Albus appeared in the doorway of Draco's study, holding... Christ. It couldn't be. Draco rose from his chair and crossed the room in three steps, snatching it from his grasp.
"Where in God's name did you find this?"
"Scorpius and I were just looking for old spellbooks in the attic." Albus's face fell. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise it was a, uh, family heirloom."
"It's not." Draco sighed and walked to his bookcase, setting it on a high shelf. He returned to his chair. "It's a Hand of Glory. Full of dark magic. Certainly not appropriate for a sixteen-year-old to be messing about with."
"Oh." Albus's eyes widened, then narrowed with realisation. "But you were sixteen."
Draco wiped a hand over his face. Merlin, was his every mistake catalogued in the pages of history textbooks? "I've done many things of which I'm not proud," he muttered at length.
Albus studied Draco, apparently unfazed. "It gives light only to the holder, right?"
Draco nodded.
Albus appeared to consider this for a long moment. He reached for the top button of his shirt and unfastened it, then the next, and the next, until his shirt hung open. Draco watched in stunned silence, unable to speak or move. Albus walked over to the shelf.
"What are you—"
"Close the draperies."
Heart pounding, Draco raised his wand, as if Imperiused, and waved it at the windows. The room went pitch black. He heard footsteps coming closer, and then...oh, God, the boy's lips were on his, dark and sweet as a blood lollipop. Deft fingers slid up his chest to his throat, unclasping his robes, whilst limber thighs straddled his. Draco gasped at the press of the boy's cock against his own.
Draco broke the kiss. "You're a wicked, wicked boy, Albus."
Draco didn't need to see Albus to hear the grin in his voice. "Takes one to know one."
Claw (Draco/Albus Severus, NC-17)
Albus appeared in the doorway of Draco's study, holding... Christ. It couldn't be. Draco rose from his chair and crossed the room in three steps, snatching it from his grasp.
"Where in God's name did you find this?"
"Scorpius and I were just looking for old spellbooks in the attic." Albus's face fell. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise it was a, uh, family heirloom."
"It's not." Draco sighed and walked to his bookcase, setting it on a high shelf. He returned to his chair. "It's a Hand of Glory. Full of dark magic. Certainly not appropriate for a sixteen-year-old to be messing about with."
"Oh." Albus's eyes widened, then narrowed with realisation. "But you were sixteen."
Draco wiped a hand over his face. Merlin, was his every mistake catalogued in the pages of history textbooks? "I've done many things of which I'm not proud," he muttered at length.
Albus studied Draco, apparently unfazed. "It gives light only to the holder, right?"
Draco nodded.
Albus appeared to consider this for a long moment. He reached for the top button of his shirt and unfastened it, then the next, and the next, until his shirt hung open. Draco watched in stunned silence, unable to speak or move. Albus walked over to the shelf.
"What are you—"
"Close the draperies."
Heart pounding, Draco raised his wand, as if Imperiused, and waved it at the windows. The room went pitch black. He heard footsteps coming closer, and then...oh, God, the boy's lips were on his, dark and sweet as a blood lollipop. Deft fingers slid up his chest to his throat, unclasping his robes, whilst limber thighs straddled his. Draco gasped at the press of the boy's cock against his own.
Draco broke the kiss. "You're a wicked, wicked boy, Albus."
Draco didn't need to see Albus to hear the grin in his voice. "Takes one to know one."