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@valians
¹ ✱ 𝚆𝙰𝚈 𝙳𝙾𝚆𝙽 𝚆𝙴 𝙶𝙾 . ◞ ENTER THE DEPTHS &&. DARKNESS OF THE DAMNED FEW WHO ARE ETERNALLY CURSED WITH A POISONED PURPOSE , FEATURING : 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐒. 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 + 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐀 𝐃. 𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 + 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐏𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝐇. 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐎𝐘 + 𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐀. 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 . WRITTEN FOR MORTEMHQ !
⸻ 𝙼𝙴𝙼𝙴 𝙳𝙰𝚈 . . . terrorise us
accepting all memes listed . kindly please specify muse(s) <3
his eyes betray him, shining with the slightest glimmer of hope as scorpius begins. maybe this ... tryst of theirs isn’t as doomed as he thought it was, reality slowly starting to set in with albus, even as he feels scor’s lips against his skin. it’s enough to become completely unraveled by the other, and he has to remind himself that this isn’t what their world will allow. “live with you?” al repeats, a laugh escaping as he studies the other ; he can’t be serious. the hopeful light slowly starts to fade from his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek. al lets himself be selfish once again, dreaming about the potential life he and scor could have. he thinks it wouldn’t be much of a life after all. scorpius is to have a wife, and he’s not naive nor selfish enough to believe that he and scor would have the potential to get that far, that official, but the option no longer being on the table causes a pain in his chest that he isn’t expecting. albus shakes his head, both at the idea from the other and to shake the thoughts from his mind. “i can’t ... we can’t do that, scor.” he says, the realization weighing heavily on him. he sits up, needing some distance between the two of them. he knows scor means it, that he would never mistreat him, but recent events come rushing over him, and why is he regretting running away to scor when his family was hurting just as much as him? “so ... that’s the only reason why you’re doing this?” he asks, and he hates that he feels sorry for scorpius in the moment, but he’s worried that he’s only doing it for his family’s happiness, not his own. “even if it means you might not be happy ... either of you?” albus isn’t assuming that he can give scorpius that happiness, but he wants him to have the chance to figure out who it may be.
they were skin-to-skin, but worlds apart where it truly mattered. raised under two different hands : the very same pair that would never allow them to be more than just this, burning fast, yet fleeting… engulfing everything in its path until there would be nothing left but the memory of a million lifetimes that could never be truly theirs. in this one, luck was far from their side - and the idea of destiny proved to be rather cruel. why would the fates have them meet, just to for one to rise as morning comes, and, the other to fall as dawn settles ? missing each other by just a moment. “ i would be with her, and not you, if i feel even an ounce of what i do for you, “ he can feel albus pulling away from him : the shifting of weight in the mattress tugging at the proverbial string tying them, and only urges scorpius to rise with him. “ i’m happy with you. this is where i find my happiness. nothing else matters but us, baby - i swear that to you, “ he takes a hold of the other’s hand before they could truly part, and brushes over albus’ ring finger … empty, much like his own. “ it’s not my choice. marriage is a piece of paper meant to appease the masses. whatever happens out that door, doesn’t matter. none of it is real. none of it is this, “ bringing the hand to his lips, he kissed the back of it - an anchor, tugging albus back to shore … before he could float back into the realms of reality. “ come back with me, “ his voice soft, and devoid of its usual drawl. only truth. “ just for a few days. you can leave whenever you want. spend the entire time cursing me, icing me out, slap me for good measure - anything. just come home with me, “ cerulean still fixed on the other male, hand weaved in between one another’s. “ be mine again, love. from now, to always, “
he can’t remember when he drifted off to sleep, but albus opens his eyes to see an unfamiliar room. he’s worried about where he is for a brief moment, but then he feels the warmth from the other, and any panic is instantly gone. albus shifts to be closer to him, memories of the two of them from earlier instantly replaying, and al struggles to believe it wasn’t just another dream, but the littering of bruises and marks over both chests are evidence enough that it isn’t. he turns into the other, lips finding his collarbone like it’s a ritual they have, and for a second, al wishes it doesn’t have to end. but he knows that he’s been gone for too long at this point, and the reality of their situation, no matter how far away it is, is always going to be in the back of al’s mind. he wishes that he could be like scorpius, thinking of just the moment and enjoying it, but he can’t find it in him. “can i ask you something?” al asks between kisses, blue eyes meeting the other’s finally. there’s tension in his stomach as he thinks about what he’s going to say next, and he doesn’t wait for scor to say anything else. “is this what it’s going to have to be like?” al finally says, and as much as he wants to continue just touching scorpius, he has to practice some self control. “you having to sneak me away to some estate so we don’t get caught?” as much as he hates it, there’s evidence of the hurt that he feels if that’s true in his voice, and part of him knows that it’s their only solution, but he’s hoping that scor will tell him different.
“ it doesn't have to be, ” within the hollowed halls of one of the ancestral homes, lie a sacred defiance : limbs tangled within one another's, skin finding familiarity against the other's own … having grown a home across enemy lines is the last thing either of them thought would happen, alas — he returns the other's kisses with some of his own, hand snaked around albus' neck, never once leaving his side. stars absentmindedly drawn across the brunette's skin, a silent reminder of who he's with, and who has laid his claim on him : for whoever long their reverie will last, and well beyond the bounds of time. “ you can live with me, ” the offer is genuine, as many of his words to albus had been. “ it would be like … having a roommate, i suppose. one that just so happens to be your brother's ex-girlfriend, with whom i share a name with on a piece of paper. think of it as a lease. irony, and awkwardness aside — it's what lies in the cards for me, ” for us, rather … he almost continues. hues still locked on the other's own, a curl reminiscent to a sad smile carving through his features. there is no true, fairytale ending to any of this : especially not when their futures lie in two complete, diverging paths, with no end in sight. still, with no ring adorning his left finger, he took albus here … somewhere he's taken no one else before. a glimpse into what could have been. “ i need an heir, and, unfortunately, there are no miracles to be had between us on that front. to no fault of either of us, " and what is … the story of us ? if not a great, big tragedy.
Looking at her eldest son, Ginny felt a familiar rush of warmth run through her. She loved all of her children equally and there was no doubt about it. She would do anything to protect them and do anything to give them the best lives she possibly could. Family was always a big thing for Ginny, having growing up with such a large family herself she took pride in creating a nice family atmosphere for her own children. She had a special connection with each of her children, each having a different kind of bond with her which she loved and adored. James was her first born, he was her first baby and that would always hold a special place in her heart. Leaning against the door frame she had a soft smile on her lips as she crossed her arms over her chest, "are you going to start making it a habit of popping up unannounced?" she teased lightly as she quirked a brow at him. "How are you sweetheart?" @valians
the safehouse had more likeness to a cage, as of late — almost a prison cell, but not quite yet. answering for his disobedience, rare bouts of rebellion in the name of saving his friends, and family, came at a price that was fitting. his father, their leader … had made sure of it. even if james is unsure if he'll stick to his word : not when order members seemed to be dropping in numbers by the day. the line between being a hero, and a villain, or something in between is a blurry one — and he's slowly starting to realise that he might have to start dancing in the grey. “ … never better, ” the smile he forced is plasticine at best. he never could truly lie to his mum, not when ginny knows him better than anyone. there is no deeper tie between a mother, and her firstborn, after all. “ how is everyone ? hope i didn't … mess up more than i already did, ”
Harry sat, in the safehouse's office that he had claimed as his own, shoulders bowed, head clasped in his hands. Xue was dead. The thought was painful in itself, even before he thought of Neville and Hannah grieving an impossible grief - one that should have, perhaps, been Harry's own. Almost been his own, though he had assured himself now of Albus' wellbeing. It took a strength Harry didn't believe he had to lift his head back up again. His eyes fell to the framed photograph on one side of his desk. His father's bright and laughing face looked up at him, entirely insensate of the defeat that weighed Harry down, the heaviness that filled every limb. It felt like looking at a stranger. It had been years since anyone had told Harry he looked like his father. Harry didn't know if that was because he was now older than his father had ever gotten to be, or because there was no one left living who remembered James Potter. The first James Potter, that was. Harry's eyes moved from his father's smiling face to his own James in the frame next to him. He looked just as youthfully invincible, full of light. The starkest contrast to Harry's state of numbness, the hopelessness he felt sinking in. James' face in the frame was so terribly young. The living ghost of his grandfather, in the way Harry could no longer be. Something about it felt prophetic. Harry shuddered, and took out his quill, sent the memo flying off to find James. Its magic would have more luck than Harry had in doing so, or so he hoped. He could hardly have failed to notice that, ever since Malfoy Manor, James was seemingly anywhere Harry was not. James, this is an official summons. My office, now. Perhaps a part of Harry had been glad James had been so difficult to find. He had not wanted to say something he would regret. Yet this meeting had waited long enough. It was time to talk. @valians
there is no disdain, no anger, rather … an insurmountable dismay in himself , and who he's supposed to be. he could've done more, he should've done more. he should've passed into another lifetime before anything could've hurt his brother, jumped in front of any curse, and let himself fall victim to the darkness he would never let his siblings know. there is no true victory, without sacrifice ... and he will eternally curse himself that he wasn't the one who took it that day. the tale of icarus is retold in the life of james sirius potter : one bred of valiance, and blazing wings of unwavering fervour — eager, brave, and thoroughly reckless. gold-hearted, oath-driven, and loyal to an unforgiving fault, yet born of mortal flesh …. how soon will it be until he burns at the sun's flames, and falls an unfulfilled hero ? he's not a god, rather, just man — first son, and eldest brother : born to live a prophecy of a name a two generations above his own. james never regretted any of his choices, even this one. no matter how much of his father's anger he has to face, nor the disappointment in his eyes, his head still held high, sorrow hidden beneath a purse of his lips as he entered the office. he's not coming to see his father, he's been summoned by the leader of the order. he disobeyed a direct order, and, because of it, endangered the life of one : the life of someone much more precious than him. “ you called, dad ? uh, sir, ” he quickly corrected himself, eyes searching for harry's own, pale green gifted from the grandmother he never got to meet. “ … i'll accept whatever punishment you give me. no missions or, if you were to derank me, or … anything. it was my fault, and i accept that. i should've done more. i should … be more than this, ” he started, breath taken into his lungs before he continued. “ — i held back, i didn't … want to hurt anyone there. not really. i couldn't kill, and … maybe for that i'm not the soldier you want or need me to be, ”
“ how’d you get out, anyway ? what’s the story there ? “ tone far from accusatory, rather, a peaked curiosity that has been undeniably itching at his thoughts. james watches @magicored as he pours the wine with steadied precision, right into one of the stolen mugs from the pantry before his hues flicker away from molly for the briefest of moments - if only they both sensed irony of the #1 mum cup earlier. for his better half and judgement, brains to his brawns, he would’ve taken a sword to his gut, and allowed it to twist, and turn at his insides before anything to have happened to molly … they can find raw power like his anywhere, one to nurture, cultivate, and mold as they see fit, but rather - a brilliance of a thousand minds is one in a million, and his cousin even stands beyond that rarity. a diamond amongst gems, there is no one quite like molly ii weasley … even if it seemed like the blonde left a part of her in that manor. the very same one he will go to hell, and back, to return again. “ you know i’d never tell anyone. what, did you seduce a guard ? they took away your wands, yeah ? “ oh, james, if only you knew ! tease drips through every uttered syllable as he finally sets the bottle to the side, and offers the mug to her with a soft push. “ slimy dickheads, the lot of ‘em. didn’t even get to curse the lords of the house - cheers to …. my luck for next time ? “
knocking on lorcan's door, lysander felt sick to his stomach. he felt so physically ill that he bent at the waist and heaved once before getting control of himself. "fuck, lorcan, hurry up..." he knocked several times in quick succession, trying not to think about what had happened back at the infirmary and albus' face as he'd told him that he'd loved him. his ears had begun to ring and he felt like he might faint then so he sat on the stoop and waited for his twin to open the goddamned door. he felt so bad the world had begun to spin and he was slowly working off a panic attack. he could feel the edges of his vision grow white as his lungs sucked in lungfuls of breath but it was to no use... @valians
the order has become more of an unfamiliar place, not dissimilar to the den of the enemy … reminder of the failure that has plagued the light for almost half a millennia : he's chosen to find solace in isolating himself in his room when he's called back, rather than meeting the faces he's become a stranger to. while his heart has remained, and his allegiance true — the distrust only grew … cynicism became a much closer friend than most within these walls ever truly did. his head only snapped up at the hurried knock drumming against the door, his brother's voice one he can recognise anywhere — especially when it's plagued with such desperation. “ what the — ” the curse that teetered, almost falling from his tongue is lifted back up as soon as he caught sight of lysander. “ what happened ? are you … ” they don't talk about these things, or, at least, he doesn't … but it doesn't mean that he'll allow his brother to grow the same, bitter disdain which rots you from the inside out. “ okay ? “ who hurt you ? who do i need to hurt ? " come in, ”
the warning bells ring like wind chimes in her ear , crooning softly a devil's whisper as it beckoned her ever deeper , deeper ⸻ darling , welcome home. staring into the eyes of her fated tragedy as she did , if only they knew the truth of it all. of days and nights spent haunted by angel - faced promises , and her own willingness to bury her head within the sand. ( what sort of insanity would they call this need to still desire him so ? with nothing for her here , but to cling to his hold regardless ? ) with the sharp inhale of her breath a near gasp of his name as he pressed ever - closer , it was hardly a denial of his words ; the way her hands paused upon his chest , the curling grasp of her fingers fisting into the material of his shirt beneath them. to push away , or to beg him even closer ? ❝ i ⸻ ❞ but the words stop abruptly , caught like a peach pit deep in her throat ; a slow , syrupy drip of cyanide only masked by honeyed words and his pacifying touch. was there a point to his words ? a horrifying sincerity that rang true to the deep of her ? the threat of the question alone was enough to silence her , from his mouth , to her crumbling resistance , what exactly held her here ?
by the time she's forced to confront such a thought ⸻ it's already too late. the time for denials a thing of the past as their reflection shone a light upon the haunting imagery of lovers intertwined. his gaze through the mirror no less lethal than to catch his stare straight on , veritaserum in shades of soul - stirring blue calling forth her innermost secrets ; not a single escape to be found. ❝ as your captive ⸻ as a prisoner. ❞ but what would they call her , a captive so willing to their captor's embrace ? the length of her neck offered freely to the tender graze of his lips ; their reflection disappearing behind the pleasure - shied flutter of her eyelids. ❝ would you have me forever locked away … kept under your lock and key only ? ❞ the jump of her pulse reflected the rush of terrified rapture in her veins , fingers interlocking with those that slipped through the spaces of her own. a terrible reflection of the man himself , sneaking past the cracks in her own defences to lay siege upon her body , mind and soul. ❝ your perfect pet , your little doll ? ❞ biting at her lower lip to silence any further thought of it , at the temptation of it ? she let her hand lead his own to drag a scorching line of heat over the skin of her stomach and further on , fingers and lips working in even tandem to truly drive her half - mad. ❝ we don't get to have this , scorpius. we don't get to keep it. ❞
for an angel to fall, she is to be called upon temptation. with god, and their followers as her witness, she is to descend from heaven’s gates to meet her match ; blackened wings frayed, cerulean a piercing straight into her in all her carnal vices ( all the pretty stars, shine for you, my love - am i that girl, you’re dreaming of ? ), smirk curling loop-sided, as he raises a knowing brow. what use is there of virtue when you’ve surrendered yourself to sin ? to find a home in poisoned valour ; her gilded cage a golden one, where the comfort of everything you desire is within a batted eyelash … in a war waged by two diametric oppositions with no end in sight, even in their lifetime, what use is there to stay with the losing side - when you can find salvation in his ? there is no fruit that is quite so sweet, touch that burns as quite as scathing, nor a greater pleasure than the forbidden. “ … you’re speaking as if there’s nothing you’d love more, “ the grip on her waist remains firm, one hand suddenly disappearing between her legs without a second to spare - if he is to devour her, he will take her in her entirety. ( ‘cause she was filled with poison, but blessed with beauty, and rage ). she’s supplanting ideas in his head - where to place her in his life, one that he’s so meticulously crafted. is there truly any better seat than the one by his side ? kings have hands, but gods have prophets : and with her voice alone, molly can split oceans, curry non-believers, and beckon the dead a new breath of life. she could bring the world to his palm, and he will make it theirs.
“ speaking from the heart, darling ? you don’t have to lie to me. it’s only you and i here, remember ? “ hues tear itself away from the reflection staring back at them, and allows for his free hand to take root on the base of her neck - tilting her gaze to directly meet his eyes again. touching, teasing, tearing apart at her insides through one squeeze. once he’s done, there should be more of them than her …. remnants of an entanglement that will never truly be unraveled - not when they’ve become a singularity. no you without me, no me without you ; and together we shall be greater than what the fates had planned for us. not despite of all odds but, rather, in spite of it - together. ( and i’ve been waiting for you all this time. i adore you, can’t you see, you’re meant for me ? ) “ if you want to be mine, all you had to do was ask. stay with me, be my pretty girl for all eternity, “ thumb pokes out to rest on her bottom petal, beckoning for her to part her lips as he rested his finger on the heat of her tongue. within you, i shall carve out the rest of my life. “ give yourself to me as i will to you. swear yourself to me, and i’ll make you the happiest woman on earth, “ both his hands worked in tandem - making her see stars is just the beginning … for her, he’ll show her exploding supernovas. “ can you do that to me, sweetheart ? “ hips latching against her own, a reminder of how intertwined they’ve truly become. “ can you be a good little doll and, you surrender yourself to me ? “
the warning bells ring like wind chimes in her ear , crooning softly a devil's whisper as it beckoned her ever deeper , deeper ⸻ darling , welcome home. staring into the eyes of her fated tragedy as she did , if only they knew the truth of it all. of days and nights spent haunted by angel - faced promises , and her own willingness to bury her head within the sand. ( what sort of insanity would they call this need to still desire him so ? with nothing for her here , but to cling to his hold regardless ? ) with the sharp inhale of her breath a near gasp of his name as he pressed ever - closer , it was hardly a denial of his words ; the way her hands paused upon his chest , the curling grasp of her fingers fisting into the material of his shirt beneath them. to push away , or to beg him even closer ? ❝ i ⸻ ❞ but the words stop abruptly , caught like a peach pit deep in her throat ; a slow , syrupy drip of cyanide only masked by honeyed words and his pacifying touch. was there a point to his words ? a horrifying sincerity that rang true to the deep of her ? the threat of the question alone was enough to silence her , from his mouth , to her crumbling resistance , what exactly held her here ?
by the time she's forced to confront such a thought ⸻ it's already too late. the time for denials a thing of the past as their reflection shone a light upon the haunting imagery of lovers intertwined. his gaze through the mirror no less lethal than to catch his stare straight on , veritaserum in shades of soul - stirring blue calling forth her innermost secrets ; not a single escape to be found. ❝ as your captive ⸻ as a prisoner. ❞ but what would they call her , a captive so willing to their captor's embrace ? the length of her neck offered freely to the tender graze of his lips ; their reflection disappearing behind the pleasure - shied flutter of her eyelids. ❝ would you have me forever locked away … kept under your lock and key only ? ❞ the jump of her pulse reflected the rush of terrified rapture in her veins , fingers interlocking with those that slipped through the spaces of her own. a terrible reflection of the man himself , sneaking past the cracks in her own defences to lay siege upon her body , mind and soul. ❝ your perfect pet , your little doll ? ❞ biting at her lower lip to silence any further thought of it , at the temptation of it ? she let her hand lead his own to drag a scorching line of heat over the skin of her stomach and further on , fingers and lips working in even tandem to truly drive her half - mad. ❝ we don't get to have this , scorpius. we don't get to keep it. ❞
for an angel to fall, she is to be called upon temptation. with god, and their followers as her witness, she is to descend from heaven’s gates to meet her match ; blackened wings frayed, cerulean a piercing straight into her in all her carnal vices ( all the pretty stars, shine for you, my love - am i that girl, you’re dreaming of ? ), smirk curling loop-sided, as he raises a knowing brow. what use is there of virtue when you’ve surrendered yourself to sin ? to find a home in poisoned valour ; her gilded cage a golden one, where the comfort of everything you desire is within a batted eyelash … in a war waged by two diametric oppositions with no end in sight, even in their lifetime, what use is there to stay with the losing side - when you can find salvation in his ? there is no fruit that is quite so sweet, touch that burns as quite as scathing, nor a greater pleasure than the forbidden. “ … you’re speaking as if there’s nothing you’d love more, “ the grip on her waist remains firm, one hand suddenly disappearing between her legs without a second to spare - if he is to devour her, he will take her in her entirety. ( ‘cause she was filled with poison, but blessed with beauty, and rage ). she’s supplanting ideas in his head - where to place her in his life, one that he’s so meticulously crafted. is there truly any better seat than the one by his side ? kings have hands, but gods have prophets : and with her voice alone, molly can split oceans, curry non-believers, and beckon the dead a new breath of life. she could bring the world to his palm, and he will make it theirs.
TOP TEN YELLOWJACKETS CHARACTERS (as voted by my followers) 5. Charlotte "Lottie" Matthews portrayed by Courtney Eaton
what does it say about him? how he feels comfortable, safe even, in scor’s arms because he knows that the other would ensure his safety at any cost, morals disregarded. it’s so different than he has been raised around, and while albus is so much like his parents, always taking the moral high ground, growing up around the malfoys is a stark contrast to what he’s had. there’s a part of albus that made him almost not show, but only because the memory of the manor and being in and out of consciousness for the days that followed weighed heavy on him. james had casted his own worries regarding his safety, but it took him only a moment to push them all down. the estate is the farthest al has ever gone on his own, and he knows that for once, both the order and the death eaters can’t reach them. al’s lips spread into a smile at the words, but his train of thought disappears, the feeling of scorpius undoubtedly leaving marks on him the only thing he could possibly focus on in that moment. his head is tilted back, eyes closed as they face the warm sun shining on them. he hates to think of it, but he wonders if that maybe this is where he is supposed to be, if even the typical dreary british weather pauses to give them a moment of refuge, where they can just be. “you make me sound like the villain, stealing you away from everyone.” it comes out breathless as al opens his eyes to look at scorpius, just in time to see him kissing his fingers. heat rushes to his cheeks at the eye contact, and it’s such a delicate moment from someone he knows has such harsh sides to him. he knows he’s being selfish, being here after everything, and there’s the voice in the back of his head telling him that he is only going to regret this, but for just a moment, or an afternoon, or however long he’s there, albus is going to ignore it. “i know better than to hold some people to the promises they make,” albus says, and he doesn’t mean specifically scorpius, but he knows the reality of their situation. there may not be an option to keep them. albus feels his chest tighten at the words, and there’s no way to conceal the hopeful look that’s spread across his features, selfishly pretending that there is a chance that it can be just the two of them. al’s hand still cups the other’s cheek, index finger moving to trace the outline of scor’s lips, and he wants to tell him to not make a fool of him, beg him not to be the person his family believes he his. but instead, al’s grin widens, a breathy laugh escaping. “you flatter yourself, sweetheart,” he tells the other, gaze shifting from his eyes to his lips. “i know our limits here.” a painful truth, but a truth nonetheless that albus is still working towards accepting.
what is the price of freedom, if not, loss ? there can only be one, traue path that they both can take, and it’s one that diverges : following fate’s cruel hand as it ruptures, and takes … unforgiving even to the kindest of souls. unfortunately for them, only one of them possess such innocence. in another life, far unlike this one, perhaps things could have been different. maybe, just maybe, they wouldn’t have been so destined to miss each other by the flicker of dawn, and the setting of dusk. stars don’t belong in the morning light. “ you’re being dramatic. as if you have a villainous bone in your body. you’re all the best parts of everyone you’ve ever met, “ and he means it with all his heart - kisses every bone he could set his sights on, nipping at the open collarbone as his teeth even attempt to leave imprints, remnants of himself within its rigidity. if this is all we’re going to have, i shall will it to live within you forever. selfishly, tirelessly, wholly only me. “ how terribly cynical, and unpotter of you. what happened to the blind optimism of a family full of gryffindors ? “ the spark in his eyes glimmers, tease slipping off his tongue a silkened reprieve from the fate awaiting them beyond the guarded lands. ( but it’s not real, and you don’t exist - and i can’t recall the last time i was kissed. ) “ but you’re different, aren’t you, love ? you’re clever, and you expect the worst so you can guard your heart … lock it away from me ? “ he doesn’t see even a sliver of resemblance to the rest of albus’ family : not when there’s a beast beneath the boards that can be lured out if he wills it to. so far ? scorpius has never known failure, not when the game has been the only thing he’s ever truly known.
“ am i supposed to be some people ? “ brow quirking in response, faking offence through the scoff that leaves him. hips rolling in response, hand snaking behind albus’s head to grasp at darkened locks - grasping it between his fingers, tugging as a reminder of who he’s with, and who really is in control. “ i do love it when you try to pretend you don’t want me all to yourself. like you’re not just as selfish as i am. i’ll remind you again, hm ? “ not a promise, rather, a manifestation. whatever he wills, shall come to be. whatever he wants, shall be his. there is no god out there with a greater hunger for what isn’t his than the one burying his head in the crook of albus’ neck, and whispering prophecies of what is to be. “ there’s no one in this world, who will be able to touch you - “ he starts, leaving a slow, calculated kisses over every patch of unmarked flesh. ( you’re no good for me, baby, you’re no good for me - but i want you, i want you, i want - ). soon, there will be no place that hasn’t been touched by him “ - make you whine - “ canines sinking along a blossoming bruise …. a blazing red reminder of how easily salvation bleeds into sacrilege. lips parting from albus’ skin for a moment, only to hover over the other’s lips - almost, but not quite yet. “ - and have you begging for me to fuck you, ruin you from the inside out. no one but me. do you understand ? “
what does it say about him? how he feels comfortable, safe even, in scor’s arms because he knows that the other would ensure his safety at any cost, morals disregarded. it’s so different than he has been raised around, and while albus is so much like his parents, always taking the moral high ground, growing up around the malfoys is a stark contrast to what he’s had. there’s a part of albus that made him almost not show, but only because the memory of the manor and being in and out of consciousness for the days that followed weighed heavy on him. james had casted his own worries regarding his safety, but it took him only a moment to push them all down. the estate is the farthest al has ever gone on his own, and he knows that for once, both the order and the death eaters can’t reach them. al’s lips spread into a smile at the words, but his train of thought disappears, the feeling of scorpius undoubtedly leaving marks on him the only thing he could possibly focus on in that moment. his head is tilted back, eyes closed as they face the warm sun shining on them. he hates to think of it, but he wonders if that maybe this is where he is supposed to be, if even the typical dreary british weather pauses to give them a moment of refuge, where they can just be. “you make me sound like the villain, stealing you away from everyone.” it comes out breathless as al opens his eyes to look at scorpius, just in time to see him kissing his fingers. heat rushes to his cheeks at the eye contact, and it’s such a delicate moment from someone he knows has such harsh sides to him. he knows he’s being selfish, being here after everything, and there’s the voice in the back of his head telling him that he is only going to regret this, but for just a moment, or an afternoon, or however long he’s there, albus is going to ignore it. “i know better than to hold some people to the promises they make,” albus says, and he doesn’t mean specifically scorpius, but he knows the reality of their situation. there may not be an option to keep them. albus feels his chest tighten at the words, and there’s no way to conceal the hopeful look that’s spread across his features, selfishly pretending that there is a chance that it can be just the two of them. al’s hand still cups the other’s cheek, index finger moving to trace the outline of scor’s lips, and he wants to tell him to not make a fool of him, beg him not to be the person his family believes he his. but instead, al’s grin widens, a breathy laugh escaping. “you flatter yourself, sweetheart,” he tells the other, gaze shifting from his eyes to his lips. “i know our limits here.” a painful truth, but a truth nonetheless that albus is still working towards accepting.
what is the price of freedom, if not, loss ? there can only be one, traue path that they both can take, and it’s one that diverges : following fate’s cruel hand as it ruptures, and takes … unforgiving even to the kindest of souls. unfortunately for them, only one of them possess such innocence. in another life, far unlike this one, perhaps things could have been different. maybe, just maybe, they wouldn’t have been so destined to miss each other by the flicker of dawn, and the setting of dusk. stars don’t belong in the morning light. “ you’re being dramatic. as if you have a villainous bone in your body. you’re all the best parts of everyone you’ve ever met, “ and he means it with all his heart - kisses every bone he could set his sights on, nipping at the open collarbone as his teeth even attempt to leave imprints, remnants of himself within its rigidity. if this is all we’re going to have, i shall will it to live within you forever. selfishly, tirelessly, wholly only me. “ how terribly cynical, and unpotter of you. what happened to the blind optimism of a family full of gryffindors ? “ the spark in his eyes glimmers, tease slipping off his tongue a silkened reprieve from the fate awaiting them beyond the guarded lands. ( but it’s not real, and you don’t exist - and i can’t recall the last time i was kissed. ) “ but you’re different, aren’t you, love ? you’re clever, and you expect the worst so you can guard your heart … lock it away from me ? “ he doesn’t see even a sliver of resemblance to the rest of albus’ family : not when there’s a beast beneath the boards that can be lured out if he wills it to. so far ? scorpius has never known failure, not when the game has been the only thing he’s ever truly known.
there is no stronger weapon than one's mind, and no amount of magical talent would be able to exchange itself for a fortitude of the mind. he's locked the door once before, but it seems as if a screw has gone loose … and there's no better time to jam it back into place than now. some may see it as rather extreme, even, dangerous — to allow someone else into your mind, even in attempts to battle against it, is to be stripped away to your very marrow …. beating heart torn to make a show of your fragile mortality, while your captor remains iron-clad, and armoured. exposed for @ichorled to see, another reminder of who is not only older, but all the more wiser. “ — i still don't understand the need of this, father. i've never failed you before. especially not with this, ” and, yet, the prodigal heir dutifully sits. a monster, and his maker — a chained pup, and a freed wolf — a son, and a father inching closer to being sworn enemies than family … fighting for opposite ends of a war that has tainted their blood beyond repair. a love that is forged out of sacrifice, and duty, is not dissimilar to one born out of revenge — as his father continues his exploits shrouded in mystery, he follows his own. making a mark on the world as the elder had been, only his is just beginning. “ there is nothing of me that you haven't already seen. you've made that quite clear, ” tone pointing towards the letters, an incident scorpius hasn't easily forgotten even from days past. his wand sits far from his reach, utterly defenseless in the face of the other. the closest they've been in years, the longest time they've spent with each other past his thirteenth year … is spent in the confines of the malfoy cellar — where his screams would not be heard even if he were to cry, and wail. thankfully, he doesn't have any more tears left to shed. “ what are you waiting for, then ? hardly the time to ask for my blessing, now, is it, father ? ”
it was as if the tales his mum had foretold manifested themselves into reality ; brought to life again by the resurrection stone … @ichorled, who was presumed as good as dead, is standing before him like a ghost who had finally returned to his flesh, and bones. there hasn't been a day that has passed where his thoughts, as haunting as they have been riddled in gut-churning guilt, been plagued by the last sight he saw of hugo. taken by the dark, never to be seen again for two years. oh, cousin, dear friend, shared blood, laughter, and ambition all the same : how you've grown without me. “ it's you. it's really you, ” there was no hesitation in his step as two of james' legs swing over the other, immediately pulling the other into a hug. face buried in his cousin's neck, breathing in the scent he's grown rather unfamiliar with. hugo's figure, improbably bound by immeasurable pain, and anguish, is held in his arms within a tightened fervour. he's here, he's here, he's here. “ hugo, i — ” james only pulled back for a moment, emerald glistening with an unmistakable sheen : to have a brother return to you, just when many have told you that all hope is lost ... this is why he will never lose faith. miracles can come from anywhere, especially when you least expect it. those who are lost, will return, and those who have been wronged, will be avenged. he will see to it himself, even if it's the last thing he does. “ i can't believe it. i still can't, it — it's a fucking miracle … ” his hand steadied on hugo's shoulder, and he takes a step back ... allowing for the other to have some much-needed space as james fully takes in the reality of unwavering belief. “ welcome home, "
when albus had agreed to meet scorpius, the last thing he had expected to do was stay. he tried to keep his resolve, the one that he had put on while he had been writing to scorpius. he would nod to whatever pretty lies scorp would tell him, pretending that he actually didn’t want to believe him, before going back to his home. but none of it lasted, al falling instantly for the words and promises that came from the other’s lips. al doesn’t know how it went from a simple conversation to being in the middle of the lake, and at first, he had been nervous about scor’s reaction to the new scars sprinkling his torso. the healers had tried their best to stop it from scarring, but he vaguely remembered them saying that the time it had taken to get back from the manor to their safehouse had done too much for them to fix anything. al is always self-conscious when it comes to moments like these, and being without walls around scorpius scared him at first, worried that something as simple as an injury would deter the other. al lets scorpius lead, and al savors having to not make any decisions, and he realizes that maybe he did need to get away from the order, if only for however long scorpius will have him, to distract from the harsh reality that waits for him when he goes home. his head tilts to the side, giving scorpius more area, selfishly wanting more and more. the irony isn’t lost on him, the one where the safest place he’s felt in days is in the arms of someone who should be his enemy. while albus certainly has said less favorable things about and to scorpius, the only thing he can think of is how there’s barely any space between them and the brushing of his lips and teeth along the side of his neck. there is something so familiar about it, and he assumes it’s because he has dreamt, both awake and in his sleep, about being close to scorpius like this. his breath hitches as the other continues, laughing as he reaches a part where even he didn’t know would be sensitive to the touch. at the words, al pauses, though his blue eyes are dark as he meets the other’s. he wants nothing more than to agree, a hand reaching up to rest in the nape of his neck. “there is only you,” he tells him as his hand moves to cup the other's cheek. it feels too vulnerable, but it’s just them in the water, and for a moment, albus thinks everything will be okay. “but i will make that promise when you can too.” he knows it’s wishful thinking, a dream that will never be achievable, but he wonders if maybe for just a moment, he and scorpius can pretend.
the scars littering albus' skin are traced with careful precision, stars drawn across every patch of healing flesh : soft utterances of just how precious the boy in his arms truly is. hold never once wavering, every kiss a reminder that whoever drew their wand to litter the other's skin with remnants of just how divided they truly are, will meet their end by his hands. ( do you think you'll kill for me one day ? — yes, of course, i will, my darling ). scorpius meant every word his quill scribed into existence, ink made immortal on paper spoke nothing but the truth he can never bring himself to utter … not when their future lies on a shaky balance. the precipice of which has been tipped by the hands of his father — a warning he's ignored in favour of this … them. far too many constellations may adorn the night sky, but what use is there to look up to the heavens when divinity has manifested itself into the fragility he holds in his arms ? “ ah, touché, love. you want to play it that way ? it's not enough that you stole me away ? “ canines nipping into bruised flesh, marking every inch of visible skin with remnants of him. limbs tangled within one another's … not knowing where one ends, and the other begins. almost as if divine intervention hasn't regarded the pair of them as a tragedy quite yet. “ you're lucky you're so fucking pretty, ” the tease in his tone filters through a throaty chuckle. hot breath ghosting over albus' skin, hands memorising every dip, and curve, of a body he's grown rather selfish of. ( i think we're like fire, and water — i think we're like the wind, and sea ). “ let the stars be my witness, then, and seeing as i came here without my ring — “ his hand reaches for the other's resting on his cheek, curling the held fingers by the knuckles, and leaving a lingering kiss by the ring finger. “ there's no place i'd rather be, and no one i'd rather be with, than you, right now. looking at me as if you're begging to be ruined, ” ( you're burnin' up, i'm coolin' down — you're up, i'm down ). “ besides … i'd say i'm doing you a favour, by not making any promises, ” scorpius starts, head craning back as he fully faces the other male, brow quirking. “ because there's only one type of promise i'd make with you, and — i'm not sure how you'll feel about this one, ” tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth, brims curling as it drawls up into a lazy smirk … as if challenging albus to prove him otherwise. in this game, he's prepared to lose … if it means that he'll win in all the others. “ i don't think you'd want to be a malfoy, " ( you're blind, i see ).
a collection of incriminating and intimate prose, all addressed to his son, rest on his desk in pristine order . he's read each one front to back, in indiscriminate and scathing detail, despite the private content enclosed in them . after catching and dismissing his son and his son's surprising and dangerous conquest as the masquerade, draco took it upon himself to seek out all he's been missing regarding his heir . as it turns out, he's been missing a lot . the cost of providing a life of freedom, it seems, is risk, or impulsive blindness to it . but perhaps draco's father had it right in keeping him draco on such tight and uncomfortable reigns all his life . and perhaps it's time draco tightens the hold he has on his . he studies his son, in silence, unmoved, from his side of the office . he used to think him a mirror of himself, and hope for him to be anything but, but the contents of these letters, and his blundering and hedonist actions at the masquerade prove scorpius to be just the same, and a stranger all at once . “ sit . ”
not a suggestion, but a command … steady in his tone as his father tugs on the last strings he still has marionetting his son's back. was the reflection of his failure in keeping the captives at bay the reason why his father decided that it was time to finally start running for father of the year ? “ … still brooding, i take it — ” scorpius only manages a sigh as he sits himself on one of the chairs adjacent to the desk, pale blues finally catching sight of what this sudden audience truly meant, words pausing as the tension in the air grows unreasonably thick. dread is not the right word for it, rather — an almost instinctual response to off-handed parenting. ( they say you used to be so kind — i never knew you had such a dirty mind ) they've been here before : perhaps, even, one time too many. scathing tongue parroting back inherited malice, icy hues staring back at one another as it reflects what once was against what could be. is this what family is supposed to be ? are they fated to repeat the sins of fathers, and sons past ? “ so privacy is the only luxury that we're unable to afford. i never took you as someone who cares for youth exploits, father, “ arm resting on either side of the rest, staring directly to draco's line of sight — just as his father taught him, never to falter. monster, meet frakenstein. “ what's next, then ? hidden cameras in my bedroom, servants tailing my every move ? ” the scoff that leaves him is accompanied by a roll of his eyes. ( did you find your bitch in me ? you're abominable socially — you're just a little bit too much like me ). “ … before you ask, no — there will be no baby out of wedlock. as she's told me. she's not one to lie, either, " even if you may not have any faith in anyone other than yourself. “ and yes, i'll be speaking to my betrothed about the arrangements. anything else i must do to please you, father ? "
