Chapter Text
Albus Potter was like any typical twenty-two-year-old man.
He was in his last year of Oxford University's pre-med program. The youngest of two boys, his older brother was one of his best friends. He technically had a younger sister of sorts after his aunt and uncle perished in a car accident ten years ago, leaving their daughter in the care of Al’s parents.
All the average things that anyone could expect of his life.
Well, he thought, that wasn’t entirely accurate. He lifted his fork filled with blackened roasted chicken, homemade pasta, and alfredo sauce to his mouth and looked across the table at the two men, giving each other coy glances as if they hadn’t been married for five years.
His father, Harry, made Albus feel like he was looking into the future. His unruly onyx hair was kept short and speckled with gray but still stuck up in the same way. He had the same emerald green eyes, though his father wore glasses while Albus religiously wore contacts. Beside his father was his stepfather, who was also his Uncle Charlie, his mum’s second eldest brother.
The two of them being together should have been a scandal, but outside of Al’s maternal grandmother, no one batted an eye when they announced they were together and in love a year after Al’s parents had divorced. Albus remembered the way his mother smirked in their direction at the announcement during a family dinner at his grandparent’s house all those years ago.
His parents had never been a love match; that was evident to anyone who knew them. Though, that probably had something to do with the fact that his father was gay and his mother was a lesbian, only thrust together because of his Grandma Molly insisting that they marry after his father impregnated his mother after they gave shagging a try.
But isn’t that how all great marriages start? And then end after ten years.
The sports broadcast on the telly flashed the latest predictions of the summer training for the various universities and how each tournament would play out.
“Unsurprising, the Prince and Princess of Wales again step onto the pitch of their respective Oxford teams. Prince Scorpius, standing at six feet five inches and weighing a substantial nineteen stones, is a force to be reckoned with.”
“His speed and strength make him someone we’ll want to monitor this year. Princess Lyra is on the girl’s team, the complete opposite of her brother, coming in at five foot four, but her agility and ability allow her to escape any situation. Not even a low tackle keeps her down; watch her as she strong-arms her teammate in this practice run. She blows right past her and into the try zone.”
“Well, one thing is for sure: this royal family is giving us more to talk about than how pretty their crowns look on their heads.”
“Did I tell you the news?” his father asked as the broadcast faded. His eyes bright as he looked at his husband, whose hair was still the red that the Weasley family was well known for.
Charlie gave Al a knowing smirk and winked, and Al couldn’t help but grin. With his broad chest and tattoos peeking out of his collar, anyone who met Charlie Weasley was shocked that the rough-and-tumble rugby coach was so soft-hearted for his husband and his family.
“What is that?” Al asked, happy to entertain his father, though the same couldn’t be said for his cousin beside him.
“The royal family is playing in the charity event!” His father nearly squealed, bouncing in his seat. “Prince Draco is going to be on the alumni team, and Prince Scorpius and Princess Lyra will be on the Oxford teams!”
“You’re not expecting us to come, are you?” a female voice interrupted, drawing Al’s attention to the girl he knew would be the only one to protest the invitation.
“It’s the royal family ,” his father emphasized as if Rose had missed the point the first time. “We have to go; it’s my first event as a professor since I got my position.”
Al’s father was the newest member of the criminal justice department at the University. After spending a solid career working for the London police department in his twenties, his father sought to do more for the profession and went on to get his doctorate.
“You're such a fanboy,” Rose drawled, not even attempting to hide how draining she found the whole idea. “I'm assuming you're coaching?” she asked, looking at her other uncle.
“Obviously,” Charlie said, winking at his niece before stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork. “I am Prince Scorpius’s coach.”
“I’m so jealous,” Harry whispered, his face going slack as if imagining getting out on the field with the giant blonde himself. Albus hid his laugh behind his napkin, but Charlie caught the gesture and winked at him again.
Rose was right. His father was a hopeless royal fanboy.
“Lovely,” Rose murmured, rolling her bright blue eyes and tossing her waist-length auburn curls over her shoulder. “I'm not sure why you're jealous; you are His Royal Highness’s bloody professor.”
Albus covered his mouth to hold in a snort, but it did nothing as his father turned his attention onto him as he observed the girl beside him. The smattering of freckles across her nose was the same as his mum's, inheriting them from her father along with the sky-blue eyes. However, the untamable curls and her olive complexion were from her mother, making her stand apart from the rest of their Weasley relatives, aside from James, who only took after his Potter genetics.
“It’s not like I get to interact with him beyond calling on him in class. I’m not even on a first-name basis like some people.” He eyed his husband, who only grinned ear to ear as he slurped a noodle into his mouth, getting sauce all over his thick red beard.
“And I’m never going to get to speak to Prince Draco unless his son tries to do something drastic to tank his grade. Even then, the dean would be involved, and I probably wouldn’t get an audience.” Harry moved his fork as if thinking for a moment this muttered. “No, wouldn’t be worth it.”
“Anyway,” Charlie sighed, dabbing at his mouth; the man had spoken with the crown prince on more than one occasion as the head coach. “We were hoping you two would want to go. You know, make it a family thing.”
Albus poked at his food for a minute before answering, his cheeks heating with the flush creeping up his neck. Like his father, Albus harbored a crush on the blonde royals, though he wasn’t nearly as forward about his fascination as his father.
“I volunteered to work the medical tent earlier this term, so I’ll be there, but I can’t watch with you since I’ll be on the pitch.” He kept his eyes downcast so as not to see his father's disappointment. The man could not understand what Albus got out of his pre-med classes. His entire adult life had revolved around law enforcement in one way or another, and Harry Potter couldn’t fathom that there might be a different way to help people.
Rose scrunched up her nose. “You volunteered a whole Saturday for that?”
“It was that or the family planning association tent at the Alumni reunion fair. Besides, have you seen the …” he cast a sideways glance at his father, “thighs on rugby players?” he finished, lowering his voice.
His father’s face turned red at Al’s statement because he was married to a rugby player. Charlie’s barking laugh filled the room, having heard Albus perfectly fine. Charlie leaned over, pressing a kiss to his father’s cheek, and whispered something in his ear that Albus was thankful he hadn’t heard.
She took a sip of her wine and tried desperately to ignore her two uncles seated across from her and didn’t answer.
“And you can use my name at the concession stand for free snacks,” Charlie coaxed, watching the girl plate her third helping of pasta. With the amount of food she consumed, it was beyond comprehension how she managed to stay so thin, though she was finally being blessed with some womanly curves that she enjoyed flaunting.
“Oh?” She looked up from the garlic bread she’d just snagged, looking from Charlie to Harry and finally to Al. “Now that’s a different story. I like free food and nice thighs.”
His dad dropped his head to the table in embarrassment. After all their family had been through, Albus wondered why his father avoided such topics.
His mum was married to another rugby player named Cho, and Grandma Molly's outrage at this had been so brutal that Albus hadn’t seen his maternal grandparents for two years. Had James been here, the conversation regarding rugby thighs would have been more graphic and included visuals. His brother had come screaming out of the closet shortly after high school and had never looked back, and Albus had never been in the closet.
After Rose had come to live with them when she was ten and struggling with the loss of her parents, well, there was very little that this family wasn’t willing to walk through together. She had been a terror and made their lives miserable while trying to settle into her new life without her parents and having to listen to her newly appointed guardians and essentially two new brothers.
But still, his cousin was his best friend, his ride-or-die. And always would be.
“I’ll send you Tiktoks,” Albus said before his father's noise cut him off. “ANYWAY! How are classes going, you two?” Al asked, smiling as Rose began talking about her creative writing class. Any more talk of rugby thighs set aside.