marguerite_26 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
marguerite_26) wrote2008-06-07 04:37 pm
marguerite_26) wrote2008-06-07 04:37 pm
Entry tags:
Harry/Scorpius Fic - Seventeen
ok, this fic is a long time coming. I've been writing it on and off since November. It's a rare pair, so I have no idea if anyone will actually read it. Regardless, I feel a sense of accomplishment for having finally completed it. Here it is: my naughty little Harry/Scorpius.
Title: Seventeen
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, age disparity, not chan, explicit sex, naughty words (all the best stuff)
Word Count: ~4100
Pairing: Harry/Scorpius
Summary: Scorpius Malfoy stood in the doorway to Harry’s study, his hair gently mussed and his open nightshirt exposing his tattoo. Harry knew immediately there would be trouble.
Author's Note: Beta credit (again!) to the wonderful![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
anthimaeria. Thank you, sweetie. Any mistakes are mine because I couldn’t stop fiddling with it.
Seventeen
Scorpius Malfoy stood in the doorway to Harry’s study, his hair gently mussed and his open nightshirt exposing his tattoo. He ducked his head and smiled coyly, making Harry half-hard in an instant. Those haunting silver eyes were dancing with mischief tonight, and Harry knew immediately there would be trouble.
Even in his own home, there was no escaping the presence of the young man who unsettled him as no one else could. For the last year, Harry’s only reprieve was to ignore his unnerving problem, but that became very difficult when that problem stood half-dressed in his doorway.
It had started innocently enough last summer on a family trip to the beach.
Scorpius and Albus had been whispering all morning, keeping out of earshot of James. Once James took off after a group of bikini-clad volleyball players, Albus nodded impatiently. “Let's see it.”
After moment to check that James was truly gone – apparently fathers were not on the radar at the moment - Scorpius peeled off his shirt.
Albus gasped.
“Like it?” Scorpius asked, knowing the answer already. He bent his neck to look at his own chest. “Told you it was cool,” he said with pride.
Albus took a step closer, hand outstretched but too timid to touch.
Harry wasn’t sure what it was about the conversation that sparked his interest. There was something different about Scorpius. He seemed older somehow, more mature. Maybe it was a hickey he was showing off as a trophy. Harry blushed as he realized that the boys were eyeing something on Scorpius’s lower abdomen… a hickey there would be exactly the type of trophy a sixteen-year-old boy would show off – though clearly not appropriate to display on a family outing. Lily was after all not yet fourteen. He was about to get up and request Scorpius heal the mark when Albus spoke again.
“It’s … is it sleeping?”
Scorpius laughed. “Yeah, the bloody thing sleeps a lot. You can touch it if you want. You’re not going to wake it up. Sometimes it catches my mood, like if I’m angry or excited.” Scorpius gave a loud laugh, as if he just remembered something. Lost in the memory, Scorpius placed a hand on his waistband. “You wouldn’t believe what happens when I--” Scorpius stopped, realizing for the first time he was in earshot of a parent.
Scorpius looked up at Harry. For a blink, he looked abashed, but that expression quickly dissolved as his pale eyes held Harry’s. As Scorpius’s blush faded, Harry’s rose. Scorpius narrowed his eyes, not in anger, but in something different; understanding.
Harry didn’t dare run away like he wanted to. Finally, cheeks burning, he had ducked behind the Prophet and vowed to mind his own business when it came to Scorpius Malfoy.
In retrospect, he did no such thing. His memories of that day were tinged with Scorpius. Scorpius emerging from the waves, Scorpius’s long and lean body stretched out on a towel. He remembered sand stuck to a sunburned shoulder, a sprinkling on his inner thigh, clinging to the curve of his arse. Details that he shouldn’t have noticed because he had no reason to pay such close attention. But he had noticed. The child Albus invited for a sleepover five years ago had disappeared and somewhere along the line this fit young man had taken his place.
Mostly, he remembered that tattoo. It was a silver-green scorpion, the size of a hand. He remembered how it scampered across a flat stomach, curled up beside a rosy nipple, lazily stretched out beneath a hipbone nearly hidden from sight. No matter how he tried, his memories of that day proved impossible to get rid of. He was left to hate and cherish them in equal measure long afterward.
Harry's reverie was jarred by Scorpius's polite knock on the open door of the study.
“Scorpius,” he acknowledged finally, careful to sound neither inviting nor rude.
“Mr. Potter.” The shy tilt of the young man's head partially hid his face behind wisps of pale gold. Harry couldn’t fathom why Scorpius would give any pretence of bashfulness; especially not after the scene with Baddock. Since then, it seemed that Scorpius’s smirk hadn’t disappeared for a moment. Until now.
The Baddock incident had occurred over Christmas holidays just past. Harry had arrived at Malfoy Manor to pick up Albus, and one of the Malfoys' house-elves had informed him ‘Master Albus’ was in the drawing room. Unfortunately, Harry misguessed the direction to the drawing room.
After opening the first door he came upon, Harry knew immediately he should have knocked.
Young Baddock, another Slytherin in Albus’s year, leaned against a large bookshelf, eyes shut, pants around his ankles. Kneeling in front of him was a pale blond.
Harry coughed in surprise and the two burst apart.
Baddock’s eyes widened in horror as he recognized Albus's father. He babbled a mix of denials, apologies and explanations while he fumbled with his trousers.
In comparison, Scorpius sat comfortably on the floor, a slow smirk burgeoning. He lifted his hand and made a show of wiping his mouth across the back of it, never breaking eye contact with a stunned Harry.
Gobsmacked by the flirtatious look in Scorpius’s eyes, Harry had backed quickly out of the room, mumbling "Sorrywrongdoorsorrylookingforalbus," as Scorpius chuckled and waved him in the direction of the next door on the right.
“Sir?” Scorpius said, bumping Harry out of another memory in the quickest way possible.
The boy’s tongue was pure evil, Harry thought; he knew just how to put a slight lilt to sir so it shot right to a man’s cock. Thankfully, Harry's mastery of Occlumency was sufficient for him to know that Scorpius could not possibly see what he was thinking. Thoughts of being hot and hard, down on his knees, up against the wall, thoughts of come and sweat and dirty words - thoughts that Harry couldn’t possible justify having about a boy less than half his age.
Harry downed the rest of his tumbler of brandy and placed it gently on his desk. With far more attention than necessary, he saved his spot and closed his book. Turning to his unexpected guest, Harry asked, “Too anxious for your big party to sleep?”
Harry prayed he sounded casual, in a best friend's father sort of way. Why he ever agreed to host a joint party for Albus and Scorpius’s 17th birthdays, he'd never figure out. He needed to get as far away from that boy as possible.
Except he couldn’t seem to get far enough.
Scorpius took a step into the study. “I guess I am a bit restless tonight. I turn seventeen tomorrow.”
Harry nodded at the clock. “It’s half past midnight. You are seventeen,” he corrected, and instantly regretted it.
The instant Harry confirmed his age, Scorpius's face transformed. The innocent pretence was gone and something predatory had taken its place.
Instinctively, Harry backed away. His knees hit the back of his chair and sent him tumbling into it.
Scorpius tried and failed to hide a grin. Seizing the opportunity, Scorpius stalked around the desk, planting his arse on one of the few uncluttered spots.
“May I?” Scorpius held out the decanter of brandy and began to expertly pour a new glass for Harry. “Sir?” he said again, eyes delighting in Harry’s panic.
Harry idly wondered if anyone had ever said no to Scorpius when he asked like that - certainly not a long-since-divorced middle-aged wizard.
Harry must have nodded, because Scorpius was pouring himself a glass. A drop managed to escape and slowly made its way down the outside of the tumbler. Swiping it away with one finger, Scorpius then sucked the finger in his mouth, releasing with a loud pop.
Harry's cock leapt at the sound.
The silence that followed was only broken by Harry’s ragged breathing. He reached for his own glass and sipped some liquid courage, feeling like a hunted animal. He couldn’t very well stand up and leave without revealing his tented trousers, and he didn’t trust his voice to ask Scorpius to get out. It might just ask him not to.
Rather than return the tumbler to the desk, Harry held it in his lap, hiding his erection from prying teenage eyes. He closed his eyes to focus on willing either it or Scorpius away. Perhaps Scorpius just wanted a drink on his birthday, nothing more.
“To the age of seventeen, and all the opportunities it brings," Scorpius announced. But before Harry could register the intended toast, Scorpius’s glass knocked against his, which in turn bumped soundly against his aching cock.
Harry’s eyes flew open at the unexpected contact. Scorpius’s face was flushed, too close to his to be casual. He had one hand on Harry’s chair and was leaning so far forward he was barely touching the desk he’d been sitting on.
There was no way Scorpius was looking for a quick indulgent brandy tonight, Harry realized. Yet no matter how much maturity or sexual experience Scorpius boldly displayed, no matter how much Harry wanted him, no matter how long he’d fantasized about those skilled lips and tongue doing more than providing temptation, Scorpius was still a boy. He had a full year left of Hogwarts. He was a guest in Harry’s house. He was Al’s age, and he was Al’s friend.
Harry, on the other hand, was Head Auror. Father of three, reformer of the Ministry and vanquisher of Voldemort. No matter how flattered he might be, he could surely resist the advances of a seventeen-year-old.
“I’m not sure what you think is going on here,” he said. He rose to his feet quickly, forgetting to support his glass, which tumbled to the floor. But Scorpius took a step closer and cut him off by pressing a surprisingly soft kiss on Harry’s lips. Not a demand, simply an offer.
Harry grasped Scorpius’s shoulder and held him back, still not even half a meter apart, close enough to feel the wet heat and smell the alcohol on their combined breaths. The boy's slender shoulders felt fragile beneath Harry’s large hands; it would be a few years before that delicate frame transitioned to that of the striking man Scorpius was sure to become.
“Scorpius, this isn’t going to happen," Harry insisted. "I’m the same age as your father.”
Scorpius’s expression changed immediately to confusion; Harry softened his voice, knowing this moment was crucial. “Look, I could never--”
“I know you want me. I’ve seen you.” Scorpius narrowed his eyes and shook his head slightly, trying to find the words. “I’ve seen you watching me. When you think no one is looking your eyes are on my mouth, my hair, my arse. You can’t deny it.”
Had he been so obvious? Harry was completely taken aback. He was so shaken that he didn’t notice Scorpius moving, until it was too late. One finger had found his crotch, and slowly traced a line up his erection in the same way it had the brandy outside the glass.
Harry yelped in surprise. But before he could pull away, the finger was replaced by a palm that griped him firmly.
“You can’t deny it.”
The palm was pressing harder, rubbing him up and down, down and up.
Helplessly, Harry struggled not to press himself against the eager palm. A small groan escaped and his eyes flew open, darting to the wide open door of the study.
In a heartbeat, Harry’s wand flew to his hand, the door shut and a Silencing and Locking Charm shimmered momentarily. No matter what was happening here, discretion was critical. Scorpius dropped his hand from Harry’s crotch and looked at him, eyes wide.
“Merlin, that was incredibly hot.” Despite his words, Scorpius shivered. “When you do magic like that, it’s like you're a force of nature. I can feel myself tingling from the aftershock.”
Harry recognized that look on Scorpius’s face. Angry for the first time tonight, he snarled. “Scorpius, I’m not the great Harry Potter from your Chocolate Frog collection who has sparkly green eyes, likes treacle tart and conquers Evil.”
“You don’t like treacle tart?” Scorpius joked, still riding high from the residual magic.
Harry shoved Scorpius away, convinced he had figured out the boy's motive. “Go back to bed. Please,” he said, wondering where the hurt in his voice came from.
Scorpius’s face and neck turned a bright pink. When he finally spoke,, his voice was furious. “What? Because I joked about your favourite pudding?”
“Listen.” Harry said firmly, “You don’t know me. I am twice your age. Whatever it is you see in me, it’s not real. That Harry Potter doesn’t exist, except in hyped-up biographies.”
“That’s what you think? That I’m…” Scorpius ground out the words as though he was spitting pebbles. “That I’m in love with a myth? All I know that is that your magic makes my eyes roll back and your eyes haunt my fantasies and I want to grab handfuls of your crazy hair--”
Harry tried to cut him off then, but Scorpius would have none of it.
“I know you’re also the man who told Albus it was okay for a Potter to be a Slytherin. You told James you’d take away his Nimbus 3010 if he didn’t stop giving Al crap for being friends with me.”
Scorpius took a step forward and lowered his voice as the anger in the room faded into a different kind of tension. “I know you stayed awake by Lily’s hospital bed for three days after that idiot fed her a poorly brewed love potion,” he said, placing
a trembling hand on Harry’s cheek. “I know you were offered Minister last year and that you turned it down.”
An indistinct noise escaped Harry. Slowly, he was beginning to understand.
“And I think that was the bravest thing you’ve ever done.”
“How do you know that?” Harry demanded, his voice rising. Everyone had given him grief about that. Ginny, Hermione, especially Ron. No one had understood just how much he didn’t want to be Minister, or why.
Scorpius responded with a gentle kiss. And then another. “You weren’t the only one paying attention, you know. I know you.”
Harry’s breathing was erratic; his whole body was on fire as Scorpius’s words washed over him. His fury from earlier had been replaced with something else entirely.
“I also know you wish my father was a better man, but you don’t treat me any differently for it.”
Harry stood silently as Scorpius kissed his lips, then jaw, then neck. Nimble fingers began to unbutton his shirt. Harry wondered at the young man’s composure until Scorpius got to the last button and Harry felt just how badly those fingers were shaking.
Harry grasped them tightly in his own, and Scorpius looked up, confused. His eyes were now bright and watery with equal measures of lust and panic.
Placing his hands on either side of Scorpius’s head, Harry pulled him close, trying to put everything he couldn’t voice at the moment into his scorching kiss. For the first time in years, he felt understood, appreciated. This boy, this young man before him was going to know how grateful he was.
“You’re a great kisser, sir,” Scorpius said with the devil’s own smile, confident again in a flash.
Harry pulled away for a moment to wrestle off the rest of his own shirt, then grabbed Scorpius by the collar and plundered his mouth, again.
“Do you know what that does to me, Scorpius?” Harry yanked Scorpius’s shirt off his shouldered and pressed their naked chests together. They stood chest to chest, hip to hip, with Scorpius barely an inch taller, their bodies fit perfectly together.
“This is what you do to me.” Harry pressed forward, his hard cock finding Scorpius’s immediately. Scorpius gasped and tilted his head back.
Harry pounced on the exposed neck, licking and biting, while his hands trapped Scorpius’s in the tangle of his nightshirt, keeping him pressed tightly against Harry’s slow friction below.
“Harrrrry,” Scorpius gasped “Please, stop, I’m… I don’t want to come like this.”
Harry let go reluctantly but thrilled to finally be in control – or whatever passed as control in this situation.
Harry’s voice was thick with need as he spoke, “I don’t want you to come like that either. I really want to see what your little tattoo does when I wrap my lips around your cock.”
“Oh God,” Scorpius whimpered, “I got that a year ago. And you remember--”
Slipping his hands underneath Scorpius’s waistband, Harry paused. “And I’ve been wondering about it ever since. Are you sure you want this?”
Harry didn't have to wait long until he heard “Merlin, yes, please. Now.” And pyjama bottoms, pants and he himself slid to the floor in unison.
One hand held Scorpius's cock straight; Harry took a minute to admire it before plunging forward, stopping only once to nestle his nose in golden curls.
Scorpius staggered, but Harry grabbed his hips and steadied him. Looking up, he discovered the green and silver scorpion skittering around the boy's navel. God, he loved that tattoo.
Harry sensed that Scorpius would not last long. He was quivering and muttering nonsense already, trying desperately to stave off the inevitable.
Taking one slow pull upwards, Harry quickly teased his tongue in the slit and then swallowed the cock with another swirl of his tongue. He repeated the process again and then again, Scorpius grunting and bucking with each move. On the third time he released Scorpius’s hips and pressed a finger against Scorpius’s opening, just as the erection hit the back of his throat.
Several things happened at once. Harry’s finger found not a tight ring of resistance to tease, but an already slick hole, prepared and waiting for him. Harry groaned around the cock in his mouth as he slid the finger in. Scorpius let out a shout and exploded in Harry’s mouth.
Harry was so distracted by the tight warmth around his finger and the pulsing of the cock in his mouth that he almost missed the scorpion’s reaction.
It was amazing. The tattoo twitched and quivered as it changed colour, shimmering waves of green and silver turning to red and gold. The light emanating from it was dazzling, reflecting in ripples along Scorpius's naked chest. Harry raised his eyes to meet Scorpius’s, then both returned to see the last of the red fade back into green.
Harry released Scorpius gently, and sneaked a final lick as he pulled away.
Scorpius pulled him to his feet, kissing him repeatedly, quick hurried pecks mixed with whispers of praise and gratitude and an embarrassed apology for being too quick.
Harry laughed. “You’re seventeen, Scorpius. I’m going to be very jealous of your recovery time in a minute.”
Scorpius smirked. “Yes, you are.” And he flicked the button of Harry’s trousers. “Now let’s see what we can do about this.”
Harry knew where this was heading and he had to know. “Scorpius,” Harry asked, gently. “Are you a… have you ever let someone…”
“Fuck me?” Scorpius teased, amused by Harry’s babbling.
“Scorpius,” Harry admonished. “This is important.”
“You know what you said about ‘sir’? How it gets you? You say 'Scorpius' like no one else. When I hear you say it during tea or watching Quidditch or at the Three Broomsticks on a Hogsmeade weekend, I just want to do a thousand dirty things to you, it doesn’t matter who else is in the room.”
Scorpius stepped forward, bent his head and slipped a nipple between his teeth. He sucked and bit and licked until Harry whimpered. He looked up into Harry’s hooded eyes. “I’ve only ever wanted one man inside me…sir,” he said, raising an eyebrow in challenge.
Harry wished he could Apparate them both to his bedroom, but he didn’t trust himself at this moment. He looked around; he had a desk, a chair and a floor to choose from. Scorpius’s first time wouldn’t be down pillows and silk sheets, but he’d make it better than any fumbling teenager could.
He threw a Warming and a Cushioning Charm onto the plush leather chair, while Scorpius kicked off the remainder of his clothes and waited eagerly for instructions. His recovery time, Harry noted, was indeed impressive.
“Kneel on the chair, rest your elbows on the back.” Harry instructed as he stripped.
He leaned into Scorpius and licked the shell of his ear. “You look gorgeous like that, your pretty arse on display.” Scorpius wiggled and Harry gave him a slap.
“But a bit high for our purposes, I think.” With another flick of his wand, the chair lowered several inches. The next time he leaned, in his cock bumped nicely against Scorpius’s arse cheek.
Harry’s finger trailed down Scorpius’s spine and along his cleft. “It was very presumptuous of you to come here prepared.”
Scorpius swallowed hard as he felt two slick fingers pushing in. “I wanted you to, uhhh think I was ready.”
Spoken like a child, Harry thought, desperate to appear ‘old enough.’ Scorpius may have come prepared but he was still a virgin. A teenage virgin. Fuck. Harry let himself panic at the reality of the moment.
But any guilt dissolved the instant Harry found the spot he was looking for and Scorpius cried out. Nghhh.
He hit it a couple more times before Harry pulled out and added a third finger.
Scorpius whimpered with each trust. Nghhh.
“Are you ready?” Harry asked, breathless.
Scorpius gasped and pressed back against the stretching, teasing, burn of Harry’s fingers. Nghhh. “Please.”
Harry removed his hand, slicked his cock and lined up.
Slowly he pushed himself into that tight, tight heat. He rocked back and forth, the tiniest of thrusts, in and out, pushing a little further each time, until finally his balls smacked and he stilled.
He held tight to Scorpius’s trembling shoulders, spilling out words, whispering nonsense. Fuck, want you, feel so bloody amazing, fucking amazing.
Finally, he couldn’t wait another second, he slid out and slapped back in.
Scorpius let out another Nghhh. Then his dirty mouth was shouting the naughtiest things: harder, faster, use me, pound me, fuck me.
There was no way he was going to last. He tilted his hips and after a few strokes, Scorpius cried out again.
The chair was not ideal, the angle was awkward, Scorpius was a bit too tall and it squeaked rather loudly but Harry managed to hit that spot with ever other stroke, or so. Scorpius’s demands were soon reduced to grunting and panting.
Harry reached forward and began pumping Scorpius in time with his thrusts.
“So good, ugh, so tight. ugh, Scorpius. God… going to…”
Harry’s balls tightened and he lost his rhythm. One, two more thrusts and he spilled himself with a final grunt. He rocked his hips gently, milking the last of his orgasm. He rested his head on Scorpius’s shoulder and caught his breath. It was only then that he realized that Scorpius had indeed come with him, christening his favourite chair.
Harry pulled out carefully and muttered a Cleaning Charm to both them and the chair. He sat down, and pulled Scorpius onto his lap.
“Are you okay?” he asked, running a hand up and down lithe arms and legs, every inch of soft, soft skin that he could reach.
“I’m fine, just a little, you know… sore.” Scorpius squirmed a little in Harry's lap. “But I’m all right.”
“That’s good.” Harry smiled, placed a kiss on Scorpius’s bare shoulders and added “Can’t have you walking funny, it’s your birthday party tomorrow.”
“And Al’s.”
“And Al’s,” Harry conceded. He had no desire to think about Al when he had his son's best friend naked in his lap.
“My father will be there,” Scorpius teased.
“So will my ex-wife.”
“So will Darren Baddock.”
Harry scowled at that, unprepared for the surge of jealousy that rushed through him.
Scorpius spotted the reaction immediately. “I promise not to make you too jealous," he offered. "Not on purpose, anyway.”
Harry rolled his eyes as he manoeuvred them both to standing. “We need to get some sleep.”
They dressed in silence. They needed to have a very long talk, Harry knew.
But not tonight.
~fin~
There is now a sequel: The Silver Knickers
Title: Seventeen
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, age disparity, not chan, explicit sex, naughty words (all the best stuff)
Word Count: ~4100
Pairing: Harry/Scorpius
Summary: Scorpius Malfoy stood in the doorway to Harry’s study, his hair gently mussed and his open nightshirt exposing his tattoo. Harry knew immediately there would be trouble.
Author's Note: Beta credit (again!) to the wonderful
anthimaeria. Thank you, sweetie. Any mistakes are mine because I couldn’t stop fiddling with it. Seventeen
Scorpius Malfoy stood in the doorway to Harry’s study, his hair gently mussed and his open nightshirt exposing his tattoo. He ducked his head and smiled coyly, making Harry half-hard in an instant. Those haunting silver eyes were dancing with mischief tonight, and Harry knew immediately there would be trouble.
Even in his own home, there was no escaping the presence of the young man who unsettled him as no one else could. For the last year, Harry’s only reprieve was to ignore his unnerving problem, but that became very difficult when that problem stood half-dressed in his doorway.
It had started innocently enough last summer on a family trip to the beach.
Scorpius and Albus had been whispering all morning, keeping out of earshot of James. Once James took off after a group of bikini-clad volleyball players, Albus nodded impatiently. “Let's see it.”
After moment to check that James was truly gone – apparently fathers were not on the radar at the moment - Scorpius peeled off his shirt.
Albus gasped.
“Like it?” Scorpius asked, knowing the answer already. He bent his neck to look at his own chest. “Told you it was cool,” he said with pride.
Albus took a step closer, hand outstretched but too timid to touch.
Harry wasn’t sure what it was about the conversation that sparked his interest. There was something different about Scorpius. He seemed older somehow, more mature. Maybe it was a hickey he was showing off as a trophy. Harry blushed as he realized that the boys were eyeing something on Scorpius’s lower abdomen… a hickey there would be exactly the type of trophy a sixteen-year-old boy would show off – though clearly not appropriate to display on a family outing. Lily was after all not yet fourteen. He was about to get up and request Scorpius heal the mark when Albus spoke again.
“It’s … is it sleeping?”
Scorpius laughed. “Yeah, the bloody thing sleeps a lot. You can touch it if you want. You’re not going to wake it up. Sometimes it catches my mood, like if I’m angry or excited.” Scorpius gave a loud laugh, as if he just remembered something. Lost in the memory, Scorpius placed a hand on his waistband. “You wouldn’t believe what happens when I--” Scorpius stopped, realizing for the first time he was in earshot of a parent.
Scorpius looked up at Harry. For a blink, he looked abashed, but that expression quickly dissolved as his pale eyes held Harry’s. As Scorpius’s blush faded, Harry’s rose. Scorpius narrowed his eyes, not in anger, but in something different; understanding.
Harry didn’t dare run away like he wanted to. Finally, cheeks burning, he had ducked behind the Prophet and vowed to mind his own business when it came to Scorpius Malfoy.
In retrospect, he did no such thing. His memories of that day were tinged with Scorpius. Scorpius emerging from the waves, Scorpius’s long and lean body stretched out on a towel. He remembered sand stuck to a sunburned shoulder, a sprinkling on his inner thigh, clinging to the curve of his arse. Details that he shouldn’t have noticed because he had no reason to pay such close attention. But he had noticed. The child Albus invited for a sleepover five years ago had disappeared and somewhere along the line this fit young man had taken his place.
Mostly, he remembered that tattoo. It was a silver-green scorpion, the size of a hand. He remembered how it scampered across a flat stomach, curled up beside a rosy nipple, lazily stretched out beneath a hipbone nearly hidden from sight. No matter how he tried, his memories of that day proved impossible to get rid of. He was left to hate and cherish them in equal measure long afterward.
Harry's reverie was jarred by Scorpius's polite knock on the open door of the study.
“Scorpius,” he acknowledged finally, careful to sound neither inviting nor rude.
“Mr. Potter.” The shy tilt of the young man's head partially hid his face behind wisps of pale gold. Harry couldn’t fathom why Scorpius would give any pretence of bashfulness; especially not after the scene with Baddock. Since then, it seemed that Scorpius’s smirk hadn’t disappeared for a moment. Until now.
The Baddock incident had occurred over Christmas holidays just past. Harry had arrived at Malfoy Manor to pick up Albus, and one of the Malfoys' house-elves had informed him ‘Master Albus’ was in the drawing room. Unfortunately, Harry misguessed the direction to the drawing room.
After opening the first door he came upon, Harry knew immediately he should have knocked.
Young Baddock, another Slytherin in Albus’s year, leaned against a large bookshelf, eyes shut, pants around his ankles. Kneeling in front of him was a pale blond.
Harry coughed in surprise and the two burst apart.
Baddock’s eyes widened in horror as he recognized Albus's father. He babbled a mix of denials, apologies and explanations while he fumbled with his trousers.
In comparison, Scorpius sat comfortably on the floor, a slow smirk burgeoning. He lifted his hand and made a show of wiping his mouth across the back of it, never breaking eye contact with a stunned Harry.
Gobsmacked by the flirtatious look in Scorpius’s eyes, Harry had backed quickly out of the room, mumbling "Sorrywrongdoorsorrylookingforalbus," as Scorpius chuckled and waved him in the direction of the next door on the right.
“Sir?” Scorpius said, bumping Harry out of another memory in the quickest way possible.
The boy’s tongue was pure evil, Harry thought; he knew just how to put a slight lilt to sir so it shot right to a man’s cock. Thankfully, Harry's mastery of Occlumency was sufficient for him to know that Scorpius could not possibly see what he was thinking. Thoughts of being hot and hard, down on his knees, up against the wall, thoughts of come and sweat and dirty words - thoughts that Harry couldn’t possible justify having about a boy less than half his age.
Harry downed the rest of his tumbler of brandy and placed it gently on his desk. With far more attention than necessary, he saved his spot and closed his book. Turning to his unexpected guest, Harry asked, “Too anxious for your big party to sleep?”
Harry prayed he sounded casual, in a best friend's father sort of way. Why he ever agreed to host a joint party for Albus and Scorpius’s 17th birthdays, he'd never figure out. He needed to get as far away from that boy as possible.
Except he couldn’t seem to get far enough.
Scorpius took a step into the study. “I guess I am a bit restless tonight. I turn seventeen tomorrow.”
Harry nodded at the clock. “It’s half past midnight. You are seventeen,” he corrected, and instantly regretted it.
The instant Harry confirmed his age, Scorpius's face transformed. The innocent pretence was gone and something predatory had taken its place.
Instinctively, Harry backed away. His knees hit the back of his chair and sent him tumbling into it.
Scorpius tried and failed to hide a grin. Seizing the opportunity, Scorpius stalked around the desk, planting his arse on one of the few uncluttered spots.
“May I?” Scorpius held out the decanter of brandy and began to expertly pour a new glass for Harry. “Sir?” he said again, eyes delighting in Harry’s panic.
Harry idly wondered if anyone had ever said no to Scorpius when he asked like that - certainly not a long-since-divorced middle-aged wizard.
Harry must have nodded, because Scorpius was pouring himself a glass. A drop managed to escape and slowly made its way down the outside of the tumbler. Swiping it away with one finger, Scorpius then sucked the finger in his mouth, releasing with a loud pop.
Harry's cock leapt at the sound.
The silence that followed was only broken by Harry’s ragged breathing. He reached for his own glass and sipped some liquid courage, feeling like a hunted animal. He couldn’t very well stand up and leave without revealing his tented trousers, and he didn’t trust his voice to ask Scorpius to get out. It might just ask him not to.
Rather than return the tumbler to the desk, Harry held it in his lap, hiding his erection from prying teenage eyes. He closed his eyes to focus on willing either it or Scorpius away. Perhaps Scorpius just wanted a drink on his birthday, nothing more.
“To the age of seventeen, and all the opportunities it brings," Scorpius announced. But before Harry could register the intended toast, Scorpius’s glass knocked against his, which in turn bumped soundly against his aching cock.
Harry’s eyes flew open at the unexpected contact. Scorpius’s face was flushed, too close to his to be casual. He had one hand on Harry’s chair and was leaning so far forward he was barely touching the desk he’d been sitting on.
There was no way Scorpius was looking for a quick indulgent brandy tonight, Harry realized. Yet no matter how much maturity or sexual experience Scorpius boldly displayed, no matter how much Harry wanted him, no matter how long he’d fantasized about those skilled lips and tongue doing more than providing temptation, Scorpius was still a boy. He had a full year left of Hogwarts. He was a guest in Harry’s house. He was Al’s age, and he was Al’s friend.
Harry, on the other hand, was Head Auror. Father of three, reformer of the Ministry and vanquisher of Voldemort. No matter how flattered he might be, he could surely resist the advances of a seventeen-year-old.
“I’m not sure what you think is going on here,” he said. He rose to his feet quickly, forgetting to support his glass, which tumbled to the floor. But Scorpius took a step closer and cut him off by pressing a surprisingly soft kiss on Harry’s lips. Not a demand, simply an offer.
Harry grasped Scorpius’s shoulder and held him back, still not even half a meter apart, close enough to feel the wet heat and smell the alcohol on their combined breaths. The boy's slender shoulders felt fragile beneath Harry’s large hands; it would be a few years before that delicate frame transitioned to that of the striking man Scorpius was sure to become.
“Scorpius, this isn’t going to happen," Harry insisted. "I’m the same age as your father.”
Scorpius’s expression changed immediately to confusion; Harry softened his voice, knowing this moment was crucial. “Look, I could never--”
“I know you want me. I’ve seen you.” Scorpius narrowed his eyes and shook his head slightly, trying to find the words. “I’ve seen you watching me. When you think no one is looking your eyes are on my mouth, my hair, my arse. You can’t deny it.”
Had he been so obvious? Harry was completely taken aback. He was so shaken that he didn’t notice Scorpius moving, until it was too late. One finger had found his crotch, and slowly traced a line up his erection in the same way it had the brandy outside the glass.
Harry yelped in surprise. But before he could pull away, the finger was replaced by a palm that griped him firmly.
“You can’t deny it.”
The palm was pressing harder, rubbing him up and down, down and up.
Helplessly, Harry struggled not to press himself against the eager palm. A small groan escaped and his eyes flew open, darting to the wide open door of the study.
In a heartbeat, Harry’s wand flew to his hand, the door shut and a Silencing and Locking Charm shimmered momentarily. No matter what was happening here, discretion was critical. Scorpius dropped his hand from Harry’s crotch and looked at him, eyes wide.
“Merlin, that was incredibly hot.” Despite his words, Scorpius shivered. “When you do magic like that, it’s like you're a force of nature. I can feel myself tingling from the aftershock.”
Harry recognized that look on Scorpius’s face. Angry for the first time tonight, he snarled. “Scorpius, I’m not the great Harry Potter from your Chocolate Frog collection who has sparkly green eyes, likes treacle tart and conquers Evil.”
“You don’t like treacle tart?” Scorpius joked, still riding high from the residual magic.
Harry shoved Scorpius away, convinced he had figured out the boy's motive. “Go back to bed. Please,” he said, wondering where the hurt in his voice came from.
Scorpius’s face and neck turned a bright pink. When he finally spoke,, his voice was furious. “What? Because I joked about your favourite pudding?”
“Listen.” Harry said firmly, “You don’t know me. I am twice your age. Whatever it is you see in me, it’s not real. That Harry Potter doesn’t exist, except in hyped-up biographies.”
“That’s what you think? That I’m…” Scorpius ground out the words as though he was spitting pebbles. “That I’m in love with a myth? All I know that is that your magic makes my eyes roll back and your eyes haunt my fantasies and I want to grab handfuls of your crazy hair--”
Harry tried to cut him off then, but Scorpius would have none of it.
“I know you’re also the man who told Albus it was okay for a Potter to be a Slytherin. You told James you’d take away his Nimbus 3010 if he didn’t stop giving Al crap for being friends with me.”
Scorpius took a step forward and lowered his voice as the anger in the room faded into a different kind of tension. “I know you stayed awake by Lily’s hospital bed for three days after that idiot fed her a poorly brewed love potion,” he said, placing
a trembling hand on Harry’s cheek. “I know you were offered Minister last year and that you turned it down.”
An indistinct noise escaped Harry. Slowly, he was beginning to understand.
“And I think that was the bravest thing you’ve ever done.”
“How do you know that?” Harry demanded, his voice rising. Everyone had given him grief about that. Ginny, Hermione, especially Ron. No one had understood just how much he didn’t want to be Minister, or why.
Scorpius responded with a gentle kiss. And then another. “You weren’t the only one paying attention, you know. I know you.”
Harry’s breathing was erratic; his whole body was on fire as Scorpius’s words washed over him. His fury from earlier had been replaced with something else entirely.
“I also know you wish my father was a better man, but you don’t treat me any differently for it.”
Harry stood silently as Scorpius kissed his lips, then jaw, then neck. Nimble fingers began to unbutton his shirt. Harry wondered at the young man’s composure until Scorpius got to the last button and Harry felt just how badly those fingers were shaking.
Harry grasped them tightly in his own, and Scorpius looked up, confused. His eyes were now bright and watery with equal measures of lust and panic.
Placing his hands on either side of Scorpius’s head, Harry pulled him close, trying to put everything he couldn’t voice at the moment into his scorching kiss. For the first time in years, he felt understood, appreciated. This boy, this young man before him was going to know how grateful he was.
“You’re a great kisser, sir,” Scorpius said with the devil’s own smile, confident again in a flash.
Harry pulled away for a moment to wrestle off the rest of his own shirt, then grabbed Scorpius by the collar and plundered his mouth, again.
“Do you know what that does to me, Scorpius?” Harry yanked Scorpius’s shirt off his shouldered and pressed their naked chests together. They stood chest to chest, hip to hip, with Scorpius barely an inch taller, their bodies fit perfectly together.
“This is what you do to me.” Harry pressed forward, his hard cock finding Scorpius’s immediately. Scorpius gasped and tilted his head back.
Harry pounced on the exposed neck, licking and biting, while his hands trapped Scorpius’s in the tangle of his nightshirt, keeping him pressed tightly against Harry’s slow friction below.
“Harrrrry,” Scorpius gasped “Please, stop, I’m… I don’t want to come like this.”
Harry let go reluctantly but thrilled to finally be in control – or whatever passed as control in this situation.
Harry’s voice was thick with need as he spoke, “I don’t want you to come like that either. I really want to see what your little tattoo does when I wrap my lips around your cock.”
“Oh God,” Scorpius whimpered, “I got that a year ago. And you remember--”
Slipping his hands underneath Scorpius’s waistband, Harry paused. “And I’ve been wondering about it ever since. Are you sure you want this?”
Harry didn't have to wait long until he heard “Merlin, yes, please. Now.” And pyjama bottoms, pants and he himself slid to the floor in unison.
One hand held Scorpius's cock straight; Harry took a minute to admire it before plunging forward, stopping only once to nestle his nose in golden curls.
Scorpius staggered, but Harry grabbed his hips and steadied him. Looking up, he discovered the green and silver scorpion skittering around the boy's navel. God, he loved that tattoo.
Harry sensed that Scorpius would not last long. He was quivering and muttering nonsense already, trying desperately to stave off the inevitable.
Taking one slow pull upwards, Harry quickly teased his tongue in the slit and then swallowed the cock with another swirl of his tongue. He repeated the process again and then again, Scorpius grunting and bucking with each move. On the third time he released Scorpius’s hips and pressed a finger against Scorpius’s opening, just as the erection hit the back of his throat.
Several things happened at once. Harry’s finger found not a tight ring of resistance to tease, but an already slick hole, prepared and waiting for him. Harry groaned around the cock in his mouth as he slid the finger in. Scorpius let out a shout and exploded in Harry’s mouth.
Harry was so distracted by the tight warmth around his finger and the pulsing of the cock in his mouth that he almost missed the scorpion’s reaction.
It was amazing. The tattoo twitched and quivered as it changed colour, shimmering waves of green and silver turning to red and gold. The light emanating from it was dazzling, reflecting in ripples along Scorpius's naked chest. Harry raised his eyes to meet Scorpius’s, then both returned to see the last of the red fade back into green.
Harry released Scorpius gently, and sneaked a final lick as he pulled away.
Scorpius pulled him to his feet, kissing him repeatedly, quick hurried pecks mixed with whispers of praise and gratitude and an embarrassed apology for being too quick.
Harry laughed. “You’re seventeen, Scorpius. I’m going to be very jealous of your recovery time in a minute.”
Scorpius smirked. “Yes, you are.” And he flicked the button of Harry’s trousers. “Now let’s see what we can do about this.”
Harry knew where this was heading and he had to know. “Scorpius,” Harry asked, gently. “Are you a… have you ever let someone…”
“Fuck me?” Scorpius teased, amused by Harry’s babbling.
“Scorpius,” Harry admonished. “This is important.”
“You know what you said about ‘sir’? How it gets you? You say 'Scorpius' like no one else. When I hear you say it during tea or watching Quidditch or at the Three Broomsticks on a Hogsmeade weekend, I just want to do a thousand dirty things to you, it doesn’t matter who else is in the room.”
Scorpius stepped forward, bent his head and slipped a nipple between his teeth. He sucked and bit and licked until Harry whimpered. He looked up into Harry’s hooded eyes. “I’ve only ever wanted one man inside me…sir,” he said, raising an eyebrow in challenge.
Harry wished he could Apparate them both to his bedroom, but he didn’t trust himself at this moment. He looked around; he had a desk, a chair and a floor to choose from. Scorpius’s first time wouldn’t be down pillows and silk sheets, but he’d make it better than any fumbling teenager could.
He threw a Warming and a Cushioning Charm onto the plush leather chair, while Scorpius kicked off the remainder of his clothes and waited eagerly for instructions. His recovery time, Harry noted, was indeed impressive.
“Kneel on the chair, rest your elbows on the back.” Harry instructed as he stripped.
He leaned into Scorpius and licked the shell of his ear. “You look gorgeous like that, your pretty arse on display.” Scorpius wiggled and Harry gave him a slap.
“But a bit high for our purposes, I think.” With another flick of his wand, the chair lowered several inches. The next time he leaned, in his cock bumped nicely against Scorpius’s arse cheek.
Harry’s finger trailed down Scorpius’s spine and along his cleft. “It was very presumptuous of you to come here prepared.”
Scorpius swallowed hard as he felt two slick fingers pushing in. “I wanted you to, uhhh think I was ready.”
Spoken like a child, Harry thought, desperate to appear ‘old enough.’ Scorpius may have come prepared but he was still a virgin. A teenage virgin. Fuck. Harry let himself panic at the reality of the moment.
But any guilt dissolved the instant Harry found the spot he was looking for and Scorpius cried out. Nghhh.
He hit it a couple more times before Harry pulled out and added a third finger.
Scorpius whimpered with each trust. Nghhh.
“Are you ready?” Harry asked, breathless.
Scorpius gasped and pressed back against the stretching, teasing, burn of Harry’s fingers. Nghhh. “Please.”
Harry removed his hand, slicked his cock and lined up.
Slowly he pushed himself into that tight, tight heat. He rocked back and forth, the tiniest of thrusts, in and out, pushing a little further each time, until finally his balls smacked and he stilled.
He held tight to Scorpius’s trembling shoulders, spilling out words, whispering nonsense. Fuck, want you, feel so bloody amazing, fucking amazing.
Finally, he couldn’t wait another second, he slid out and slapped back in.
Scorpius let out another Nghhh. Then his dirty mouth was shouting the naughtiest things: harder, faster, use me, pound me, fuck me.
There was no way he was going to last. He tilted his hips and after a few strokes, Scorpius cried out again.
The chair was not ideal, the angle was awkward, Scorpius was a bit too tall and it squeaked rather loudly but Harry managed to hit that spot with ever other stroke, or so. Scorpius’s demands were soon reduced to grunting and panting.
Harry reached forward and began pumping Scorpius in time with his thrusts.
“So good, ugh, so tight. ugh, Scorpius. God… going to…”
Harry’s balls tightened and he lost his rhythm. One, two more thrusts and he spilled himself with a final grunt. He rocked his hips gently, milking the last of his orgasm. He rested his head on Scorpius’s shoulder and caught his breath. It was only then that he realized that Scorpius had indeed come with him, christening his favourite chair.
Harry pulled out carefully and muttered a Cleaning Charm to both them and the chair. He sat down, and pulled Scorpius onto his lap.
“Are you okay?” he asked, running a hand up and down lithe arms and legs, every inch of soft, soft skin that he could reach.
“I’m fine, just a little, you know… sore.” Scorpius squirmed a little in Harry's lap. “But I’m all right.”
“That’s good.” Harry smiled, placed a kiss on Scorpius’s bare shoulders and added “Can’t have you walking funny, it’s your birthday party tomorrow.”
“And Al’s.”
“And Al’s,” Harry conceded. He had no desire to think about Al when he had his son's best friend naked in his lap.
“My father will be there,” Scorpius teased.
“So will my ex-wife.”
“So will Darren Baddock.”
Harry scowled at that, unprepared for the surge of jealousy that rushed through him.
Scorpius spotted the reaction immediately. “I promise not to make you too jealous," he offered. "Not on purpose, anyway.”
Harry rolled his eyes as he manoeuvred them both to standing. “We need to get some sleep.”
They dressed in silence. They needed to have a very long talk, Harry knew.
But not tonight.
~fin~
There is now a sequel: The Silver Knickers
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