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Scorpius laughed so hard at his own misfortune when he discovered that Albus had one made for him.

They always made it a mission to make sure they never wore those silly pajamas on the same day for that would be utterly mortifying. Humiliation was always present in Hogwarts. Sometimes, however, humiliation and torment were their worst enemies for they could feel themselves drowning by their menacing presence. What was the time now? Ah, Albus felt the agonizing company of the green eyed monster, strolling about in the chilly atmosphere. He was not a jealous person. Okay, fine, the time his Dad bought Lily those dumb angel wings, and passed down his notorious invisibility cloak to James, he felt increasingly envious.

But, could you blame him? Now, however, he understood the significance of the blanket. He appreciated how much that blanket meant to his Father.

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At that time, it felt a normal kind of jealousy. The jealousy he felt with his siblings was entirely different to the jealousy he felt when Scorpius was with Rose. It felt different.

Whenever he saw Rose with Scorpius, he felt as if his head were about to explode, torturing him into madness. Scorpius was dressed in his slick Slytherin robes, looking dashing as ever. His eyelashes, attractively so, were fascinatingly long. It reminded Albus of the reason why he loved watching him read so much, for Scorpius would look as if he were sleeping, peaceful and still. They snogged? How often? How long? And most importantly: why? He suddenly felt wrath, anger and confusion, all rolled into one blaring, undefined, unspeakable emotion.

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Where were you? Scorpius sat down on the bed, gesturing with his eyes for Albus to follow him, and reluctantly so, he did. Instead of sitting directly beside him, like he normally did, however, he stalked over to his own unmade bed, and sat in front of him. Scorpius was too engaged in his own thoughts to notice the barrier that Albus had quietly created between them, for he grinned as he took off his shiny raven winged coloured shoes and snowy socks, calmly putting them away. He folded his socks carefully, biting his bottom lip, obviously plunged in unmistakeable concentration as he placed them gently in his empty laundry basket.

Scorpius was still dressed in his school uniform, and despite the uniform being all the same for every Slytherin, Scorpius seemed to stand out of the crowd. He looked far better, far braver and far more handsome than any of them combined.

a book of nights

There was just something about Scorpius that made him different than the rest. Albus looked affronted, his nostrils flaring. He stuck his chin in the air and folded his arms across his chest defensively. Scorpius shrugged playfully, a wayward smile twitching on the corner of his reedy mouth. You must have snogged your cousin, too, I suspect. Albus grabbed his pillow and hurled it towards Scorpius, smacking him right across the face. Scorpius laughed along with Albus, and did the same until both were breathless, panting with mirth.

Albus nodded slowly and pushed his jet-black hair back with his fists, feeling his face heat up simply by the thought of them slow dancing together. His soft hands touching her waist. The whole thing seemed so odd. So wrong. Quite out of place. Scorpius smiled pleasantly at his friend. I have always been fascinated with Dragons. The Ukrainian Ironbelly in particular is my favourite. I find it the most intriguing. Can you believe that? He took his second pillow and threw it toward Scorpius, who was quick this time, and dodged it.

Scorpius watched the pillow that Albus had thrown at him fall to the floor, his grey eyes were unreadable. He seemed to be caught in some sort of trance, clearly deep in thought. Scorpius clipped his finger in his mouth, chewing on his nails absentmindedly, seemingly unaware of what he was doing. Talk to me. This is…exciting. Her brunette hair was bound in three thick braids, spilling onto her hips. There was a sinister smile slithered on her impish face as she watched Albus stroll into the Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom with Scorpius in tow, who was trudging passively with four heaving textbooks which kept swaying back and forth in his tiny arms, not paying any attention to her, too engrossed in his book to even look up.

She stuck her chin out as she spoke, her tone unmistakably deplorable. At that remark, Scorpius immediately lifted his gaze off of the book, turning towards the crooning group of Gryffindors but spun away almost instantly the next second, flushed with embarrassment. He continued looking down at his book, pretending he could not hear a word, when in reality, each word they had said sliced through his soul like knives.

The rest of the students only smirked and laughed in agreement, joining in on the unsettling anguish. The relentless roar of laughter was powerful enough, violent enough that Scorpius could have sworn he was bleeding out. Bleeding out until he was face to face with the angel of death. Albus glared at Polly with deepest loathing, he curled his hands into fists, his nails biting savagely into his flesh. He was useless with spells. Perhaps if he really tried, he would be able to hex her.

What was the point of that? She was faster, stronger. Dad always told me to ignore them. Quickly, Albus pulled out his wand from his robes, aiming directly at Polly, who was now turned to her boyfriend, Karl Jenkins. Nothing extreme. Just give me a second to think.

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Albus felt his hand quiver; trepidation and regret settled in the pit of his sinking stomach. His head was spinning; he felt his knees wobble together and lock like bricks. Say something, he told himself. Oh right; Expelliarmus! But, he knew the truth, just like everyone else had: Albus was nothing like his Dad. He was the disappointing son.

The Inevitable Fate of E & J: Book 1 by Johanna Randle

The son his Dad wished he never had. The spare. He was ruddy at spellcasting; everyone knew it. It would be a miracle if he could, but there was no use. Or even worse, what if he does it and it turns out, the wand is facing the wrong way?

“Janesville” and the Costs of American Optimism

Scorpius, as usual, was right. With great defeat, and a pang of hostility, he lowered his wand; his head hung low, too tired to pretend that he was okay. That he was a loser and always would be as long as he lived. Maybe that was the problem. That he was alive. Perhaps everything would be easier if he never woke up? Scorpius hastily put his books into his bag and stood beside Albus. Slytherin Squib! So he was right after all. There really was no use. If he was dead.