heartwarmingly chilling. [scorpius + albus]

[zii]

You and I, we've seen it all; chasing our heart's desire. But we go on pretending stories like ours have happy endings.

Albus had always thought that he sat rather nicely. He didn't say anything about it, of course, and had never made of show of the way he lowered himself, but all the same--he liked it. He would carefully cross his lower legs, and lean his hips to the left a bit so that his crossed legs were angled. After doing so, he would would place his right hand on his right leg, and then clasp his right hand with his left. It was all very precise, very delicate, and very formal. Albus did not slump, he did not slouch, he did not part his legs; he stayed in form like a model and let his eyes drop to his shoes, and that would be that. Speak when spoken to, smile when appropriate, laugh if necessary, leave the conversation to those around you--they liked that.

A small sigh left his lips as he did just that, minus the last bit. No one was here to entertain, and because of that Albus could let his head fall back, staring through tangled branches at a gray September sky. Huff, puff, let the air out, release the tension from your lungs and inhale again; rhythm that continued even when he didn't wish for it to be so. He remembers that as a child he'd let all the air out of his lungs then plug his nose and put a small hand over his mouth. He wasn't suicidal--don't think that--just enjoyed that little high he got right before his thoughts started getting fuzzy.

A small smile quirked Albus' lips; darling, just darling. The weather was getting colder, and the sun was hiding it's ugly head. The cool temperature did wonders for his temperament, and he felt himself getting more relaxed than he'd been in--far too long. Cool air bit his cheeks and nose, causing them to take on a rosy pink tint. His lips were probably blue, and his skin cold to the touch, but the weather couldn't have been more perfect. Letting his long fingers, pianist's fingers, uncurl, he yawned slightly, rubbing his closed fist across his trousers to warm it. Beautiful.

[scorpiusmalfoy]

Scorpius was cold, but that was a much preferable state of affairs to the one he’d been in previously. He’d needed to get out of the stuffy castle, clear his head. He’d been trying to do his charms homework - actually trying to do it for once, rather than sitting about looking into the book so that people would leave him alone. Tests he might not need to study for, but actually doing the homework was something else. He got the feeling Professor Arkwright would not be best impressed if Scorpius completed his homework in untidy scrawl outside the classroom five minutes before the lesson began again.

So he’d attempted to sit down and get on with it, but it just wasn’t working, He was too hot, complacent and all together uninteresting in the subject to do the work. And that was how he’d ended up in the grounds, his feet skimming over the dewy grass. At first he’d just intended to walk around the lawns, but the sight of the broom cupboard had been too much temptation. Most of the time he only got to fly when it had something to do with Quidditch, which he resented utterly. He wasn’t entirely sure that he was allowed to use a broom outside of the pitch, but right then, he didn’t care.

Unfortunately, the real reason he’d come outside was nagging at him, and he couldn’t really concentrate or enjoy the flight properly. Reluctantly, he put the broom back and set back off towards the castle. His original plan had been to go back inside and write there, but as he passed through the courtyard, he decided to stop and do it there. Maybe his brain would function better outside. There were a few people toing and froing, but Scorpius paid them no mind. Usually he was a people watcher, but he knew if he started doing that, he’d never knuckle down to his work.

Ignoring everyone else as best he could. Scorpius pulled the thick charms book out of his bag and flicked to the page he needed to be writing about. It was something utterly tedious and easy to master, but he decided he better read over the theory again before writing the essay, if he actually wanted to do it properly.

[zii]

The air felt so very good. Moisture hung in the air in clumps, miniature clouds, fog, swirling up in the sky, tainting the grey sky different shades, confusing and entrancing the schoolboy, as he watched furious winds, blocked by the castle walls, make the clouds whip and break. Albus could hear the wind, barely, whistling through far off trees. He mused for a moment, what the outside world would look like. Would the trees dance in the wind, or fight it with hisses and cracks? How would the whomping willow react? Would it find the weather amusing or annoying?

His hair, messy as black fire, fell haphazardly around his head, brushing over his eyes and curling behind his ears. Normally, the slytherin would be uncomfortable about his appearance, dishelved and disorderly as it was, but at this current moment nothing much could break his calm temperment, a smile twisting his lips and a a pleasant ease causing his eyelids to shut out the world, hiding his brilliantly green eyes and cutting the color out of his appearance. Nothing would steal this moment, woven from perfection, an escape from the hectic world from him.

...Except that. He blinked, once, twice, as crunching erupted around him. Startled from his day-dreamy state, his first reaction was to tense and eye the young boy, first or second who had sat down on the bench beside him uneasily. The boy's bag, heavy with Lord-knows-what inside, sat on a pile of once-perfect red and gold leaves, now smashed and shattered. The boy himself grinned at Albus unabashedly as he sat down, a badger stitched in gold on his robes.

Barely keeping the scowl off his face, the slytherin shrugged, standing and picking up his school bag without a word, moving off swiftly without a glance back at the boy, his bag being drug precariously through the dirt without a thought. It wasn't that he was upset at the young boy, and he cringed inwardly upon wondering if he'd hurt his feelings... But honestly, that had been his moment, and he felt a bit livid at having had it stolen.

With a small sigh, he turned, body swiveling as he gazed through the courtyard for the first time in nearly thirty minutes - oh.

Fabulous.

Snorting slightly, the small boy closed his eyes, recounting numbers, one through ten, in his head. Don't panic, breathe, you're a Potter and a slytherin, you have no need to get worried. Forcing a smile onto his face, the black haired boy moved closer to the blonde, his hands forced into his pockets tensely. With a whispered curse and a thought he leaned against the stone wall beside the bench that the blonde sat upon.

"Malfoy," he murmured, his voice breathy as he attempted to keep oxygen coming at a steady rate, refusing to panic or submit. "It's been a while."

OOC: buh.[/font][/sup]

[scorpiusmalfoy]

Scorpius’s eyes flicked up as he heard the sound of his name, spoken by an all too familiar voice. Albus Potter. His high spirits dropped a little. The two of them had been friends, once upon a time, but that had all gone wrong in ways Scorpius still couldn’t quite understand. Whatever had happened, Albus didn’t talk to him any more, so him suddenly deciding to break said vow of silence was a bit of a puzzle to the other Slytherin boy. Still, he wasn’t going to complain - he still liked Albus, or at least, he liked the boy he had been year or two back. If he had finally decided to drop his grudge, Scorpius was more than happy to return to amicable terms.

“Albus,” He replied, smiling reservedly, testing the water with the boy’s first name “It’s good to see you.” That was complete rubbish, of course - Scorpius saw Albus all the time, they were in the same house and year; it was hard not to see someone when you share most lessons and a dormitory. Still, he suppose the phrase was apt - the two of them hadn’t actually had anything to do with one another for a long time.

Albus was leaning casually against the wall, a smile on his lips, but Scorpius knew better than anyone that smiles could be deceptive. Still, it was verging on winter, and the stone must be cold on the other boy’s shoulder, so he shifted his bag from its place next to him on the bench, and gestured to the now empty space with his free hand “Would you care for a seat, or are you merely passing through?” Scorpius kept his voice devoid of all emotion, save the politeness that one usually found exchanged by strangers. It had been that long, he supposed, his thoughts a little bitter, the two of them were hardly more than strangers anyway.

[zii]

reply coming; i'm sick & the reply i wrote ended up having a paragraph rambling about how there was too much air and the ground looked like a lollipop .. buh. iono. >_>;