Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7882060.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling, Harry_Potter_and_the_Cursed_Child_-_Thorne
      &_Rowling
  Relationship:
      Scorpius_Malfoy/Albus_Severus_Potter, Scorpius_Malfoy/Louis_Weasley
  Character:
      Scorpius_Malfoy, Albus_Severus_Potter, Teddy_Lupin, Louis_Weasley, Molly
      Weasley_II, Victoire_Weasley, James_Sirius_Potter, Lily_Luna_Potter, Rose
      Weasley, Lucy_Weasley, Hugo_Weasley, Fred_Weasley_II, Roxanne_Weasley,
      Dominique_Weasley, Harry_Potter, Draco_Malfoy, Ginny_Weasley, Hermione
      Granger, Ron_Weasley, Percy_Weasley, Fleur_Delacour, Bill_Weasley
  Additional Tags:
      Getting_Together, Bisexuality, Jealousy, Homophobia, Underage_Drinking,
      Hogwarts_Seventh_Year, Harry_Potter_and_the_Cursed_Child_Compliant
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-08-27 Chapters: 1/? Words: 3604
****** Rectified Spirits ******
by twnkwlf
Summary
     A thought occurred to Scorpius that this whole thing had been rather
     impulsive. Maybe being surrounded by hordes of Weasley Gryffindors
     all the time was starting to rub off on him.
Notes
     For the sake of the story, I'm reinforcing that Percy is a square,
     old fashioned mf. This story talks about homophobia and intolerance a
     bit so be warned if that's not your thing!
     Scorbus is endgame, but there is some sideline Louis/Scorpius, so
     don't be deterred.
Scorpius’ mouth was on fire and he was trying his best not to openly gag.
“It’s not thatbad.” Albus rolled his eyes as he took a small swig of the bottle
he was holding. On the outside, it looked as though he was unfazed by the god-
awful taste, but Scorpius was keenly tuned into all things Albus Severus Potter
and he noticed the way the other boy’s throat tightened with tension.
“If you don’t consider a burning esophagus a bad thing, then it’s lovely,” he
said as he sat up on his elbows. It was Lily who had built a nook in front of
the fireplace a few days ago. Pink and purple bedsheets, quilts, and pillows
were lovingly piled in front of the small crackling fire and no one had
bothered to tidy the living room since then, so the boys were sprawled out,
warming their feet, heads resting on stray stuffed animals. The messiness of
the Potters’ house during the Christmas holiday was something Scorpius admired.
His own home was charmed clean at all times thanks to the many house elves who
were paid to roam the grounds. The Potters did their own cleaning. Well, he
assumed they were meantto do their own cleaning. He watched Albus take another
drink and pretend that he liked it. “Why are we drinking muggle whiskey?”
Scorpius asked. “When magic whiskey is made specifically to not taste like
Voldemort’s asshole?”
“That’s the thing, though. Magic whiskey is still just whiskey at its heart.”
Scorpius couldn’t really believe they were discussing the heartof a bottle of
something called Wild Turkey. “I don’t see your point, mate.”
“My point is that,” Albus held up the 12oz bottle of brownish whiskey and shook
it about. “Wizards aren’t doing anything to alcohol except casting charms on it
in the brewery or putting magic additives and whatnot to make it all taste
funny or better. That flashy rainbow cocktail that James made last week? The
one that changes colors the drunker you get? It’s not even a potion, it’s just
a charm. It’s just alcohol. Vodka actually. Made from potatoes.”
“So you’re saying that potatoes are at the heart of magical fermentation?”
“Yes. Well, no, not whiskey. I think this lot is made from…barely or
something.”
“This has been a really informative discussion, you know. Potatoes. Barley. I
think I’m getting quite hungry.”
Albus kicked Scorpius in the shin lightly. “I haven’t made my point yet. This
stuff is pure, you know?” He presented the bottle like he was trying to sell
it, carefully propped up on his hands and tilted toward the firelight.
“Wizards—we took something that the muggles had thought of all on their own
with potatoes and barley and then we threw some spells on it, and called it
ours. I’m drinking muggle whiskey exclusively from here on out.”
“Firstly, let me just say how proud I am that you’ve been doing your muggle
studies homework,” Scorpius said.  “Secondly, I think you’ve been spending too
much time with Teddy. Did he give you this?” Scorpius reached across to swipe
the bottle from his adoring hands.
“Yeah, well. He’s got a really cool muggle girlfriend. They’re in all these
groups together. Like, activist groups for muggle justice. The Prophet hardly
ever covers any of their protests. Did you know they stopped a parade in
Cambridge last week?”
His eyes had lit up with fire and something else. Trouble, probably. He had
these looks about him, Albus, ones that always seemed to drag Scorpius into
situations like drinking too much harsh muggle whiskey in the Potter living
room, like traveling to other worlds and times. It would all probably end with
Scorpius helping Teddy’s muggle girlfriend to make picket signs that said
“MUGGLE AND WIZARD SOLIDARITY” or something off the like. Before he could say
anything, however, the front door slammed behind them, jolting them both. Albus
quickly threw the bottle of his so called beloved and pure whiskey into the
fire and jerked his head around in one spastic movement. It turned out only to
be James with a few others trailing behind him—none of them proper adults.
“We’re having a Christmas party,” James declared. Most of the things that came
out of James’ mouth were declarations. Or swears.
“What?” Albus stood up, wobbly on his feet. “What, right now?”
A few of James’ cousins made their way inside, all of them unwrapping long
scarves and pulling off hand knitted mittens that Molly Weasley had no doubt
crafted over the years. Bill Weasley’s son Louis was there, who was a year
younger than Albus and Scorpius, and also the most beautiful looking boy that
the wizarding world was likely to ever see. Scorpius threw that thought into
the fire alongside the whiskey. He noticed the other one, Molly Junior who was
named after their vibrant gran and was a red headed cousin that Scorpius had
only met once or twice, as she stepped forward as well.
“Yes, right now,” James said as he kicked his boots in two different
directions. “I cracked Mum’s spell for the liquor cabinet last week, didn’t
Lily tell you?”
Harry and Ginny were at a Daily Prophet Christmas event this evening—a fancy
dress party that Harry had complained about for the entire week that Scorpius
had been at the Potter house. He was sure his own father would be attending if
he weren’t out of country on very vague business, which was an adjective one
could use for most of Draco’s business ventures. Scorpius himself might have
been dragged to the party if that were the case. But it looked as though
tonight he would fulfill his well-established role as the interloper at yet
another Potter family event. The cousins didn’t spare him much of a second
glance. Scorpius tended to meld into the background with this lot, which was
fine by him, because he had Albus.
“What’s the occasion? Well, you know…besides Christmas, and it being…a
Christmas party, as you say… obviously,” he rambled while scratching at his
head like it might help him form better sentences. Albus lifted an eyebrow at
him.
“We’re celebrating my arsehole of a father,” said Molly with very thick fake
enthusiasm. Scorpius struggled for a moment to remember which of the many
Weasley uncles Molly’s father was, but Albus reminded him.
“What’s Uncle Percy done now?” he said.
“He’s thrown Louis out of the house tonight. Can you believe that? Our own
cousin isn’t welcome at our house! At Christmas, no less. Aunt Fleur sent him
four howlers already. And it’s only been,” she paused to check her watch.
“Three hours since we left.”
“Why would your uncle barre you from coming over, Louis?” Scorpius asked. He
wondered if it was meddlesome to ask anything at all, since he was beginning to
sense that this was a bit of a massive family crisis which all of the cousins
were being extremely cavalier about.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Louis with a grim face. It was still a
beautiful one, however, even with the scowl/frown dragging it down. Scorpius
nodded a bit awkwardly.
“Nope, none of that. We’re not talking about it. We’re drinking about it. Come
on, you lot. Wands at the ready.” James unceremoniously dropped his coat on the
floor.
And as he led the four of them to the kitchen liquor cabinet with his wand out
and shoulders straight and back, as though he were marching toward a duel,
Albus snuck a worried glance at Scorpius who shrugged. Then suddenly, a small
explosion happened in the fireplace. The glass from the bottle shattered and
popped loudly like a curse, making them both jump back.
“Sweet Dumbledore,” Scorpius said. “I told you muggle whiskey is traumatic.”
***
Two hours later, Albus was well and truly, and very, very drunk, and it was
starting to feel terrible.
“I know the spell! I can’t believe you’d doubt me,” Rose was saying. She was
actually yelling, more like, but everyone in the house was speaking a few times
louder than necessary. Some of James’ teammates were in the middle of a heated
table-quidditch match over by the dining room, which was generating most of the
noise in the cramped house. Roxy and Victoire were singing boldly along to
something playing loudly over the charmed radio. Behind them, Albus could
blearily make out that Lily and James were arguing again, this time over
whether she was allowed to have a drink now that she was a fifth year, and up
in the bathroom, everyone could hear Molly, Hugo, and Freddie experimenting
with some of the new Wheezes fireworks that Uncle Ron had yet to inspect for
sale. They would all be lucky if the house didn’t catch fire, probably.
It was a typical family party, minus the adults, and plus a few of Victoire’s
friends from France, all of whom James had tried to hit on already. None of
them seemed particularly interested in quidditch or the fact that half of the
Lancashire team were screaming over a ping pong ball that had been charmed to
travel around the table game like a snitch. Flaunting his sports career was
about all the flirting skills that James possessed.
Rose gave him a shove on the shoulder, bringing him back to where they were
sitting across from each other at the kitchen island. “You said you feel sick,
you bastard, so trust me. I can fix it.”
“I don’t doubt you, Rosey, but your wand’s upside down, I think.”
Her cheeks were getting very red and she was probably nearly as drunk as Albus.
With her wand right side up, she cleared her throat, preparing to cast the
charm. She told Albus it was something she had read and witnessed her mother
preform on Uncle Ron a dozen times—but suddenly a hand came from behind her and
slapped itself over her mouth before she could say the incantation.
Teddy appeared from her other side and plucked her wand from out of her hands.
“Rose Weasley,” he began, tutting at her. “Were you just about to perform a
spell under the influence?”
“Um,” Rose said, looking up at him. She always did have a bit of a crush on the
man. His hair tonight was a violent shade of green. He twirled her wand between
his long fingers and shook his wild head back and forth.  
“You’re going to end up shrinking his nose three sizes or something. What are
you trying to cast anyway?”
“A sobering charm. Albus says the room is spinning.” She swiped her wand back,
clearly trying to be sly, but coming off a bit sloppy.
“Well, cast one on yourself, you drunk arse, before you go cursing the whole
party. Best let him sleep it off.” He put his arm around Albus and leaned in to
whisper. “You and Malfoy drank that whole bottle, didn’t you?”
Albus would have shaken his head, but the room really was spinning. As Rose
attempted to saunter off (stumbling), he managed to point, not very subtly,
toward Victoire across the room. “Isn’t she going to bite your head off for
showing up?” He’d seen Victoire and Teddy get into a row too many times to not
be scared for the safety of all the people in the house. “Oh, you didn’t bring
your new girlfriend, did you? She’ll go mad.”
“Well, it’s going on a year and a half since we ended it. She can’t avoid me
forever. Besides…we’ll be back together by the New Year, I bet.”  
“If you two manage to stay together for longer than a year,” Albus said,
feeling a bit brazen with the alcohol storming his system. “I’ll never drink a
drop of whiskey again.”
“Vicky and I aremeant to be, Ally. If we manage to stay apart for longer than
two, drink to that.” He looked over at Vic with the same lovelorn, hopeless,
bonkers look he’d been giving her since before Albus could even remember.
“What’s the meaning of this party anyway?” he said while turning his back to
Albus’ eldest cousin, as though he suddenly remembered his cool muggle
girlfriend and snapped out of the Victoire Weasley trance. “James doesn’t have
a game for another three weeks. He usually saves up his steam for the after
parties.”
Albus looked around at the tableau of drunken Potters and Weasleys with a bit
of anger stewing in his stomach as he remembered what Molly had said. “I think
this whole thing a distraction,” he told Teddy.
“A distraction? From what, now?”
“Uncle Percy,” he said, wanting to bite down on something. “Tonight he…well I
don’t know, really, but I think he’s made it clear how he feels about Louis.”
“Oh, fucking Merlin, you can’t be serious?” Teddy’s voice dropped and Albus
watched his hair suddenly pop dark red. “What century is he living in, that
man?”
“He’s a square old bastard. Molly says Louis isn’t welcome this Christmas for
Boxing Day Tea.” Albus tried not to feel anything but bitterness about the
situation, but he couldn’t deny that it would a privilege for him to finally
have a reason to blow off Uncle Percy’s dreadful annual Boxing Day Tea Party.
If Louis couldn’t come, there was no way he would be going.
“Fleur is going to truly murder him. Honestly. You better call your dad and
warn the department.” Teddy turned around and scanned the kitchen, then poked
his head around the corner to scan the living room. He looked back at Albus,
his hair slowly returning to its previous shade of green. The effect was very
festive. “Where is Louis, anyway? Someone ought to talk to the poor lad.”
Albus found that their conversation had sobered him quite a lot, as though Rose
had really cast her charm perfectly. He looked around the room at his family,
but he couldn’t find a blonde head anywhere. Not Louis’ or Scorpius’.
***
Scorpius felt sick. Not because he had drank too much. To be quite honest, he
didn’t feel drunk in the slightest. He felt sick because he didn’t know what to
say or do to make Louis feel better. Together they sat on the bedroom floor of
Albus’ room, leaning against the foot of the unmade bed. Louis had his head in
his hands, and Scorpius had the feeling that if he lifted it, he’d see tears.
“I didn’t even want to say anything at first, but—“ he was saying, words
muffled by his hands. “But it was like he was egging me on. ‘Got yourself a
girlfriend, yet, Louis? Handsome young man like you should have a girlfriend at
your age. I had a girlfriend at your age!’And he just…just kept going on and
on.”
“So you just…you just told him?”
Louis lifted up his head and looked at Scorpius full in the face. He’d wiped
away any tears, but his cheeks were perfectly red. “I told him I wasnever going
to have a girlfriend and so why doesn’t he ask me about my boyfriend instead.”
Scorpius swallowed thickly. “Do you…have a boyfriend at Hogwarts?”
“Not really.” He rolled his eyes. “I just wanted to see the look on Percy’s
face, mostly. “
Scorpius had no idea what to say next, so he simply took a sip from the tea cup
of Carmella’s Colourful Calculating Cocktail he’d been nursing all night. It
was currently a dull grey-ish green, meaning he was nearly sober now. There
wasn’t a point to drinking, really. Louis hadn’t had a drop all night. This
whole party seemed like Molly’s last minute idea of trying to heal the wounds
her father had dug in, but Louis looked completely miserable the entire time
that James and the rest of the Lincolnshire teammates had been swapping
drinking song, and he’d been uninterested in watching Freddie light a firework
underwater in the Potter’s bathtub, and he’d been missing for the last hour
anyway. Scorpius had only found him here, in the dark, when he came upstairs to
take a break from the crowd below them. Loius leaned his head back on the bed
behind them and closed his eyes as he continued.
“Then we started arguing, and he was being a right old fashioned prick, and
Molly went mad on him so he told us to both leave. I was only over to bring
Molly and Lucy their presents and chat, I—“ He took a shaky breath. “I didn’t
mean for this… I didn’t mean for it to… to explode like this.” He pressed his
hand to his forehead. “And now my mum’s going to start an entire wizarding war
over it.”
“It’s not your fault, Louis, I hope you know that?” Scorpius said. “It’s not
even a little bit your fault. It’s Percy’s problem. He’s in the dark ages, I
mean, merlin.”
“Everyone knows I’m gay, you know?” He threw his hands up. “Mum and dad don’t
care. Fucking Gran doesn’t care! Percy just lives in his own world where
everything should be proper.”
“You look plenty proper to me.” Scorpius immediately regretted saying that. It
sounded a lot less cheeky in his head. Louis looked back up at him with eyes a
bit wider than before and Scorpius was too scared to look away or move or say
anything.
“You’re the proper one,” he said back after a moment.
“I’m not that proper, really.” He hoped Louis understood.
They looked at each other for what must have been a full minute, until Scorpius
could feel his heart beat trying to regulate itself. For half a second,
Scorpius wondered whether he was imagining being in a dark room with Louis
Weasley. Something like this lived usually in the very full corners of Sorpius’
mind, overcrowded with the memory of wet dreams about Albus’ aunt Luna in her
gardening shoes and nothing else, and the very common casual fantasy of
reaching over and kissing Albus in the middle of potions lessons when he was
slightly sweaty and confused.
Louis’ breath was very real when it ghosted across Scorpius’ face.
And then, they were scooting a bit closer together. He felt Louis touch his arm
with one of his fingers. Louis sat up and began leaning in. In the next moment
he  was kissing Scorpius and Scorpius was kissing him back, winding his hands
into his hair, trying to be delicate, but feeling like he’d lost all measure of
his own weight and strength.
Scorpius had only kissed one person before—Rose, in his fifth year after
Slytherin lost the house cup to Gryffindor, and the look of smugness on her
face had driven him wild with want for a hot second. He’d dipped in to kiss her
mouth and nearly missed, but it had ended with a bit of tongue and a hard smack
on his chest afterward before she’d stormed off. They never really spoke about
it afterwards. Scorpius suspected he was quite a bad kisser, having never done
it before. This time around, he was a little more prepared for the awkward
combination of lips, tongues, and teeth. He twisted his head to the left,
letting Louis come forward and take more. A thought occurred to Scorpius that
this whole thing had been rather impulsive, just like with Rose. Maybe being
surrounded by hordes of Weasley Gryffindors all the time was starting to rub
off on him.
It was best not to think, and the just let the nervousness and excitement wash
over him instead. After a moment, Louis crawled slowly and methodically into
his lap, and he was small, so he could fit there quite well with both knees on
either side of Scorpius’ legs. And then he was holding Louis by the waist and
feeling all the blood rush below as Louis ground into him. And then Scorpius
was hissing as he pushed his hips up to try and copy him. It was impulse after
impulse. And then it had been minutes and minutes of this, of breathlessly
snogging against the foot of a bed that belonged to neither one of them, that
almost beaconed them to crawl into it and roll around without another thought.
And then Scorpius was panting, almost moaning as Louis whispered something
filthy and electric against his pulse.  
And then the door opened. A light suddenly fell on them.
The music from downstairs was suddenly loud and infiltrating in the room, and
despite the fact that Roxanne was mid-howl, it had a quieting effect. Albus
looked in, just a silhouette in the threshold, but Scorpius recognized the
shape of him immediately and with a shock deep in his guts. It was because he
was keenly tuned into all things Albus Severus Potter—his mannerisms, ticks.
His shape in the dark, even. He could almost see his face, mapping it out in
his mind, or the way it must have looked in that moment, seeing at them in his
own room, doing secret things. Scorpius and Albus weren’t meant to have
secrets.  A second later he was shutting the door with a quick lurch of the
handle.  Scorpius heard his footsteps pounding down the stairs after that, and
he felt weightless and heavy at the same time.
Louis slumped a bit, forehead hitting Scorpius’ shoulder. Perhaps the heaviness
was because he was still sitting in his lap. He’d nearly forgotten Louis was
there in the moment, but then softly, Scorpius heard him mutter, “I hate my
family.”
 
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