Snippet #2769675

“What is the most interesting story your dad has told you?”

If Albus started talking about his father, he would never stop. He had so many stories that he wished to share with everyone, so many little facts that no one ever considered to ask of Harry Potter except for his own son.

His favorite story was nothing like Piper’s, no. It had everything to do with Harry, it was the time he had to learn how to ride Sirius’ bike. He had shown Albus the memory on a Pensive once, but Albus always liked how he told it best.

Harry would mimic his own actions. He mounted the bike, only to have it fall on its side and pin him to the ground. He always said that the way he groaned and cursed. That was the first time that he had made fun of his own success at defeating Voldemort. He’d screamed at the top of his lungs that he had not defeated the Dark Lord just so a motorcycle could crush his legs.

That’s when Harry knew he would be alright. And Albus loved that.

Piper watched an array of emotions flash over Albus's face, though he said nothing. She imagined he was replaying the memory to himself.

“You know, sharing is caring.” She said with a smile, though the timid part of her told her not to pry. She squelched that feeling with a brutality she didn't know she had. Piper wanted to know Albus and she'd be damned if she was going to let embarrassment stop her.

Albus laughed softly. He shared his favorite stories with her, whispering softly in a way that made the area around them intimate. He told her about the time Harry had set the python loose on uncle Dudley just before his Hogwarts letters arrived. He shared the time Harry mistook Fred and George for a full month and the twins did nothing about it. He shared between laughs the stack of really bad poetry that he had written to Ginny.

Albus talked for so long that it startled him when a small, gentle house elf placed a hand on his knee.

“Master Potter, sir,” said the kindly creature. “It is nearly time.”

He stopped playing with Piper’s hair, his thoughts scattered in memories of his father’s life before the war. She was curled into him, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. Albus fought the feelings of embarrassment that trickled up his neck to his cheeks.

Clearing his throat, he nodded at the house elf. “Thank you, Peony. You can escort Ms. Longbottom back first.”

Piper was startled by the arrival of the house elf. Her lids heavy, she yawned and stretched as she disentangled herself from Albus. His stories had made her laugh so hard her face hurt, and the deep rumble of his voice had pulled her into such a comfortable state she had forgotten where they were. As much as she wanted to stay, she knew it was time to go back to reality.

Piper tugged Albus closer by the collar of his shirt before pressing her lips to his in a gentle, yet need filled kiss.

“Goodnight, sweet dreams Potter.” She said with a grin before she turned to follow the house elf.

Piper disappeared in a soft swirl of color as the elf disapparated. He stared at the spot where she had just stood, then looked out the window. The sky was black, but not pitch black as it would be during the witching hour.

Scorpius’ time was up.

In one swift motion, Albus stood. He checked his image, running a hand to smooth down his perfectly styled hair. He could feel the bags under his eyes forming, the exhaustion settling deep in his bones.

“First day will be a bloody fucker.”

Slowly, Albus made his rounds, collecting the most intoxicated of his schoolmates. He would tag them with a small charm and the house elves would take them back to Hogwarts Castle. Harry’s history with house elves and Albus’ surname granted him the loyalty of the magical creatures. They swore to keep the Potters’ secrets. Even the most dangerous ones.

It took him the better part of an hour to clear out the Shack. The parties had grown out of proportion. There was a mess of spilled drugs and alcohol, glitter and puke on the ground. A group of elves would stop by in the afternoon to clean it up, and Albus would join them after lessons.

He found Scorpius and Louis making out on the dance floor. Those two would not go to class, but they had to be back in the castle nonetheless. Scorpius shoved him aside hard when he attempted to interrupt.

“Malfoy, don’t make me stun you in front of my cousin.”

Scorpius flipped him off, but he knew better than to argue with Albus. It was Albus’ Shack now. Time was up and they had to head back to their dormitories before morning.

”Piss off, Potter,” he grumbled as he took Louis’ hand and allowed the tiny house elf beside Albus to take him by the elbow.
Sighing, Albus walked to the last two people in the room: Langston and Orion.

They were laying on one of the overly expensive, plush couches that Scorpius had brought in. Langston held Orion close to his chest, his fingers tangled in her hair. Orion slept soundly, her makeup smeared by kisses and sweat. On her arms were thin red trails. They weren’t deep enough to break skin, but the irritation still glared.

Albus’ heart clenched painfully. He looked from Orion’s abused arms to Langston’s drugged eyes. There was no use in telling him about Orion’s anxious tics. No use in telling him to make sure that she kept her nails short. He was too far gone, too far into his own sorrows and problems to see hers.

“Langston. Time to go.”

Albus did not stay to see them disappear.

“Master Potter,” came a soft, childlike voice from beside him. “All of the guest have been returned to their respective dormitories safely.”

Albus nodded, kneeling to take the hand of the young elf and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Thank you, Blossom. You’ve done exceptionally good work, as always.”

Blossom smiled at him, her big blue eyes glowing in the dim lights. “Master Potter should head back too.”

He nodded again. Albus was tired. Maybe he would sleep in tomorrow and miss the first lesson. Would it be too suspicious?

There was no sound, but Albus still heard the pounding of the bass in his head. He couldn’t stay in the Shack, not at the moment, not with the echoes of the party still bouncing off the walls.

He took Blossom’s offered hand. “Yes,” he said, “let us go home.”

They vanished. And the Shrieking Shack was eerily silent.

---

Thank you emotionless for the lovely words