Put Your Curse In Reverse [Part 2]

Chapter 2 - Beetles

He wasn't frightened. He was—alert. He was...bursting with adrenaline. He was—

—Going to vomit. The motorbike cut sharply to the left; Scorpius let out a frightened squeal as his stomach plummeted and his body slid precariously on the slick seat. He squeezed his eyes shut and tightened his arms around Albus, gasping and panicked. He was gripping him so tightly that when they turned to the right a moment later, Scorpius hardly moved an inch; he merely swayed with Albus's body, the material of Albus's shirt now clenched in his fists.

"That was the last turn," Albus shouted over the rumbling engine. "I promise!"

Right. He could let go now. No more turns. But...no, he was not going to take any chances. Better to stay put. He cautiously lifted his face from Albus's shoulder, took one look at the blurring landscape, and immediately buried his face back into the crook of Albus's neck. His taller height meant his body was practically engulfing Albus's smaller one at this point, but if Albus minded, he wasn't showing it. Scorpius felt a swell of admiration for his best boyfriend at how well he was handling both operating the odd machine and not projectile vomiting.

"You all right back there?" Albus shouted.

"Yep. Yep. Fine as wine. Fine as a sublime wine in the summertime. Fine as—oh!"

He gave another start as the motorbike leaned towards the right. He was certain he was gripping Albus to the point of pain now, but he couldn't get his muscles to relax. His legs were quivering. Albus must've felt his trembling because their speed quickly decreased until they were at more of a crawl. He felt a hand press against his thigh.

"Better?"

His heart did that thing—that Albus thing. Where it felt heavier than usual, fuller than usual. And it made the back of his throat feel narrower. He nodded against Albus's neck, grateful and abruptly emotional.

"Much," he squeaked.

The sound of the passing wind was still loud, but the sound of Albus's pulse was louder. With his face pressed into his neck, he could hear the hard, irregular thump, thumpthumpthump, thumpthump, thump of Albus's heart. He could feel it against his chest too, pumping wildly enough that it was distinctly discernable through Albus's back. Though whether that was from the force of Albus's heartbeat itself or his grip, he wasn't sure. He was holding him rather closely. He probably would've been able to feel it even if they weren't in the middle of a possibly deadly motorbike excursion.

Scorpius took in slow, measured breaths and focused on that weird (lovely) heartbeat until he'd stopped shaking. His body relaxed; he let go of the now-damp material of Albus's shirt. Once he felt less frightened, he moved his chin to Albus's shoulder and tentatively peered out at their surroundings, now inching by instead of soaring. They'd circled around all the nearby villages. Scorpius could see the quaint warmth of Godric's Hollow twinkling just ahead. The pub they'd frequented nearly every week the past month was still a hub of activity, with blurry shapes entering and exiting the wooden doors at a surprising rate for such a small village. The Den wasn't strictly part of it; it existed on the far outskirts, isolated in the stretch between Godric's Hollow and a neighboring village, but it was close enough to be the easiest address. And, luckily, close enough that he and Albus could frequent it often.

When they came to a gradual stop outside of the pub, Scorpius had a difficult time moving his body. Albus—still enveloped in both Scorpius's armsand legs—was chained in place.

"I think we've merged into one now," Scorpius laughed, "I don't think I can move. My legs are jelly."

There was a brief silence. Albus's neck had grown warmer than it was before. Scorpius felt that Albus-thing happening in his heart again, and he accidentally tightened his hold. No, he chided himself, no, no. Wrong, Scorpius. You're meant to be letting go, not hugging tighter!