There's a breathless laugh as Albus' hands remain clinging to Scorpius wherever he can, fingers tracing patterns on his skin.

He feels spent and relaxed, more relaxed than he's ever been. Is this what it feels like? The pain mingled with the pleasure, and then suddenly he's aware of e v e r y thing.

"Who could think of Potions after that?" he asks, voice quiet, almost shy.