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marguerite_26This fic is a sequel, and while it does stand alone (sorta), it is intended to be read after the 900 word ficlet Parting Gift. Both fics make reference to and are inspired by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
oldenuf2nb’s incredible Scorpius Malfoy artwork Not His Father’s Son.
Title: Fresh Start
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, bottom!Harry, Age disparity (50+/30)
Word Count: 3000
Pairing: Harry/Scorpius
Summary: Scorpius returns.
Author's Note: forpiratesmile331 for her support of the relief to the bushfires in Australia. Thanks to softly_sweetly for the beta and nolagal for the suggestions.
Fresh Start
"That will be all for today. Thank you for your time."
Several cameras flashed, desperate to catch the final nod and departure of the Minister for Magic. A few bold reporters shouted last minute questions at Harry's back.
"Is the funding for Muggle relations affected by this new policy?"
"Do you predict any damage to international relations?"
"Are you planning on running for re-election?"
Harry allowed his handlers to lead him off the temporary press conference stage and through the back door. The door shut and the room was bathed in silence. He took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders.
"You all right, sir?"
"Fine, Gerard." Harry gave his Public Relations Head a tired smile. Chuckling, he added, "Were they out for blood today, or am I just too old for this?"
"Those vultures are always out for blood, Minister. You handled it well."
Harry ran a hand through his thick grey hair. The photo op was over and Gerard wouldn't scowl at him for ruining the charm that kept it from standing on end. It was only 9 am. He hadn't even managed a coffee yet. There had been a leak about the new Muggle Relations Initiative overnight and Harry had to get an official statement out before the papers started printing their own conjectures.
They made their way through the Ministry back entrance, something Harry had installed his second year in office when the constant push of the press had become too much.
"Anything else this morning, Claire?" Harry turned to the petite witch scurrying behind him, her short legs making two steps for every one of his. He slowed his pace.
Claire caught her breath and checked her day-scheduler, though Harry doubted she needed to. "Board of Governors at half three. French Minister is expecting a Floo call at five. Don't forget you have dinner plans at Dodderidge Manor. They are looking to influence your import policy of medicinal potions."
Nothing until mid-afternoon. Harry mentally filled the hours of his morning 'off' with the list of urgent items that had been sitting too long on his desk.
Harry stopped as he reached the door to his office. At his nod, his entourage dispersed. He grabbed a coffee and paper from his assistant. "Thanks, Gail. And no disruptions until noon, please. I'd like to get some actual work done."
"Of course, Minister. Good Morning."
Coffee in hand, the Prophet tucked under his arm, Harry entered his private office. He held no meetings here, he entertained no visitors. The wards only allowed access to himself and the Ministry house-elves. It was a small sanctuary in the Ministry for his thoughts alone – a rare and precious place in his all-too-public life.
It was testament to how jaded he had become that Harry barely started when he saw Scorpius Malfoy leaning on his desk, arms folded across his broad chest, mischievous look in his eyes.
Scorpius's smirk hadn't changed a bit. It seemed unfair. As if it hadn't been seven years. As if Harry hadn't become old and hollow in the waiting.
Harry slowly walked to the desk and placed his coffee down. He hadn't spilled a drop. He placed the Prophet beside it. The headline he hadn't seen yet caught his eye: England's Prodigal Son Returns. The photo had Scorpius stepping out of an international portkey office, triumphant smile as he waved to the cameras. The black scorpion peaked out from beneath his high collar.
The press must have been drooling. Last month when they reported Scorpius had won a Wizarding Architecture award in Chicago, they'd resorted to printing a decade old photo of Scorpius sipping wine at a Ministry function. The scorpion hadn't even been inked yet.
Still, Harry had added it to his collection, tucked neatly beneath the portrait.
Scorpius pushed off the desk and stood to face Harry. His smirk was gone, replaced with a look of concern. That was new, as were the thin lines on his forehead that deepened as he stared at Harry.
Harry ached to reach up and run a finger, feather light, across those lines. To trace those cheekbones, the slight bump on his nose, the curve of the lips as he had all those times on the artist's replica. Harry grabbed the back of his chair and dug his fingers into the soft leather.
"Good morning, Scorpius." His voice was flat and formal. "Nice to see you back in England." After all this time.
Scorpius's mouth quirked – a slight down-turn of disappointment rather than amusement. "It's good to be back."
"You are looking well. We are all very proud of you and your accomplishments in America."
Scorpius blinked and Harry hated himself for hiding behind his Minister Voice. It was so easy to be selfish and slip behind the mask. He was no longer the man Scorpius had left. His passion had turned to ash after the third year of waiting with nothing but a worn parchment and a simple request to keep it alive.
Scorpius backed away, head held high. "My apologies for intruding." It was barely a whisper. Scorpius reached the door before the potential finality of the moment hit Harry.
"Wait."
Scorpius turned, his eyes focused on Harry, searching.
Harry didn't have the words. This life had eaten him raw, had gnawed away at his compassion and left him empty. He'd long forgotten how to expose himself. He hesitated for a moment, his hand extended towards Scorpius, who stood at the door waiting. He waved his hand, muttering the sequence. The bottom drawer unlocked and slid open.
Harry crossed the room, away from Scorpius, and stopped by the window. He stared at the false-image of the street below, the Londoners rushing about their day. Behind him, there was the rustle of paper: seven years worth of Prophets and New York Wizarding Times and Chicago Charms.
A woman below struggled with an errant toddler who had no interest in crossing the street. The fish and chip trolley pulled up and began preparing for the lunch crowd.
"I was a cheeky little bugger, wasn't I?
Harry turned. Scorpius was behind him holding up the faded sketch. One corner was ripped. Harry couldn't recall now when that had happened.
Scorpius wasn't looking at the portrait though, only the inscription on the back.
"I did, you know." Harry felt he needed to say, as though the drawer and his bitterness weren't obvious enough. "I never stopped."
"I should never have asked you to." Scorpius's eyes flickered over Harry's face.
Harry knew exactly what he saw, the fully grey hair, the added wrinkles, the tired eyes. There was a cold loneliness to being Minister – the hand shakes and speeches, the endless meetings and the crisis week – and the years had not been kind.
Scorpius closed the distance between them and pressed soft lips onto Harry's. Harry wanted to back away, to say it was too late, he didn't need pity. But Scorpius reached up and tugged the hair behind Harry's ear. The familiar gesture sent sparks through the long forgotten ashes of Harry's desire and he groaned into the kiss.
Scorpius pressed him against the window. It was cold and hard against his back but Scorpius's lips were hot and wet and demanding. The kiss was brilliant, familiar and yet not. Scorpius had changed as much as Harry in the years between their last kisses. It tasted of sunshine after a long night's rain, fresh.
Harry's formal Ministry robes were long and awkward and though Scorpius couldn't quite get his thigh between Harry's legs, he ground their hips together anyway. They fumbled like teenagers to find the right angle, laughing each time their noses bumped. Harry noted the tingle in his lower abdomen, the distinct feel of his dick taking an eager interest. He grinned wide; it had been a while.
"I missed you."
Harry wasn't sure at that point which of them said it so he hummed his agreement, in case it had been Scorpius.
Scorpius began to fight the button at Harry's collar and Harry slipped out of his grasp.
"Not here." Harry's eyes flicker to his desk and the piles of parchment in various stages of aging. Scorpius nodded, hopefully understanding the long lonely hours Harry had spent here.
Harry straightened his hair and robes and briskly crossed the room. He opened his door a fraction. "Gail, please tell Claire to send my apologies to my afternoon appointments. They will need to be rescheduled." Glancing back at Scorpius's delicious swollen lips, he added, "Have her cancel dinner with Derrick Dodderidge, as well."
Harry shut the door without waiting for any questions.
Scorpius was already standing by the Floo. Grabbing a hand full of powder and tossing it in, Harry called "Harry's Hideout."
Scorpius chuckled and stepped in. Harry followed.
They pressed up against every wall from the hearth to the bedroom, pulling at clothing and stopping for kisses, leaving every portrait askew. They were naked by the time they made it to the threshold.
"You are bloody gorgeous," Scorpius whispered in Harry's ear. He pulled Harry toward the bed.
Harry wanted to comment about his age with a self-depreciating chuckle, to laugh that it wasn't just the hair on his head that had turned grey, that of the two of them Harry was not the one to be called gorgeous. But Scorpius mouthed a nipple and twirled his tongue in the most delicious way and Harry suddenly didn't feel fifty.
Scorpius pulled back and Harry attacked his neck, swiping his tongue along the tattoo, nipping along – pincer to tail.
"So Minister for Magic, yeah?" Scorpius purred.
That had happened the year after Scorpius had left. Harry had thrown himself into his work, within months the whispers began about his pending rise to power. Harry just let it happen, let the rumour become reality. He said the right things, surrounded himself with people he trusted, found causes that inspired him. His campaign wrote itself.
"Wizarding World News did a five page spread on your life after the election." Scorpius reached down and wrapped his fingers around Harry's cock and gave it a squeeze. "I wanked myself raw for a month."
Harry chuckled over for the lump in his throat. "You poor thing." Harry had burned his copy.
Scorpius's hand sped up and Harry thrust into it. Scorpius had always had a fantastic grip.
Harry reached over to the side table while trying to keep the rhythm of his hips. He misjudged the edge and lost his balance. Scorpius caught him with a snigger, smoothly rolled Harry to the middle of the bed and turned to get the little bottle of oil Harry had been searching for.
Scorpius knelt between Harry's spread thighs. When Harry reached for the bottle, Scorpius lifted it higher and jiggled it in his hands.
Harry lifted onto his elbows and raised a questioning eyebrow. Scorpius hadn't been one to play hard to get. Once they were naked it was all 'faster, harder, now damn you'. But that was years ago, Harry suddenly realised.
Scorpius sat back on his heels and worried his bottom lip. A slight draft drifted over Harry and he shivered.
Then the cool glass of the vial pressed against his thigh just behind his knee and Harry's legs quivered. Scorpius slid it down along the inner thigh. The bottle stopped just below Harry's balls.
"Oh." Harry blinked up in surprise. Harry's cock twitched.
Scorpius looked up at him, all long lashes and a nervous smile. "May I?"
Harry had never… the few male lovers he'd had just assumed.
"I'll make it fantastic, Harry." Scorpius's tone was sincere. He wore the years of success in America well. The desperate, eager edge had been replaced with an easy confidence.
Harry nodded and shifted his hips so the vial slid a little lower. His stomach clenched in the nervous thrill of venturing beyond his comfortable existence.
Scorpius's eyes widened and his smile stretched across his face. He popped the cork with his thumb and raised the vial to his nose. His eyes shut and he groaned. "Damn that smell. It's almost nothing, you know? Light and slightly earthy. But it's you and sex and I've never been able to find anything that smells so good."
Harry wished their faces were closer, that he could reach up and kiss that open mouth, but he didn't dare move and ruin the moment. He might lose his nerve.
Scorpius started slow. One well oiled finger, circling Harry's entrance before pushing past the tight muscle. It was uncomfortable but not strange, Harry'd gone this far himself countless times. Scorpius watched intently, his eyes bright. Carefully, he pumped and twisted the finger. Harry could feel him searching, pressing in further each time.
Scorpius found the spot he was looking for. Harry's hips jumped off the mattress even though he was expecting the sensation. Scorpius laughed, rich and throaty. The years faded away at the familiar sound. They had had fun together. They had played as much as they had fucked. Harry had forgotten that detail.
Harry struggled a bit when Scorpius added a second, but then Scorpius's lips wrapped around his cock and the combination set his hand clutching the sheets.
"More," Harry chocked out.
Scorpius let the cock slip out of his mouth with a pop. "Yes, Minister," he mumbled, lips tickling the head and eyes watching Harry's reaction. Harry's cock bounced against Scorpius's chin in response. Scorpius added a third and before Harry could register the burn, his cock hit the back of Scorpius's throat again.
"Oh fuck, Scorpius." Harry cried out and twisted his fingers into the short blond locks. Harry didn't even remember moving his hands.
Scorpius pulled away and Harry whimpered as the cool air surrounded his wet dick. But then his cock and Scorpius's were coated in oil and the room was filled with that familiar smell that Harry hadn't thought much of before, but now it made him dizzy with anticipation.
Scorpius entered him in short, rocking thrusts, mirroring with sharp pulls on Harry's cock. Harry forgot to think. The sensation was intense, the burning stretch of being filled, the pure intimacy of it was far more than Harry expected.
A bead of sweat rolled down Scorpius's forehead as he leaned closer. "Okay?"
"Fantastic." Which wasn't entirely true yet, but certainly it had potential to be very soon. Scorpius smirked as if he was a Legilimens.
Scorpius rocked his hips, experimenting with different angles until Harry cried out.
"Found it." Harry teased.
"Better?" Scorpius pumped again grazing the sweet spot once more.
"Oh. Oh, yes. Better." Then Scorpius pulled out further and did it again and again and fuck if Harry could manage to say anything else.
"You need someone to take care of you sometimes, Harry." Scorpius's hand twisted around the head of Harry's cock, his thumb teasing the slit.
All Harry could think was yes, yes, god, yes.
"Let me in, Harry. Let me be the one." Scorpius panted between thrusts. He lifted Harry's leg to rest on his shoulders and quickened his rhythm.
Harry's mind was overwhelmed with stimulation, the heady feel of being filled and stretched and pulled and owned. He gave in to it all, whimpering, crying out God knew what.
"Come on, fuck, let go," Scorpius screamed.
And Harry's mind flashed with colour as his orgasm trembled through his body. His cock pulsed, coating Scorpius' hand. It had been so long. And not like this. Never like this. It was as if the world had stopped for a split second and burst back into existence, bright and new. He lay there in a shocked daze while Scorpius thrust into him another minute.
Scorpius pulled out. Breathless and panting, he pulled at his cock until thick stains of come landed on Harry's hip. Scorpius collapsed, head just above Harry's navel, his harsh breath tickling the coarse hair, his sweat mingling with Harry's.
Once Scorpius calmed, he crawled up Harry. Leaning in, Scorpius kissed away the tears from Harry's temple. Harry hadn't even registered his face was wet.
Licking the salt from his lips, Scorpius said, "I'm going back to the States."
"Oh." Harry reached over for his spare wand and Vanished the come from his cock and hip. He winced as the tenderness of his arse.
Scorpius grabbed his wrist and stilled the wand before Harry could Summon their clothes. "I want you to come with me."
"What?"
"Harry you are up for re-election in a few months. Step down."
"Scorpius, that's a hell of thing to ask!" Harry's mind flooded with all his projects, the unfinished proposals, the dozens of commitments he'd made.
"Harry, you are losing yourself here. These people all want a piece of you. It won't end until you are dead, then they'll mark it with a holiday."
Harry turned over to face the door. It wasn't anything he hadn't thought himself, but hearing it out loud was another matter.
Scorpius scooted closer, warm chest pressed against Harry's back. Scorpius's finger twirled the wisps of hair behind Harry's ear and whispered, "You don't have to decide right now. I'm staying in England for a while. But I like it there. You will, too."
After a long while, Harry said, "I'll think about it."
"I'll help." Scorpius pulled up the sheet and tucked his chin on Harry's shoulder.
Harry chuckled. "I'm sure you will."
~o~
Saying Goodbye
In the early light of Sunday morning, England said goodbye to her Minister, her hero, her son. Ambassador Harry Potter and his partner – famed Architect Scorpius Malfoy – entered the International portkey office with bright smiles and a final wave. The two shocked us all last month when Minister Potter resigned and announced his intention to move to Chicago with Mr. Malfoy…
Harry folded the paper and took a sip from his Starbucks cup, trying to find the coffee beneath the mountain of whipped cream. The two men in the photo laughed and waved. The lines about Harry's mouth and eyes deepened with his broadening grin. He hadn't looked so young in years.
"Good enough to add to your collection?" Scorpius asked, sliding into the booth beside Harry.
Harry smiled and kissed Scorpius's forehead. "Right on top."
~fin~
oldenuf2nb’s incredible Scorpius Malfoy artwork Not His Father’s Son. Title: Fresh Start
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, bottom!Harry, Age disparity (50+/30)
Word Count: 3000
Pairing: Harry/Scorpius
Summary: Scorpius returns.
Author's Note: for
piratesmile331 for her support of the relief to the bushfires in Australia. Thanks to softly_sweetly for the beta and nolagal for the suggestions.Fresh Start
"That will be all for today. Thank you for your time."
Several cameras flashed, desperate to catch the final nod and departure of the Minister for Magic. A few bold reporters shouted last minute questions at Harry's back.
"Is the funding for Muggle relations affected by this new policy?"
"Do you predict any damage to international relations?"
"Are you planning on running for re-election?"
Harry allowed his handlers to lead him off the temporary press conference stage and through the back door. The door shut and the room was bathed in silence. He took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders.
"You all right, sir?"
"Fine, Gerard." Harry gave his Public Relations Head a tired smile. Chuckling, he added, "Were they out for blood today, or am I just too old for this?"
"Those vultures are always out for blood, Minister. You handled it well."
Harry ran a hand through his thick grey hair. The photo op was over and Gerard wouldn't scowl at him for ruining the charm that kept it from standing on end. It was only 9 am. He hadn't even managed a coffee yet. There had been a leak about the new Muggle Relations Initiative overnight and Harry had to get an official statement out before the papers started printing their own conjectures.
They made their way through the Ministry back entrance, something Harry had installed his second year in office when the constant push of the press had become too much.
"Anything else this morning, Claire?" Harry turned to the petite witch scurrying behind him, her short legs making two steps for every one of his. He slowed his pace.
Claire caught her breath and checked her day-scheduler, though Harry doubted she needed to. "Board of Governors at half three. French Minister is expecting a Floo call at five. Don't forget you have dinner plans at Dodderidge Manor. They are looking to influence your import policy of medicinal potions."
Nothing until mid-afternoon. Harry mentally filled the hours of his morning 'off' with the list of urgent items that had been sitting too long on his desk.
Harry stopped as he reached the door to his office. At his nod, his entourage dispersed. He grabbed a coffee and paper from his assistant. "Thanks, Gail. And no disruptions until noon, please. I'd like to get some actual work done."
"Of course, Minister. Good Morning."
Coffee in hand, the Prophet tucked under his arm, Harry entered his private office. He held no meetings here, he entertained no visitors. The wards only allowed access to himself and the Ministry house-elves. It was a small sanctuary in the Ministry for his thoughts alone – a rare and precious place in his all-too-public life.
It was testament to how jaded he had become that Harry barely started when he saw Scorpius Malfoy leaning on his desk, arms folded across his broad chest, mischievous look in his eyes.
Scorpius's smirk hadn't changed a bit. It seemed unfair. As if it hadn't been seven years. As if Harry hadn't become old and hollow in the waiting.
Harry slowly walked to the desk and placed his coffee down. He hadn't spilled a drop. He placed the Prophet beside it. The headline he hadn't seen yet caught his eye: England's Prodigal Son Returns. The photo had Scorpius stepping out of an international portkey office, triumphant smile as he waved to the cameras. The black scorpion peaked out from beneath his high collar.
The press must have been drooling. Last month when they reported Scorpius had won a Wizarding Architecture award in Chicago, they'd resorted to printing a decade old photo of Scorpius sipping wine at a Ministry function. The scorpion hadn't even been inked yet.
Still, Harry had added it to his collection, tucked neatly beneath the portrait.
Scorpius pushed off the desk and stood to face Harry. His smirk was gone, replaced with a look of concern. That was new, as were the thin lines on his forehead that deepened as he stared at Harry.
Harry ached to reach up and run a finger, feather light, across those lines. To trace those cheekbones, the slight bump on his nose, the curve of the lips as he had all those times on the artist's replica. Harry grabbed the back of his chair and dug his fingers into the soft leather.
"Good morning, Scorpius." His voice was flat and formal. "Nice to see you back in England." After all this time.
Scorpius's mouth quirked – a slight down-turn of disappointment rather than amusement. "It's good to be back."
"You are looking well. We are all very proud of you and your accomplishments in America."
Scorpius blinked and Harry hated himself for hiding behind his Minister Voice. It was so easy to be selfish and slip behind the mask. He was no longer the man Scorpius had left. His passion had turned to ash after the third year of waiting with nothing but a worn parchment and a simple request to keep it alive.
Scorpius backed away, head held high. "My apologies for intruding." It was barely a whisper. Scorpius reached the door before the potential finality of the moment hit Harry.
"Wait."
Scorpius turned, his eyes focused on Harry, searching.
Harry didn't have the words. This life had eaten him raw, had gnawed away at his compassion and left him empty. He'd long forgotten how to expose himself. He hesitated for a moment, his hand extended towards Scorpius, who stood at the door waiting. He waved his hand, muttering the sequence. The bottom drawer unlocked and slid open.
Harry crossed the room, away from Scorpius, and stopped by the window. He stared at the false-image of the street below, the Londoners rushing about their day. Behind him, there was the rustle of paper: seven years worth of Prophets and New York Wizarding Times and Chicago Charms.
A woman below struggled with an errant toddler who had no interest in crossing the street. The fish and chip trolley pulled up and began preparing for the lunch crowd.
"I was a cheeky little bugger, wasn't I?
Harry turned. Scorpius was behind him holding up the faded sketch. One corner was ripped. Harry couldn't recall now when that had happened.
Scorpius wasn't looking at the portrait though, only the inscription on the back.
"I did, you know." Harry felt he needed to say, as though the drawer and his bitterness weren't obvious enough. "I never stopped."
"I should never have asked you to." Scorpius's eyes flickered over Harry's face.
Harry knew exactly what he saw, the fully grey hair, the added wrinkles, the tired eyes. There was a cold loneliness to being Minister – the hand shakes and speeches, the endless meetings and the crisis week – and the years had not been kind.
Scorpius closed the distance between them and pressed soft lips onto Harry's. Harry wanted to back away, to say it was too late, he didn't need pity. But Scorpius reached up and tugged the hair behind Harry's ear. The familiar gesture sent sparks through the long forgotten ashes of Harry's desire and he groaned into the kiss.
Scorpius pressed him against the window. It was cold and hard against his back but Scorpius's lips were hot and wet and demanding. The kiss was brilliant, familiar and yet not. Scorpius had changed as much as Harry in the years between their last kisses. It tasted of sunshine after a long night's rain, fresh.
Harry's formal Ministry robes were long and awkward and though Scorpius couldn't quite get his thigh between Harry's legs, he ground their hips together anyway. They fumbled like teenagers to find the right angle, laughing each time their noses bumped. Harry noted the tingle in his lower abdomen, the distinct feel of his dick taking an eager interest. He grinned wide; it had been a while.
"I missed you."
Harry wasn't sure at that point which of them said it so he hummed his agreement, in case it had been Scorpius.
Scorpius began to fight the button at Harry's collar and Harry slipped out of his grasp.
"Not here." Harry's eyes flicker to his desk and the piles of parchment in various stages of aging. Scorpius nodded, hopefully understanding the long lonely hours Harry had spent here.
Harry straightened his hair and robes and briskly crossed the room. He opened his door a fraction. "Gail, please tell Claire to send my apologies to my afternoon appointments. They will need to be rescheduled." Glancing back at Scorpius's delicious swollen lips, he added, "Have her cancel dinner with Derrick Dodderidge, as well."
Harry shut the door without waiting for any questions.
Scorpius was already standing by the Floo. Grabbing a hand full of powder and tossing it in, Harry called "Harry's Hideout."
Scorpius chuckled and stepped in. Harry followed.
They pressed up against every wall from the hearth to the bedroom, pulling at clothing and stopping for kisses, leaving every portrait askew. They were naked by the time they made it to the threshold.
"You are bloody gorgeous," Scorpius whispered in Harry's ear. He pulled Harry toward the bed.
Harry wanted to comment about his age with a self-depreciating chuckle, to laugh that it wasn't just the hair on his head that had turned grey, that of the two of them Harry was not the one to be called gorgeous. But Scorpius mouthed a nipple and twirled his tongue in the most delicious way and Harry suddenly didn't feel fifty.
Scorpius pulled back and Harry attacked his neck, swiping his tongue along the tattoo, nipping along – pincer to tail.
"So Minister for Magic, yeah?" Scorpius purred.
That had happened the year after Scorpius had left. Harry had thrown himself into his work, within months the whispers began about his pending rise to power. Harry just let it happen, let the rumour become reality. He said the right things, surrounded himself with people he trusted, found causes that inspired him. His campaign wrote itself.
"Wizarding World News did a five page spread on your life after the election." Scorpius reached down and wrapped his fingers around Harry's cock and gave it a squeeze. "I wanked myself raw for a month."
Harry chuckled over for the lump in his throat. "You poor thing." Harry had burned his copy.
Scorpius's hand sped up and Harry thrust into it. Scorpius had always had a fantastic grip.
Harry reached over to the side table while trying to keep the rhythm of his hips. He misjudged the edge and lost his balance. Scorpius caught him with a snigger, smoothly rolled Harry to the middle of the bed and turned to get the little bottle of oil Harry had been searching for.
Scorpius knelt between Harry's spread thighs. When Harry reached for the bottle, Scorpius lifted it higher and jiggled it in his hands.
Harry lifted onto his elbows and raised a questioning eyebrow. Scorpius hadn't been one to play hard to get. Once they were naked it was all 'faster, harder, now damn you'. But that was years ago, Harry suddenly realised.
Scorpius sat back on his heels and worried his bottom lip. A slight draft drifted over Harry and he shivered.
Then the cool glass of the vial pressed against his thigh just behind his knee and Harry's legs quivered. Scorpius slid it down along the inner thigh. The bottle stopped just below Harry's balls.
"Oh." Harry blinked up in surprise. Harry's cock twitched.
Scorpius looked up at him, all long lashes and a nervous smile. "May I?"
Harry had never… the few male lovers he'd had just assumed.
"I'll make it fantastic, Harry." Scorpius's tone was sincere. He wore the years of success in America well. The desperate, eager edge had been replaced with an easy confidence.
Harry nodded and shifted his hips so the vial slid a little lower. His stomach clenched in the nervous thrill of venturing beyond his comfortable existence.
Scorpius's eyes widened and his smile stretched across his face. He popped the cork with his thumb and raised the vial to his nose. His eyes shut and he groaned. "Damn that smell. It's almost nothing, you know? Light and slightly earthy. But it's you and sex and I've never been able to find anything that smells so good."
Harry wished their faces were closer, that he could reach up and kiss that open mouth, but he didn't dare move and ruin the moment. He might lose his nerve.
Scorpius started slow. One well oiled finger, circling Harry's entrance before pushing past the tight muscle. It was uncomfortable but not strange, Harry'd gone this far himself countless times. Scorpius watched intently, his eyes bright. Carefully, he pumped and twisted the finger. Harry could feel him searching, pressing in further each time.
Scorpius found the spot he was looking for. Harry's hips jumped off the mattress even though he was expecting the sensation. Scorpius laughed, rich and throaty. The years faded away at the familiar sound. They had had fun together. They had played as much as they had fucked. Harry had forgotten that detail.
Harry struggled a bit when Scorpius added a second, but then Scorpius's lips wrapped around his cock and the combination set his hand clutching the sheets.
"More," Harry chocked out.
Scorpius let the cock slip out of his mouth with a pop. "Yes, Minister," he mumbled, lips tickling the head and eyes watching Harry's reaction. Harry's cock bounced against Scorpius's chin in response. Scorpius added a third and before Harry could register the burn, his cock hit the back of Scorpius's throat again.
"Oh fuck, Scorpius." Harry cried out and twisted his fingers into the short blond locks. Harry didn't even remember moving his hands.
Scorpius pulled away and Harry whimpered as the cool air surrounded his wet dick. But then his cock and Scorpius's were coated in oil and the room was filled with that familiar smell that Harry hadn't thought much of before, but now it made him dizzy with anticipation.
Scorpius entered him in short, rocking thrusts, mirroring with sharp pulls on Harry's cock. Harry forgot to think. The sensation was intense, the burning stretch of being filled, the pure intimacy of it was far more than Harry expected.
A bead of sweat rolled down Scorpius's forehead as he leaned closer. "Okay?"
"Fantastic." Which wasn't entirely true yet, but certainly it had potential to be very soon. Scorpius smirked as if he was a Legilimens.
Scorpius rocked his hips, experimenting with different angles until Harry cried out.
"Found it." Harry teased.
"Better?" Scorpius pumped again grazing the sweet spot once more.
"Oh. Oh, yes. Better." Then Scorpius pulled out further and did it again and again and fuck if Harry could manage to say anything else.
"You need someone to take care of you sometimes, Harry." Scorpius's hand twisted around the head of Harry's cock, his thumb teasing the slit.
All Harry could think was yes, yes, god, yes.
"Let me in, Harry. Let me be the one." Scorpius panted between thrusts. He lifted Harry's leg to rest on his shoulders and quickened his rhythm.
Harry's mind was overwhelmed with stimulation, the heady feel of being filled and stretched and pulled and owned. He gave in to it all, whimpering, crying out God knew what.
"Come on, fuck, let go," Scorpius screamed.
And Harry's mind flashed with colour as his orgasm trembled through his body. His cock pulsed, coating Scorpius' hand. It had been so long. And not like this. Never like this. It was as if the world had stopped for a split second and burst back into existence, bright and new. He lay there in a shocked daze while Scorpius thrust into him another minute.
Scorpius pulled out. Breathless and panting, he pulled at his cock until thick stains of come landed on Harry's hip. Scorpius collapsed, head just above Harry's navel, his harsh breath tickling the coarse hair, his sweat mingling with Harry's.
Once Scorpius calmed, he crawled up Harry. Leaning in, Scorpius kissed away the tears from Harry's temple. Harry hadn't even registered his face was wet.
Licking the salt from his lips, Scorpius said, "I'm going back to the States."
"Oh." Harry reached over for his spare wand and Vanished the come from his cock and hip. He winced as the tenderness of his arse.
Scorpius grabbed his wrist and stilled the wand before Harry could Summon their clothes. "I want you to come with me."
"What?"
"Harry you are up for re-election in a few months. Step down."
"Scorpius, that's a hell of thing to ask!" Harry's mind flooded with all his projects, the unfinished proposals, the dozens of commitments he'd made.
"Harry, you are losing yourself here. These people all want a piece of you. It won't end until you are dead, then they'll mark it with a holiday."
Harry turned over to face the door. It wasn't anything he hadn't thought himself, but hearing it out loud was another matter.
Scorpius scooted closer, warm chest pressed against Harry's back. Scorpius's finger twirled the wisps of hair behind Harry's ear and whispered, "You don't have to decide right now. I'm staying in England for a while. But I like it there. You will, too."
After a long while, Harry said, "I'll think about it."
"I'll help." Scorpius pulled up the sheet and tucked his chin on Harry's shoulder.
Harry chuckled. "I'm sure you will."
Saying Goodbye
In the early light of Sunday morning, England said goodbye to her Minister, her hero, her son. Ambassador Harry Potter and his partner – famed Architect Scorpius Malfoy – entered the International portkey office with bright smiles and a final wave. The two shocked us all last month when Minister Potter resigned and announced his intention to move to Chicago with Mr. Malfoy…
Harry folded the paper and took a sip from his Starbucks cup, trying to find the coffee beneath the mountain of whipped cream. The two men in the photo laughed and waved. The lines about Harry's mouth and eyes deepened with his broadening grin. He hadn't looked so young in years.
"Good enough to add to your collection?" Scorpius asked, sliding into the booth beside Harry.
Harry smiled and kissed Scorpius's forehead. "Right on top."
~fin~