hpsmmods (hpsmmods) wrote in hpsmfest,

Fic: Possibly Maybe

Title: Possibly Maybe
Author: noeon
Prompt: Prompt #5 submitted by deceptivechasm
Pairing(s): Harry/Scorpius; past Harry/Draco
Rating: NC17
Warning(s) (Highlight to view): *bottom!Harry; Scorpius is 25 and Harry is 25+26*
Word Count:6.5K
Summary: Scorpius is on the verge of being tossed out of the Auror Office. Again. Head Auror Harry Potter has to defend his former charge, but finds he has a few things to learn as well.
Notes: I took the Auror and the mentorship aspects of the prompt and went a bit wild with them. I also inserted a paternal!Draco and a moderate bit of past (very past) H/D. A million thanks to the mods for allowing me to play at this lovely HP/SM party and oodles and gobs of thanks to fq for her usual beta brilliance under unusual circumstances. The title is taken from Bjork’s song of the same title.



The late afternoon sunlight slipped into the room in long, buttery bolts, showing tracks of dust motes through the air as it cast patches of warmth on the piles of parchments and document cases on Harry’s desk. Unbidden, his mind turned from the warm summer light to thoughts of his children and their mother with the Weasley family, frolicking in a loud mass through Brittany on their yearly visit to Bill and Fleur, scaring locals and tourists alike. Arthur would probably be recording everyone with the ancient Super8 camera that was his obsession, using film reels that were charmed to never run out, and Molly would be settled under a sun umbrella in the shade, guarding an enormous picnic basket for the twelve to fifteen family members running around the countryside and beach. The children were louder and more irresponsible every year: even the baby of the family, little Louis, was now fifteen.

This was the third year Harry hadn’t gone on holiday with them, and it was getting easier. He and Ginny had tried the first year after they separated--they’d said for the children’s sake but really they’d been doing it for so long they didn’t know what else to do. It was, predictably, a disaster. After that, Harry hadn’t gone on holiday at all, preferring to bury himself in cases at the office or in the extra duty shifts that were always available. It made decisions like Christmas and summer hols so much easier, although he missed Arthur and Molly and the feeling of belonging to a large family. Now that they were older, his children came to visit infrequently, a meal on the weekend or the occasional Quidditch match. His heart gave a strange lurch, both of relief and palpable regret. He couldn’t decide which was worse: that he missed the gatherings or that he didn’t miss them as much as he thought he should.

He frowned and ran a hand through his hair absentmindedly, trying to concentrate on the dossier in front of him. Scorpius Malfoy. The meeting was scheduled in a conference room, at the Ministry, which made it clear that the deliberations would be serious. For Scorpius’s previous infractions, they’d always conducted the disciplinary hearings in the Auror headquarters or in Kingsley’s office, but this time Scorpius’s dismissal was at stake. Harry rubbed his palm across the front of his red robes, smoothing them. A summons of this magnitude required his full Head Auror duty regalia. The mace of office stood against shelves next to his desk, menacing and heavy.

Harry pushed his glasses up and rubbed his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Settling the frames back into position, he blinked and squinted at the list. He’d really done it this time, Scorpius had. He and Dawlish had tangled several times in the six years of his service on the force, but now the charges were listed in an official memorandum. Insulting a superior officer. Inappropriate language. Bodily harm. Destruction of official property. Harry checked the appended list and signatures. Burning two desks, a table, four chairs, and several case files in front of witnesses was extensive even for Scorpius Malfoy. Tampering with evidence. The list of charges went on. Harry sighed and set the jacket down on the precariously balanced pile on the right edge of his blotter. He’d no idea whether he could rescue his former charge from this one.

When Scorpius had entered the Auror recruit program, Harry had made sure he was assigned to be his mentor. Even after all of this time, it had been difficult for a Malfoy to serve on the force and Harry had wanted to make sure that everyone knew this Malfoy was under his aegis. He pretended it had nothing, or almost nothing, to do with the fact that Draco had come to Harry’s office and asked him to protect his son, invoking the intimacy of their brief affair after the War and Harry’s cordial relations with Narcissa Malfoy through her sister Andromeda.

“He has no idea what could happen,” Draco had said, twisting the heavy wool of his robe between his fingers with uncharacteristic nervousness, then smoothing it out briskly once he’d seen what he’d done. “I want you to protect him.”

“Draco. I know.” Harry’d tried to keep his best Head Auror face on. He had been elevated a few months before, when Robard’d been pensioned off, and the aura of authority had still been difficult to project. “The field officers will need to supervise him, but I’ve been thinking of putting myself forward as his mentor.”

Draco had nodded and then looked at Harry finally. His eyes were as clear a grey as Harry remembered. “I realise you have already extended your protection to my family, for which we remain most grateful.”

Harry had coloured to match his robe at Draco’s significant glance, recalling more acts than just those of gratitude. Even though they’d both been married to their wives for years and their children were now as old as they had been at the time, the memories of those few months had remained as clear as a film in Harry’s mind. “I’ll do my best,” he’d promised.

Often during the intervening years Harry’d wondered what exactly he’d agreed to. Scorpius Malfoy excelled at Auror work, but he was also intractable, difficult, far too bright, and insubordinate beyond all imagination. His temper was as legendary as his knack for fieldwork and his rise to full Auror status had not been without incident, or several incidents really. A few of them had garnered wider attention, but most had been kept within the ranks of the Aurors.

As good as he was, Scorpius had never learned that the rules applied to him, even when enforcing the laws of the realm, and this was his major failing. Still Harry could not imagine dismissing him, though the list of his latest infractions was serious indeed. They needed Aurors with actual skills in a duel and good instincts, and Scorpius had talent to burn. His colleagues complained bitterly, but they respected his wand and his capacity for single-minded, relentless pursuit of suspects, not to mention his speed when it counted.

As Harry slipped the list back into the case and sealed it with his wand, he heard a scuffing noise at the door to his office, which then flew open with a loud bang as it hit the wall. Several of Harry’s framed commendations jumped at the impact and a book was dislodged from the top shelf and fell to the floor. Harry sprang into a defensive stance, even though the Foe Glass showed nothing amiss.

The young man standing in the doorway was tall and broad-shouldered. His lips were curved in an ironic grin and a lock of blond hair hung across his forehead. He was in field clothes: charcoal woolen trousers, a long dark red coat with heavy buttons, a pale lawn shirt under an embroidered vermilion wool vest. He nodded at Harry, who was standing with his wand outstretched and his heart pounding.

Harry lowered his wand. “You could knock, you know.”

“Where’s the fun in that, sir?” Scorpius bared his teeth in a quick, feral smirk as he strode into the room, barely flicking his wand to close the door behind him. “This may be the last time for a while that I get to darken your door as an on-duty Auror.”

Harry frowned. “This isn’t time for jokes.” He scanned the long, pointy face in front of him. Scorpius had his father’s cheekbones but his mother’s pale blue eyes. Harry didn’t like to think about that too much. It made him feel old. “You cannot take this lightly. In fact, you shouldn’t even be here. I have a meeting with Kingsley in a few minutes.” Harry gestured to the paperwork spread out on the desk.

Scorpius threw himself into a side chair without asking, crossing one long leg over the other. He casually brushed a floppy lock of pale blond hair out of his face. “With all due respect, sir, I think the Minister won’t give a fuck that I’m in your office right now. He’s completely narked at the publicity around this one.”

“The what?” Harry blinked, too distracted by the news to chide Scorpius for his language. He began to have a funny sensation in his stomach. He found himself gripping the surface of the desk with his hands, his face contorting in a scowl. This could be very bad indeed. They’d already had two incidents this year of internal Auror disciplinary measures leaking to the press. The papers had the scent and were baying for blood.

“We had a reporter from the Prophet in the building on another story, illegal Pygmy Puff smuggling or something equally idiotic.” Harry’s mouth went dry as Scorpius spoke. It was worse than he’d feared. “The pictures will be released tomorrow with an article about disorder in the Auror Office and the disastrous state of discipline among today’s modern force. Pia Zabini gave me advance copy - she’s working in Cuffe’s office now.” Scorpius’s eyebrows rose expressively and his lips formed an ironic point, an almost smile.

“Pictures,” Harry repeated dully, completely ignoring the thrust of Scorpius’s innuendo. He sat down suddenly in his wooden desk chair, then braced himself with his legs to keep it from skidding back to the wall. This was why Kingsley had asked him to take a few weeks off after the hearing. He might be losing his position. If there were public outcry over disorder and disciplinary problems, he would have to take the fall.

Scorpius nodded blithely. “I do hope they captured a picture of Dawlish with his trousers on fire. That enjoyable sight deserves to be captured for posterity.” He examined his hands with a look of amusement.

Harry rubbed a hand over his face and glared at the insouciant figure across from him. “Scorpius, I know you’re accustomed to disciplinary action, but have you any idea how serious this is? Your dismissal is on the table. Not to mention how much trouble we could all be in because of those photographs.” Harry’s mind ticked forward to the meeting awaiting him. Kingsley was bound to have an internal Magical Law counsellor there. Although he scarcely thought it possible, Harry was dreading the conversation even more after this disastrous new information. He’d no idea ten minutes ago he’d be fighting for his own post.

“I wouldn’t worry, sir. He can’t dismiss you.” Scorpius brushed his resistant hair back from his face with one hand and looked at Harry. “You’re Harry Potter.”

Suppressing his irritation that Scorpius could read him so easily, Harry shook his head. “He asked me to go on holiday effective tomorrow. I think it’s not unconnected.”

Scorpius arched a long dark blond eyebrow and settled back in his chair. “Really. Perhaps he actually thinks you need a holiday.”

“No matter.” Harry pushed all thoughts of his own position out of his mind. “What’s at issue now is you ,and you really should be going. Or I should.” He stood and tucked the document case with Scorpius’s dossier under his arm, then walked to pick up the mace, his head weaving grim thoughts of audits and the bollocking ahead of him. He’d arrive a few minutes early, but he’d no desire to show Scorpius just how nervous he was about the possible consequences of the meeting.

“When was your last holiday, sir?” Scorpius asked, remaining seated as Harry strode into the centre of the room.

Harry shifted the mace to his other hand and patted down his side for his wand, welcoming the distraction. “I went to China last year. And Australia. And Brazil. And Sri Lanka. I also seem to be on the Continent every few weeks with the new European magical collaboration efforts.”

“I don’t mean international portkeys on Auror business. When was your last actual holiday?”

Harry stopped for a moment. He had no idea why he was answering, but something about Scorpius’s casual manner invited banter. The topic seemed safe enough. “I don’t know. Probably a year or two ago.” It had been the disastrous trip to Brittany with Ginny and the children three years ago, but he wasn’t going to give Scorpius the satisfaction of that knowledge.

Scorpius stood up, brushing his long palms quickly across the fabric his trousers. “Perhaps it’s time you left the office.”

“I’m leaving now,” Harry said pointedly, drawing his wand. He expected Scorpius to follow him to the door to leave and made room for him to exit in front of him, but Scorpius remained standing in the middle of the dull grey and blue carpet. When Harry turned to motion to Scorpius, he received a stare.

“You also need to get laid,” Scorpius remarked matter-of-factly.

Harry nearly dropped the ceremonial mace on his foot; it hit his leg instead. “I beg your pardon,” he said gruffly as he lifted the heavy object away, preventing further damage. It didn’t half smart where he’d knocked his shin.

Scorpius shrugged, the point of his tongue darting out to wet his pillowy lower lip. “You always do better when you’ve been shagged out. It keeps you from getting gloomy and jumpy. You must’ve gone too long.”

“That’s totally inappropriate.” The anger rose in Harry’s chest and for a moment he actually worried he might break something. He hadn’t had a proper uncontrolled magic surge in years, but he was prone to destroying sensitive instruments if he wasn’t careful with his temper. He took a deep breath, but couldn’t stop his eyebrows from descending in a fierce scowl. A little voice somewhere in his head argued that Scorpius was bang on.

“No,” Scorpius gave him a sly look. “Inappropriate would be offering to help.”

“Scorpius, if you want me to agree to your dismissal, this is the best way to go about doing so.” Harry was clenching the mace so tightly his hand hurt and his leg was still smarting. He had to keep his composure for the hours ahead of him but he couldn’t think for confusion and burgeoning fury.

Scorpius pursed his lips thoughtfully. Harry knew he should storm out, but he kept watching, waiting for what came next. After a long pause, apparently for consideration, Scorpius spoke. “No. I know you’re protecting me. I would have been sacked years ago if you hadn’t stepped in.”

He advanced on Harry and Harry resisted the conflicting urges to either swing the mace between them or shrink back against the wall. He had his wand out to complete the sealing spell on the door, but he wouldn’t point it at Scorpius. Besides, Scorpius had a few inches on him, not to mention the wiry, hardened musculature that comes with serious field duty and regular training. Harry kept his own routine, but he’d noticed his reflexes and his physical stamina weren’t quite at their peak since he’d been relegated to desk work.

“I did what I could,” Harry replied, watching the expression on Scorpius’s face carefully, barely daring to blink. “I know you’re concerned about the hearing, or I imagine so in any case. I certainly am. Perhaps we should leave now and chalk it up to that.”

Scorpius advanced even closer and Harry flinched under the steady blue gaze. His shoulders throbbed with tension. He was so tightly wound he wasn’t sure he could move quickly without straining something. “I’d like to thank you, sir.” Scorpius’s voice was rough and a bit breathy and the back of Harry’s neck prickled at his tone. “For all you’ve done.”

Harry began to protest, but stopped, shocked, in mid-protestation as Scorpius dropped to his knees in front of him. “What are you-”

Scorpius reached to part Harry’s robes and stroke a long-fingered hand across the bulge in Harry’s trousers. A brilliant, branching bolt of desire passed through Harry’s body, piercing his core and leaving him shaken. His wand hand thrummed as he grew desperately hard under Scorpius’s casual touch, and his stomach lurched. “You wouldn’t mind, would you, sir? I think it might actually be for the good of humanity.”

Harry’s head swam with desire and horror. Scorpius looked up at him with wide-set blue eyes and a distinctly unsettling innocent expression, his open lips mere inches from Harry’s prick. Harry struggled for composure, his mind urging him to push Scorpius away and run and his body urging him to press into the shell pink mouth in front of him, past those perfect lips into the moist interior. A vision of Scorpius gagging on his prick rose unbidden in his mind. Beautiful. “No. Not-” Harry’s voice was thick in his throat and he couldn’t seem to form words.

“I thought not,” Scorpius said, nuzzling against him while reaching for the zip of his trousers. Harry saw black spots in his vision and he almost stumbled, the mace coming to rest on the floor with a thud as he let it fall well to the side of the man in front of him or his already bruised leg. Scorpius’s clever fingers undid his zip. Harry braced his knotted shoulder against the shelf behind him, gasping for air all of a sudden, his wand hanging loosely in his hand. His breathing stopped entirely for a moment when Scorpius’s mouth found the head of his prick through the cotton of his pants, tracing the outline of it with his lips. Harry’s hips thrust forward. Scorpius made a meal of sucking on the fabric, breathing hot breaths onto his aching, willing skin.

Harry grasped Scorpius’s hair by the blond roots and twisted hard, pulling him away even though his body screamed for more. Scorpius’s head snapped back but he didn’t look up. Harry couldn’t tell but he’d wager Scorpius was smiling. Harry could hardly breathe enough to speak. “Scorpius. This isn’t going to happen here. It’s entirely wrong.”

Scorpius licked his lips slowly, his lush pink tongue swirling across his upper lip in a seductive promise. When he did look up, his eyes were dark, pupils wide against the flat blue of his irises. Harry shivered, and his grip on Scorpius’s blond hair loosened.

“Sir, I think we’ve established that we both want it, so I fail to see what is wrong.” Scorpius leaned in again to lick the knit fabric covering Harry’s straining prick.

“I can’t- This isn’t-” Harry fought for logic in the face of the illogical, his willpower lagging several moments behind the sensations wracking him. Scorpius seized the advantage and, hooking his fingers in the elastic of Harry’s pants, exposed him with a deft tug. As Scorpius’s mouth enveloped his prick, Harry groaned loudly and stopped thinking. After a few moments, he flailed to sheath his wand, some random muscle memory of safety not allowing him to keep it out under the circumstances. He brought his hand up to bite so he didn’t make too much noise, despite the privacy spells ringing the room.

Scorpius was astoundingly good at cocksucking. His tongue traced circles around Harry as his head bobbed in quick, liquid strokes. Harry watched himself sink in and out of Scorpius’s mouth until he could hardly stand, it looked so good. He’d finish too quickly if he didn’t stop looking, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Harry’s breath came in short, staccato bursts that matched the rhythm of Scorpius’s mouth, and he thrust forward with his hips, his eyelids fluttering closed as Scorpius wrapped a hand around the base of his cock. His hand hung loosely in Scorpius’s hair, fingertips splayed across the curve of his head. It was too, too much for words or even thoughts, though Harry had a smothered sense of horror that was almost equal to the want coursing through him.

It had been far too long.

With a pop Scorpius’s mouth disengaged. The cool feeling of air on his wet prick roused Harry from his temporary oblivion. His orgasm had been building in his balls, steady and tight, and he was shocked when the sensation stopped. He blinked, not even realising that he had closed his eyes. Scorpius’s face swam into view, his mouth reddened and his lips swollen and wet. “I don’t think we want this over too soon, sir.”

Scorpius stood up and smiled. Harry took a few moments to come back to himself. It was like an Imperius on his prick--he’d no idea he’d been that far gone.

“Yes,” Harry managed to choke out. He drew in a shaky breath. “In fact, we should stop. And I’m late, I think.” When his hand dropped, he could see the imprint of his own bite marks white in his reddening flesh. He dreaded reaching down to tuck himself in, but he forced himself to do so, completely mortified that he had his pants open and his naked cock hanging out.

This in front of a junior Auror and someone who had once been under his mentorship at that.

And someone whose father you fucked his brain supplied helpfully. Harry’s cheeks warmed.

Scorpius reached out, quick as lightning, and slapped Harry’s hand away. Harry stared at him, unsure of what exactly was happening. “Get on the desk, sir,” Scorpius said, his voice quiet and firm.

Harry balked. He had to get out of this office. Now. “There is no way that I am going to move from this spot except to go to the meeting for which I am now most certainly going to be late.”

Scorpius grabbed Harry’s wrist, pinning it against the wall. A deliciously rough and dangerous tone entered his voice. “Don’t make me lay you out on it, sir. I’d much rather you went voluntarily.”

Harry started at the utter presumption in Scorpius’s voice, the look of complete assurance on his face in the midst of this madness. “Why?”

“So I can hook your ankles over my shoulders and pound you into it,” Scorpius said calmly.

Harry’s back clenched at the thought and knees almost buckled; his old hip injury was beginning to hurt as well. “I’m in dress robes,” he protested, wondering at the logic of his brain bringing that up as a defence. It sounded as though he were thinking about agreeing with this madness, and in truth, he was.

Scorpius merely smirked and pressed forward, pivoting to march Harry backwards until his arse met the hard edge of the desk. “You could always take them off.”

Harry shook his head slowly, his hands poised to push Scorpius away. “You need to leave my office.”

Scorpius shook his head. “Not yet, sir. We’re not done here yet.”

“We bloody well are.” Harry’s temper flared again, outrage hot in his veins to compensate for the maddening surge of desire that threatened to possess him. His prick was outrageously hard, straining against the front of his trousers. He clenched his fists. “We shouldn’t have even started. This is ridiculous.”

“It would be a shame to come this far and not come further.” Scorpius drawled. He made tsking sound with his tongue, his eyes hot on Harry’s, his body pressing close in the vee of Harry’s spread thighs.

Harry opened his mouth, breathing hard. The bloody ceremonial mace was lying at an awkward angle on the carpet. His freshly pressed robes were almost certainly wrinkled. His hands were shaking and his mind was screaming in horror at the implications, and yet, his blood sang with possibility. Most of it in his desperately hard prick.

“You want it, sir, don’t you?” Scorpius leaned in closer, his lips nearly brushing Harry’s jaw.

Harry’s eyelids fluttered shut. And there was the rub. He did. He wanted nothing more than to have his uncontrollable, hot-tempered, and devastatingly sexy subordinate take him apart, and on his own desk too. His body ached at the thought. And a Malfoy, too. That couldn’t be discounted. Perhaps he really did have a weakness for plummy diction and floppy blond hair.

“I--” Harry’s resolve faltered. His senses were filled with the smell and feel and warmth of Scorpius Malfoy, and he wanted nothing more than wrap himself around him. He sensed the edge of surrender and the promise of what came next.

“Say yes, sir.” Scorpius’s warm breath spiralled into his ear, raising gooseflesh on Harry’s arms.

Harry shivered. “Christ, Scorpius, I can’t.” The thought of his responsibilities and the charge ahead of him cut through the fog of his desire like a hot knife through butter. “I can’t.”

Scorpius’s lips moved in what might have been a smile against the skin of Harry’s neck. He bit lightly into the sensitive flesh and Harry groaned loudly, his hips thrusting forward to meet Scorpius’s. Harry’s hands came up to Scorpius’s shoulders, not to push him away but to hold himself steady while Scorpius rocked into him.

Harry’s arse hit the desk, and his hip protested, but the pressure of Scorpius against his prick made him not care about anything else in the world as his shoulders landed on the precarious stack of document cases on his blotter, sending them the floor in a flutter of a multi-coloured parchment.

Scorpius’s face was lengthened as he loomed over him, seeming almost impossibly far away. Except for the ironic quirk at the corner of his mouth, Harry could not read what Scorpius was thinking from his expression. He looked up at him silently, barely breathing.

Scorpius gave him a small smile as he slipped Harry’s glasses from his nose. Carefully he folded them and set them aside.

“You’re always so tough, sir,” Scorpius said at last, and Harry squirmed slightly--both at the honorific and the intensity of Scorpius’s gaze. “Always in control, even in impossible moments. You pretend to be out of control, but really, even your bouts of temper are regulated, aren’t they?”

Harry couldn’t really argue from this position, although he was of a mind to try. “Someone has to be in control,” he said crossly, propping himself up on his elbows. His protests stopped when Scorpius leaned back, arching his long back, and began undoing the buckle of his belt. Harry watched in open-mouthed silence, breath catching.

Aware of his captive audience, Scorpius took his time, his fingers stroking the thick tongue of black leather and the heavy silver buckle before parting the woolen fabric of his trousers. He dropped the ends of the belt to let the flies hang open. Their bodies were still touching, the outside of Scorpius’s thighs pressing open the inside of Harry’s, but the touch was lighter, almost vanishingly so. Harry gaped in amazement at the vision before him.

Scorpius was bloody gorgeous and it wasn’t helping matters. Six-foot-two, full lips, gilt hair that was just barely darker than Draco’s but still very, very blond. His well-muscled body gave off an air of casual indifference and underlying menace, beautiful while slouching and also in motion. Harry couldn’t stop staring at him, licking his lips unconsciously as he thought of all that the stunning man in front of him could do to him if he chose. If I let him Harry thought.

Scorpius bent over him, stopping further consideration on that point. The pressure on Harry’s legs increased and he spread them further apart, raising them slightly to find a better position. His hip twinged in protest and he lay back onto the wide surface of the desk. I’m getting too damned old for this, he wanted to say, but instead he just shivered when Scorpius’s blond forelock fell to graze Harry’s forehead as he lowered himself, bracing with a hand next to Harry’s head. He reached a long finger out and traced Harry’s collarbone. Harry swallowed.

“Let me take control,” Scorpius whispered. “Just here. Just this once.”

Harry knew he shouldn’t let this continue, for so many reasons. He was certain no good could come of it, but he couldn’t care less. For once, just once, he wanted to stop being the responsible one. Perhaps Scorpius was right. Perhaps he did need to give up control, far more than he’d realised. His body appeared to be quicker in this realisation than any faculty of reason he still possessed.

“All right.”

His voice wasn’t louder than a whisper, and then Scorpius’s mouth was on his and he’d no desire to speak: not with sharp teeth biting his lip, an eager tongue sliding against his, and the very air sucked out of his lungs. They scrabbled to touch each other in a clatter of hard edges against soft places, messily grunting and grappling. Scorpius’s hands were everywhere, tearing Harry’s robes aside, pushing his trousers down, then waving his wand in an unlacing spell when he reached his boots. Harry arched his back and his prick strained forward into the air between them, dripping and sticky and needing more touch, just more. The fabric of his dress robes was incongruously soft against his naked arse and he found himself enjoying the sensation. He didn’t even care that his pants and trousers were hanging off one ankle, utterly unseemly for a Head Auror, he was certain. He kicked them off.

Harry’s focus snapped back to Scorpius when he pushed Harry’s knees back towards his chest, looming over him in a long stretch of muscle and presumption. Harry twisted and reached into the side drawer of his desk. He ignored Scorpius’s amused snort when he found the phial he was looking for. Harry pressed the smooth glass of oil into the outstretched hand. “We might as well do this comfortably.”

“As you like,” Scorpius said, his half-lidded gaze hot enough to burn holes in Harry’s skin. Harry was acutely aware he’d asked for this, whatever came next.

He closed his eyes as Scorpius oiled his hand and gently--surprisingly gently--touched his fingers to Harry’s arsehole, first one, then two. Harry opened around him, willing himself to feel and not to think, to allow and not to flinch. It was awkward, then marvellous, then awkward again.

“Keep breathing,” Scorpius murmured, and Harry gasped, not even aware he’d been holding his breath.

As Scorpius’s fingers probed deeper, he circled his other hand around Harry’s cock, and Harry almost sobbed. The discomfort of it--it had really been too long, he thought wildly as he pushed up against Scorpius’s hand--subsided as his body remembered how this was supposed to work. Scorpius’s touch was skillful and demanding, and Harry gave in and let him guide what came next. The knot of tension holding his shoulders loosened and then eased as he focused on the pleasure coursing through him.

He grew used to the sensations inside of his body and out, to the rhythm of thrust and pull that was almost and yet not at all enough. And then Scorpius’s touch was gone and Harry opened his eyes to protest.

“Shhhh.”

Harry could see Scorpius’s hand on his own cock, oiling it, stroking the length of it and twisting a few times over the swollen red head. His eyes were dark and his gestures sure as he thrust into his hand, almost mocking Harry with the fluid roll of his hips. Harry licked his lips and stared openly, not caring that Scorpius could tell how much he wanted this, wanted him.

“Beg me,” Scorpius suggested, although the look in his eyes said he would do as he pleased.

Harry bit his lip, hard. “No.”

Scorpius gave a soft last, the careless menace of which sent shivers down Harry's spine. “I could leave you like this, you know.” His pale blue eyes raked across Harry’s body, stretched out on the desk, trouserless, knees in the air.

“Don’t.” Harry hoped he wasn’t blushing, but he would beg if he had too.

Scorpius seemed satisfied, though. He nodded and took a short step forward, regarding the body parts in front of him as though they were a problem that needed solving: his cock in his hand, Harry’s arse. Apparently having made up his mind, he pushed Harry’s thigh back a bit further and guided the head of his cock to rub slickly against Harry’s arsehole. Harry’s outflung arm gripped the edge of the desk as he braced himself.

“Relax,” Scorpius said softly.

As Harry complied, the hard length breached his body and he gave a stuttering sound. Scorpius paused for the duration of a few breaths, then moved again. Harry shifted and tried not to focus on the intrusion, the twinge of his hip.

“Did you fuck my father, sir?” Scorpius asked, pausing to look down at him.

Harry’s eyes flew open. “Er. Could we talk about this later?”

Scorpius laughed and pushed just a bit with his hips to emphasise their situation. Harry didn’t need reminding, but somehow the invasiveness of that question made his body even more willing for what was coming next.

“Let me clarify,” he said, and he rocked forward again. “Did my father fuck you like this?”

Harry gaped, his body pliant under Scorpius’s. “No. No, he didn’t.” He gasped as Scorpius slid further inside of him. He never thought he’d be answering any such question under these conditions, but he’d learned never to expect the usual with Scorpius.

“Good.” Scorpius’s look of triumph and possessiveness surprised Harry. Scorpius pushed forward, bending Harry beneath him, and began thrusting harder, faster. “I don’t like the thought of sharing you with him like this.”

A groan escaped Harry’s lips, and he trembled, his nails digging into the wood beneath him. “N-no.” Scorpius’s thrusts were rocking the breath out of him. “Never like this.”

And then there was no more air for talking, only gasping and moaning as they slid across the desk, almost falling off of the side and then actually falling in a tumble of fabric and a hard landing broken by the carpet and a last minute twist from Scorpius so they fell sideways. Harry had the wind knocked out of him and he’d no idea what his back would look like tomorrow and Scorpius wasn’t stopping so it really didn’t matter. He spread his thighs, bruises be damned, and then Scorpius was thrusting into his arse again, using the strength of his wiry hard thighs. Harry’s cock was dripping against his stomach and he thought he might die from the pleasure of it.

On a hard, fierce thrust, Scorpius closed his hand around Harry’s prick, pulling hard and quickly in rhythm with his snapping hips, and Harry shouted, too slow to staunch his moans with his fist, as he tipped over the edge into a shuddering, fierce climax that left him shaking and breathless and covered in his own spunk.

He lay gasping on the carpet as Scorpius slowed, then pulled out to wank himself roughly, his fist travelling in a blur across his hard prick. With a groan and a twist of his fingers across his wet head, he shot spunk onto Harry’s already sticky and wet waistcoat and shirt.

At least he missed the robe, Harry thought blindly, arse already twinging in the aftermath, his body floating on a blissful wave of aching satisfaction.

Disciplinary hearings be damned. This was worth everything.

* * * * * * *


On the furthest horizon, the deep blue of the ocean joined the hazy pale white-blue of the sky. Small waves lapped at the shore near Harry’s feet. He stretched sleepily, enjoying the late afternoon heat and the warmth of his skin and the weightlessness of doing absolutely nothing.

He could hear the laughter of people further off and the slap of waves against the rock set halfway in the middle of the small bay.

Something cool brushed his skin and he started, shocked for a moment as the touch turned icy. Squinting, he opened his eyes. A green bottle of pilsner hovered over his stomach.

“You said it had to be cold,” Scorpius said. “And it’s not ouzo.” He held a mesh bag with several promisingly wet bottles giving off a frosty cloud.

Harry grinned, then shivered as Scorpius rubbed the bottle across his nipple. “Not in public.”

“Harry, no one would bat an eye if I dragged you behind those bushes and shagged the living fuck out of you, even the way you moan.” Scorpius sat down tailor-style on the large dark blue beach throw, the bottles clinking as he set them down on the corner.

“No, they didn’t mind yesterday, did they?” Harry mused. “Although that was after dark and quite a bit further away from town.”

Scorpius opened the bottle and took a long swallow.

As Harry reached swiftly to nab a bottle from the bag near him, Scorpius caught his wrist with one hand in mid-swallow. His hand-eye coordination was too fast, really. “No beer for you until you admit you like being on holiday.”

“I don’t really like it,” Harry said. Scorpius frowned at him, and Harry laughed, settling back against the blanket. “I think it’s brilliant and it was almost worth both of us nearly getting sacked.”

Scorpius leaned forward, kissing Harry, his cold tongue darting into Harry’s mouth and leaving a bitter aftertaste. “I think you should thank me for nearly getting us sacked. After all, you’lll never look at your desk the same way again.”

Harry kissed him back, gently extricating his wrist, and the bottle, from his grasp. “No,” he said dryly. “Although I haven’t looked at it the same way really since you fucked me on it after the Yule party last year.”

“Yes, but you weren’t wearing your Auror dress robes then,” Scorpius said. The sunlight kissed his golden skin and bleached his already fair hair to almost white. Harry wanted nothing more than to let him shag him into oblivion right here on the beach. After drinking his beer.

“True.” Harry opened the bottle finally and took a long, cold sip. It was heaven in the fierce heat of the afternoon.

“Maybe I’ll wear them next time,” Scorpius mused, causing Harry to splutter his first deliciously cold mouthful everywhere.

“That won’t be necessary,” Harry said. He wiped the back of his hand against his mouth, still coughing. “Although they have been cleaned properly. I think Kingsley is going to have us monitored in future.” He took another sip quickly.

“Then we should give him a good show,” Scorpius drawled. “Or maybe we should shag on his desk--”

Harry cut him off with a kiss. “No fiendish plans of yours, Malfoy,” he murmured, amused. “Shall we try to go at least another quarter with no further disciplinary actions filed against you?”

Scorpius just smiled against Harry’s mouth. “Anything’s possible, sir.”

Yes. With Scorpius Malfoy, Harry was quite certain of that.
Tags: fic, hpsmfest 2011, rating: nc17
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