Word Count: 470
Written For: hp_humpdrabbles prompt: Puddlemere United
Character(s): Albus Severus/Scorpius
Summary: Albus goes to drastic measures to get Scorpius’s attention.
Albus hated Quidditch. It wouldn’t have been so bad, his meer disinterest in it, had his whole family not been obsessed with the sport, with sports in general. He had no coordination himself, and they never did take the hint that he would never change his mind about the sport, about sports in general. But years of arguments about it with both friends—but your father was the youngest Seeker in a century, and your mother is a professional Quidditch player—and family wasn’t the worst part of Quidditch.
The worst part was that Quidditch was the only thing Scorpius Malfoy ever talked about.
And Albus was desperate to have a conversation with him. Any conversation. Even if that meant talking about Quidditch. On top of Albus’s lack of coordination, he was also pants at starting conversations, and they were three weeks away from leaving Hogwarts forever. Which was why he ordered a Puddlemere United jersey—Scorpius’s favorite team—and was wearing it, while sitting stiffly and pretending to read on his bed.
Scorpius entered their dorm room and walked passed without a glance at Albus. Albus held his breath as Scorpius search through his trunk for something, and then a moment later stood and walked passed again; that time with a brief, polite nod in Albus’s direction. Scorpius stopped abruptly, turning to eye Albus’s new shirt. Albus’s heart raced as Scorpius addressed him.
‘Puddlemere United, yeah?’
‘Yeah,’ Albus said.
‘It’s my favorite team.’
Albus nodded. ‘I know.’
At that Scorpius continued his way to the door, as Albus muttered to himself, ‘Great talk,’ and attempted to actually read the book in front of him.
‘Is talking really what you wanted?’
Albus jumped as Scorpius was there right next to his bed, and not out the door and on his way to the common room as he had envisioned.
Then Scorpius kissed him. ‘You are unbelievably hot in that jersey, you know?’
He must not have wanted an answer, because he was kissing Albus again making one impossible. The answer was “no, he did not know”, but Albus wasn’t going to argue. He had a million questions running through his head, but he wasn’t going to voice those either.
Not just because his mouth was otherwise occupied kissing Scorpius’s, and then every spot of exposed skin it could find once Scorpius stopped to take a breath. But also because, as Scorpius suggested, talking wasn’t really what he wanted, and Scorpius must have been a mind reader because he was giving Albus everything he wanted. Though once he was finished and Albus lay next to him sweaty and relaxed, Albus did ask:
‘How did you know?’
Scorpius laughed. ‘You hate Quidditch.’