family name. On top of having the physique of a Quidditch athlete, he had a sharp wit, often using sarcasm so skillfully and abundantly that no one dared challenge him, preferring instead to stay on his good side or seek his favor.

Except for Scorpius. He had a sharp tongue as well and hadn’t hesitated, in their very first year at Hogwarts, to publicly call out Potter when he saw him bullying first-years. The boy had been stunned, but from then on, a hostility had developed between the two young men. Scorpius wasn’t afraid of him, and James hated him for it.

Scorpius would have gladly left the two brothers alone, but seeing Albus’s enthusiasm, he agreed to take one of the controllers and embark on a quest against goblins alongside his friend, while James bombarded them with snide comments about their terrible gameplay. Scorpius wondered how Albus managed to stay calm.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Albus said, standing up. “Don’t touch the controller, James, it’s still my turn.”

He had barely left the room when his brother immediately resumed the game.

“He told you not to touch the controller,” Scorpius protested, outraged.

“Leave me alone, Malfoy,” James replied with a contemptuous sneer, his eyes glued to the screen.

Scorpius wanted to claw his eyes out.

“Are you deaf or something?” he said, yanking the controller out of James’s hands.

“Give that back!” James shouted, trying to snatch it back.

But Scorpius stepped back to avoid him, and in his momentum, James pushed him onto the couch. Scorpius found himself pinned between the boy and the sofa and braced himself for a beating, to which he couldn’t respond with magic since it was forbidden outside of Hogwarts. Despite his slight build, he refused to back down and prepared to fight but froze, paralyzed.

James was hovering over him, his eyes darkened, and his breath softly escaped through his slightly parted lips. He was so close that Scorpius could feel his breath on his cheek. His heart began to race, unsettled by the proximity of James’s body, pressed against him, almost between his thighs.

“Potter…”

His sentence was cut off as James’s lips pressed against his.

He blamed it on teenage hormones, his immature body, his curiosity, but he didn’t push him away, and when James moved against him, deepening the kiss, he groaned at the feel of the hardness against his thigh.

The sound jolted James as if electrocuted, and he suddenly pulled back, surprised, his lips flushed. He stared at Scorpius, incredulous, as if what had just happened was his fault, then stormed out of the room.

For the rest of the day, the two boys avoided each other as much as possible, unable to meet each other’s gaze. Scorpius felt like he was floating, pretending everything was normal while his mind was in turmoil. His heart pounded too fast, and he felt overwhelmed. He told himself it was just desire, simple youthful desire pushing him toward sex, seeking contact with another person. It had nothing to do with James; he was young and healthy, and a body was just a body.

Confident in this rationalization, which he deemed perfectly reasonable, he made it through the day, resisting the constant urge to touch himself.

The story might have ended there. If he hadn’t gone downstairs in the middle of the night for a glass of water, where he bumped into James in the kitchen.

James stared at him for a moment, then closed the fridge door without saying a word and prepared to leave the room. As he passed by on his way to the stairs, Scorpius reached out and let his fingers brush against his hip. A spark. A single spark can change everything.

In an instant, he was shoved against the wall, James’s lips devouring his, biting and kissing, before the kiss deepened, as his hands roamed Scorpius’s hips, grabbing his buttocks and pulling him closer, pressing their bodies together. Scorpius wrapped his arms around James’s neck as James kissed his throat, his hips grinding against him, eliciting indecent moans that rang in his own ears. James’s ragged breaths drove him wild, and he felt like he was on fire.

Neither of them spoke when it was over. When Scorpius extricated himself from his position between the wall and the boy’s body, James looked like he was about to say something, but he held back. He simply watched as Scorpius climbed the stairs to rejoin Albus in his room.

And so, the strange summer routine set in. Scorpius quickly realized that James would always be James, and since his behavior still annoyed him as much as ever, their arguments resumed naturally, but with a new dynamic.

During the day, they bickered non-stop, exchanging sharp remarks, ready to tear each other apart over the smallest thing.

But at night, they found themselves pressed against each other, panting and sweating in the garden, on the terrace, or behind a wall. James kissed incredibly well and seemed obsessed with his body, exploring it with his hands, caressing it. In return, Scorpius felt a surge of pride at the sounds of pleasure he drew from the boy, savoring the desire that clouded his eyes.

Summer came to an end, and the routine stopped as soon as they left for the wizarding school.

For two weeks at Hogwarts, they hadn’t even exchanged a glance. Scorpius ignored the burning knot in his stomach whenever he crossed paths with the Gryffindor, telling himself the desire would fade with time.

Then Quidditch practice resumed...

“You bastard!” Malfoy spat, slamming the door shut. He threw his Quidditch gear to the floor as soon as he entered the locker room and barely resisted the urge to punch the tiled wall. Stripping off his clothes, he stepped into one of the showers, but just as he was about to lock the door, it flew open with a bang. James stood in the doorway, face red with anger, fists clenched.

“Get out of here, Potter!” Scorpius shouted.

The boy didn’t listen, shoving him hard against the opposite wall. The shower faucet jabbed into his back. Potter pointed a finger at him, furious.

“If you pull another stunt like that, Malfoy, I’ll take you down, you got that?”

“Teach your players to dodge a Bludger, and you’ll keep all your Beaters in one piece.”

“You’re a Seeker!” James snapped, exasperated. “You’re not supposed to be sending Bludgers straight at their heads, you idiot!”

James was so close that Scorpius could see the tiny hairs of his stubbled jaw. The scent of dirt and sweat clung to him, mixed with a faint orangey smell from his shower gel.

“Crack open your Quidditch manual and show me the line where it says I can’t! Now get out, Potter!”

Potter let out a frustrated growl. He stared at him, and Scorpius saw his pupils dilate. He knew that look. He knew it well. When the boy pressed his mouth against his, Scorpius wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He got lost in the kiss, tugging at James’s uniform, desperately searching for skin, for an opening.

Suddenly, James pushed him away and quickly left the shower. Only then did Scorpius hear the voices of the other players entering the locker room. Trembling, he soaped himself and got out to dress.

When he left the locker room, he saw James, his hair still damp from the shower, talking with a group of friends. He excused himself from them and followed Scorpius as he made his way up the slope towards the castle. Neither of them spoke as they walked through the corridors, but at a crossroads, James gestured for him to follow. Scorpius understood he was leading him to the Gryffindor dormitories.

“What are you doing, James?” he asked, though he wasn’t sure he even understood his own question. Maybe he was asking himself.

“The dorms are empty at this time.”

The answer was straightforward and simple. But Scorpius was no longer sure. Something unsettled him—the possibility of a new routine, longer, more permanent. He realized he might like that. Like it to the point of addiction. And his own desire, his lack of control, scared him.

“I have an assignment to do,” he said softly, uncertain.

James moved closer, his breath brushing against Scorpius’s cheek, his dark eyes locked on him, his strong hand resting on his hip.

“Just come,” James said.

Routine. Insidious. One day after another dictating life: attending classes, socializing with friends, sleeping with James. A banal triptych, an established reality.

He never spoke about his daily life, had never even thought to mention it to Albus, as if talking about it would make it all too real. He would have to explain: why? How did it happen? Why with James? Why continue?

Yet, Albus wasn’t stupid.

“You should… hide them,” he had said one day, pointing to Scorpius’s neck, and Scorpius had blushed. James liked to leave hickeys, to mark him. And Scorpius liked that James marked him, but he could never admit it. It wouldn’t be healthy. It wouldn’t be simple, raw desire anymore.

So why hadn’t he used a spell to heal the marks?

“James is with Elsa Grelling,” Albus told Hugo during breakfast, and Scorpius perked up his ears.

“Not really together, let’s say they’re fooling around,” his cousin corrected. She’s very pretty and she’s chasing him. You know he likes to have fun.

“Yes, he likes to have fun,” Albus grimaced before laughing nervously.

Scorpius didn’t laugh.

So when Eddy Hallis asked him to accompany him to Hogsmeade, with more in mind than just butterbeer, he agreed.

He was surprised by how quickly the news spread around Hogwarts, but not by finding himself cornered between the shelves in the library by a stunned, almost furious James.

“Hallis? Seriously? Edward Hallis?” he asked, fists clenched. “Are you kidding me?”

Scorpius shrugged.

“He’s a good-looking guy,” Scorpius replied simply. “And It’s none of your business.””

James’s gaze was hard, his jaw clenched. Scorpius thought he might get punched and his hand went to his wand. But James gave a contemptuous laugh and shook his head.

“You’re right, it’s none of my business.”

He left him standing there, and Scorpius swallowed hard as he watched him go. The routine was over.

In the tavern in Hogsmeade, he let Edward kiss him. He enjoyed the caresses and the desire swelling between his thighs. But something was missing, and Scorpius broke the kiss. The burning knot in his stomach… It wasn’t there.

“Sorry,” he said simply. The handsome Edward shrugged with a smile, and they left the tavern together.

As they passed behind the Blue Unicorn tavern to take the shortest route back to Hogwarts, they froze when they saw a passage between two buildings.

“No decency,” Edward said disapprovingly, as Scorpius watched.

He saw a girl with her hand down James’s pants. And it wasn’t Elsa Grelling; it was another student Scorpius had never seen before. Potter glanced up and looked at him with dark, glassy eyes, clouded by pleasure, and Scorpius felt like vomiting.

He faced the rest of the day, feverish and nauseous. As he was heading to the Great Hall for dinner, he felt a hand on his arm pulling him back.

“Stay away from me”, he hissed upon seeing James.

“I don’t see why you’re angry,” James said coldly. “It’s none of your business.”

Scorpius had an angry hiccup. Of course, why flaunt it in a place where everyone could see them? This public display was meant for him.

Scorpius gave a humorless, disenchanted, painful laugh. His chest hurt.

“You’re…” he began, shaking his head, hurt. “What do you want, James?” he shouted in the middle of the hallway, forgetting they were in public and that many eyes were on them.

“What do you want?” James asked, his voice softened.

“Nothing!” he spat, eyes blurred. “ I want nothing from you!”

James put his hands in his pockets and shook his head.

“Then you’ll get nothing.”

And he walked away.

Scorpius stopped himself from pulling out his wand and hitting him in the back. Ignoring the onlookers, he headed toward the dormitory, determined to sleep through the rest of the weekend and regain control of his life.

A week later, James cornered him in the third-floor hallway and pulled him into an empty classroom. And Scorpius let him.

He let it happen, over and over again. Unable to remember a world without James’s hands on him, without his lips against his, his moans of pleasure, his way of pressing his body against his, pushing his hair back from his forehead, provoking him, making him lose himself, exasperating him, pushing him to the edge, making him feel alive.

“It’s James’s last year at Hogwarts,” Rose said, sitting next to him in the library, and Scorpius felt his nerves fraying.

“What’s it to you, Rose?” he said sharply, but she ignored him.

“In a few months, he’ll be leaving for healer studies in London. You might want to know…”

“Know what?”

She looked at him sadly.

“I don’t know, Scorpius. Just, ask yourself the right questions.”

He ignored the advice, and the secret routine continued, or at least he thought it was secret.

He was lying on his bed, a Quidditch magazine in hand, when Albus stood in front of him, furious and bruised.

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” he asked sharply.

Scorpius put down his magazine. He knew very well what Albus was talking about; the rumors were spreading. He sat up on the edge of the bed, not taking his eyes off his friend.

“No.”

He was sincere, but Albus was hurt.

“When were you planning to tell me?”

“I wasn’t planning to tell you.”

The response was immediate. He faced the offended expression and the disappointment he read in his friend’s eyes.

“Are you mocking me?” Albus demanded, his body tense, clearly irritated.

“Your brother is fucking me,” he declared bluntly. There, it’s said.

Albus let out an exasperated groan.

“That’s all you have to say?”

“What else would you like me to say?”

“No, I’d have liked you to say more.”

“There’s nothing more to say.”

Albus watched him for a long time, then finally shook his head, visibly disappointed. He sat on the edge of the bed, facing Malfoy.

“Scorpius, you’re my friend. No, not just a friend, you’re my best friend since we first met. You know how much you mean to me. But I’m going to be straightforward. Please, please, don’t hurt my brother.”

Scorpius wasn’t expecting this.

“Albus, I…”

“No, no. You’re not clear with yourself, so I’m warning you. Don’t hurt my brother.”

That was the only time they talked about what was going on between James and him. And the months passed in passionate routine, alternating between study periods, laughter, complicity, and feverish encounters.

“James,” Scorpius said, while James was lying next to him on a transfigured mattress in the middle of an empty classroom. Fingers traced his bare back. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” he asked without stopping his caresses.

“About this.”

James moved closer and kissed his shoulder before pushing him onto his back and repositioning himself between his legs.

“Don’t you like it?”

“I do,” he replied, hypnotized by the darkened gaze burning into him.

He felt James hardening between his thighs.

“Neither you nor I are good at talking,” he whispered as he entered him. And Scorpius surrendered.

The school year was slowly coming to an end, and Scorpius waited for the routine to end, refusing to think about it, savoring the moment. As he caught his breath on the Astronomy Tower floor, cooled by a breeze on a stifling night, he felt James slip his arm around him and place something in his hand.

It was a key. Ordinary. But Scorpius’s heart started to beat faster.

“What is this?”

“A key,” he replied, as if it were obvious.

Scorpius hesitated.

“To your apartment in London?”

James didn’t answer. Scorpius closed his fingers around the key and held it tightly.

“Okay, I’ll come.”

James gave a slight shrug, casual, but he held the boy a little tighter against him. Scorpius fell asleep looking at the stars.

The end... The end?

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