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Only a Love Story	By : CiraArana Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 4106 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Harry Potter & co are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. I make no money from this.

Chapter List
- 1-Only a Love Story
- 1
Author: CiraArana
Title: Only a Love Story
Rating: NC17
Pairing(s): Harry/Scorpius
ADW: 18/42 � 21/45
Summary: Not every love story ends in a happily ever after. Sometimes, it doesn't end at all.
Warnings: fluff, rimming, semi-public sex, mild bondage, dirty talk, angst, non-linear story telling and shifting tenses, not necessarily in that order
Only a Love Story

Everyone's Had a Bad Day

With a deep sigh, Harry lets the door fall close behind him and drops his bag. He is tired; exhausted in a way he has never been before. Not even during the long ago times of restless nights filled with nightmares and days filled with Potions classes and worries about Voldemort. With another sigh, he slowly peels off his coat and hangs it on its hook, moving like a man twice his age.

When did his life become so exhausting? It feels like years but Harry thinks that it's probably only been six months. Six months since he was promoted and his life became full of long, draining hours at the office. God, he's forty-seven, yet all he wants is to drop on the couch and close his eyes and have a couple of minutes of peace � and then snuggle against a warm body and forget all about the world beyond his walls.

Forget all about duties and magical law enforcement, about being watched by everyone and stalked by the press while trying to settle into a position that is still new to him. Forget all about politics and Wizengamot members and honours and being the youngest wizard ever to do something. Forget about having to go back again tomorrow and go through it all again.

Forget about everything but home and peace and love.

He misses it. Misses Scorpius. Misses talking with him long into the night, or reading a book while listening to him play his piano. Misses just being with him.

But the moment he straightens and turns, becomes aware of things beyond his exhaustion and relief to finally be home, he knows he won't have it today, either.

He can hear the faint sound of the piano being played, and it's not a happy tune. He knows that haunting, cursed melody, knows what it means.

For a moment, Harry closes his eyes, shoulders drooping with the additional burden. He is so tired. So tired � and Scorpius is in a mood. Sad, angry, and a little afraid, perhaps, though he'll never admit it. But Harry knows his moods and he knows what Scorpius feels when he plays certain tunes. After close to three years together, he is familiar with Scorpius and his piano and the correlation of emotions and melodies.

The one he is playing now is the one Harry hates most. This one tells him that Scorpius is sad, angry, and a little afraid � and hurt.

And it's up to Harry to coax him out of it. It's up to him to go into the living room and over to the low bench where Scorpius is sitting, ostensibly lost in his music. He will lay his hands on Scorpius's shoulders but remain silent until Scorpius stops playing and turns on the bench. Then he will pull Scorpius into his arms and steer him to the couch, where Harry will snuggle and pet him until Scorpius speaks about what has upset him. Then Harry will spend the remainder of the evening coaxing Scorpius out of his mood. It usually involves more snuggling and petting and then taking things to the bedroom. In the morning, Scorpius will be his usual bright self.

That is how it always goes, after all.

Harry sighs and runs a heavy hand through his hair. He's so tired. Why can't Scorpius, for a change, coax him out of his mood?

All of a sudden, resentment flares in Harry. Yes, why can't he? Why is it always Harry who has to deal with his partner's moods? Why can't Scorpius come out for once � he surely has realised Harry is home by now! � and take care of Harry's moods? He has to know that Harry's day wasn't particularly easy. It has never been when Harry comes home this late, after all.

It would be nice, just once, to be the one who is coddled. Hell, just seeing Scorpius would be nice! Just seeing Scorpius step out of the living room, maybe to come and kiss him hello like he used to do. If he'd just come out and ask Harry how his day has been.

But no, of course not. Scorpius isn't the one who needs to consider his partner's emotions. Scorpius is the one who needs to be petted and fussed over. He spends half a day on this weird Arithmancy thing that Harry doesn't understand, then lounges around and meets friends, and in the evening he expects Harry to pet him out of whatever funk he's managed to put himself into.

Because Harry isn't the one who's had a shitty day. He's only the one who just spent over twelve hours at the Ministry, trying to do a job that is still unfamiliar to him, watched by all and sundry and the media, too. No. Harry is always the considerate one, the one who always has time to listen to accounts of petty little spats amongst friends.

Harry rubs a hand over his scar, knowing he's being ridiculous and childish. Scorpius isn't like that at all. His resentment drains away, and he sags against the wall.

There's only one person who upsets Scorpius like that, only one person who would say hurtful things to him while pretending to only want the best. It's Draco Malfoy who always puts Scorpius into this sad-angry-a-little-afraid-but-definitely-hurt mood, and that's one of the reasons why Harry loathes the man these days. He seems unable to accept that Scorpius is an adult who makes his own decisions.

And that is the reason why, after a tacit truce of almost thirty years, Harry and Draco Malfoy are back to hating each other.

Harry grimaces as he pulls off his boots and steps into his slippers. Scorpius probably met with his father today, and Harry can't be angry with him for being moody after that. Scorpius's relationship with both his parents, but especially with his father, is a difficult one. Harry tries his best to make it better, but the only thing he can do is comfort Scorpius afterwards.

But if dealing with a moody Scorpius now and then is what it takes, then Harry will do it, and gladly. Or as Hermione once put it after having an argument with Molly: 'If you truly love someone, you can put up with the in-laws and their meddling.'

No, Harry can't resent Scorpius. But he still can't find in himself the energy to go and coax Scorpius out of his mood, to sit and listen to Scorpius rant about whatever his father said, either. He can't be considerate tonight.

The music swells and gets louder. Scorpius is probably wondering why Harry hasn't come in yet and started the ritual dance.

Harry rubs his eyes behind his glasses. With another deep sigh, he makes himself step forwards towards the living room.

He stops at the door and looks inside. The sight still takes his breath away; the slender young man, his blond head bent over the keys, the graceful instrument vibrating with the emotions he pours into it.

Beautiful.

The notes pluck at Harry's heart until it feels as though he is in resonance with Scorpius's emotions. Until he feels how hurt his lover is.

That is what usually drives Harry forwards. His lover hurting, and Harry's need to soothe and comfort him.

But today the emotions behind the notes only pluck and pull at Harry and make him hurt, too. Oh, he wants to go and comfort Scorpius. Or rather, he wishes that Scorpius was comforted. Harry is drained, emotionally as well as physically; there is no comfort he can give today.

He doesn't move away, though. He keeps still, watching. Hoping that Scorpius will turn towards him. Perhaps they can comfort each other.

Scorpius doesn't turn. His only reaction to Harry's presence is a stiffening back and a swelling of the volume until the music is too loud. It bangs around in Harry's head and in his chest.

'Scorpius,' he whispers, pleading. But, of course, his voice is drowned out by the piano.

A renewed spark of resentment makes him move, forces him to turn away from Scorpius and step through the arched doorway towards the staircase.

In the bedroom, he sheds his work robes and kicks them under the bed, glaring at them for good measure. Priddy will scold him for wrinkling the good robes, but Harry needs to get rid of them. Needs to not think about going back tomorrow. About going through the dance and deciphering the double and triple layered meaning behind the words of co-workers, Wizengamot members, and assorted politicians again.

Sometimes, he wishes he'd stayed a simple Auror. Fieldwork would be hard on his body these days, but Harry thinks that even duelling rogue Dark witches would be better than trying to cope with the meaning hidden behind double meaning he is dealing with these days.

Politics. Harry snorts and gives his robes an extra kick. It's all their fault, anyway. And right now, he doesn't care that he's being childish.

'Master Harry is not to be wrinkling his good robes,' a surprisingly melodious voice scolds him from somewhere around his knees.

Harry forces a weak, apologetic smile. Priddy, the house-elf Scorpius brought with him to their house, is tiny even by house-elf standards. Her glare is effective even by Molly Weasley standards. Even tired as he is, it is effective. He simply lacks the energy to do more than feel guilty.

'I'll wear the other set tomorrow,' he tries.

Priddy shakes her head at him. She snaps her fingers and the robes fly off the floor. Another snap, the robes wriggle, and then fall down in elegant folds, wrinkle-free.

'Thanks, Priddy.'

The tiny elf studies Harry intently as she directs the robes to a hanger. 'Master Harry is needing to get dressed and eat,' she informs him.

Harry rubs his naked arms. 'Yeah, I �'

In the living room, the music reaches a new crescendo. Harry closes his eyes. He shivers.

'Priddy is thinking perhaps Master Harry is liking a bath first?' Priddy suggest quietly. When Harry looks down at her, her ears are quivering. She knows Scorpius's music as well as Harry does, perhaps even better.

'A bath.' Harry blinks. Goosebumps suddenly run down his arms and legs. 'Yes. Yes, that's a good idea.'

'Priddy will go immediately!'

With a soft, popping sound, she disappears. A second later, Harry can hear the water run into the tub. He grabs his fluffy bathrobe and follows the sound to its source.

The lights in the bathroom have been muted to a soft, golden glow. The warm air smells of herbs. Priddy crouches on the brim of the tub and sprinkles more herbs into the water, which is slowly turning green. She looks at him with a proud smile. 'Priddy thinks of adding Miss Luna's Special Herbs,' she chirps. 'Priddy remembers Miss Luna says they are good when Master Harry is having long days.'

Harry smiles fondly at the memory of Luna presenting him with her Special Herbs, Hermione's insistence he waits until she had thoroughly analysed them, and Neville's calm reassurance that they were harmless. Harry's smile deepens. Thinking of his friends already makes feels better.

Priddy declares the bath ready, and Harry sinks slowly into the almost too hot water with a groan of delight. Priddy beams at him and tells him to relax and enjoy, she'll go and prepare a sandwich for him.

'Master Harry is coming to the kitchen after his bath,' she orders. 'Priddy is having food and tea for Master Harry.'

Harry grunts in reply, eyes closed. Priddy pops away, and Harry sinks deeper into the water. Priddy isn't Scorpius, but it's nice that someone takes care of him.

He can still hear faint snatches of music. But surrounded by heat and the fresh, relaxing scent of his green bath water, everything seems to float away. It's only him and the warmth and the water. He can feel the muscles in his shoulders, stomach, and calves loosen. Harry hums in delight, and for a long time, he simply floats.

When the water cools, he emerges from his green-tinted trance, feeling warm and almost peaceful. Not less tired, but certainly less stressed. And suddenly, he's ravenous. Silently thanking Priddy yet again, he slips into his pyjamas and robe and goes in search of food.

The house is silent when he leaves the bathroom. Scorpius has stopped playing. Harry speeds up his steps, curious and hopeful. Perhaps playing was enough and Scorpius has come out of his mood and is waiting for Harry? Harry hopes, because talking to Scorpius while drinking tea is the best way to end a long, tiring day.

When he passes the living room, he catches a glimpse of a blond head. Retracing his steps, Harry once more stands in the arched doorway and watches Scorpius. His young lover is sitting on the couch, leaning against one end, turning his back to Harry. Over his shoulder, Harry catches the glimpse of a large book.

He hesitates. The turned shoulder speaks even louder than the earlier music. Scorpius is upset, and now he's upset with Harry, too. Harry wishes he could go and sit and coax Scorpius into their usual ritual, but the mere thought of listening to Scorpius rant about his father is exacerbating Harry's exhaustion. Still, he doesn't want to just walk past without at least trying to do � something.

Harry clears his throat, but gets no reaction. So he tries words. 'Good evening, Scorpius,' he says softly, gently.

Scorpius only nods without even raising his head.

'Priddy's made sandwiches,' Harry tries again. 'Are you hungry?'

'I've eaten,' is the short reply.

'Oh. Then � you could come and keep me company?' Harry suggests, trying to keep the pleading note out of his voice.

'I'm reading,' Scorpius snaps and shoots him a glare over his shoulder.

Harry swallows. 'Right. Sorry for disturbing you, then.' He waits a second longer, then gives up.

As he turns away, there is a rustle behind him as though Scorpius has turned, maybe got up. Perhaps he's waiting for Harry to look back or say something else, try again to persuade him.

But Harry is tired of this dance, where nothing is straightforward. He's tired of trying to understand signals and reading the true meaning between the lines. Besides, if Scorpius wants to talk to Harry, he can come and talk, Harry tells himself as he walks into the kitchen.

The sight of his place laid out with a plate full of delicious-looking sandwiches and a steaming cup of tea makes him smile. His stomach growls audibly. Harry sinks into his chair with a pleased sigh and loses himself in Priddy's sandwich.

Scorpius doesn't show up. Harry tells himself he isn't disappointed.

After he's eaten, Harry feels even more tired and heavy. As he sips his tea, watching the steam rise through heavy-lidded eyes, he finds himself thinking of his bed. Soft mattress, fluffy comforter, warm body curled next to his. Well, he thinks, as he puts his empty cup down, probably not the latter tonight. Scorpius is capable of sleeping on the couch out of spite.

It would be nice, though.

Sighing, Harry heaves himself to his feet. His left knee twinges in protest. Great, just what he needs to complete this depressing day, another sign that he's getting old. What does Scorpius see in him?

Quickly, Harry pushes the unbidden thought away. It leaves a faint trace of fear that, perhaps, Scorpius is wondering, too.

Almost in penance for his doubt, Harry pours a cup of tea and brings it to the living room. Scorpius is still curled up on the couch, reading. The lamp behind the couch lights his blond hair and casts his profile into sharp relief.

Harry's breath catches. Scorpius looks so beautiful, so cold. His face seems frozen into a mask, and Harry's hands are shaking from more than exhaustion as he holds out the cup.

'I thought maybe you'd like a cup of tea,' he says quietly.

Scorpius looks up. His light blue eyes are dark and forcibly blank. 'Thank you.'

Harry smiles cautiously as he sets the cup down on the low table and perches on the couch next to Scorpius's feet. Hopeful warmth unfurls in his chest. 'What are you reading?' he asks in an attempt to break through Scorpius's silence.

Scorpius curls his lip. 'Basington's Theory of Arithmantic Orthogon-Division of Stable Variables.'

Harry flinches back at his lover's tone. 'Ah,' he says inadequately. 'All right. That � sounds interesting.' Scorpius sneers at him. He knows full well that Harry doesn't have the faintest idea what he's talking about. Harry's shoulders sag. The warmth in his chest quivers painfully. 'I'll � I'll leave you to it, then?'

Wordlessly, Scorpius returns to his book.

Feeling old and cold, Harry struggles to his feet. His knee twinges again. Not daring to even lay a hand on his lover's shoulder, Harry all but limps out of the room and up the stairs. The warmth from his earlier bath is entirely forgotten. There is a strange, squeezing sensation in his throat that forces him to keep swallowing.

The lamps on their bedside tables are lit and the bed is turned down. The signs of Priddy's care make swallowing more difficult. Harry slips out of his robe and huddles under his duvet.

He feels inadequate; old and useless. Scorpius is such a brilliant, gifted young man. He's far more intelligent than Harry, who doesn't even understand what his partner of almost three years is working on. And Scorpius is still so young, only twenty-two. So young and so beautiful. What is he doing with a middle-aged Ministry-drone like Harry?

Harry swallows hard and rubs his burning eyes. An old and useless and maudlin Ministry-drone who's having a self-pity fest.

Harry pinches the bridge of his nose and tells himself sternly to stop. He's exaggerating. He's had a bad day, and Scorpius has had a bad day. They're both upset. Probably the best thing is to simply avoid each other until they're both feeling better. Just because Scorpius is upset with him tonight � has been acting oddly for quite some time, whispers a little voice at the back of his head � it doesn't mean he's thinking about �

Well.

So.

Harry huffs out a frustrated breath and sits up. Viciously, he boxes his pillows until he can lean back against them, half sitting up. He fishes his book from the bedside table and determinedly opens it. It's a Muggle novel, of all things. Some kind of family story written by someone apparently very popular. Ron devoured it, laughed himself into stitches, and lent it to Harry, saying, 'You've got to read this, mate. It's hilarious!'

Harry has to admit, it is entertaining. There's all kinds of drama � forbidden love and jealousy, betrayals, deaths that might or might not be murder � everything. It's so badly written and over the top, it's funny. And it's just the kind of mind-numbing, unrealistic melodrama he needs to drown his own troubles, if only for a while.

Two and a half chapters later, Harry's eyelids are drooping and he's yawning until his jaw cracks. He puts the book aside, folds his glasses on top of it and flicks his wand to set the alarm and extinguishes his light. For a moment he hesitates, then he leaves the light on Scorpius's side burning.

Settling down, Harry half-expects his thoughts to keep him awake despite his exhaustion. But within minutes, he finds himself drifting off to sleep. He's jerked awake again when the bed beside him dips and the room is plunged into darkness. Sleepily, he smiles. Scorpius came to bed. He can't be that mad.

Next to him, Scorpius twists and turns, then lies still. Harry can hear his slow breathing.

He wishes Scorpius would turn to him. Or that he would dare to shift closer and take Scorpius into his arms.

Cautiously, Harry inches his hand across the bed. If he's careful, perhaps Scorpius might not even notice. Can pretend he doesn't notice. Harry just needs a little bit of contact.

His little finger brushes against warm skin. Harry freezes, waits. Scorpius's breath seems to have stopped. But he isn't protesting, isn't twisting away. Harry relaxes.

There's a soft sound almost like a sob from Scorpius, and suddenly, he moves. For a split-second, Harry thinks that Scorpius is moving away and is about to pull back, but then Scorpius presses against him.

Harry can't suppress his own sob-like sound and wraps both arms around his precious love, pulling him even closer. As Scorpius snuggles against him like a little bird seeking warmth, Harry buries his face in Scorpius's hair, taking a deep breath, smelling Scorpius's beloved scent.

This, he just needs this: Scorpius warm and loving in his arms. Just like it used to be before he became Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and everything became incomprehensible.

Relieved and light and happy, a faint smile on his face, Harry falls asleep.

* * *

Dream Some More

It was the touch that woke Harry. A feather-light brush, over his arm from shoulder to wrist. A pause, then it came again.

Harry shivered involuntarily, and then noticed that his arm was cold. Cold as in having been outside of the snuggly warmth of his blanket for far too long. He frowned. That was not right.

'Hmm, are you finally awake?' a soft voice purred in his ear.

Harry shivered again, this time not with cold. He inched closer to the warm body lying next to him without opening his eyes. 'No,' he mumbled. The smile he hadn't really been trying to suppress spread over his face.

'No?' the voice repeated. The body shifted, and suddenly a thigh was pressed against Harry's erection. 'Must be dreaming something nice, then.'

'Mhmmm,' Harry hummed. Turning his head slightly, he breathed a kiss to sleep-warmed skin. His hips rocked forwards entirely of their own accord. 'Nice,' he repeated. 'S very nice.'

He could feel the laughter vibrating in the chest that his arm was spread over. The thigh moved, making Harry moan softly.

'Only nice, hmm?'

'Very nice,' Harry corrected.

'Hmm.' Fingers brushed through Harry's hair. 'Perhaps you should wake up.'

'No, don't wanna.' Harry kissed Scorpius's pulse point and shifted, looking for more friction on his cock. 'Nice dream.'

'Ah, but reality might be more than nice, hm?' The words were breathed against Harry's lips. Harry could feel Scorpius's teasing smile. He smiled back, eyes still closed.

'Nope,' he said. 'Can't.'

Scorpius's knee suddenly pressed gently against Harry's balls. Harry hissed and twitched.

'Can't?' He didn't need to see Scorpius to know he had his brows raised superciliously. The knee pressed a little harder. 'Are you sure?'

'Yeah.' Harry pulled Scorpius into his arms, sighing at the feeling of increased skin contact. It was an additional bonus that the movement made the knee slide lower between his thighs. 'Got everything I want. Reality can't be better than that.'

'Oh? I suppose I ought to feel flattered?' Scorpius's voice sounded cool, but the fingers that slid under the blanket and over Harry's stomach were warm. They stopped their journey just short of where Harry wanted them to go.

'Mhmm.' Harry's fingers slid over Scorpius's back, taking his revenge by tickling the top of Scorpius's crack. It made Scorpius shiver.

'But you could be dreaming of anyone.' Scorpius lifted his arse into Harry's caress. 'I don't find that flattering.'

Harry chuckled. 'Ah, but I'd know that �' he gave in and groped Scorpius's arse � 'anywhere.'

The sound Scorpius made was a mixture of groan and laugh. 'Flattered, my arse. And please, don't answer that,' he added, with another groan at Harry's laughter, flopping down gracelessly. 'I claim exhaustion. It's the only explanation for me making awful puns.'

Harry laughed again and rolled them until Scorpius was lying on top of him and he could grab Scorpius's arse with both hands. 'I don't know what you're talking about, sweetheart, these buns aren't awful,' he lilted.

'Merlin, someone kill me, please,' Scorpius groaned, but Harry could feel his lips twitch. 'That was even worse.'

'It's the lack of sleep,' Harry said soothingly, patting Scorpius's buns which he thought were very nice indeed.

Scorpius raised his head enough to glare at Harry. 'Whose?'

'Oh, mine, of course,' Harry said with a grin. 'Someone kept me up all night, and then insisted that I wake up because they claimed reality was better than dreaming, and then�'

'Shut up!' Scorpius interrupted and kissed him.

Harry laughed into Scorpius's mouth, but his laughter faded quickly as the kiss deepened. Tongues slid together and against each other as they shared their breath and wordless expressions of love.

'Mmm, Harry,' Scorpius whispered as their lips parted and went on to kiss along Harry's stubbled jaw.

Harry's grip on Scorpius's arse tightened, and he pulled Scorpius down as his own hips rose, sliding their cocks together. 'Mmm, Scorpius,' Harry breathed back.

Scorpius's low laugh ended in a deep moan. He flexed his arse-cheeks and thrust down hard. 'You've got to admit, ah, that re-reality is pretty nice,' he managed. Harry thrust up, rotating his hips and shamelessly groping Scorpius's arse. Scorpius bit his chin. 'Even if it includes sleep-deprived witticism,' he added, surprisingly coherent despite his leaking cock, but then he ruined the impression by moaning loudly.

Harry spread Scorpius's cheeks and ran his fingertips lightly up and down his crack. Scorpius shivered and wriggled, attempting to both press up into Harry's touch and rub against Harry's cock.

'Let's see if we can save the day, then,' Harry whispered in Scorpius's ear, 'and improve reality.' He pulled Scorpius up his body, then reached around and pressed one fingertip against Scorpius's opening, not attempting to slip in, just touching. He thought he could feel the pink flesh twitch at his words.

Scorpius groaned deep in his chest and lifted his arse. His pale face was flushed, his eyes closed. 'Ohh, yes,' he breathed and pressed back against Harry's finger, 'please. Please, Harry, please!'

It was Harry's turn to groan at Scorpius's words. His cock jumped, and without further prompting, Harry slid one finger into his lover's arse. Scorpius was still soft and open, and Harry slid in all the way until he could rub over Scorpius's prostate. Scorpius hissed and whimpered and wriggled, trying to get more of Harry's finger inside.

Breathing faster, Harry watched Scorpius's face as he slowly slid his finger out, and then pressed two in. Scorpius's lids fluttered. He tilted his head back and whined deep in his throat. Harry stopped halfway in and gently moved his fingers back and forth, making Scorpius shiver.

'More, Harry,' he demanded, arse lifting even higher. 'More!'

The tip of Scorpius's erection brushed over Harry's hip, leaving a damp trail. Harry's own cock, so hard it felt like bursting, jumped. Harry bit his lip to stop himself from simply throwing Scorpius down and pushing in, and slid his fingers deeper. This time, he pressed firmly on Scorpius's prostate, and Scorpius cried out.

'Please, please, oh, Harry, need �' he babbled.

Harry moaned at the sight of the beauty crouched above him. Head thrown back so his throat was bared, eyes closed, hair in wild disarray and clinging to his sweaty skin, raised up on elbows and knees, body tense and quivering, arse high up in the air, and his own fingers disappearing into it. God.

'Harry,' the beauty pleaded, and Harry couldn't wait any longer. Groping under the pillows for the little jar with his unoccupied hand, he moved the fingers of the other more purposefully, opening Scorpius further.

Scorpius seemed to realise what was going on and began to squirm in earnest on Harry's fingers. 'Hurry, please, hurry,' he moaned.

Harry gritted his teeth and forced one hand to speed up and the other to slow down. He didn't want to hurt Scorpius. Once he'd managed to find the dratted jar, it was only long practice that enabled Harry to open the thing without spilling anything. Scorpius was almost dancing above Harry now, non-stop begging and whispering and urging him on.

With a great deal of willpower, Harry slid his fingers out, slicked them up, and shoved them back in. Scorpius cried out and bucked his hips. 'Come on, come on, Harry,' he panted. 'I'm ready, ready, come on, please, need you.'

Harry jabbed his prostate, and while Scorpius was busy grunting and twisting, he slicked his cock up. His knuckles brushed against Scorpius's neglected erection, making both of them moan. But Harry's goal was in sight now, and in one move he pulled his fingers out of Scorpius's clinging heat, pulled his lover down, and shoved his cock up Scorpius's arse.

They both gasped and stilled when Harry came to rest balls deep inside. Then, a slow smile spread over Scorpius's face. 'Oohhh,' he breathed. 'Ohh, better.' And then he moved.

Harry grabbed his hips with slippery hands and pulled him forcefully down. Scorpius levered himself with his hands on Harry's chest and rose up, then pushed down again, hard, meeting Harry's thrust. And again. And again, and Harry didn't know where to look, up at Scorpius's blissful expression or down at his bouncing cock.

'Touch yourself,' he rasped out. Scorpius hummed and obeyed, lifting one hand from Harry's chest to wrap it around his cock. 'Yeah, that's it. So beautiful.'

Scorpius laughed, a light, breathless sound of pure happiness. He tightened his hand and began stroking in time to Harry's thrusts. Concentrating on hand and cock, he left the directing of his hips to Harry.

And Harry loved it. Hands on Scorpius's slender hips, gripping so tightly he might leave bruises behind, he moved his lover up and down, all the while watching Scorpius stroke himself. So beautiful.

He didn't know whether he'd said that aloud, but Scorpius whined, clenching around Harry. 'So close,' he moaned.

God, yes. Harry thrust forcefully upward while pulling Scorpius down onto him just as hard.

Scorpius tensed, froze, then he cried out as he shot all over Harry's chest. Harry made himself hold still and watch, enjoy Scorpius's pleasure and the clenching of velvety muscles around him.

At last, Scorpius shuddered and sagged. 'Hmmm, Harry,' he breathed and bent down for a kiss. Harry teetering on the edge, thrust his tongue into Scorpius's mouth and his cock into Scorpius's arse, and came with an inelegant grunt. Through the firestorm of his orgasm, he felt Scorpius's soft laugh and gentle kiss.

They slumped into a messy, sticky, well-satisfied heap, kissing and caressing and just breathing together. Finally, Scorpius stretched and snuggled into Harry's side, drawing Harry's arm over his chest. 'Love reality,' he declared, voice dripping with satisfaction.

'Love you,' Harry mumbled, already half asleep, 'gonna dream some more now.'

Harry felt Scorpius's soft kiss, and then he slept.

*

When he woke up again, the sunlight that was filtering through the curtains told him it was late, and the bed beside him was empty. Harry sat up, grimacing at the dried mess on his chest and cock.

'Might at least have bothered with a Cleaning Charm if he had to get up,' he grumbled and reached for his wand.

A glance at his alarm told him it was half past twelve. He grimaced again, cast a Cleaning Charm at himself and at the sheets, and flopped back. It was Sunday. He wasn't getting up. No way.

'Would be better with Pius here, though,' he petulantly told the otherwise empty room, then grinned. Scorpius hated the nickname. 'It sounds like pious and � no, just no,' he'd protested, enraged, when Harry had called him Pius for the first time.

Harry had seen the error of his ways and only used it now when he really wanted to piss Scorpius off.

Or when he was alone and wanted his lover with him. He swore Scorpius had an extra sense for nicknames. Harry only had to say it aloud and, a little later, Scorpius would show up. It was like magic.

Harry laughed to himself and spread out, listening. He thought he heard sounds in the kitchen. The banging of cupboards and clattering of china and the chirping of Priddy. Breakfast sounds. Then the tinkling of the piano, just a light little trill, happy and carefree. Harry stretched luxuriously, sighing with contentment.

He was enjoying the sensation of his body's lassitude and the anticipation of breakfast being served when the door opened and Scorpius came in. A huge, laden tray came floating in behind him. Harry smiled and sat back up, now enjoying the view as well. It was his favourite; naked Scorpius and breakfast.

Harry ran his eyes over Scorpius's body appreciatively. Lightly muscled arms and chest, slender hips, long long legs, quiescent cock swinging softly with each step. Naked.

'You're naked,' he pointed out as Scorpius came closer.

Scorpius stopped, and his pale blond eyebrows rose. He made a show of looking himself up and down, and then looked back at Harry. 'Why yes, I am.' He smirked and flicked his wand at the foot of their bed. The board began to grow and morph into a table that stretched over the entire width.

Harry swallowed, stared, half-aware he'd pulled the blanket up to his shoulders. 'You went to get breakfast like � like that?' He did not squeak. Head Aurors didn't squeak. They, well � might sound a bit funny on occasion. But they definitely didn't squeak.

'Like this?' Scorpius directed the tray to the table and shot Harry an amused glance. 'Oh. You mean naked. Of course. Why shouldn�t I? I thought you liked seeing me naked.'

He dropped his wand onto his bedside table and struck a pose, giving his hips a slight shimmy to make his cock dance. 'Don't you?'

Harry gulped, stared, and managed, 'But � Priddy!'

Scorpius laughed at him and slid onto the bed. 'You're so prudish sometimes, Harry.' He leant over and pressed a quick kiss to Harry's lips, silencing Harry's babbled protest that he was not, then began to pour tea.

'Seriously, Harry, it's no big deal,' he said as he handed Harry his cup.

After a quick glance at the door, Harry reluctantly dropped his blanket and took the proffered cup. Part of his mind knew he was acting ridiculous, but the idea of Scorpius wandering around in his kitchen, stark naked, with Priddy fussing and preparing breakfast and only reaching a little over Scorpius's knee � Flushing, Harry tried to push the mental image away.

'You're so adorable when you blush,' Scorpius teased, 'but it's entirely unnecessary. Elves have no awareness of human nakedness.' He sipped his tea and added with a wink, 'She could pop in right now and wouldn't think anything of us both being naked. Oh, don't worry, she won't. I told her not to.'

Harry breathed a shameful sigh of relief and concentrated on his tea. Scorpius patted his knee. 'You'll get used to it.'

Harry snorted into his cup. He doubted it.

'Besides,' Scorpius continued as he buttered a roll, 'I think they pity us.'

'Pity us?' Harry looked up from trying to decide whether he wanted toast first or bacon and eggs. It all looked good. 'Who, elves? Why?'

'Well.' Scorpius took a delicate bite and chewed, continuing only after he'd swallowed. He'd been taught manners. 'Humans always wear clothes. Clothes mean freedom. Elves think that freedom is among the worst things that can happen to you. They feel sorry that humans have no one they can serve, because serving is the meaning of life.' He cast a roguish grin at Harry. 'Though I do think I've risen in her estimation.' At Harry's blink, he added, 'Showing up naked, getting your breakfast.' Then he had to put his roll down and laugh at Harry's horrified expression.

'What, you mean she thinks �?' Harry couldn't believe it.

'Ooh, oh,' Scorpius gasped, 'your face! Oh, Merlin. Oh, don't Harry, I can't �' he cried when Harry began hitting him with a pillow. 'Stop, stop, I didn't mean it!'

Harry paused, eyeing him suspiciously. 'You didn't mean it?'

Scorpius emerged from under the pillow, brushing his hair out of his face and tears of laughter out of his eyes. 'I mean, I don't know. I just sometimes think it. It might not be true. Humans are different, after all. And even though elves can't understand it, they know that clothes mean something different to us than to them.'

Harry glared, just in case, then put the pillow away. Scorpius grinned. 'No more hitting?'

'I reserve judgement on the matter until a later date,' Harry said in his best Head Auror voice, and Scorpius snickered. 'You should tell Hermione, though. What you think. It might help her understand, and that can only help her cause.'

'What, that Priddy thinks Master Scorpius has finally found meaning in his life?'

It took Harry a moment to understand the words, spoken in such a quiet voice and accompanied by an almost shy smile, a smile he hadn't seen for a long time. He swallowed hard. 'Does she? Think that?' His hand reached out on its own volition.

Scorpius's smile deepened and he linked his fingers with Harry's. 'Yes, she does.'

Harry squeezed Scorpius's hand, at a loss for words. Scorpius flushed and looked away, picking at his abandoned roll.

'That, too,' Harry finally managed, squeezing his lover's hand a little tighter. Scorpius's blush intensified.

'Come here,' Harry said gruffly and pulled on Scorpius's hand. Willingly, Scorpius shuffled over the bed until he sat between Harry's spread legs, Harry's cock pressed against the small of his back. Scorpius wriggled a little. Harry's prick twitched in response.

'And now what?' Scorpius asked with a half coquettish, half shy smile over his shoulder.

'Now, I will make sure you eat your breakfast and drink your juice,' Harry said and reached for Scorpius's roll. Scorpius laughed but complied and resumed eating. Harry kissed his shoulder. 'When we've eaten,' he continued in a low voice, 'I'll make love to you again. And when you're nice and relaxed and unlikely to bite my head off at suggestions of entering academic endeavours, we'll discuss the possibility of your participation in Sullivan's new Arithmancy thingy.' He kissed Scorpius's other shoulder. 'I'll take good care of you, meaning of my life.'

Scorpius shuddered. 'You're such a sap,' he complained, but his voice was soft, and he was warm and trusting against Harry, and his smile when he turned to feed Harry some bacon and eggs was blinding.

* * *

Here at the Office,
We dance between the lines

The day seems interminable, and by the time lunch approaches, all Harry wants to do is go home and hide.

He has a vague fantasy of him crouching under the bed, and he idly wonders what Priddy would do if she found him there. Probably dust him off, de-wrinkle him, and send him to the kitchen for a cup of tea. Harry sighs and thinks longingly of Priddy's sandwiches.

Sadly, he won't have any before supper tonight, but perhaps he can convince her to make an extra sandwich with Scorpius's French bacon for him. Harry's of the strong opinion that after this day from hell, he deserves French bacon sandwiches.

And it's not even lunchtime, so the day from hell is barely half over. Definitely French bacon sandwiches are in order.

Though, on the other hand, today's day from hell isn't particularly extraordinary as most of his days have been pretty hellish recently. Today's just been a little more � more hellish than usual.

He's had a morning meeting with the Senior Assistant to the Minister for Magic (Finance) concerning his budget. Apparently, the Auror department spends too much money, and the Minister wishes that addressed and corrected. Harry pointed out that the new Head Auror has been in office only for six months and is still learning. The Senior Assistant to the Minister (Finance) pointed out that, when Harry Head Auror, the Auror department never burst their budget.

Harry isn't sure if that was meant as a compliment or not, mostly because he knows that it is not true. He wonders whether the Senior Assistant to the Minister (Finance) is one of those who'd like to see Harry in the Minister's office.

When the Senior Assistant to the Minister (Finance) had left, Harry was already late to his meeting with the Bore and the Chirper � two members of the International Magical Office of Law � and had to spend far too long apologising and listening to their problems he wasn't able to help them with, anyway. He has enough to do with Law enforcement in Britain, he thinks, and he'll worry about chasing French criminals when they show up in England. He told the Bore and the Chirper to discuss details with the Head Auror and fled.

On his way to his office, he was waylaid by a Wizengamot witch, who patently belonged to the group who did not want to see Harry as Minister and, after escaping her aggressive recruitment efforts, discovered that the Head Auror was out, the Head Auror's secretary had no idea where he had gone and why, and that a memo was waiting on his desk from the Senior Assistant to the Minister (Finance), reminding him of the budget issue.

He spent the next couple of hours attempting to climb his mountain of paperwork, arguing with the reappeared Head Auror about unexplained absences and Galleons, and finding his way through the chaos that was the Hit Wizards' payroll. He's already discovered that two Aurors are also paid by the Hit Wizard department, and he plans to have Words with the Head Auror and the Chief Hit Wizard.

And now, as a crowning fact that firmly makes today a Day from Hell, Harry's secretary opens his office door � without knocking � and ushers an unknown wizard in a mere five minutes before he would have been able to justify going to lunch.

Harry clenches his fists and resolves to have Words with Miss Simpson, too. She apparently needs another reminder that Harry is not his predecessor and does not relish having strangers sprung on him without warning. And that the very least thing he expects from his secretary is the courtesy of knocking on his door first, if she is not going to ask first whether he is free to see an unexpected visitor.

They've had this particular discussion before. Miss Simpson had opened her eyes at him and told him that 'Mr Pritchard was always free for visitors.' Well, if she can't remember that Mr Potter is not Mr Pritchard, and that Mr Potter will not tolerate her own dabbling in politics, she will have to go, Harry resolves as he gets to his feet.

'Mr Potter will be glad to see you, Master Branstone,' Miss Simpson simpers, and she curtsies, holding the door open.

The wizard, young, smug, and too elegantly dressed and spruced up to be anything but a hobby politician, sails past her with a nod and beams at Harry.

'Mr Potter,' he drawls, 'so very kind of you to see me.'

Harry grits his teeth and inclines his head at him, then glares at his secretary. 'Miss Simpson,' he says coldly, and the witch, not used to the tone, jumps and stares at him with wide, innocent eyes. Harry is unmoved; innocent, my ass. 'I was unaware I had an appointment for lunch.'

The witch flushes angrily; they both know that Harry had no appointments for lunch today.

'Ah, no, Mr Potter, I didn't make an appointment,' the wizard chuckles and, under Harry's incredulous eyes, sits down uninvited and crosses his legs. He smiles and waves a hand, dismissing his need to make an appointment at all. 'But your secretary assured me that you didn't have a lunch appointment and that you would be willing to lend me a little of your time.'

Harry stares at him and then back at his secretary. Her blush has deepened, and she's unable to meet his gaze. 'Indeed,' is all Harry says before he turns to his unexpected visitor. 'In future, please make an appointment with my secretary first.'

The wizard blinks at him, appearing truly surprised. 'Ah, but Mr Potter�'

'If that is all, Miss Simpson?' Harry interrupts. The witch squeaks, casts him a quick glance, and scrambles to get away. Harry huffs at the closing door, then turns to his visitor. 'Now, sir, what can I help you with at such short notice?'

The young wizard gawps at him before he struggles to control his all too evident surprise. Harry is silently seething. He is, unfortunately, only too familiar with that particular brand of arrogance � the wealthy wizard who plays at politician and can't imagine that anyone would not jump at the chance to talk to him. He's had to endure it far too often in the last couple of weeks. But being familiar with it doesn't mean it doesn't make him furious. Especially this close to lunch and freedom.

'Ah, my apologies, Mr Potter,' the wizard says with a little bow. He's managed to get himself under control and is showing an expression of sincere regret now. He's apparently realised that an offended Harry is not the best starting point for whatever he wants to achieve.

'I, ah, came to London today to visit my great-aunt, Madam Honoria Winderlough, a senior member of the Wizengamot. I daresay you know her. And as I was in town already and had something important I wanted to discuss with you, I decided I'd pop in for a visit. I am very sorry to have upset your day,' he finishes somewhat helplessly. He clearly cannot imagine how unexpected visitors would upset anyone's day.

Harry presses his lips into a thin line, takes a deep breath, and resigns himself to losing his half-hour of freedom. Again. Relatives of Wizengamot members only ever want to talk about one thing, and the best way, Harry has found out, is to let them say what they want to say and then forget them. He nods towards the chair the wizard has risen from and sits down.

'Well, sit down, Mr �' He flounders on the name. Simpson said it, but Harry can't remember. 'Well, sit down and tell me what you want.'

'Ah, thank you, Mr Potter.' The wizard beams at him, and then gives him another little bow. 'Branstone, Honoratio Branstone is the name. Pleased to meet you.'

He sits daintily down and leans forward a little, his eyes fixed on Harry's. They are bright with a particular kind of enthusiasm that forcibly reminds Harry of Hermione on a crusade. He sighs inwardly and leans back.

'Ah, Mr Potter,' Branstone begins, folding his hands on his knees, 'first, allow me to personally thank you for the wonderful work you have been doing for so many years as our Head Auror. You have made the wizarding world a much safer place, and � from what my great-aunt, Madam Winderlough, has told me � you have also had great success at improving efficiency of Auror work and in smoothing internal operations within your department. I am convinced you will be just as successful in all your efforts as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.'

He beams and bows again and continues describing all the wonderful work Harry will be doing in his new position. Harry doesn't move an inch and listens in silence as Branstone goes on to describe the great importance of the Head of the DMLE, both in the political arena and in the social sphere.

'A sign for our society, Mr Potter,' Branstone enthuses, almost lifting out of his chair. 'A sign of strength and integrity that needs to be preserved but also to be emphasised and reinforced!'

Harry raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms as Branstone goes on, delicately hinting at the fact that the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is a very good and likely candidate for the next Minister.

'Of course, Minister Abercrombie has only been in office for six months, and we all wish she will have a long and successful term of office! Ah, but we mustn't close our eyes to the future, Mr Potter.' Branstone was now perching on the edge of his seat, almost vibrating. 'We must now, in the present, lay the foundation for the future, and�'

Harry checks a sigh and tunes him out. He knows what comes next; he's heard it several times, in all kinds of variations. The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is indeed considered as the most likely candidate for the next Minister for Magic. Eight times out of ten in the last two-hundred years, the Head of the DMLE was appointed Minister. And of course there is a large faction in the wizarding world that would love to see Harry as Minister. There is, however, another large faction that does not want to see him as Minister. Harry would have been inclined to regard that faction positively. Unfortunately, they do not only not want him to become Minister; they all have other plans for him.

There are those who want him to become a member of the Wizengamot. Some of them genuinely want him on the Wizengamot; others simply want him there so that he is ineligible for the ministerial position.

There are those who think he should not be promoted again, that he has reached the pinnacle of his career. Others think he ought to have remained Head Auror, and some of them even go as far as saying that he should go back to being Head Auror � because he had done such a good job, or because they think he isn't right as the Head of the DMLE.

Finally, there are some who think he shouldn't be a politician at all. As far as Harry knows, the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts is currently the favourite among that group, and there are even a few that want him for Headmaster.

And they are all of them actively trying to push him into the direction they want him to go.

Merely thinking about all those different pulls on him makes Harry's head ache. He usually is able to ignore it most of the time; he's had some practise during his term as Head Auror, after all. However, since he has become a department head � and head of the most prestigious department to boot � it has become obvious to him that now he isn't a Ministry employee so much as a politician.

Harry never wanted to be a politician. All he'd wanted to do was catching Dark wizards and witches. He still wants to do his best to protect the wizarding world. And he will go wherever necessary and where he can do the most good.

But he hates the political sphere, the intrigues and conspiracies, the negotiations for alliances that won't last a month, the double meanings and subtleties and false promises and lies and hatred hidden behind smiles. He has to work with too many Umbridges and Percy Weasleys as it is. But most of all he hates the fact that everyone thinks Harry should be doing what they want. And it's frustrating and irritating and that, no matter how many times Harry tries to make it clear that he is just not interested, all they hear is what they want to hear and not what he's actually saying.

And just to turn the whole situation into a complete nightmare, a couple of weeks ago a Wizengamot witch announced that she plans to retire as soon as a successor has been found. Since the announcement, Harry has sometimes felt that he can't turn around without tripping over someone with a hidden agenda: whether that's to recruit him to the Wizengamot, or to prevent him from being recruited. It's stressful and makes him cranky and exhausts him so much that � that he cannot even comfort his clearly upset partner.

That reminds Harry of last night, and thinking about it makes him feel heavy with guilt. Scorpius wasn't just in a funk, he was seriously upset, and now that Harry isn't stupid with exhaustion, he can acknowledge that something serious must have happened. Scorpius isn't a spoilt brat that throws a tantrum over nothing. It makes Harry wonder what nefarious purposes Malfoy is up to now.

One more thing to worry about.

Sometimes, Harry thinks becoming a teacher and dealing with hundreds of versions of his teenage self would be easier than this. At least he'd be able to put them in detention. Sometimes, he thinks of leaving the Ministry, but he can still do good here, still help keep the wizarding world safe, and so he stays where he is and does his duty.

'�and wouldn't you agree that this is important, Mr Potter?' Branstone is saying when Harry tunes him back in. The man is barely on his chair and his hands are fluttering excitedly.

Harry's stomach growls demandingly in reply, and he decides that he has done his share of dancing for today. So he nods and sits up straight, pretending to know what he is talking about when he says, 'Yes, indeed, Mr Branstone. Thank you very much for pointing this issue out to me. I shall have to think about it. Now � ' he looks pointedly at his watch � 'I hope you will excuse me.'

He smiles politely and gets up, and Branstone has obviously been drilled on manners, because he rises, too. But he doesn't stop talking.

'Ah, Mr Potter, that is wonderful to hear! But we need to speak on the matter again, and soon, so that we can take the required action, wouldn't you agree?'

Harry smiles and nods and starts herding Branstone in the direction of the door. Branstone seems to realise what is happening and puts a hand on Harry's arm. Harry raises his brows, but Branstone only looks almost beseechingly up at him.

'There is so much we need to talk about. Please tell me when I can see you again.'

Harry rolls his eyes at the melodramatic words and is about to tell Branstone to go and make an appointment with his secretary when an icily well-bred voice from the door says, 'I hope I am not interrupting anything?'

Harry startles at hearing that voice here and turns around. 'Scorpius!' he exclaims, surprised. 'What are you doing here?'

Scorpius's eyes are very cold when he flicks his wand and lifts the basket that is bobbing at his side. 'Lunch,' he says. 'I was under the impression you had no appointments,' he adds with a sneer at them and a look so cold it makes Branstone swallow audibly.

Harry feels a little unsure and apprehensive. Scorpius often wears his haughty Malfoy mask when confronted with strangers, especially strangers related to Harry's work. However, he is rarely so cold.

Harry's surprised pleasure at seeing his lover so unexpectedly fades, and worry creeps in. He thought that Scorpius's appearance today, like this, means that yesterday's upset is forgiven and forgotten. But it seems it isn't. Or has something else happened?

He feels the muscles in his shoulders tighten. Suddenly, a headache throbs behind his eyes. Still, he forces a cheerful smile onto his lips.

'Wonderful,' Harry says with artificial brightness. 'I am, actually, free for lunch today, and Mr Branstone and I were finished, anyway.' He gives the startled wizard his best fake charming smile. 'Mr Branstone, please excuse me. It seems I have a lunch appointment after all.'

While he's speaking, he pushes his visitor to the door. Scorpius, standing straight and tall, seems to tower over the other man. The way he looks down his nose would make anyone quaver.

Yet Branstone is devoted enough to his cause to dredge up his courage and, in the face of Scorpius's sneer, manages, 'Ah, Mr Potter, about meeting again�'

'I suggest you make an appointment with my secretary,' Harry tells him quickly, still beaming his fake smile, then shoves one wizard out the door and pulls the other one in.

'Who was that?' asks Scorpius the moment Harry closes the door behind him.

Harry experiences the curious sensation of both relaxing and tensing at the same time. The muscles on his face ache as he lets go of the fake smile. His stomach twists further at Scorpius's tone. Exhaustion creeps up his spine.

'Scorpius? Is something wrong? Has something happened?'

'That man.' Scorpius tosses his head in the direction of the door and crosses his arms. 'Who was he? Why was he clinging to you like that?'

'Oh.' Harry shakes his head and gives Scorpius a weary smile. 'That was Honoratio Branstone, great-nephew of Madam Honoria Winderlough, senior member of the Wizengamot. He's very devoted to his cause.' He rolls his eyes and snorts, then waves the matter away. Scorpius is here and saved him from Branstone and brought him lunch, and Harry would rather think about that than the world outside his office. 'You saved me from him and having to listen to his ramblings any further.' He strains for an honest smile for Scorpius, and it comes easier than he expects. 'You're my hero. Say, does this basket by chance contain any of Priddy's sandwiches?' He gives Scorpius a hopeful look.

'Of course it does,' Scorpius says impatiently. He directs the basket to land on Harry's desk, his movements curiously harsh, and with another flick of his wand unpacks it. Sandwiches, apples, biscuits, and tea soar out and arrange themselves neatly over parchment and files. Harry's mouth waters and his stomach growls approval. 'What did he want?'

'Huh?' Harry drags himself from admiring the feast. 'Oh, Branstone. Haven't the faintest idea. Given the Wizengamot connection, he probably wants me to sit on it in my non-existent spare time, or something.' He shrugs and gives in to the lure of sandwich. A second later he moans. 'French bacon!' he mumbles in astonished delight. 'Scorpius, you truly are my hero. You save me from that Branstone idiot, and you bring me French bacon sandwiches, too! I love you.'

Scorpius doesn't smile and busies himself with arranging lunch on Harry's cluttered desk. Harry watches him, confused.

'He was quite handsome, wasn't he?' Scorpius says casually as he pours a cup of tea for Harry.

Harry blinks. 'Who?'

'The man from earlier, Branstone?' Scorpius looks up, expression guileless.

'Oh.' Harry is stunned. Why would Scorpius say that? Does he think Branstone is handsome?

The warm happiness that filled him only moments ago evaporates. The French bacon suddenly taste like sawdust. The thoughts Harry suppressed last night come back, and now they make frightening sense.

It's all too coincidental, isn't it? The way Scorpius has been so withdrawn recently, his upset last night and refusal to talk to Harry. He's been having second thoughts, and now that he's seen his old lover next to an elegant young man like Branstone, someone with good dress sense and important connections, someone like Scorpius, someone from his own circle and of his own age � now that he's seen the contrast, Scorpius is probably thinking of a way to break it off with Harry.

Harry swallows heavily and slumps in his chair. And he can't even remember what the man looked like.

'Harry? I�'

He raises his eyes tiredly to Scorpius's face. It's strangely pale, his eyes unnaturally wide. Harry tries to find a smile. Tries to show Scorpius that he understands. 'Do you think so? That he's handsome?' If Scorpius thinks so � Well, there is nothing Harry can do about it. The only thing he can do is let his lover go and try to be happy for him.

But Scorpius doesn't look happy. He's still too pale and is staring too studiously at his plate. His voice is too soft when he replies. 'I � I suppose some would.'

'Yeah,' Harry agrees heavily. 'Some would.' And Scorpius is one of them.

Despondently, Harry continues to eat his now tasteless sandwich.

There is silence. Even the sounds of their eating are muted. Each seems lost in his own unhappy thoughts, and it hurts Harry to see Scorpius so miserable. It's not his fault he's attracted to another young man, after all. Clearly, Harry needs to reassure Scorpius that he isn't angry.

Comfort him. Like he's always done, he thinks with a sad smile. It's even more important after last night and Harry's failure to be there for him. So he forces himself to get a grip and drags his mind out of his misery. He can think about everything later.

'So,' he begins with an only slightly forced attempt at normalcy, 'how's your day been so far? Made any progress with your project?'

Scorpius looks up from his mutilated sandwich. The confusion on his face is painful to see. 'Oh. Yes, the project.' Scorpius fiddles with his cuffs. 'Um. Yeah, we made progress.'

He gives Harry a searching look, which Harry answers with an encouraging smile. They both know Harry won't understand most of what Scorpius tells him, but Harry prefers listening to Scorpius talking about something he clearly loves to watching his miserable silence.

'Actually �' Scorpius sits up abruptly � 'it turned out I was right. Remember the argument I had with Melisande? How she said we needed to apply the Orthogon-Division to the Runic Exponents Equation? Well, turns out she was wrong and I was right, because you can't divide the bases, at least not with the Orthogon when they're under Runics. You need to extract the bases with Mudderson's Extraction Components, and then move to the Runics, because we're not dealing with stable variables, and�'

Harry leans back and listens with a faint smile and an aching heart. He watches as, after a few moments, Scorpius shoots to his feet to pace up and down, and listens to him arguing with himself about obscure rules for solving equations. He might as well be speaking in a foreign language for all that Harry understands what he is saying, but Harry doesn't care. He's so vibrant, so alive, and so beautiful in this moment, genuine and passionate, and Harry's heart clenches with painful love for this young man.

No traces of Malfoy masks now. Not a seemingly-bored young socialite hiding his true self behind arrogance and music. Scorpius these days is confident and not afraid of arguing his point. He doesn't hide his liveliness, his passion, at least not from Harry. It will hurt to lose it all.

'And that is why it can't work.' Scorpius whirls around and jabs a finger at Harry. 'No matter what Melisande says, because stable invariables just don't do that, you know!'

Harry doesn't, but he smiles and nods anyway. And then something makes Scorpius seem to freeze. Harry watches as a strange expression crosses Scorpius's features. His hand falls down and his eyes widen, only to narrow the next second. The look of fierce determination on his face causes Harry to blink, and then he blinks again when Scorpius all but sashays towards him and perches on his desk.

'But enough about me now,' Scorpius says, giving Harry a look through his lashes that makes Harry's gut clench while his head swims with bewilderment. 'Tell me how your day's been so far, hm? Apart from unexpected visits from strange wizards.'

The latter is said with an odd edge to it, but Harry can't think about that now, lost in a confused mix of residual misery and stirring arousal and slow happiness. He clears his throat three times before he can stammer something about meetings and Galleons. Part of him points out that he's too old to stumble like this and that he's pathetic for being so happy about simply being asked about his day.

But then Scorpius smiles his most seductive siren-smile and casually puts one foot up on Harry's chair, right between Harry's legs, and Harry doesn't have time to listen to that voice any more.

Scorpius leans backwards, stretching in a terribly distracting way, and reaches for a biscuit, and Harry forgets what he was talking about. His throat is very dry, and he has to lick his lips as Scorpius begins licking the cream-filling out of the biscuit.

'S-scorpius,' Harry croaks.

'Hmmm?' Scorpius purrs and smiles in a way that makes Harry's cock twitch. 'Yes, Harry?'

Harry swallows and grips the armrests of his chair tightly to prevent himself from reaching out and touching Scorpius. He feels an odd sense of d�j�-vu involving the siren-smile and untimely arousal and the feeling of having the rug pulled out from underneath him.

The tip of Scorpius's boot nudges Harry's quickly growing erection. Harry stares up into Scorpius's blue eyes as the boot-tip slowly slides along his thigh, along his knee, and down his calf. Scorpius is holding his wand and taps his own leg lightly; there is a soft thump, and then the foot comes back, sans boot, all warm, wriggling toes.

'Scorpius!' Harry manages to gasp just before Scorpius presses his sole against Harry's erection. Harry's hips push forwards entirely on their own accord. 'Oh God, what're you�What're you doing?'

Scorpius's eyes are bright and intense. 'What does it feels like?' he whispers, wriggling his toes.

Harry bites back a moan and grips the armrests so hard they give a protesting squeak. 'Not here,' he half-pleads.

'Yes. Here.' Scorpius gently rubs his foot along Harry's erection. His tiny, victorious smile makes him look almost dangerous.

'God, Scorpius.' Harry grabs Scorpius's ankle, stopping the motion. That doesn't help much, because Scorpius just wriggles his toes again, making Harry's cock push insistently against the confines of his pants. 'S-stop. Can't�'

Scorpius leans forward suddenly and, bracing himself with his hands on Harry's shoulder, kisses Harry passionately. Harry tries to resist for about two seconds, and then just has to kiss back. And move his hips to rub against Scorpius's foot. Scorpius laughs into his mouth and draws back far enough to whisper, 'Feels like you can all right,' before he kisses Harry again.

Harry clutches a handful of Scorpius's hair and bites his lover's lower lip hard enough to elicit a hiss. Then he kisses it better. Scorpius hums approvingly and increases the pressure of his foot on Harry's aching cock. Harry bucks up, and the resulting squeak of his chair makes him freeze.

'Don't stop now, Harry,' Scorpius whispers, but Harry shakes his head and casts a look at the office door.

'We can't do this here,' he whispers urgently back.

Scorpius's face darkens. Harry swears there is a flash of fury in his eyes, and he yanks his ankle out of Harry's hold. Harry pushes back a little, half-fearing an angry outburst.

But Scorpius doesn't storm to his feet, only lowers his lashes and, incongruously, sinks down to his knees in front of Harry's chair. His fingers slide up Harry's thighs and begin to worm their way into his robes. Harry gapes down at him as Scorpius frees his erection from its damp confines, stunned at his aggressiveness.

'Scorpius!' It's barely a whisper.

Scorpius looks up, eyes dark and wild and challenging as he takes a firm hold of Harry's cock and leans forwards.

'Secretary,' Harry chokes out as Scorpius licks over the head. 'Doesn�t knock.'

'Well, let's hope she won't come in, then,' Scorpius growls and swallows him.

Harry's eyes close helplessly. Vaguely he thinks about casting Locking and Silencing Charms, but he'd need to get his wand from wherever it is, and then he'd need to remember the words, and when Scorpius's tongue flicks over his cock, all Harry can do is bite his lips and clutch at the armrests.

Scorpius is good. And he seems determined to make Harry come in an embarrassingly short time. He sucks and swirls his tongue, then backs away, to lick Harry's entire length and to tease the spot just below the crown, before he sucks Harry in again, taking him in as deeply as he can. There's a warm palm holding Harry's cock steady for his attacks and another inside Harry's pants, cradling his balls. Harry is breathing harshly through his nose, fighting to keep all the noises in.

But just as Harry reaches the brink of orgasm, Scorpius pulls back. Harry can't help the desperate moan this time. Neither can he stop the whimpered, 'Please,' from escaping.

Scorpius slithers up Harry's body and kisses him, hard. He moves closer, and his robes fall open. Distantly, Harry wonders when that has happened, but then Scorpius twists and slides into his lap, and their erections brush and press close.

Harry catches the sound in his throat but Scorpius doesn't restrain himself at all, and his soft moan seems to echo in the otherwise quiet room. Then he wriggles, and Harry's hands snap to his hips, trying to hold him still, and he looks up into Scorpius's blazing eyes.

'Fuck me, Harry,' Scorpius says softly.

Harry's eyes widen, and he gasps, though he isn't sure that's from Scorpius's words or the way he slowly rotates his hips.

'Fuck me,' Scorpius repeats. He leans closer, licks Harry's ear, and breathes, 'Fuck me, Harry, fuck me hard. Here. Now. With your secretary who doesn't knock and your next appointment waiting outside.'

It's not a good idea, Harry is certain, but the certainty is fogged and fuzzy, and reason is lost, and Scorpius is hot and hard against him, so he grabs Scorpius's arse and pulls him flush against his body, squashing their cocks between them.

He hears Scorpius's hissed, 'Yesss,' but then they are kissing again and moving against each other, and Scorpius spreads his legs as Harry's fingers run down his crack, and the chair creaks but Harry brushes his fingertips over the furled hole and feels Scorpius shiver and doesn't care. He thrusts his tongue into Scorpius's mouth and shoves his dry finger as deep as it can go into his lover's body.

Scorpius jerks and hisses and bites Harry's jaw in retaliation. Harry wriggles his finger and pushes deeper.

'Yesss,' Scorpius breathes, 'yes, hard, don't stop.'

But reason waves at Harry from a distance, and Harry slows down.

'No, don't stop,' Scorpius whines and pushes back insistently.

Harry tightens his hold and tries to hold him still as he withdraws his finger. Scorpius clenches to keep it, but Harry distracts him with a sharp, nipping kiss, then pushes him to his feet. The glaze of passion clears from Scorpius's eyes, and he manages an impressive glare.

'Not like that,' he tells Scorpius. 'No lube. I'll hurt you.'

'I don't care,' Scorpius snaps.

'But I do.' Harry glares back. 'I won't hurt you, so we'll have to make do. Now, bend over.'

Scorpius stills, and Harry nudges him towards his desk. 'Bend over,' he repeats and is rewarded with a sudden smile as Scorpius understands. He scrambles to bend his upper body over Harry's messy desk, pushing the remnants of their lunch away. Plates clatter and a half-eaten apple thumps to the floor. Harry flips up Scorpius's robes up to bunch over his hips and pushes his lover forwards.

Files topple over and parchment flutters to the floor as Scorpius moves. Harry spares a fleeting thought for the mess they are about to make, then pulls his chair close, sits down, and spreads Scorpius's arse-cheeks. He feels the shiver running through Scorpius, his lover's body quivering with anticipation.

'Silence,' Harry warns, and then leans in and presses the tip of his tongue to the rosy bud. Part of him can't believe he is doing this, here, in his office, without Locking or Silencing Charms, and a secretary prone to bursting in unannounced just beyond the door. But his heart is beating madly, and his cock his rock hard, and he wants this with a recklessness he had almost forgotten.

Scorpius makes a valiant attempt at being silent, and then seems to muffle his moans and whines with his robes. Harry has to suppress a moan himself at the smell and taste. He shifts in his chair until he can't get any friction on his cock, otherwise he'd come in a heartbeat, and goes to town.

He runs his tongue up and down the crack for some time, stopping here and there to kiss and nip and lick, then takes mercy on his shuddering lover and focuses on the tiny hole. He laves broad stripes across the puckered skin, alternating with quick, flickering probes with the tip of his tongue.

In no time, Scorpius is up on his toes and pushing backwards insistently. Harry probes the opening again and finds it relaxing, so he pushes in. Scorpius makes a garbled noise and stills.

This is one of Harry's favourite moments, and he moans softly and has to squeeze himself hard to prevent an orgasm. Scorpius is never still when they make love, always twisting and wriggling and pushing. But, for some reason, he stills completely as soon as Harry starts tongue-fucking him.

And Harry does, enjoying the stillness of his lover's body, which is only occasionally interrupted by tremors. Scorpius is his now, for the time being. Utterly his, to do with whatever Harry pleases. Rim him until he screams, tease him, fuck him, tie him to the bed � Scorpius is his. Everything else is forgotten.

Scorpius relaxes and opens further, and Harry adds a finger. It goes in smoothly, and he twists it until he finds Scorpius's prostate. Scorpius jumps, but is silent as Harry massages the spot with his fingertip while at the same time jabbing his tongue at the loosening muscle of his opening.

Soon, Harry adds another finger and Scorpius's tremors become more frequent. He is making tiny, sobbing noises that are driving Harry crazy, and Harry can't hold back any longer. Everything is smooth and glistening with saliva as Harry pulls his fingers out and it has to be enough.

As if it's a sign, Scorpius starts moving again. He's twisting and raising his arse invitingly, and Harry hurries to his feet and spits in his hand to slick his cock up as much as possible, and then slams home. Scorpius strangles his cry with his robes.

Heart beating madly, Harry holds still, frozen in the moment. Scorpius hot and tight around him, already making little movements with his hips, both of them half still dressed and at his office, parchments and remains of their lunch spread around them, and from beyond his office door, Harry can hear female voices chattering.

Then Scorpius bucks his hips impatiently, and Harry breaks and does exactly what Scorpius wanted, fucking him hard and fast, slamming his lover's body into the desk with the force of his thrusts.

Scorpius's muffled groans sound half-chocked. Harry bites his tongue to stop his own noises from escaping. The female voices outside the door break into tittering laughter.

A shiver runs through Harry's body. He slams forwards again, bending over to quieten his groan in Scorpius's robes.

Without warning, Scorpius suddenly clenches around him and arches his back, cries out with his head thrown back. Harry is pulled along and comes a moment later.

The chattering and giggling outside doesn't stop.

Harry groans and sags with sated desire and relief.

'Merlin, I think I'll be bruised,' Scorpius moans and wiggles.

Harry is suddenly confronted with all the reasons this was a bad idea: there are people outside his office, and lots of them from the sounds of it, and they haven't even cast an Impervious; a desk isn't really the best place for sex, and the desk in his office is an even worse place; and he's hurt Scorpius. The mere thought of people hearing them speeds the softening of his cock. His flush does its own share. Scrambling, he tries to get his knees to hold him and lifts himself off Scorpius.

'God, Scorpius, did I hurt you?' he asks anxiously.

Scorpius groans a laugh and rolls onto his back, scattering more files. He ignores them and stretches out on the desk, smirking up at Harry.

'Hmm, yes,' he says smugly. 'I'll be feeling you for hours.' His eyes take Harry in. 'And I hurt you, too,' he adds, voice dripping with satisfaction.

'What? No, I'm not hurt.' Harry shakes his head. 'Show me your bruises, I'll heal them. Though you'd best take a Potion when you get home, too, or you'll be looking like an Auror trainee after his first week of duelling and Priddy will scold us for ages.'

Scorpius chuckles and, after a moment, taps a spot just below his jaw. Harry leans closer and frowns. He can't see anything. Scorpius simply smirks at him, looking like the cat that got the cream and the canary, too.

Harry gasps and his hand flies up to his own jaw as he realises. There's a spot that is decidedly tender. If he's not mistaken, he can feel teeth marks. Harry gapes at his smirking lover, too horrified to say anything.

'Oh, don't look so scandalised,' Scorpius laughs and sits up. He gropes for his wand and conjures a small mirror. Harry grabs it and peers at his reflection. There it is, just below his jaw, a red spot with clear teeth marks.

'It's not visible from the front,' Scorpius says, but then adds, 'well, not much.'

Harry tilts his head up and down and sideways, then flops down onto his chair with a groan. 'Scorpius!' He digs his own wand out and, using the mirror to check, pokes it at himself. The red fades a little. The teeth marks don't. 'I can't go out like this!'

'Just keep your head down and no one will see,' Scorpius replies soothingly and laughs when Harry glowers at him.

'You're enjoying this, aren't you?' Harry accuses him. 'You think it's funny that people will look at me and see this and I'll be horribly embarrassed.'

Scorpius hops off the desk and steps up to Harry. He presses a kiss to the bite. 'I like people looking at you and knowing you're taken,' he purrs.

Harry can't help his faint blush. 'Didn't know you're so possessive,' he jokes feebly and gains himself a predatory smile.

'Oh, yes. I am.'

Stunned by the unexpected intensity of the words, Harry stares at Scorpius. The young man looks calmly back and raises a Malfoy brow.

'Scorpius,' Harry begins, but a chime interrupts him. Glancing at his schedule, he swears. 'Oh fuck, meeting in five! Sorry, Scorpius, I hate to throw you out, but�'

Scorpius shrugs. 'Better hurry, lover,' he says and, a few flicks of his wand later, the remains of their lunch are packed and Scorpius looks pristine enough that no one would imagine he engaged in non-office related activities with Harry, who is still frantically trying to dress himself while at the same time casting spells to get rid of the wrinkles in his robes and the scent of sex. Scorpius helps, then adds Air Freshening Charms and a Summoning Charm for all the files and papers that are scattered on the floor.

Harry quickly summons the files he needs for the meeting from the mess before he turns to his lover again. He wants to make sure Scorpius isn't angry with him; he doesn't want a repeat of last night. 'Are you all right, Scorpius? I'm really, sorry, I�'

'Oh, shush.' Scorpius puts a hand on Harry's mouth, then kisses him. 'It's all right. I have something to remember you by until tonight.' His lashes lower, as does his voice. 'And I know that you do, too.'

Another quick kiss, and Scorpius saunters out of the room, leaving Harry staring after him. When Miss Simpson pokes her head in a moment later � still without knocking � to remind him of his meeting, Harry shakes himself out of his stupor.

He's horribly confused and very late for his meeting but at least Scorpius is no longer upset. If nothing else, Harry at least managed to comfort his partner, this time, even if he has no idea why Scorpius needed comforting.

* * *

When the Music Moved In

The moment Harry came home he knew he wasn't alone in the house.

He'd have known it by the subtle change in the atmosphere that spoke loudly of the presence of another human being. Harry had been an Auror for too long not to know it very well. But mostly he knew it by the sound of a piano being played in his living room.

It also let him know who had entered his house. There weren't many people who were allowed to pass through Harry's wards, and only one of them played the piano.

Though he didn't know where the piano had come from. He hadn't owned one this morning.

Neither did he know why Scorpius was here. They usually didn't meet at Harry's place, though this was where they ended up most often. But they hadn't planned to meet up today. What was he doing here?

And what, Harry wondered as he shed his work robes, had happened? He had never heard Scorpius play that way, pounding on the piano, making it cry until the very air seemed to be vibrating with anger. He hadn't ever seen Scorpius angry before, either.

Though, he had to admit that he still knew very little about the young man or his feelings. Harry knew teasing and bantering from Scorpius; he was familiar with seduction and passion and wild sex of the sort that he hadn't even dreamt of before. But exposing real emotions? That wasn't something that happened between them. Scorpius was still hiding behind his masks, and Harry was too reserved and uncomfortable with that sort of stuff to try and press Scorpius into displays of any kind.

Well, apart from lust and desire and smug satisfaction, of course. And intensity, mustn't forget that.

And even that was more than Harry had expected after the young man's seduction. He'd assumed it to be a one-off, that Scorpius Malfoy � like so many others � had been fascinated by the idea of shagging the Boy Who Lived (stupid wizarding world for still calling him that at the age of forty-four). That he had been curious how it would be with a man, perhaps. He hadn't expected Scorpius to ask him to meet again.

He still wondered why he had given in, why he had agreed. Though a large suspect was Harry's stubborn curiosity. He couldn't ignore it, he just had to know.

That still didn't explain how the whole thing could have lasted six months. Six months of meeting at least once a week, of flirting, flustering Harry, and fucking their brains out. Six months of occasional owls and casual conversations and Harry trying to find the real Scorpius behind the Malfoy mask. Even more recent dinner dates at posh restaurants had invariably ended the same way their meetings in pubs or parks had done � in bed.

It wasn't a relationship, Harry knew that, because he'd had relationships before and they hadn't been like that. But it wasn't exactly casual, either, Harry didn't think so, and yet no one could have called them fuck buddies. Harry didn't know what it was.

But now Scorpius was here, in Harry's house, uninvited and angry and pounding on a piano that by rights shouldn't be there.

Harry didn't understand.

He scrubbed his scalp, sighed, and ignored his growling stomach to go and see if he could find answers.

At the door to his living room, he stopped and took the situation in, frowning just a little. His couch had been moved into the centre of the room, closer to the fireplace, and its former space along the wall was taken up by a gleaming, midnight-blue grand piano. It stood slightly angled, reaching into the room. There appeared to be runes etched into the wood that were glowing faintly.

In the tiny remaining space between wall and cupboard, Scorpius sat hunched on his bench, head bent down, and concentrating on his flying fingers. His face was half-turned towards Harry, but hidden behind feathery wisps of his hair that had fallen forwards.

For a few minutes, Harry simply stood there, watching, wondering what he was to do. Scorpius looked so absorbed and, honestly, so angry that Harry was loath to interrupt him. On the other hand, there were occasional notes of hurt in the music he was playing, and they plucked painfully at Harry's heart, making him want to do something to help.

What's more, at some level Scorpius had to be aware of him standing there, because his back stiffened, and his head bent lower, and the music developed some strangely wavering, hesitant tones, as though Scorpius was worried about his welcome. Or that Harry might be angry at him.

Harry had no idea how he could know that. He knew very little about Scorpius, after all, and even less about music. But he couldn't ignore his conviction, either, and that was what finally made him move into the room.

Slowly, he approached the piano and the musician. The blond head remained bowed, but the music quietened a little. Then Harry stood there, still without any idea of what to do, and the melody became hesitant again. Questioning. Harry bit his lip with indecision, then gathered his courage and walked around the instrument, coming to stand half behind the young man. Slowly, carefully, he laid his hands on Scorpius's shoulders.

They were tense and jumped a little at the touch, but otherwise Scorpius showed no reaction. He kept playing, head bent, and tense.

Chewing on his lower lip, Harry simply stood there, feeling slightly foolish, and debated what he could and should do next. In the end, he decided that since Scorpius hadn't shrugged him away, a simple question couldn't hurt.

Speaking as gently as he could, Harry asked, 'What's wrong?' and the music ended with a crashing discord that startled him.

'Father,' Scorpius choked out. His fingers that still rested on the keys clenched into fists.

Wondering whether he had managed to get into the middle of a family spat, and what he'd done to deserve it being a Malfoy family spat, Harry rubbed Scorpius's tense shoulders. 'What happened?'

Scorpius hissed like an angry cat. 'Someone must have seen us the other day. And they told Father.'

Harry nodded to himself. He'd been aware that Scorpius hadn't informed his family that he was kind of maybe dating Harry Potter, and it had been perfectly all right with Harry. Their � thing � wasn't that serious after all, not a kind of "meet the parents" thing, and so he'd been happy to avoid having to deal with Draco Malfoy.

At least, so Harry had thought. He could well imagine Malfoy's reaction to the discovery. 'He was angry, wasn't he?'

A choked laugh was his answer. 'Angry?' Scorpius whirled around and looked up at Harry. His eyes were wide with, Harry thought, hurt and bewilderment. 'Harry, he was fucking furious!' Scorpius shook his head, half in awe. 'I've never seen him this furious before. I didn't know he could be � like that.' His voice sounded about five years old. 'He yelled at me! He never yells at me.'

Harry caressed Scorpius's shoulders, casting about for something comforting to say.

'He � he told me to stop it,' Scorpius went on before Harry could come up with anything. 'Stop seeing you. Said it wasn't � wasn't a proper thing to do. Said a lot of things about tradition and family honour and duty and keeping out of the press, and stuff. Stuff he always says. He sounded pretty reasonable then. Angry, yeah, but still like Father.' Scorpius took a deep breath. 'I � I told him I wouldn't. Stop seeing you.'

'You�' Harry closed his mouth with an audible click. He was completely blindsided. He hadn't expected Scorpius to defy his father. Not at all, but definitely not for this � this thing between them. If he'd been thinking about the situation at all, he probably would have assumed that Scorpius had come to end things. But this? This he'd never thought possible.

'Yeah, I �' Scorpius licked his lips. 'Father kept arguing but I �' Scorpius raised his head defiantly and looked Harry in the eye. 'I told him it wasn't his business, that I'd do what I want. And that I want to keep seeing you.' He blinked, and the fight went out of him again. 'Then he stared yelling.' He sniffed. 'He never yelled at me before.'

Harry felt for him. Whatever he personally thought of Draco Malfoy, he'd known that Scorpius had a good relationship with his father. From his reaction, Harry would hazard a guess that this was the first true confrontation they'd had, the first time neither of them had backed down.

And it had been over Harry. Malfoy must love that, Harry thought with a grimace. He could already hear the Howler Malfoy would send him.

In the meantime, there was Scorpius, who was hurt and probably scared, and Harry was at a loss. He really wasn't the right person to provide comfort, never knowing what to do or what to say. He wondered why Scorpius had come here in the first place � and with his piano, of all things. Wouldn't his mother � or a friend � have been the most likely person for him to go to?

Yet there he was, looking small and ridiculously young, and Harry felt something large and warm and fierce rise in his chest. It wasn't entirely unexpected, but no less surprising. Hermione called it his "individual protectiveness", something Harry felt for those who were dear to him, in contrast to the "professional protectiveness" he felt for the wizarding world in general.

Harry thought that was making big words about simple things and splitting hairs. He merely knew that he felt the need to make sure that the wizarding world was safe, and that his friends and their families were safe and happy, and that apparently Scorpius was now included in the small circle of the latter.

His hands tightened on Scorpius's shoulders, and when the young man looked up, Harry smiled at him. 'Come on,' he said gently and tugged Scorpius to his feet.

Scorpius gave him a curious look, but followed Harry willingly over to the couch where Harry pulled him down and wrapped both arms around him in a close hug. He didn't really know what he was doing, just followed his instinct in wanting to make Scorpius feel safe and happy. Or, at least, a little happier.

For a few seconds, Scorpius sat almost rigid, but then he shuddered and melted into Harry's arms. He laid his head on Harry's shoulder and nestled into his body, and Harry felt absurdly pleased and began petting Scorpius's hair. Scorpius sneaked his arms around Harry's waist and held on.

How long they sat like this, Harry couldn't tell. Occasionally, his stomach growled. Once or twice, Scorpius shivered and sniffed, and Harry worried about what he'd do if Scorpius started crying.

But Scorpius didn't cry, simply sat there, silent, and let Harry pet him. At one point, Harry began wondering if he ought to do something else, or say something, and if they'd be sitting here like this the whole night if he didn't. Finally, Scorpius heaved a huge sigh and said softly, 'The worst thing isn't even that he yelled at me. I � Well, parents sometimes just get angry. But � he lied to me, Harry.'

'Huh?' Harry knew that wasn't the appropriate reply, but he was thrown. In the event, it didn't seem to matter, though.

'Father.' The word was a little muffled because Scorpius had turned his face into Harry's neck. 'He lied to me. He said he wouldn't but he did.'

Harry considered that agreeing that Malfoy senior was a bastard wasn't the wisest course, so he shrugged, bouncing Scorpius's head. 'Everyone lies sometimes,' he replied philosophically.

Scorpius sat up abruptly, cuffing Harry's chin on the way, and glared at him. 'That's not what I meant,' he said hotly. 'Father always told me he was proud of me and always would be, no matter what I did. That I could and should make my own decisions, and that it didn't matter if I didn't follow him in all things. He said he'd support me in my decisions and never try to force me to stick to his beliefs and opinions. And that he'd never be angry at me for standing up for myself. That he'd never be angry with me if I didn't think or do the same as he thought or did. And he lied!'

His look of indignant rage was almost comical, but any urge Harry might have felt to laugh was dampened by the hurt in Scorpius's pale blue eyes. Harry hugged Scorpius closer, thinking that it was pretty stupid of Malfoy to have promise something like that. Even Fleur Weasley, who regarded everything her children did with a certain amused indifference, wasn't laid back about Dominique's plans to become a Muggle supermodel and had finally put her foot down when the first nude pictures had shown up.

'Well, he probably meant political beliefs,' Harry said in an attempt to soothe Scorpius. 'I don't know if he's told you, but, well. He followed his father pretty blindly, though I know that your grandfather put a lot of pressure on him, too. But your father didn't try to, um, form his own opinion, you know, and it didn't end well.'

'No, I don't know,' Scorpius said sullenly. 'Father only ever talks in the vaguest terms about the war. Just enough that I know what Grandfather went to Azkaban for, and that the Dark Lord lived at the Manor for some time. And that you killed him in the end, of course.'

Harry digested the information slowly. He could understand not wanting to relive the war or confess your own faults. But leaving out important details didn't help; at least, not if you wanted the next generation to learn from your mistakes.

'Your father is a bit of an idiot, then,' Harry ventured. 'But he probably said all those things because he genuinely meant them.'

'Ha!' Scorpius snorted. 'Genuine, yeah, right. As long as I go along with him and do what he says, you mean. But as soon as I really disagree, nothing! This is the first time I wouldn't let him convince me, the first time I really have an opinion that clashes with his. And look how he reacted!'

Scorpius pressed his fists to his eyes, and Harry caressed his bowed head. He was suddenly reminded of how he'd felt when he had realised that Dumbledore had planned for him to die so that the Horcrux inside of his head could be destroyed. Yes, he knew how it felt when someone you trusted seemed to turn his back on you, and he felt a new surge of protectiveness rush through him. His arms tightened.

Scorpius's breathed hitched a little. 'He lied to me Harry,' he whispered. 'He lied. He doesn't really support me, not me as I am but only me as he sees me, as his son and heir. He doesn't really know me at all,' he finished sadly.

Something in his voice reminded Harry of his goddaughter when she'd been told she'd got a baby brother. Her eyes had been huge and scared, and she'd asked him whether Mummy and Daddy didn't like her any more that they had to get a new baby. Harry suddenly understood that this wasn't so much about Scorpius experiencing his father's rejection � and of course he couldn't have managed to get to the age of eighteen without ever coming to loggerheads with his parents. No, Scorpius was hurt because he believed that he had discovered that his father didn't really care for him, that his father's love was for an image that had only superficial similarity with Scorpius.

Harry didn't know whether that was true or not. But either way, it was shattering to realise that the person you loved, and who should love you, wasn't really how you'd always seen them.

Probably Malfoy was feeling the same at the moment with regards to Scorpius.

That was the point at which Harry's brain tied itself in knots and refused to follow the thought any further, for which he was grateful. He really didn't want any insights into Malfoy's psyche, thank you very much. Then he shoved the whole thing away and said, 'He does care about you,' because he knew Scorpius needed to hear that.

Scorpius looked at him, eyes a little glassy. 'How would you know? You never liked each other, did you? I know that much.'

'No, we didn't, but after Hogwarts that was more kind of a tradition.' Harry shrugged and smiled. 'Besides, I'm not a great fan of your grandmother, and I think that Lucius should have stayed locked up for the rest of his life for what he did, but I can acknowledge that they genuinely care for your father. Just because I don't like him doesn't mean I can't see that your dad loves you.'

Scorpius wrinkled his nose at that, but didn't protest out loud. He sighed and rubbed his eyes again. 'I just don't feel very loved for me right now.'

'What about your mother?' Harry asked curiously.

'Mummy looked at me as if I was a wild Crup that had got in and peed on her carpet.'

'Oh.' Well, that didn't sound very loving, either, and answered the question why Scorpius hadn't gone to her for comfort. 'Why?'

'Because I'm supposed to bring home a nice, pretty pure-blood witch and make lots of nice, pretty pure-blood babies for her. And because I wasn't a good little boy and did as Father told me.'

There was a bitterness in his voice Harry had never heard before. It seemed that Scorpius didn't get along well with his mother, which made his falling-out with his father all the more pertinent.

'Didn't your parents know that you're, um, not likely to bring a witch home and make babies?' Harry forced the question out though he could feel his cheeks heat.

Scorpius shrugged. 'They kind of knew.'

'Kind of?'

'Well, they knew.' Scorpius sighed. 'They just pretended it wasn't true or that it was a phase I was going through or something. They probably won't be able to do that any longer. Though I bet they'll try anyway,' Scorpius added darkly.

'Try what?'

'To pretend. That nothing's changed, and that they'll just have to wait it out, and then I'll be back to being their good little boy and do what Father says. I'm so sick of it, sometimes!'

Harry blinked, stunned anew by Scorpius's unusual vehemence. He'd never seen the young man this passionate outside of bed. He'd never known a lot of things about Scorpius, but then, he'd never had such a personal conversation with his � with Scorpius, either.

He wondered with gnawing curiosity what else there was that he didn't know about Scorpius.

'And, um, since I assume that you don't want to go back and do what your father says�'

Scorpius snorted.

'�what are you going to do? To make them see you're your own person?'

'Um.' Scorpius stilled, biting his lip. He cast Harry an uncertain glance from the corner of his eyes. 'I thought � I, well, can I stay with you?'

'Tonight? Yes, of course.' Something occurred to Harry, and he added, 'Think your father knows you're here? Because it'll make him angrier if you stay here tonight.'

'No!' Scorpius's cry startled them both. Scorpius flushed, and he shook his head. 'I mean, he probably knows I'm here and he can be as furious as he wants, I don't care! But, um. I meant, can I stay here for a while?'

Harry considered him with a frown. 'For a while?'

'Yeah.' Scorpius's flush deepened and he lowered his head, hiding behind his fringe. 'Maybe � a long while? Like � move in with you?'

Harry, blindsided, gaped at him. 'Move in with me?!'

'I'm not going to stay at the Manor, anyway,' Scorpius said quickly. 'If I can't stay here with you, I'd � I'll get a flat, or something. But I won't stay at the Manor when Father treats me like this! As if I'm just some kind of copy of him. He � They both need to learn that I'm an adult now and my own person and more than just their good little boy, that I have other plans for life than they have and � and they need to learn to treat me that way!' His chin quivered a little, but he held Harry's eyes with anxious defiance.

'Um.'

It was the shy, trembling, hopeful smile in Scorpius's eyes that in the end made the decision for Harry.

Hours later, after they had talked some more and had finally got around to eating supper, and then had gone to bed and had passionate sex, Harry lay awake, eyes wide open in the darkness, a warm body sleeping peacefully next to him, and wondered.

Scorpius had come to him for comfort. Scorpius had wanted to move in with Harry. But did he truly want to live with Harry, or was it only a temporary solution? Scorpius had said that he'd get a flat if he couldn't stay, after all.

Still, he had come to Harry first. With his piano. And while Harry couldn't imagine that someone as gorgeous and vivacious as Scorpius would want to stay for good, he would do what he had done the last six months: enjoy it while it lasted.

He couldn't help hoping that it would last a long time.

*

When Harry arrived at his office the next day, slightly late because waking up had taken an unusual form and therefore longer than expected, the owl was waiting for him.

Harry didn't recognise the bird, but he thought he knew who owned such a majestic animal. Besides, he could see the Malfoy crest that glowed on the letter from across the room. Harry groaned and went to relieve the owl of the letter and got pecked for his trouble. He told his secretary to let the bird out, closed his door, and read the letter.

It was short and let him know in no uncertain terms that Draco Malfoy needed to see him as soon as possible. The "or else" was implied.

Well, Harry thought, at least it wasn't a Howler.

He wrote a short note back, telling Malfoy to come by at around one o'clock, and then bent his mind on his work. He was determined to not worry. After all, Malfoy couldn't really do anything here. What's more, Harry reminded himself whenever that didn't help to quell his nervousness, he had never been intimidated by Draco Malfoy.

It was precisely one o'clock, and Harry had foregone lunch to try to fix a messed up roster, when there was a knock on his door. Harry's reply was, as usual, a grunt. Only when the door opened and his secretary slipped in did he glance up. Looked at the clock. Remembered.

'Mr Malfoy's here, then?' he asked.

Benjamin, his secretary, nodded. 'Yes, sir. He said he had an appointment. But � ' he swallowed nervously � 'your schedule's clear right now. I told him I'd come and ask you first.'

'That's all right, Benjamin.' Harry did his best to look confident. 'He wrote to me this morning and I told him he could come by. Show him in, please.'

Benjamin looked marginally reassured and vanished to show Malfoy into Harry's office. A moment later, Malfoy appeared in the doorway, and Harry rose politely to greet him.

Draco Malfoy hadn't changed much over the years, Harry thought as the man strutted in as though he owned the place, resplendent in silver-grey robes that made him look like a frozen beam of light. He was still tall and slender, and his face was still pale and pointy. Only his hair, so pale as to be nearly white, was different � noticeably thinning.

'Potter.' The cold drawl hadn't changed, either.

Harry nodded. 'Malfoy.' He pointed to the chair in front of his desk. 'Please sit down. Would you like tea?'

Malfoy turned up his nose, eyed the chair distrustfully, but sat down. 'A little late for trying to be polite, Potter.'

Harry rolled his eyes. 'If you're talking about Scorpius�'

'Actually,' Malfoy interrupted, 'I was referring to the fact that you hadn't seen it necessary to inform your secretary of my � appointment.' He sneered the last word. It was an impressive sneer, almost as impressive as Snape's had been.

'No tea then?' Harry asked blandly.

'No, thank you.' Malfoy sounded as though he was crunching glass.

Harry only shrugged and sat down as well. 'Okay. So tell me why you're here.'

Malfoy's nostrils flared. 'I think we both know why I am here, Potter.'

'Well, I know you're angry with Scorpius for defying you and not being a good little boy, as he put it,' Harry noted the tiny flinch at his words and slightly softened his voice, 'but I have no idea what you're here for.'

'I am here,' Malfoy said with apparent difficulty, 'against my better judgement, to appeal to your good sense. Potter, my son is still young and he is � headstrong. He will not take the repercussions of his actions into consideration, as he has not yet the experience to consider the bigger picture. So I appeal to you as one who has the experience, who can see the bigger picture, and as one who knows the wizarding world well after having served to protect it for so long. Consider what you are doing, Potter.'

There was a moment's silence after Malfoy's speech. Then: 'You want me to kick him out,' Harry stated flatly.

Malfoy tossed his head unwillingly, as though Harry had said something distasteful to him. 'I want you to end this � this thing between you.'

Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest. 'And if I don't want to?'

It was gratifying to see Malfoy gape at him. 'Potter!' he exclaimed. 'You cannot � you cannot want to continue this!'

'Why not?' It was a challenge, but Harry also wanted to know why Malfoy was so opposed.

'And here I thought you were able to consider the bigger picture,' Malfoy groaned, dramatically putting his hand over his eyes. When Harry only huffed, he let the hand fall and glared. 'Potter, don't you realise, this isn't good for either of you? He is far too young for you. Think about what it would do to your reputation, if you don't care for his! You can't believe the wizarding world would accept a relationship with one so much younger, not even if it's you. And we can't have that, can we, Saint Potter pushed off his pedestal?' he added with a sneer.

Harry glared and opened his mouth to snap something cutting back, but Malfoy's expression changed and he shook his head. It made Harry pause. Malfoy looked almost worried.

'And if you would care to consider his reputation,' Malfoy said slowly, painfully, 'you must see this isn't good for my son, either. People have already noticed. Soon, they will start asking questions and ... if there is a relationship between the two of you � people will dig out � our family's past.' He suddenly looked twice his age, his shoulders heavy with the burden of the past. His eyes, when he glanced at Harry, were weary. 'You can, I believe, imagine the headlines? Head Auror corrupted by son of a Death Eater. And you know what they will call him? Your catamite. You cannot want that for him.'

It was a strange, seeing Draco Malfoy so � small. After he'd been cleared of charges, due to extenuating circumstances, he had always held his head up high, ignoring the whispers and stares and all the petty little revenges people took because they could. Harry had reluctantly admired him for that, even if he didn't like the man and thought that was his just desserts for the things he had done. Seeing him like this now made Harry feel sorry for him.

'Malfoy, that's almost thirty years ago,' he said gently. 'It's old news. Your debts have been paid. People have forgotten. I don't think you need to worry about anyone bringing up Death Eaters.'

Malfoy shook his head and gave Harry a look that was almost back up to his usual levels of acerbity. 'You don't really believe that, do you, Potter? They will bring those times up again. People just love a sordid tale like that.' He clenched his fists. 'And I will not see our family so defamed and the Malfoy name soiled!'

Harry huffed out an annoyed breath. 'And just when you were doing so well, Malfoy.'

'What are you talking about, Potter?' Malfoy's voice was sharp, and Harry sighed.

'Here I was about to believe you actually cared for your son and his well-being and you bring up all that nonsense about dirtying your precious family name.' Harry had learnt to sneer as well.

'I do care for Scorpius!' Malfoy snapped, eyes bright with fury.

'Yeah, but you also care for your precious family name and family honour,' Harry shot back.

'Of course I care about those things as well!' Malfoy said sharply. 'And so do you, if you are honest with yourself. You can't tell me that you enjoy seeing your name being dragged through the mud by the press.'

'I care about it less than I care about the happiness of people who are important to me,' Harry retorted.

'Then you are more fool than I thought, Potter.' Malfoy snorted disdainfully. 'Family comes first, family always comes first. Family honour is shared by all, as is shame. It is each one's duty to contribute to the family name. It has been the way of the Malfoys for centuries. Scorpius knows that. He knows what he owes his family.'

'God, Malfoy, can you hear yourself?' Harry shook his head, incredulous. 'It's no surprise Scorpius got fed up and told you to mind your own business if you've kept trotting out nonsense like that.'

Malfoy sat rigid. 'Scorpius is a Malfoy first,' he said icily. 'He needs to remember that. His first loyalty must always to be the family. And he must marry a pure-blood and beget an heir. It is his duty to continue our family and our traditions.'

Harry snorted with disgust. 'Traditions? Like pure-blood supremacy nonsense? Look where following traditions has led you!'

'This is not about blood, Potter' Malfoy hissed, pale with fury. 'It is about family and honour. But I can see how you are unable to understand, never having had either.'

Harry gritted his teeth and refused to raise to the bait. 'Whatever, Malfoy. If you're trying to make me angry enough to ditch Scorpius, forget it. He told me he wanted to be treated like an adult, and I will do that. And that means trusting him to make his own decisions. I will not tell him what to do!'

He'd been almost shouting by the end of his little speech, and the silence that followed seemed to echo.

'I see,' Malfoy said finally. 'Then I will have to seek other ways to make my son see reason.'

He got up and, head held high, walked to the door. Harry leant back in his chair and linked his hands behind his head. 'I wouldn't do that if I were you.'

At the door, Malfoy half-turned, eyebrows raised haughtily. 'You will excuse me for not listening to you about how to deal with my son.'

Harry rolled his eyes, then gave the other man a meaningful look. 'Your decision, of course, but you ought to know, better than anyone else, what a father pressuring his son can lead to.'

For a moment, Malfoy stared at him. Then he turned without a word and slammed out of the office.

Harry let out a deep breath and slumped down in his chair. Well, that could have gone worse. He rubbed his eyes behind his glasses. He thought that Malfoy wouldn't stop trying to persuade or pressure Scorpius, despite what Harry had said to him. He also thought that Scorpius wouldn't back down. Which meant that not only had Harry indeed managed to get himself right in the middle of a father�son fight, but it also meant that Harry's old enmity with Draco Malfoy was back in action.

He wondered how this � thing with Scorpius had become so serious that he was willing to fight his parents for him.

And why he didn't mind.

*

When Harry came home that night, he knew that Scorpius had moved in. Standing still, he let the changed atmosphere of his house impress on him. It felt � fuller and warmer, somehow. An involuntary smile lifted Harry's lips, and his shoulders relaxed.

This, he thought, was what home was supposed to feel like. He hadn't known he'd been missing it.

'Good evening, Master Harry Potter.'

The voice sounded like the tinkling of little bells and was definitely not Scorpius's.

Harry jumped in surprise and whirled around, and then stood blinking at the house-elf that hovered in the door to the kitchen, nervously wringing its hands. It was tiny, barely taller than Rose's dolls. And it was wearing one of the tea-towels Molly had given him when he had moved into his own home. It was red and embroidered with the initials HJP. He had never used it to dry his dishes.

'What � Who're you and where did you come from?' he asked, though he was beginning to think he knew.

'I is Priddy,' the elf said with a curtsey. Her ears were quivering. 'Priddy is coming with Master Scorpius to take care of new Master Harry Potter. Priddy has prepared food for new Master Harry Potter,' she added with a mixture of fear and hopefulness.

Harry smiled at her, hoping to reassure. 'Food sounds good.'

The elf's ears pricked up, and she brightened. 'Priddy has food for Master Harry in the kitchen. Master Harry can come eat after he has washed his hands.'

The tiny creature trying to sound stern made Harry laugh, but he nodded and went to do as he was told, already thinking that coming home each night to dinner ready and waiting for him was worth enduring the inevitable lectures from Hermione.

A door upstairs opened and closed, and light steps hurried down the stairs. Harry raised his head just as Scorpius landed in front of him.

'Harry,' he cried and surprised Harry by throwing himself into Harry's arms. Coming home from work was looking better each second, Harry thought as he answered Scorpius's enthusiastic kiss.

'Hm, what a lovely welcome,' Harry murmured against Scorpius's lips. Scorpius moaned softly and pressed closer, canting his hips so that Harry could feel his growing erection.

'I could make it even better,' he whispered. One of his hands trailed down, slipping between their bodies, to curl around Harry's cock. It twitched with interest, and Harry was tempted, very tempted. But he was also very hungry.

'Later,' he promised with a quick kiss. 'I was told dinner is waiting for me.'

'I see you've met Priddy, then,' Scorpius said as he stepped back from their kiss, looking decidedly ruffled, and grinned at Harry. 'She sent you to wash your hands before dinner, didn't she?'

'Yep, and I'd better hurry to do it before she decides I won't get dinner.' Harry winked, making Scorpius laugh. Harry had never seen him look so bright and happy.

'Oh, she won't, believe me,' Scorpius said, leaning on the doorframe of the downstairs bathroom and watching while Harry quickly washed his hands. 'Feeding people is her passion, and she never was allowed to really do it at the Manor.' He cast Harry a suddenly worried look in the mirror. 'You don't mind I brought her, do you?'

Harry looked back seriously. 'Well, I admit I would have liked to be told that you'd come with a house-elf. But no, I don't mind. Even though Hermione will probably scold me forever.' Speaking of his friend made Harry wonder how they would react to his housemate. His lover.

Scorpius sighed with relief, then threw Harry a teasing smile. 'Well, Mrs Weasley knows that I own an elf, of course. Priddy is registered with her department, after all. And she's hardly likely to scold you for giving an elf shelter when she's only following her master.'

Unwilling to think about his friends and their reactions to his news right now, Harry asked, 'So she really belongs to you, not to your family?'

'Yes, she's my personal elf. Father gave her to me when I turned eleven. He said I was old enough then to own an elf.' Scorpius grimaced. 'Bit silly, with me being at Hogwarts most of the time.'

'What, you didn't take her with you to Hogwarts to bring you sweets from Honeydukes?' Harry asked with raised brows and a broad grin. Scorpius laughed and elbowed him and went ahead of him into the kitchen, throwing him a saucy smile over his shoulder when Harry smacked his butt.

Dinner was a simple shepherd's pie, but it was delicious, and Priddy burst into tears when Harry told her so.

'I think you've just enslaved her for all eternity,' Scorpius commented dryly. Harry glared at him and tried to calm the sobbing elf. Scorpius snickered and told Priddy to make a pot of tea, which Harry thought a little callous but worked marvellously at soothing the elf.

With the teapot and cups bobbing along behind them, they went to the living room, where Scorpius sat down at the piano and began to play a soft, happy little tune. Harry sank into his couch and listened for a while, enjoying the music.

He thought about what Malfoy had said today, about how the wizarding world would react. He thought about how his friends would react, mostly Ron and Hermione; he presumed Hermione would take a position similar to Malfoy and tell him Scorpius was too young.

The music ran over him like warm water, and Harry relaxed. Ron and Hermione had got used to a lot of his idiosyncrasies over the years. They would simply have to get used to this, too.

With a smile, Harry stretched, shoved the worry aside, and then hunted under the cushions for the book he was trying to read. Hermione had given it to him, telling him it was a modern classic and brilliant and he really must read it. Harry did his best but, he thought it confusing and the story boring. It always put him to sleep when he tried to figure out what the author was trying to tell him.

He was struggling with one of the author's ten-line-sentences when he noticed the music had changed.

Blinking as though waking from a dream, Harry emerged from his book and cocked his head, listening. The piano seemed to be whispering now, softly, adoringly, with an occasional tinkle like a shy question. He turned his head to look at Scorpius, and his eyes met the pale blue ones of his lover. They were soft and brilliant and seemed to shine from within. Harry's breath caught in his throat.

Scorpius blushed, but didn't look away, and Harry couldn't help but keep staring at him. He looked different, somehow, but Harry couldn't figure out where and how. Scorpius was just as gorgeous as he always was, just as desirable, playing his music and smiling at Harry.

In a great rush that made him glad he was sitting down because his knees were decidedly shaky, Harry realised what seemed so different.

It was the smile and the expression on Scorpius's face, the light in his eyes. He was open and peaceful and trusting and, for what Harry realised had to be the first time since they had met, he truly wasn't wearing a mask. Harry was seeing the real Scorpius for the first time.

It took his breath away, and he could only sit and stare and let Scorpius's eyes and music caress him.

It seemed that Scorpius was good for surprises, and he was the most surprising one of all.

* * *

Darkening Horizon

Harry's mood of bewildered pleasure doesn't last for long. His afternoon meeting is surprisingly short, which isn't entirely welcome as it leaves him far too much time to try to do his paperwork and brood over Scorpius. About what he said and did and what he probably meant. Yet no matter how long he broods and thinks, Harry can't come to a satisfying solution, which makes him moody and irritated.

He goes home early and Scorpius isn't there.

Harry stares into the empty living room and at the silent piano for entirely too long. He doesn't know where Scorpius is since he hasn't mentioned any plans to Harry. But his unexpected absence seems to confirm Harry's darker thoughts.

He'd been confused earlier. First, Scorpius seemed to have discovered an attraction to a younger, fitter wizard, and then displayed a somewhat unusual possessiveness over Harry afterwards. It doesn't fit, nothing about it does, but to Harry the evidence for second thoughts on his lover's part seems to be overwhelming.

The only other explanation that flits through Harry's head is jealousy, but what reason does Scorpius have to be jealous? He's beautiful, brilliant, and Harry loves him more than he knows what to do with.

Harry's increasingly gloomy thoughts are interrupted by a chime that signals an incoming fire-call and Neville's head popping up in the fireplace.

'Harry!' Neville looks surprised. 'Oh, good, you're in. Do you have a couple of minutes?'

'Hullo, Neville.' Harry forces a smile, and it's easier than he thought. 'Of course. What's up?'

'Nothing, nothing,' Neville hastens to say. 'Since you're there, can I come through?'

'Of course.' Harry steps back, and a moment later Neville comes through the fire. He shakes Harry's hand with a big smile.

'It's good to see you, Harry. But you look tired. Working too long, eh?' Neville gives him a searching glance.

'There's a lot to do.' Harry shrugs. 'Would you like tea or something?'

'Oh, no, thank you, I can't stay that long. I just wanted to � Well, I �'

Harry's brows rise at Neville's uncharacteristic nervousness. He hasn't seen Neville fidget like this since Snape's classroom. 'What is it, something happened?'

Neville rubs his hands. A small shower of soil drifts to the floor. 'Well, you could say that, I guess. Um. Nothing bad, just, I thought you'd still be at work and I'd meant to leave you a message and � Ah, hell.' He straightens his shoulders and meets Harry's eyes squarely. 'Harry, I wanted to invite you and Scorpius to my engagement party.'

'Engagem� Neville, you dog!' Harry punches Neville's shoulder. 'You never said you were going to propose! Congratulations!'

Neville's expression is part pleased, part embarrassed. 'Um, well, Lillian finally said yes.' His voice is filled with quiet joy.

Harry congratulates him again, thinking how his friend deserves to finally have found happiness again after the death of his first wife. He asks about the couple's plans for the party and their future, and Neville is only too willing to sit down for a bit and tell Harry. Harry listens, happy for Neville and sorry for himself.

'But I'm boring you,' Neville says after he has detailed the plans for a new greenhouse at Hogwarts that he wants to built. He gives Harry an uncomfortably sharp look. 'You look exhausted, Harry. Are things that bad at the Ministry?'

'Do you want a short answer or an honest one?' Harry half-jokes, not really wanting to go through it all again. He's happy when he gets to go home at the end of the day and leave it all behind for a time.

'The honest one, of course.' Neville shakes his head. 'You shouldn't be trying to lie to friends.'

Harry grimaces and reluctantly tells Neville the things that bother him most about his new job. Neville is a good listener, though, and soon Harry finds himself talking about the political dance and all the factions that seem to be trying to push him their way, about being bothered during lunch by visitors, and about his secretary's inability to realise that Harry is not his predecessor. By the time he's bitching about the Wizengamot question, he is feeling a lot better. Seems that talking about it does help, after all.

'I just wish they'd leave me alone, just this once,' he finishes with a sigh.

'It's really a lot to expect from you,' Neville says sympathetically, 'the new position and then the Wizengamot question, too. But, well, Harry, you know it's you. Boy Who Lived, youngest Head Auror ever, et cetera. People aren't ever going to give you a break.'

'I know, I know,' Harry groans, and rubs his face. 'It's just � Why does it always have to be me? Why can't they bother someone else for a change? There are enough people in the wizarding world who'd make a better Minister or Wizengamot member than I would. And if they want a war hero for the Wizengamot, why don't they ask you?'

Neville flushes beet red. 'Me?' he squeaks.

'Yeah, why not?' Harry grins.

'But � but I'm a teacher!'

'So? Dumbledore was Headmaster of Hogwarts and Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot at the same time. Why can't you be a teacher at Hogwarts and sit on the Wizengamot at the same time?'

'But, Harry, that was Dumbledore!' Neville points out.

'So?' Harry repeats. 'Dumbledore probably started the same way, though I think he was a junior member before he even became a teacher. So why not? You'll see. In twenty years' time, you'll be Headmaster and Supreme Mugwump, too!'

Neville sputters and stammers and shakes his head, telling Harry that no, he isn't really suitable for these posts. Harry laughs at him and keeps teasing him until Neville gathers his dignity and gets up, saying that he really needs to go back to Hogwarts now. He promises Harry to send an owl with the dates for his engagement party and escapes through the fire. Harry is still chuckling when the flames die down.

He is a little surprised at how much Neville's visit has improved his mood. Was talking about the situation at work really all he needed?

He hasn't ever really spoken about work to someone not involved in it, at least not in so much detail. But then, he got into the habit out of necessity during his years with the Aurors when he simply couldn't speak about what he was doing. And being Head Auror hadn't seemed so different from being an Auror, so that promotion hadn't caused him so much stress as this more recent one does.

This time, he's under a lot of stress � but he can talk about it. Most of what he does isn't exactly classified work. But then again, he simply isn't used to moaning about work because it has been impossible to do for so long. And because Harry thinks he ought to be able to deal with it by himself; he's always dealt with stuff himself, after all. And because after eight to ten, sometimes twelve, hours at work, he really doesn't want to think about it all again.

But he can talk about stuff. Perhaps, if he had talked to Scorpius before, he would have felt better last night when Scorpius needed him.

On the other hand, Scorpius hasn't really shown a lot of interest in Harry's work. If he simply doesn't care, if he is thinking about ending things, then he probably wouldn't be interested in investing a lot of energy in Harry, would he?

Harry is still pondering the question when he hears the front door close and Scorpius call out, 'Priddy, I'm home!'

The house-elf chirps a greeting from the kitchen, even as quick footsteps approach the living room.

'Have you heard from Harry�' Scorpius begins, and he's looking over his shoulder so he doesn't see Harry standing in the door until the last moment and almost runs into him. He jumps, eyes wide in surprise, and exclaims, 'Harry! You're home already!'

Harry grins and catches the book Scorpius nearly drops. 'Yep. I ran away.' He casts a cursory glance at the book. It's something to do with Runes. 'Did I know you had plans for tonight and simply forgot again?'

'Oh.' Scorpius shakes the surprise off and takes his book back. 'No, no plans, I � Well, I had this idea and looked it up and discovered something that might help with the project and I decided to go to tell Alexander and see what he thinks about it and�'

'Hey, slow down, it's all right.' Harry interrupts Scorpius's breathless explanation with a bemused smile. 'I was just wondering whether I'd managed to be a bad partner again and forgot something.'

'Oh, no, no!' Scorpius reassures him intently, eyes searching Harry's face.

He seems a little too � something, and the niggling doubt creeps back into Harry's mind. He tries to shake it off, but it still makes him say, 'I didn't know you need Runes for Arithmancy.' Scorpius blinks, and Harry nods at the books Scorpius is clutching. 'That's Runes, isn't it?'

'Oh. Yes.' Scorpius stares at the book as though he hadn't realised he was holding it. 'Yes, because of the Runic Exponents. I told you, yes? And afterwards I wondered if the problem wasn't applying the Orthogon Division to the Runics first, and if not then something about the nature of the runes themselves might help us, and so I went to discuss it with Alex.'

Of course, Harry has no way of telling if that's true but, God, he hates distrusting Scorpius. 'Did you have any success?'

And Scorpius's brilliant smile scatters the doubt, because the glow in his eyes is purely academic. 'Yes! We were totally going about it the wrong way because we were thinking like modern wizards. But the Runics were introduced to Arithmancy by the Ancient Ones, and they didn't have half the theories we do today, so of course we need to apply their knowledge.' He beams and nods with satisfaction. 'It's going to be so much work! We'll have to reconfigure most of the solutions we have to date and look up all the stuff we dismissed before! It will take ages!'

Harry smiles, watching him all but bounce to the bookshelf, thinking that only a Ravenclaw could get that excited about the prospect of more work to be done.

Thinking how much he loves to see Scorpius so eager and passionate about an Arithmancy project so arcane that probably only two dozen people in the whole world will understand what it's about.

Scorpius whirls back from the shelf where he deposited the book, still smiling brightly. His eyes fall onto the fireplace, and he stills. Narrows his eyes. Looks at Harry.

'We had a visitor?' His voice sounds suspicious, as though he thinks Harry is hiding something from him.

And how could he tell from one look at the fireplace? Harry shakes his head, impressed. 'You'd make a damn good Auror, Scorpius. Yes, Neville was here for a couple of minutes.' He grins and winks. 'He finally proposed to Lillian, and she said yes, and he wanted to invite us to their engagement party.'

Scorpius's face relaxes, and he rolls his eyes. 'Harry, Neville proposed months ago!' he says with an amused smile.

'He did?' Harry is honestly surprised. 'But � he told me she'd said yes. Why would they wait that long to celebrate?'

'Because she probably only said yes today.' Scorpius brushes a soft kiss over Harry's lips. His smile reminds Harry of Hermione when Ron is being particularly slow. He doesn't like the parallel.

'But �'

'Well, she held him off for ages,' Scorpius says lightly, steering Harry towards the kitchen.

'She did?'

'Uh-huh.'

'Why? How do you know?' Harry asks, trailing after his lover.

'Because she wanted him to be sure. Sure he wanted her, because she doesn't want a family. No children, that is, and she wanted Neville to be certain that he's okay with that. And I know because she basically told me when we went to dinner with them and the Weasleys last month.'

Harry sinks down into his chair and lets Priddy put a plate in front of him. 'She did?'

Scorpius smiles at him. 'Uh-huh.

Harry shakes his head, amazed that Scorpius seems to know so much more about his friends than he does. He'd never be able to keep track of everyone and everything important like this. They probably have extra classes on remembering stuff in Ravenclaw, he thinks.

'Is Master Harry not being hungry?'

Priddy's anxious voice snaps Harry back to the present, and he realises that he's been staring at Scorpius for what has probably been several minutes. Scorpius looks at him with an amused expression and raises his eyebrows. Harry flushes, blinks, and looks down at his place.

As always, Priddy's food looks delicious. Harry's stomach growls.

'No, no, I'm definitely hungry, Priddy, thanks, don't worry. I was just �' he glances back at Scorpius � 'thinking about something.'

A soft pink creeps over Scorpius's cheeks. Scorpius ducks his head. 'Something good or something bad?'

Harry pokes his fork at his lasagne. 'Just � just wondering what I'd do without you to keep track of things.'

'Be horribly lost,' Scorpius says with a little laugh.

'Yes,' Harry agrees slowly. 'Good that I have you, then.'

There's a heavy sadness pressing on his chest, but Harry can ignore it as Scorpius blushes and smiles, obviously pleased, and the evening passes in an unexpected and, on Harry's part, somewhat tense, peace.

*

Harry spends most of the next day at work thinking about Neville and Lillian and the Wizengamot and about suggesting Neville for the position. The longer he thinks about it, the more he likes the idea. But Neville is about to be married. Can Harry put that much pressure on him?

Then Harry wonders how he'd go about it, if he thought suggesting Neville was a good idea. Is there protocol? Would he have to lodge an application or something with the Wizengamot? He has no idea, and he doesn't want to ask anyone. With his luck, it would get out, and the mere hint of Harry Potter taking an interest in the Wizengamot question would bring the political world to a fever pitch.

Harry has no interest in deliberately making his life worse. To divert himself, he tells his secretary to see if the Head Auror and the Chief Hit Wizard are in, and when he receives positive answers, he packs his files and sends orders to have them meet him in the Moody Conference Room.

The room was named for Alastor Moody, and that was Harry's original reason for using the room when he needed to have Words with his Aurors. Moody would have liked to hear how often Harry barked: 'Constant vigilance!' at his team. Of course it became infamous very quickly, and being "called to the Moody Room" meant the Head Auror was In A Mood.

These days, Harry doesn't get to bark 'Constant vigilance!' at anyone, but he still likes the room for having Words.

And there are Words when the Head Auror and the Chief Hit Wizard arrive. Loud ones, and angry ones, and many. But Harry emerges victorious, and somehow that victory makes him decide to go ahead and suggest Neville for the Wizengamot. Neville is a grown up. He can say no. But perhaps he says yes, and then Harry will kill two doxies with one curse, because not only will the conspiracies and the pushing will ebb down, but he will also have someone he really trusts on the Wizengamot.

Of course, that leaves the question of how to do it. He still hasn't found an answer when he leaves that night, unusually late.

Both Scorpius and Priddy are annoyed with him for being so late, but while it's easy to soothe Priddy's ruffled feathers by devouring the dinner she's kept warm for him, Scorpius is another matter. He seems to want to talk, and Harry has trouble concentrating, his mind still half on the Wizengamot.

Scorpius finally gives up on Harry with an irritated hiss and stalks over to the piano. Harry is momentarily jolted completely out of his musings as Scorpius begins to play something fast and hard and uncomfortably high-pitched.

He hesitates for a moment, but then approaches the angry young man and lays a hand on his shoulder. 'I'm sorry, Scorpius, I just�' he begins to say, but Scorpius shrugs his hand away with a sound that is almost a snarl. Harry backs off, not in the mood for a row just now, and goes back to trying to work out his problem.

Scorpius's music has turned to something dark and ominous by the time Harry has convinced himself that it is a good idea to simply write to the retiring witch and make his suggestion for a worthy successor. If that's not the right way to go about it, she at least will know how it ought to be done.

He goes to his old study, hunting for quill and parchment. The room is cold and a little dusty. Harry hasn't spent much time in here since Scorpius moved in, and these days its sole use seems to be storage for Harry's Auror books and clutter that has amassed over the years.

Harry lights the lamps, absently thinking about clearing the clutter out some day, and sits down at his old desk. It feels odd, being in here, sitting at this desk. But Harry needs to concentrate, which he can't do in the living room tonight. Which is probably his fault, but he needs to do this thing now.

That's easier said than done, though, Harry thinks as he crumples his fourth attempt. He doesn't know the witch well, after all, so what does he say to her? He needs to make his words deferent � but not too subservient, of course. And he needs to make sure she understands that he really wants Neville as her successor without pressuring her too much.

Harry pulls on his hair, chews on his quill, and tries again.

He thinks that at one point the piano falls silent and Scorpius shows up, watching him from the door as Harry struggles with his phrasing. He might even have said something. Harry thinks that he waved him away, muttering about being busy. But he can't be sure, because when he finally emerges from his dense concentration with a finished letter that he thinks fulfils all his purposes, the piano is playing again.

Harry cocks his head, listening with a deepening frown. The music sounds harsh and bitter and dissonant. Quickly, he gathers his finished letter and all his crumpled up attempts, and hurries to the living room.

Scorpius is so hunched over that Harry almost can't see him. The piano seems to wail at him.

Harry dumps everything on the couch and makes to rush to the piano, to Scorpius. Because something must be very, very wrong for Scorpius to play like this.

But when he approaches, Scorpius looks up, and the expression on his face is so forbidding that Harry stops.

'Scorpius?' he says hesitantly, reaching out a hand.

Scorpius sneers at him, tosses his head, and disappears behind his instrument.

That is an even clearer dismissal than the cold shoulder two nights ago.

Harry's heart sinks, and his elation over the completed letter is replaced by sorrow. Something is wrong with Scorpius, but the young man doesn't want to be comforted by Harry. And if he doesn't want to be comforted by Harry �

Harry turns away, suddenly very cold inside.

If Scorpius doesn't want Harry to comfort him any longer, is there anything else that Harry can offer? Now that Scorpius is aware that his lover is growing old � Harry's as old as Scorpius's father, after all! � and might be interested in another handsome, young wizard �

Shoulders slumped, knee aching, Harry picks the letter up, throws the crumpled parchments into the fire, and leaves. He'll send the letter tomorrow from the Ministry. He can't think about it right now.

Once again, Harry slowly climbs the stairs to their bedroom, puts on his pyjamas, and curls up under his comforter. After a few minutes, he casts a warming charm on the blankets. He can't seem to stop shivering.

There's a voice in his head that tells him sharply that he's a fool. He's forty-seven and has no right to act like a teenager, hiding in the dark and pretending that he isn't crying. But Scorpius's rejection hurt, and it cut even more deeply because it's the second time in three days, and Harry doesn't know what to do any more. He doesn't understand Scorpius, who is pushing Harry away one day only to pull him close the next, and Harry can't take the constant mood swings any more.

Though there's been more pushing than pulling lately. And it hurts.

The sharp voice tells him he's a fool, anyway. Did he really expect Scorpius to stay with him forever? Scorpius is a young man; of course he'd have different lovers before he settles down. Harry points out that Scorpius did have lovers before Harry, but the sharp voice snorts and tells him schoolyard romances and short flings don't count.

Besides, didn't Harry start off as one of them as well? It only became more because Scorpius had this big falling out with his parents and needed somewhere to stay and someone to comfort and love him. He's over that and has been for a long time. He doesn't need some kind of substitute father-figure any longer. He can stand on his own two feet, and Harry helped him there.

That hurts, too.

The piano cries, and Harry grits his teeth. He half-considers going downstairs and trying to approach Scorpius again, risking another rejection, because perhaps Scorpius is waiting for him. Waiting for Harry to come and take the pain away. Like he's always done.

But Harry doesn't dare. He can risk his life without thought while hunting Dark wizards, but he has never been brave where his heart is concerned.

So he lies there, aching and cold, listening to the piano which seems to have taken on a weeping quality, and wondering. Wondering when things went so horribly wrong.

He falls asleep listening to the piano, and when he wakes up the next morning, the bed beside him is empty and cold.

*

The next evening, Harry makes sure he comes home on time. Having not yet received a negative answer to the letter he sent to the Wizengamot witch by the time he leaves encourages him, and he spends some time in several Muggle shops in London before he goes home.

Harry doesn't often randomly bring Scorpius presents, mostly because he is never really sure whether Scorpius will like it or nor or whether he will think Harry unbearably mushy. Scorpius isn't a girl, after all.

He isn't entirely sure this time, either, about the presents and about Scorpius's probable reaction, given the events of last night. But Harry is hopeful that Scorpius will at least listen to him, and perhaps they can solve this problem. He has to think they can, whatever it is. They have to.

Clutching his package, Harry Apparates home, hoping Scorpius will like the surprise and the presents. Harry has picked sheet music by one of the composers Scorpius adores so much. He doesn't often read from a score, knowing his favourite pieces by heart, but Harry knows that Scorpius enjoys the challenge of learning a new piece of music. Harry debated over whether or not adding flowers, and in the end bought one single flower, of a deep and velvety red colour.

Priddy greets him in the hall and helps Harry to untangle himself from his coat, the task made difficult by Harry's refusal to relinquish his presents for even the amount of time it would take to slip out of his coat.

'Is Scorpius home?' he asks, cocking his head towards the living room. It is entirely too silent.

'Master Scorpius is not home, Master Harry,' Priddy replies, eyes huge and worried.

Harry clutches his package. 'Did he say when he'd come back?'

Priddy shakes her head, ears quivering. 'Master Scorpius is leaving and telling Priddy that he is going out, but not where he is going and when he is coming back.'

Harry swallows and licks his dry lips. 'Ah. Okay. Thank you, Priddy.'

Still clutching his presents, Harry goes into the living room and sinks down on his couch. His head feels empty. He waits.

He doesn't know how long he sits there, waiting. Priddy comes and asks him if he wants dinner. Harry doesn't feel like eating at all and shakes his head. He feels if he just sits there, waits until Scorpius comes back, things will be all right.

After dark, Priddy comes to light the lamps, and Harry wakes up from his trance. He looks at the clock. His heart sinks. The thought that Scorpius won't be coming back tonight surges up and can't be shaken away or denied.

Suddenly worried, Harry gets to his feet, ignores his twingeing knee, and rushes up the stairs. Then he exhales a breath of relief. Scorpius's things are still there.

Harry sags on the bed and looks down at the package he is still holding.

He feels like an idiot.

He is angry with himself.

He should have talked to Scorpius last night. Scorpius probably had something important to say, and Harry didn't listen.

Harry didn't listen because he was so busy with his letter. He ignored Scorpius for something that was most likely useless and only meant to make his life a little easier, anyway. He shouldn't have ignored Scorpius for something this � this trivial.

Harry feels guilty.

He feels resentful because damn, this thing with the Wizengamot isn't trivial, at least not to Harry, he could really do with less stress in his life right now, thank you very much. But it lasts only for a second.

He is getting worried. Where is Scorpius? What is he doing? Who is he meeting? Did he go to the Manor? Malfoy probably won't let him out again. One of Scorpius's friends? Someone from the project then? This Alex he so urgently had to see yesterday?

Harry has to get up then, move, do something. He can't sit still. But he can't concentrate on anything, either.

He drifts about, miserable and worried, watched by a silent and equally unhappy house-elf.

By midnight, Scorpius still isn't home, and Harry goes to bed.

Alone.

Again.

He lies in bed and listens to the unbearably loud silence around him.

* * *

Like a Twisting Kaleidoscope

The music caught Harry's attention.

Not because there was music. There was always music during these party thingies, such as a band of elven musicians, or charmed instruments playing discretely in a corner. Usually, it was just background ambience, a low hum that was nearly drowned by the chatter of wizards and witches exchanging gossip or showing off. Harry habitually ignored it. He knew next to nothing about music and had learnt to drown it out.

But this music was different, and Harry cocked his head, listening.

It was piano music, loud and cheerful and soaring above the chatter and the discreet music played tonight by an enchanted string quartet. 'Listen to me!' it seemed to call. 'Listen how little I care about what you think of me! I'm doing what I want and I'm having fun and you can't ignore me!'

Harry sipped his wine and grinned wryly at himself. What did it say about him that he bestowed intelligence on a melody? He might have spent too much time thinking about Dark magic and sinister influence and enchanted objects. Hermione would certainly agree. Ginny would tell him he worked too much.

If she were speaking to him again, that is.

If anybody needed evidence that they really weren't good for each other and had been right to split up after only a few months of dating, his and Ginny's frequent disagreements � shouting matches, really � would be enough. Even Ron had had to admit it.

Harry shook his head free of the thoughts and listened to the melody. It seemed almost to be jumping up and down the scale, laughing and daring. Such a contrast to the evening's official music, or the sedate, self-important dances played at Ministry functions. Harry loathed that kind of music. It always made him feel burdened and depressed.

Yet this was different. He thought it sounded a little like the new hit by the wizarding rock band Goblin Rebellion. Rebellious. Careless of disapproval. Free.

It fascinated Harry, and almost without conscious thought, he slipped out of the shadowed corner where he'd been hiding and began to follow the tune to its source.

The moment he left his hiding place, wizards and witches called his name or tried to catch his eye. Pretending he didn't see or hear them and didn't feel the restraining hands on his arm or shoulder, Harry wove his way through the crowd. He had to squeeze through a throng � the bar was probably around here somewhere � and managed to escape into a narrow corridor.

There were less people here, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he made his way down the hall to an arched doorway. The music seemed to come from a room beyond it. Sliding around a portly wizard talking self-importantly to a thin witch with a sour face, Harry stepped through the archway. There he stopped, dazzled.

The room was circular and white with large, arched windows along the walls. Every window was veiled with a white, gauzy curtain. Here and there, a bright-green plant seemed to grow out of the white marble floor.

In the centre of the room stood a white grand piano, and around it gathered a flock of giggling and whispering witches, all decked out in brightly coloured robes and glittering jewellery. The light from the chandelier above their heads made them almost too bright to look at.

Harry hesitated. This was exactly the kind of crowd he tended to avoid at all costs, the kind of crowd that made him feel like the prey of the young � and not so young � witches. Despite the lure of the music, Harry was about to turn, when the crowd shifted like a twisting kaleidoscope and he caught a glimpse of the piano player through the gap.

For a moment, Harry wondered whether tonight's hostess had splurged on a costly charm to enlarge a painting and that he wasn't really looking into a room. It seemed too artificial to be natural � the beautiful young man as the still centre of the swirling room, pale where everyone around him was colourful, his severely cut robes of icy blue silk simple in contrast to the gaudiness of the crowd of witches around him.

Then the young man looked up from the keys of the piano to smile flirtatiously at some witch or other, shattering the illusion, and Harry realised that it couldn't be a painting.

The next moment, he was blushing at his fanciful thoughts, and he chided himself. Of course it wasn't a painting. A painting wouldn't be playing a Goblin Rebellion song. Harry sipped his drink, hiding his heated cheeks behind his glass even though no one was paying attention to him.

A moment later, his eyes wandered back to the young man at the piano. He was still beautiful. Still light and clear and a refreshing contrast to everyone around him. Still fascinating.

And real.

It had been a long time since Harry had had any kind of relationship, even a casual partner (and that hadn't worked out well at all). It felt as if it had been even longer since he had experienced this sudden spark of interest and excitement.

And never before for such a young man. Harry usually preferred them to be older; he'd found from experience that he needed someone who had at least some memories of the one thing that had influenced Harry's life so lastingly: Voldemort.

Harry shifted on his feet and watched the young man half-toss his head and laugh at something the dark-haired witch standing next to him had said. The music stopped for a moment as he struggled with his merriment, and a blonde witch elbowed the dark-haired one, apparently saying something that made the young man smile at her.

Harry's heart fluttered, even though the smile was directed at the girl.

The young man began to play again, another song that Harry thought vaguely familiar from the wireless. The blonde witch glided closer and draped herself against the piano in what was probably meant to be an alluring pose.

One blond brow rose. Gently curved lips tilted up in a mocking smile. The young man's lips moved, formed words. The witch pouted and slunk away, melting into the crowd. It shifted and blocked Harry's view.

Harry's breath whooshed out, leaving him gasping. He hadn't been aware he'd been holding it in. Shaking his head at himself, he raked a hand through his hair and eyed the mass of witches. Told himself that he'd seen what there was to see and he should go. He was too old to act like an infatuated teenager. Besides, someone might turn and see him there, and calling attention to Harry Potter's presence was the last thing he wanted to do.

Hidden behind the crowd, the piano's song turned mocking. Challenging.

Harry took and released a deep breath. Gripping the stem of his glass tightly, he inched deeper into the room, moving carefully so as not to attract attention. A palm-like plant gave him cover for three more steps, and then Harry's view was free. He had come to stand directly facing the young man across the expanse of the gleaming instrument, and there were no witches in his way.

The blond head was turned to the side, the young wizard once more talking to the dark-haired girl at his side even as he continued playing. He was smiling and flirting again.

Harry ran his eyes over the young man's profile � straight nose with a slight upturn at the end, angular chin � and watched the lips move. His mind suddenly, helpfully, supplied images of where he would like to see those lips. His cock twitched in agreement. Harry quickly gulped the rest of his champagne, deciding he'd blame the stuff for the images.

After all, the way the young wizard was flirting with the dark-haired witch in particular showed where his interest lay, and if Harry was drunk he didn't have to feel like such a hopeless fool.

But two glasses of champagne wasn't enough to get drunk, and another part of Harry, the part that had been an Auror for over twenty years and had been trained to notice the tiniest details, pointed out that the young man's smile didn't reach his eyes and that he was holding himself a little too stiffly to be sincere.

Harry was still busy telling himself that it didn't matter at all, someone as young and gorgeous wouldn't show any interest in an ageing Auror, when the young man laughed again. This time, Harry heard the sound, heard the wizard's voice as he spoke. It was deeper than Harry would have expected. Unconsciously, he took a step closer�

�and the young man turned his head.

Their eyes met.

Harry jerked backwards, almost toppling into the plant, shocked, embarrassed, cursing himself inwardly and blaming the champagne for not realising before, because his only possible excuse was that the young man wasn't nearly as pointy as his father.

Because there was only one family in wizarding Britain that produced males with this particular shade of pale blond hair, and Harry could have sworn that he'd know it anywhere.

And really, he did know, and it could only be due to the champagne that he hadn't connected the dots before, because now that he saw the young man's face he knew.

The gorgeous young creature was Scorpius Malfoy.

Which meant that Harry knew him, or rather knew of him, mostly, though they'd met a handful of times � when Harry had picked up Weasley children from the Hogwarts Express or the one time they had run into each other at Flourish and Blotts. And while Harry had indeed registered, at some level, that Scorpius had become a very handsome young man, he had never considered the boy further, never thought about him as someone other than another Malfoy, and had never ever felt the spark of excitement before.

But now he had. And he did.

Harry stood frozen, staring into Scorpius's pale blue eyes, head whirling with shock and confusion and lingering arousal as Scorpius stared back at him, eyes wide with surprise and something else, something akin to fascination.

Harry blinked and swallowed hard, told his knees to behave, told himself to get a grip and look away, he was making a spectacle of himself, and yet was completely unable to do anything but keep staring as the surprise left Scorpius's eyes and his lashes lowered and the lips Harry had admired earlier � fantasised about � curved into a smile that was so utterly seductive that Harry was grateful for the palm-thing at his back.

God.

Grip. Get one. Spectacle.

Harry cursed himself and the heat in his face and the tightness of his trousers, flailing for his self-control because, God, please, there were already witches turning around, craning their necks to see who had caught the young man's attention, and Harry didn't want to make a spectacle.

Then Scorpius had to go and prove that all Malfoys were utter bastards because he cast Harry a heated glance from under his lashes and began to play a new song.

It only needed the first few notes for Harry and everyone else to recognise it, the latest and biggest hit from the wizarding world's most scandalous band, The Thestral Riders, "I Want to Go Down", with the "on you" not part of the title but known to everyone thanks to the wizarding radio stations playing the song up and down so that every witch and wizard could hear for themselves how utterly depraved the band was. The song made the assembled witches titter and giggle and whisper and crane their necks even harder.

Harry cursed himself and all Malfoys and tried to hide behind a palm frond, trapped, now that he had been seen and put on the spot by the little devil at the piano. If he left now � Harry shuddered, knowing it would be suicide, and decided to stay put.

He could tell when the first witches realised whom the song addressed to because the whispers got louder and the girls nudged each other and pointed his way. Harry melted further into the shadow and hoped that no one would recognise him. Apparently, they didn't, because there weren't any outcries, and he couldn't hear his name in the whispers flying around the room.

The dark-haired witch twisted and bent forwards until she was almost leaning on Scorpius's shoulder, her sharp face peering in Harry's direction. She jumped and cried, 'Scorps! A guy?' Several witches tittered or muttered agreement.

Scorpius looked straight at Harry and smiled, a tiny, secretive, incredibly alluring smile. Harry could see his lips form the words, 'Oh, yes.' It sent a jolt of arousal to his groin.

Yet for some reason it was that which helped Harry to regain at least some of his self-control. Enough to force the blush back down and to remember who the young man was. A Malfoy, Draco Malfoy's son; and besides he was far too young for Harry to be lusting after.

The too-young man flashed Harry another heated smile that threatened to turn Harry's knees wobbly.

Harry shook his head, trying to clear it, trying to make sense of the whole situation. This � this siren behind the piano was Draco Malfoy's son, and too young, but he knew that already. But what was more, he knew the boy � the young man � had met and talked to him, and he couldn't reconcile the quiet, soft-spoken boy with this version, who flirted with so much experience and with everyone around him, first the girls and now Harry. And he knew it was Harry because he had recognised him and what was he doing?

The siren � that is, Scorpius � finished the song with a last, climatic accord, and got to his feet. The motion seemed to send a current of electricity through the crowd, and Harry jerked upright. What now?

The dark-haired witch grabbed onto Scorpius's arm and hissed something at him. Harry couldn't hear the words, but saw several of the girls standing closest nodding. Scorpius shrugged and pulled his arm free, then � to Harry's growing alarm � he stepped around the piano, with the crowd parting before him, and came towards Harry, that tiny, seductive smile on his lips. Harry, trapped by the crowd and unable to escape without being recognised, stood still, eyes locked with Scorpius's, until the young man stood right in front of him.

'Hello, Mr Potter,' he said smoothly, his unexpectedly deep voice warm and velvety.

Harry swallowed hard. 'Hello,' he croaked and coughed, clearing his throat. 'Hello, S� Mr Malfoy.'

'Call me Scorpius.' Scorpius's smile deepened, and he looked at Harry, his pale eyes hot. Harry managed a somewhat garbled agreement, but nothing more. Scorpius remained silent.

The silence stretched.

From his peripheral vision, Harry noticed the witches gathering in little groups, whispering and eyeing them, some coming closer. He felt himself break into a soft sweat, uncomfortable and awkward in a way he hadn't been for a very long time. But then, he couldn't remember ever being so disconcerted and out of his depth, either.

'Um, I didn't know you played,' he finally burst out, just for the sake of saying something. He was ridiculously proud to have managed a full sentence, and without stammering, too. God, he was pathetic.

'A little,' Scorpius said with a careless little shrug of one shoulder.

'You, um, play well.' Scorpius's smile broadened. Harry felt a flush rise to his cheeks. 'Or, that is, you didn't have any sheet music, did you?'

Scorpius laughed softly, still not looking away. 'Some things I know by heart.'

'Obviously.' The reply came without further thought, and Scorpius laughed again. Harry noticed that his laughter sounded warmer than before, deeper and more genuine. Scorpius's blue eyes sparkled. Harry was afraid he was staring again.

Scorpius's lashes lowered, a bright golden veil over his eyes. There was a faint pink tinge to his cheeks.

Harry shifted nervously and tried to think of something to say. He felt fifteen instead of forty-four. How come this boy could throw him off balance so easily? It was probably the discovery that the young man who had so fascinated him, who had left him so wrong-footed that he was still floundering, was none other than Malfoy's son.

A soft touch to the back of his hand startled him and he glanced down at the slender fingers touching him.

'I notice your glass is empty,' Scorpius drawled, brushing his fingers over the glass in Harry's hand and consequently over Harry's fingers. He tilted his head and shot Harry a coy look that was completely at odds with his siren-like smile. 'Would you care for another drink?'

Harry blinked, thrown further off-balance when the intense but honest young man was suddenly replaced by the flirtatious creature that had played with the witches. 'Um �' he said eloquently.

For a second, Scorpius's lips twitched into a genuine, if somewhat smug, smile, before the coquettishness returned. 'My mouth feels a little dry. I could do with some lubrication.' The words were accompanied by a saucy smile. 'What about you, Mr Potter? Care to join me?'

Harry was vaguely convinced that it ought to be ridiculous, this young man coming on so strongly. The way his voice caressed the word lubrication. But he felt no urge to laugh. Instead, he swallowed and licked his lips, then had to suppress a groan at the flare in Scorpius's eyes as they tracked the movement.

'Um, yes, something to drink would be nice,' Harry finally managed. 'Only �' He gave a nod into the direction of the now a little too avidly listening crowd. 'I'd rather not have to make my way through your, ah, friends.'

'Not my friends,' Scorpius said a little too quickly, then took another step closer. 'But I understand,' he said softly. 'Let me take care of you.'

He lifted his other hand slowly, and Harry couldn't help watch with hypnotised fascination as it came closer, but instead of touching his face like he'd thought he would, Scorpius snapped his fingers. There was a soft crack, and a squeaky voice said, 'How can Sippy help young Master, sir?'

Scorpius smiled into Harry's wide eyes. 'House-elf,' he said, then a little louder, 'Two glasses of champagne, please.'

The elf squeaked its agreement and vanished, reappearing moments later with two full glasses. Scorpius handed one to Harry in exchange for his empty one and sent the elf away. Then he clinked his glass against Harry's. 'Your good health, Mr Potter.'

Harry watched as Scorpius sipped his champagne and watched him from below his lowered lashes. 'Um, yeah, you, too,' he stammered and half-emptied his glass, inwardly hitting himself over the head for allowing himself to be this flustered. He had mastered more difficult situations as an Auror, even the one where he and his partner had been doused with an illegal lust potion when they'd tried to bust a brewer's ring. He ought to be able to control this one, too, hard on or not.

'So, Scorpius,' he forced himself to say, 'what have you been doing since Hogwarts?' And could he have come up with something more cringe-worthy?

'Oh.' Scorpius's eyes flickered, then he shrugged and waved a languid hand. 'This and that. Travelled a little, visited distant relatives. Listened to music,' he added with a slow smile.

'Learned to play the piano,' Harry suggested.

'Nooo.' Scorpius drew the word out, conveying a bored disdain Harry found irritating. 'I learnt that when I was a child. I'm just playing for fun these days.'

'And you said you travelled? Where to?' Harry asked and tried not to feel like an elderly relative speaking to his grand-something he saw once a year.

Scorpius shifted his weight, making his robes twist and cling a little too tightly to one hipbone and thigh. At the same time, his move blocked Harry's face even further from curious viewers. Harry raised his brows in surprise.

'Oh, everywhere,' Scorpius replied with another airy wave. 'France, Italy, some parts of Germany. The tour, you know. Historic and important places on the continent that every educated young wizard ought to have seen.' The tilt of the blond head, the faintly condescending smile � Scorpius wasn't as pointy as his father, but right now he looked just as arrogant. Harry felt a familiar irritation rise in him. 'What about you? Have you ever been off the island, Mr Potter?'

'Yes,' Harry said rather shortly. Scorpius's eyes widened at the tone, and he stood straighter, and suddenly, he wasn't an arrogant little prince. Harry softened. 'A couple of times, actually, though mostly as an Auror.'

'International missions.' Scorpius nodded. 'Right, I remember reading that in the newspapers. Where did you go?'

'Mostly the Muggle commonwealth. India, Australia, New Zealand,' Harry explained.

'Why there? I would have thought missions to Europe more likely.'

Harry couldn't help the smile at Scorpius's obvious interest. 'Because the governments have traditionally close ties. It's mostly due to Muggle politics and those countries being former colonies of Britain, but some of that found its way into wizarding relations as well, and sometimes when they need help with something, they come and ask us.'

'I see,' Scorpius said slowly. 'And do you like exotic places?'

Harry shrugged. 'They're okay for a while. I wouldn't want to live there, though New Zealand was nice. Not as hot as Australia. Not as wet as India.' He'd been there during monsoon season.

'Hmm,' Scorpius hummed, and then the seductive smile was back. 'So you don't like hot and wet?' He took a sip of his champagne and then licked his lips, and Harry was reminded of hot and wet places where he did like to be. Which was, in all likelihood, exactly what Scorpius wanted. That realisation just didn't help Harry's reaction.

'Not when I have to live there,' he said, slightly hoarse, pretending he hadn't just thought what he did.

Scorpius smirked at him, not at all deceived. 'Agreed, hot and wet can be � uncomfortable. It is quite hot in here, and you do look a little wet.' Harry mopped his brow and glared. Scorpius laughed. 'So, what do you say we leave this uncomfortable place and retire somewhere where we can be more comfortable?'

In front of his inner eye, Harry saw a wide bed with soft sheets and luxurious cushions, and he wondered with a jolt whether Scorpius knew Legilimency and was putting ideas in his head. Or perhaps it was only Scorpius's siren-smile that did it. God, but he was good. The thought was sobering.

On the other hand, leaving this room, leaving the dozens of curious eyes and eager ears behind, was a very welcome suggestion. Even if it meant being alone with this young man, whose expression was decidedly too predatory.

'Well, I wouldn't mind getting out of here, but �' Harry flicked his eyes over Scorpius's shoulder. 'Any idea how we'd manage without the hounds of hell on our heels?'

Scorpius choked with surprised laughter. 'Oh, easy.' A twist of his wrist and Scorpius's wand slid into his hand. 'Allow me,' he purred, leaning closer in to Harry, who tried to step back automatically but was stopped by the tree trunk at his back. Harry sucked in a sharp breath, and his nose was filled with Scorpius. He could feel Scorpius move as he flicked his wand at something behind Harry, could hear the hum of a murmured spell.

The gauzy curtain in front of the nearest window billowed and fluttered around and above them. Several feminine voiced cried out. Harry started, too, and turned to look, but then a strong hand on his shoulder pushed, and Harry stumbled forwards, through a door that had appeared behind the curtain and onto a terrace. A second later, Scorpius was warm by his side.

Harry blinked back at the door that was slowly morphing back into a window, then at Scorpius. The young man sheathed his wand with a smug smile. 'Magic,' he said and waggled his brows, looking mischievous and making Harry laugh.

'I will have to keep that in mind.'

'Oh, do, Mr Potter, please do,' Scorpius purred, slinking closer.

Harry suppressed a sigh. He'd liked the boyish smugness better than the heavy seductiveness. Thoughtfully sipping at his champagne, Harry turned away to look around.

It was dark out here, the curtained windows behind them the only source of light. Earlier, Harry had seen bushes decorated with fairy-lights, but this part of the garden was probably not seen from the official terrace, and so no one had bothered with more decoration. He welcomed the lack of gaudiness, but it also made their hiding spot dim and secluded.

Harry swallowed his champagne and eyed the terrace they were on. It was little more than a small ledge bordered by a carved balustrade that wound around the ground floor of the sprawling manor house. Stupid, Harry thought, easy access for burglars, but these rich families probably had good wards. Still stupid.

'So, Mr Potter.' The voice was deep and quiet and far too close for Harry's comfort. 'Is this place more to your liking?'

Harry cautiously turned around, and the next moment wished he hadn't. Scorpius was standing so close that when Harry turned, he seemed to just flow right into Harry's arms. Harry took a step back and his back met the wall. Through the window beside him he could hear high, excited chatter.

'Um, there are certainly less witches around,' he tried to deflect.

Scorpius smirked. 'You don't like witches, Mr Potter?'

Harry did his best not to choke. 'Not in droves, no, and not when I know they'll force me to dance with them,' he said quickly.

'Not a dancer, then?' And now Scorpius was standing close again, and his hands came to rest on the wall on both sides of Harry's head, neatly trapping him. Harry felt a flash of professional embarrassment at having been caught so easily. 'Or just not with witches?'

Harry blinked at the young man's handsome, shadowed face, having somehow lost thread of the conversation. 'Um � I don't dance?'

Scorpius laughed softly, and suddenly there were hips pressing into Harry's, startling him. 'Never?' Scorpius moved again, and even through several layers of clothes Harry could feel his erection. He shivered and groped for something to hold on to, dropping his glass in the process. The shattering sound of glass seemed very far away.

'No,' Harry gasped, startled to realise that his hands had gripped hold of Scorpius's hips. 'I don't � I have no � I can't keep the rhythm.'

The body between his hands shifted slowly. Robes bunched. Their cloth-covered erections slid over each other. Harry couldn't help the instinctive thrust upwards. A soft moan was breathed against his ear.

'Hmm, I believe you know perfectly just how to move, Mr Potter,' Scorpius whispered.

His warm breath made Harry shudder. Lips brushed over his ear and then along his jaw, and Harry grasped Scorpius's hips tighter, inadvertently pulling him closer. The increased pressure on their cocks made both of them moan.

'S-scorpius,' Harry managed.

Scorpius hummed against his chin.

'W-what are you doing?'

The young man pulled slightly back, just enough for Harry to see his amused smile and dilated pupils.

'What does it look like,' Scorpius breathed, 'Harry?'

But then Harry couldn't answer, because Scorpius's lips were fastened on his, and an insistent tongue flicked over his mouth, and then they were kissing. Tongues sliding, lips brushing, teeth nipping, and Harry was thankful for the wall at his back because the world was spinning around him.

'Harry,' Scorpius whispered, eyes brilliant.

Harry stared at him, breathing hard. 'Why?'

Slender fingers ran through Harry's hair. 'Why what?'

'Why this?' Harry waved one hand, the other firmly anchored on Scorpius arse. How had it got there?

Scorpius's eyes widened. 'You aren't serious!' He gripped onto Harry's shoulders as though he feared Harry would push him back the next moment.

'You don't know me,' Harry pointed out.

The reaction to his words was unexpected. Scorpius's face softened and he smiled almost tenderly. 'I know you,' he said gently, brushing fingertips over Harry's lips, 'enough to know that I want you.'

'But � but �' Harry wanted to argue that a lot of people wanted him without knowing him at all, but what came out was, 'I'm older! And � and you're�'

'Does any of that matter here?' Scorpius's smile turned wicked, and he grabbed Harry's erection, squeezing it.

Harry groaned. Loudly. His hips bucked up into the touch.

'Yessss,' Scorpius hissed and squeezed again.

Harry bit his lip to prevent other noises from escaping and tried to push Scorpius back. But either he had lost all strength or the young man was a lot heavier than he looked, because he didn't move an inch. And then Harry moved, jumped and couldn't suppress the cry at the sudden feeling of fingers on his cock.

'Wha�?'

'Let me take care of you, Harry,' Scorpius whispered before his lips prevented Harry yet again from answering.

God, it felt good, Scorpius's lips soft yet insistent, his fingers on Harry's erection strong and sure. And it had been so long since someone else had touched him �

Clatter followed by tinkling cut through the thickening fog of arousal, and Harry realised that they were still standing just outside the white room with the piano, and if any of the curious witches inside thought of lifting the curtain �

With an effort, he jerked back from Scorpius's kiss, banging his head against the wall in the process, and gasped out, 'Not here! Someone could see!'

Scorpius's fingers curled tightly around his cock. 'Not here?' the young man whispered. His thumb brushed over the moist head of Harry's dick. 'Have you never had sex somewhere you could have been caught? Where you had to be quiet and fast so that people wouldn't hear you or walk in on you?'

The thumb brushing was maddening and Harry was tempted to just give in, but the thought of getting caught doused his desire quite effectively.

'No, never, and I don't ever plan to. I'd rather not be splashed all over the Prophet,' he said, determinedly straightening.

'Hmm, I agree,' Scorpius said thoughtfully, but in the next second gripped Harry's cock even more tightly, pulling hard and twisting his hand in a way that made Harry's eyes roll back. 'I'd rather have you splashed all over me.'

Harry grunted, but resisted. 'Not. Here.' He tried to push Scorpius back but the young man was equally determined to hang on � and he was gripping Harry's dick. Harry gritted his teeth and pushed back from the wall, unbalancing Scorpius who hadn't expected the move, and while they were still stumbling, Harry Apparated them both to his house�

� where their momentum carried them into the next wall and Harry banged his elbow pretty hard.

Scorpius found his balance quickly and let loose a surprised laugh. 'Well,' he said, looking around, 'I agree that this is far better.'

Harry sagged against the wall, opening his mouth to say something he forgot the very next second, because Scorpius had dropped to his knees before him. Mouth open, Harry gaped down at him. Scorpius looked back with a lascivious grin and leant in, and Harry watched with breathless fascination as his cock slipped between Scorpius's lips. Hot and wet and, oh, God.

Harry banged his head on a second wall tonight, gripped onto Scorpius's hair, and let himself go. The sound that tore out of his throat was so loud and animalistic he felt embarrassed. But it elicited an answering moan from Scorpius, and the vibrations of the sound around his cock drowned everything but pleasure.

Scorpius hummed again, making Harry shiver and jolt and grip tighter. He half-worried he was hurting Scorpius, but the younger man didn't protest, only sucked harder and flicked his tongue against the spot just below the head of Harry's dick. One warm hand slipped into Harry's pants to curl around his balls, rolling and gently tugging, and then one finger sneaked further in and pressed down just behind.

Harry sucked in a sharp breath, tensing as familiar and not entirely welcome tingles began to curl his toes. 'Close,' he warned, tugging on Scorpius's hair.

Scorpius's soft hum of pleasure made him gasp and tense, heartbeats away from coming.

Then Scorpius pulled away, letting Harry's cock slide out of his mouth. Harry blinked his eyes open and peered down at the impish face. Scorpius smiled innocently up at him. 'You don't want to come?'

'I come now, evening's over,' Harry pressed through gritted teeth. ''M not 's young 's you're, won't get it back up.'

Scorpius gave him a considering look, a slight smile playing around his lips. 'Oh, I think I could you get up again, easily.' He licked his lips and winked at Harry, the hand that had teased Harry's balls now curling around the base of Harry's erection. He squeezed. 'Want to try?'

Harry bit his lip, hard. He didn't know why he didn't simply give in and let Scorpius blow him. If Scorpius wanted a challenge, why not let him? But Harry didn't want to, and perhaps it was pure stubbornness that made him resist. Or perhaps it was the way Scorpius was wriggling almost imperceptibly, free hand pressing down on his lap.

A flash of something, maybe competitiveness, shot through Harry and energised him, and within seconds he had reversed their positions, Scorpius leaning into the wall and Harry on his knees in front of the young man. Grinning madly at Scorpius's stunned gasp, Harry fumbled his way through icy blue robes and bared his erection. It was purple with need and slightly damp and bobbed imploringly at Harry.

'Hmm, pretty,' he commented with a soft chuckle. 'But it sure looks painful.'

'Kiss it better,' Scorpius demanded in a choked voice and pushed his hips at Harry.

Harry laughed, delighted, and closed his fingers around another man's cock for the first time in years. Scorpius hissed and thrust his hips forwards again.

'You're an impatient one, aren't you,' Harry teased and stroked Scorpius slowly, getting a feel for the young man. 'God, you feel good.'

'Would feel even better somewhere wet and hot,' Scorpius urged. He gasped when Harry squeezed him, hard, but didn't stand still, wriggling and trying to thrust into Harry's fist.

Harry shook his head, his face aching with his broad grin. 'You're unbelievable,' he told Scorpius. 'Un-fucking-believable.'

'Please,' Scorpius whined, 'please, Harry.'

The pleading, unrestrained and unashamed, took Harry's breath away. 'Un-fucking-believable,' he whispered, and then gave in and sucked Scorpius into his mouth. The taste exploded in his mouth, and suddenly, his heart was beating fast with exhilaration and he was almost giddy.

'Harry!'

Scorpius's head fell back without, Harry noticed enviously, banging against the wall. But his whine was intensely satisfying, as was the way his hands were suddenly in Harry's hair, tangling and pulling. Harry hummed and set out to blow Scorpius's mind.

As well as his own, it turned out. Harry had forgotten what a heady rush it was to satisfy a partner. How good it felt to give pleasure, to hear a deep, hoarse voice moan his name. He had forgotten the scent and the taste, the feeling of a cock sliding between his lips and its weight on his tongue. He was rediscovering it, rediscovering this joy and discovering Scorpius.

Harry revelled in it. The scent of sweat and musk, the taste of man, the feeling of velvety skin and steel, of hard muscles and wrinkly soft skin and the promise of tight heat.

'Harry!' Scorpius whined, clawing his hair, and his taste exploded over Harry's tongue in waves as he came.

Harry gasped and swallowed, choking a little as the head of Scorpius's cock bumped into the back of his throat. He grabbed reflexively onto Scorpius's hip to still the wild thrusts, and Scorpius squirmed, pushing back onto Harry's finger. They both gasped as it slid in, Scorpius hissing, 'Yessss,' and Harry swallowing once more as another spurt hit his tongue.

With a final lick to Scorpius's slit, Harry pulled back and stared up at Scorpius's flushed face. He was beautiful, sweaty and panting, his fine hair sticking to his brow. Eyes closed, but they flew open when Harry pulled his finger out.

'No, don't!' Scorpius gasped, and Harry froze. Scorpius's eyes were huge and dark as they locked with Harry's. His lips parted slightly as he slowly, insistently, pushed back onto Harry's finger. Little by little, it slid in, deeper than before. Scorpius's lashes fluttered. He moaned. He was still hard and showed no signs of flagging.

Harry held his breath and, eyes fastened onto Scorpius's face, he moved his finger. In and out by increments, up and down. Scorpius writhed, whimpered. 'Yesss. Yes, please, Harry!'

Harry tried to swallow and found his mouth suddenly dry. His neglected erection throbbed longingly, and he had to grab it and squeeze it.

Scorpius's eyes were glued to that hand. 'Yes, Harry. Please. Fuck me, please.'

Just as before, the unreserved begging got to Harry. He staggered to his feet, making Scorpius hiss and groan as his finger shifted. It was that which made Harry stop and hesitate.

Scorpius wiggled when Harry simply stood there and clenched around his finger. 'Come on, please.'

'I don't � I don't have anything here,' Harry rasped. 'Down here, I mean. I'll hurt you.'

'Accio stuff, then, but hurry!'

Harry blushed, mumbled agreement, and fumbled for his wand. It seemed there were still times he forgot he was a wizard. Thankfully, his magic was not dependent on his brain fully functioning, and two flicks of his wand later, a door banged open and a small phial soared into Harry's hand.

'Hurry, hurry,' Scorpius urged.

'Yes, oh impatient one.'

'Jokes later,' Scorpius ordered, watching with avid eyes as Harry flicked the phial open, 'fucking now.'

'Bossy, too.' Harry slowly pulled his finger out and dipped it into the phial. The lube was cold against his heated skin.

'Yeah,' Scorpius sighed. He licked his lips, cast one glance at Harry's face, and then turned to face the wall, shrugging out of his robes and pushing his underwear further down. He looked over his shoulder as he braced himself against the wall and gave Harry his siren-smile. 'Hurry!'

Harry took a deep breath, got a grip on himself, and stepped forwards. Spreading Scorpius's cheeks with one hand, he trailed the other down the velvety crack. Scorpius's hair was so pale that Harry felt rather than saw it. When his fingertip reached the tiny hole, Harry hesitated. However, Scorpius was having none of that. He pushed back, opening, and Harry's fingers slid in all the way.

'Mmmm, more,' Scorpius demanded.

'Are you always this bossy?' Harry groused under his breath.

But Scorpius apparently heard him for he stilled and looked over his shoulder again. His unexpectedly insecure expression tugged on Harry's heart.

'I � Sorry, I just � want you. Any way I can get you,' Scorpius said quietly. His eyes flickered away, and he bit his lip.

Harry cursed himself and stepped closer, pressing his front against Scorpius's back, then kissed one slender shoulder. 'No, I'm sorry. Be as bossy as you want.'

Scorpius studied him from under lowered lashes, obviously not convinced, and Harry wondered at the discrepancy between the confident seduction and this unexpected insecurity. He cast about for something reassuring to say, but he had never been good with words, and in the end decided he'd rather do something.

And he did, twisting his finger inside Scorpius and hunting for the young man's prostate. A surprised yip a little later told him he'd found it. Scorpius shuddered violently, clenched around Harry's finger, and then relaxed and thrust back.

'More,' he demanded again, eyes bright with challenge. Harry grinned and complied.

One finger, then two pressed and rubbed Scorpius's prostate, eliciting moans and whines. Scorpius was constantly moving, rising to his toes and lifting his feet, twisting and shifting and all but dancing on Harry's fingers. And all the while muttering, 'More, more, more, please.'

Harry didn't torture them for long, though, just as impatient as Scorpius was. When he considered Scorpius sufficiently relaxed, he pulled his fingers out, splashed lube on his cock, and before Scorpius had had time to do more than whine in protest, Harry shoved in. He sank in almost the entire way.

Pausing, Harry bit his lip and tightened his hold on Scorpius's hips, enjoying the sensation of tight heat gripping him and trying not to come at the same time. Then Scorpius thrust back again, and Harry was in balls deep.

Scorpius moaned, head thrown back. Harry didn't have enough air in his lungs to make a sound. With concentrated effort, he held off his orgasm, not helped at all by Scorpius's wriggling. Biting Scorpius's shoulder in punishment, Harry slid one hand from the slender hip he was holding to the still rock hard cock.

'No, no touching,' Scorpius panted. 'Just � just you.'

Harry groaned, gripped Scorpius's hips again with both hands, and moved, unable not to. He knew he wouldn't last long and so tried to make it good. Hard and fast, pushing Scorpius almost into the wall, he set up a bruising rhythm. Sharp, fast slapping sounds of skin on skin filled the air, accompanied by deep grunts and strange little whines.

'Knew � you � could � move,' Scorpius managed between thrusts, and Harry bit his shoulder again. Scorpius choked out a wild laugh, tensed without warning, and came with a soft cry. His muscles clenching around Harry sent him over as well, shooting deep into Scorpius's body.

Several moments later, Harry sagged against Scorpius, pressing the slender body into the wall. A floating, sleepy sense of well-being cloaked him, and he wrapped both arms around Scorpius's chest, buried his nose in the young man's neck, and simply held on. Scorpius shifted against the wall, and then his hands curled around Harry's forearms. They stood like this, on shaky legs, until both their heartbeats had slowed down.

'Hmmm, that was brilliant,' Scorpius finally mumbled.

Harry lazily hummed his agreement. He felt as though he could have stood there forever, wobbly knees notwithstanding. But he was half undressed and his sweaty skin was cooling. Faint goose bumps started on Scorpius's skin, and finally, Harry pulled reluctantly back and out. Taking an unsteady step, he leant against the wall next to Scorpius, and when the younger man gave him a brilliant smile, Harry smiled unreservedly back.

At the faint sound of a clock striking, they broke their silent eye contact. Harry flushed inexplicably, and Scorpius bent down to gather his robes. Straightening, he shook them out and eyed them critically.

'Well, I suppose they'll do,' he said doubtfully.

Harry fumbled for his wand and cast a Cleaning Charm first at himself, then at Scorpius, then at Scorpius's robes. The silk hissed and seemed to lose what little colour it had in the first place.

'Cleaning Charms don't really work on Acromantula silk,' Scorpius said, smiling, 'but thanks anyway. I'll just have to make sure no one gets too close a look at me.'

Harry watched him dress, feeling slow and a little unsettled. 'You're, um, going back to the party?'

Scorpius looked up from buttoning his robes. 'Oh. Yes.' He blushed and looked down, then peered at Harry from under his lashes. 'I mean � I think I'd better go. Before someone notices that both of us are absent.'

Harry blinked, faintly surprised that Scorpius didn't want everyone to know that he had shagged Head Auror Harry Potter. Then he felt ashamed for assuming that was his motive. And he was thankful for Scorpius wanting to keep things quiet, not the least because Harry really didn't want to have to deal with an enraged Draco Malfoy. But it was still unusual.

'Um. Okay,' he finally said.

Scorpius, who was tugging his robes into shape, paused and looked at Harry. Studied Harry's face. For a moment, the siren-smile quivered on his lips, but it vanished quickly until Scorpius looked almost shy.

'Will you � do you want to come back with me?' he asked tentatively.

'Oh.' Harry looked himself up and down, eyeing his messy, come-stained robes. His glasses slid off his nose in the process. Harry's Seeker-reflexes were rusty but not gone, and he caught them before they smashed. Holding them up to his eyes, he noticed they were bent. 'Um.' He blinked at Scorpius. 'I don't think both of us showing up, looking � ruffled � will do any good.'

Scorpius bit his lip and nodded. 'I'll go, then. If � I mean, if someone recognised you and says something, shall I tell them it was Polyjuice? For a bet?'

'Would people believe that?' Harry was sceptical.

'Probably not everyone.' Scorpius shrugged. 'But that's the beauty about rumour. You don't have to believe it to spread it.'

Harry, only too familiar with how rumour worked, nodded.

'Okay. I'm off, then.' Scorpius hesitated again.

'Wait a moment.' Harry jammed his glasses onto his nose and groped for his wand. With a few flicks and mutters, he opened the wards. 'Now you'll be able to Apparate out and won't have to walk to the end of the property.'

'Thanks.' Scorpius smiled, but made no move to leave. He studied Harry intently, making him wonder what Scorpius was thinking about.

'Is something wrong?'

Scorpius blushed and glanced down, then back up at Harry, and with a hopeful smile asked, 'Can I � can I see you again sometime?'

Harry blinked at the unexpected question, briefly at a loss. Did he want to see Scorpius again? His limp cock tried to twitch. Harry blamed the silly thing for the words he could hear coming out of his own mouth, unbidden. 'Yes � yes. Owl me?'

He fleetingly thought about adding something to moderate the statement, something along the lines of: 'Let me know if rumours start,' but Scorpius's immediate, brilliant smile squashed all such thoughts.

'Brilliant! Thank you.' Scorpius blushed but kept smiling. 'Her name's Estrella,' he added, then turned on the spot and Apparated with a soft crack. It took Harry a moment to realise that Estrella was probably the name of Scorpius's owl.

He raked a hand through his hair and wondered at himself. Had he really just told his best school-enemy's son that he'd like to see � and fuck � him again? Apparently.

Harry glared down at his dick, but the thing was quiescent now. With a sigh, he wrapped his robes around himself and turned to walk up the staircase. Paused and blinked.

They hadn't even made it out of the hall.

Shaking his head at himself again, Harry slowly climbed the stairs towards his bedroom and went to bed, stuffing his messy, wrinkled robes into a sack to be taken to the Cleaning Service in Diagon Alley, and cursorily brushing his teeth. Then he lay there, staring at his dark ceiling, body still humming with languid pleasure while his mind whirled, putting together all the little things and irregularities he had noticed but paid not attention to before.

Experienced flirt, spoiled snob or passionate youth � what was the real Scorpius and what was some kind of act he apparently thought he had to play? Because some of it had to have been an act, and spoiled snob was the most likely candidate. Scorpius had been in Rose's year at Hogwarts, and Rose had never so much as hinted at the fact that Scorpius was an arrogant little prince. Moaned about him beating her at tests, though, yes, and frequently.

It made Harry wonder why Scorpius had thought he had to show this persona to Harry. Or was it some kind of public mask? Harry wouldn't put it past the Malfoy p�res to instruct the fils in what they probably called "proper behaviour".

What's more, Scorpius had been sorted into Ravenclaw. He might be arrogant, but he couldn't be an airhead. He had been strikingly successful in his method of seduction, Harry suddenly realised, very cleverly keeping Harry so far off balance that he hadn't known how to escape until it was too late. That had to have been done intentionally.

Harry grimaced but didn't stop the smile that followed. Scorpius was definitely an intriguing young man, Harry thought as he rolled onto his side and snuggled into his blanket. Fascinating. And beautiful.

* * *

And no End

Harry's day at the office is a nightmare.

Partly that's due to the general situation at the Ministry. Rumours are flying around that a successor has been chosen for the retiring Wizengamot witch, and half the Ministry seems to be rushing around, trying to find out more, or make some last efforts to push their own candidate. Harry has been accosted and talked at four times before even lunch break, and the last pompous witch got her head snapped off for her trouble.

Harry didn't even stay long enough to apologise. Let them think him rude. Right now, he'd rather have everyone angry at him than trying to push him into a position he really doesn't want.

Yet the madness at the Ministry is a rather negligible part of what makes Harry's day a nightmare. The emptiness of the bed this morning was worse. As is the absence. And the silence. Harry had delayed leaving the house for as long as possible, in the hope that Scorpius would return.

It had made him late, which is never a good thing because every time he isn't in early, there seem to be dozens of people who need to speak to him right now waiting impatiently. It's made worse by the fact that Scorpius didn't return home.

He hasn't even sent an owl to let Harry know where he is. Or when he will return. Or if.

There's a feeling like a heavy stone in Harry's stomach. Sometimes, it's growing, squeezing his heart and his lungs until Harry has trouble breathing.

Halfway through the morning, he begins wondering whether something happened to Scorpius. Perhaps he is in St Mungo's, hurt, unconscious, or waiting for Harry. He has almost convinced himself to fire-call when he is interrupted by his secretary, who still hasn't learnt to knock.

This time, Harry doesn't give a flying fuck about who might be listening and gives her a thunderous dressing down. Including the threat that, if she can't learn to fucking knock, she'll have to find a job where knocking isn't needed at all.

Then he has to sit through another conference with the Senior Assistant to the Minister (Finance), who is unusually subdued and deferential. By the time the wizard leaves and Harry can fully devote all of his attention to Scorpius again, reason has had some time to work on him. Now it points out to him that, if Scorpius was in hospital, someone would have let Harry know.

But there is no owl, no firecall, no one has left a message with his cowering secretary. The continued silence is not reassuring at all.

Harry tries to bury himself in paperwork, but all he manages to do is shuffle files around and brood.

At half past four, there's a very timid knock on his door. Harry's head snaps up. His heart is suddenly racing.

'Enter!'

The door inches open and Miss Simpson pokes her head in. Harry sags into his chair.

'Yes?' Not another meeting, he begs silently. Not another wizard trying to draw Harry into his plans.

'An owl for you, Mr Potter.' Miss Simpson cautiously crosses the threshold and holds a sealed envelope out to Harry. He wearily watches her come closer, not liking the expression of suppressed curiosity and excitement in her eyes. 'It looks important.'

'Yes. Thank you.'

He takes the envelope and casts a cursory glance at it. It's sealed with the Wizengamot seal. Harry stills. That explains his secretary's curiosity. However, he has no intention of satisfying it. Nodding at the witch, he drops the envelope onto his desk and bends his head over his file.

Miss Simpson shuffles her feet. 'Will there be a reply, Mr Potter?'

Harry gives her a hard stare over the rim of his glasses. 'I'll take care of it. Thank you.'

Miss Simpson visibly fights with herself, but in the end only nods and leaves the office. The moment the door closes behind her, Harry grabs the envelope and tears it open, his eyes flying over the fine script.

� want to thank you for your interest in the Wizengamot and your commitment to the community �

� unusual way shows resourcefulness �

� unexpected suggestion �

� contacted Mr Neville Longbottom �

� came to the conclusion that he is a worthy candidate �

� offered �

� he accepted.

Harry doesn't read any further.

He's unable to suppress his shout of triumph or the delighted laughter that follows. He knows that his secretary can hear him � and will most likely draw the wrong conclusion. Let her, Harry thinks, and he sinks back into his chair, feeling relieved and happy.

'Thank you, Neville,' he says out loud and laughs again.

That's that, then. Now the politicising and intriguing and constant demands on Harry's time and attention will die down � at least for a time. Now he can finally concentrate on doing his job again.

No more Wizengamot members trying to recruit him. No more meetings with politicians who pretend wanting to consult with him. No more carefully crafted speeches that he's at a loss to understand. No more pushing and pulling, no more constant demands that he do this or do that or do something else entirely.

Well, probably not no more of the latter, but at least less. And that he can live with.

Harry closes his eyes. He feels light, as though a heavy burden has been lifted from his shoulders. Relaxing, he enjoys the sensation of tension bleeding out of his muscles and of his stomach untwisting. He hadn't realised that he had been this wound up about this matter.

Now for the other matter �

Harry jumps to his feet, reaching for his coat. Buoyed by the success, he's ready to tackle the other problem. He'll go home � early, but it's close enough to finishing time, anyway, and he's stayed late lots of times � and find Scorpius. And then he'll pin him down, tie him to the bed if necessary, and solve that problem, too.

Grinning, Harry haphazardly throws his coat on, waves his wand vaguely at his filing cabinets, and strides out of his office, not even waiting for the cabinets to lock.

'Good news, Mr Potter?' Miss Simpson asks as Harry strolls past her desk on his way to the lift.

He looks at her, sees her burning curiosity that would have set him off even five minutes ago, but now he doesn't care.

'Very good news,' he tells her, all but skipping out of the door and down the hall, laughing at himself under his breath. He's aware that he's garnering odd and inquisitive looks, but he doesn't care.

And if everybody thinks that Harry Potter is unbalanced, well, it won't be the first time and if it keeps everyone off his case, all the better.

He hums in the lift, thoroughly annoying the harassed looking witches that huddle in the opposite corner. He grins at them when the lift stops and he gets off, hearing them whisper behind his back.

He doesn't care.

Neither does he care about the stares and whispers as he makes his way through the Atrium to the Apparation point, or about the somewhat frantic voice behind him calling his name, or about one of the apparently omnipresent reporters snapping a picture.

He's going home, taking care of his lover.

It's drizzling in London when he steps outside, and not even that manages to damped his mood. Sprightly, he turns on his toes and Disapparates.

The drizzle is a soft rain at his place. Harry jumps over a puddle on his way to the front door. It flies open when he touches the knob and bangs against the wall.

'I'm home!' Harry yells.

There's a clatter from the living room and a sound like a muffled yelp. Harry's heart jumps and his grin broadens as he races towards it. Priddy pops out of the kitchen and has to flatten herself against the wall. 'Master Harry is being in a good mood,' he hears as he dashes past her. He bursts into the living and stops short.

Scorpius is balancing a swimming saucer, tea cup toppled over, in one hand, and the other pokes his wand at the tea stain on his robes. He looks wide-eyed and flustered. Opposite him, serenely stirring her tea and smiling, sits a blond witch Harry hadn't expected to see.

'Luna!' he exclaims. 'Where did you come from? Weren't you in Azerbaijan?'

'I came to visit you, and it was Turkmenistan, Harry,' Luna corrects calmly. 'We had to come back early. The Tubering Littmice ruined our provisions, and the expedition leader got possessed by Wrackspurts. And the weather was beastly.'

Harry laughs. 'Well, good to see you, Luna,' he says as he steps over to Scorpius. 'Here, let me,' he says softly and takes the dripping saucer from him. Scorpius shoots him a startled, nervous look, then busies himself with his robes.

'You look happy, Harry,' Luna observes. 'Did something nice happen to you?'

Harry grins at her. 'Yep, something very nice.' He banishes the spilled tea and dries the saucer before he sends it floating back to the tea tray, then perches on the armrest of Scorpius's chair and tangles his fingers in the hair on Scorpius's neck as he tells them, 'I've got some pretty good news.'

Scorpius jumps at the touch, and he sits very still. His hands are folded in his lap, but the knuckles are white, and there is a barely perceptible tremble in the body under Harry's fingertips.

'Oh, that sounds lovely.' Luna beams at him, but in total Luna-fashion doesn't ask, simply waits for him to tell her. Harry beams back and gently rakes his fingernails over Scorpius's skin.

'Neville's going to be on the Wizengamot,' he says, spilling his news.

Scorpius shivers, makes a funny little noise that catches Harry's attention. He glances down, trying to get a look at his lover's face, but Scorpius turns his head and his hair hides his expression.

'I didn't know that Neville wanted to be on the Wizengamot.'

Harry looks up at Luna. Her big eyes give her a permanently surprised air, but Harry thinks they are even bigger now. It's rare he surprises Luna.

'He didn't know it, either,' he answers with a grin, 'until I suggested him for the position.'

'But if he didn't know he wanted to be on the Wizengamot it makes no sense that you suggested him,' Luna points out. That's Luna-logic, and Harry laughs again.

'Well, they needed someone to take a seat because one of the older members is retiring,' he explains, caressing Scorpius's neck under his hair.

'And they didn't ask you?' Luna interjects. 'I would have thought they would have liked you.'

Harry grimaces. 'Of course they asked me. Well, some of them did. Others told me to not take the seat, or at least I think they did. They never came right out and told me. And then half the Ministry and half the wizarding world became involved, and everyone told me to take the seat or not or spouted some kind of babble at me that gave me a headache.' He takes a deep breath and forces his shoulders to relax again. 'It's been madness these last couple of weeks.'

Luna's blue eyes are misty when she peers at his face, but Harry isn't fooled. And he's right.

'It never stops, does it?' she muses. 'And it puts a lot of pressure on you.'

'Yeah.' Harry sighs. 'Everybody seems to think they have a right to tell me what to do. Still. Voldemort's been dead for thirty years, but something like this happens, someone retires or a position opens, and I'm still the Boy Who Lived.'

'You do look quite young for your age.'

Luna's apropos of nothing answer startles a laugh out of Harry, but it's cut off abruptly when Scorpius gets to his feet.

'Excuse me, I'll go tell Priddy to make another pot of tea,' he says tonelessly and hurries out of the living room.

Harry stares after him, baffled. The teapot on the tray is still gently steaming.

'I think he's unhappy.'

Harry looks at Luna's serene face. 'Yeah. I know. Just � I don't know why.'

'Have you asked him?' Luna says, tilting her head like a curious bird.

Harry sags. 'No. I haven't. I �' He groans and slides into the chair Scorpius has just vacated, props his elbows up on his knees and buries his face. 'I haven't asked him. That's the problem,' he mumbles through his fingers.

'Why not, Harry?' Luna's voice is gentle, without judgement.

He looks up. 'It's been the stress. I � I often stayed late at work, tried to get everything done, and when I came home I was just so tired and � He was playing the piano, a couple of days ago. When I came home. And I was just so exhausted, I couldn't go and ask, couldn't deal with his problems, too. And he's been strange for longer than that. Distant. I don't know why.'

'You need to talk to each other.' Luna smiles at him. She's the only person Harry knows who can say stuff like that without sounding patronising. It's why he doesn't bristle, only nods.

'I know, Luna. I know. Usually, when he's playing, and he's always playing when he's upset, I go and ask. Just the other night, I couldn't. It had been one hell of a day and just the thought of listening � I was so tired of always being the one to make things better, you know. I just wanted, for once, to be the one that was comforted.'

He drops his face in his hands, rubs his eyes. The earlier elation has vanished completely. Harry feels tired and stressed. But Luna's presence is relaxing, and he's always been able to tell her things he wouldn't ever tell anybody else.

'You have to allow him to do that you know.'

Harry peers at Luna between his fingers. 'Huh?'

Luna's smile broadens. 'You are the kind of man who thinks he has to do everything alone, Harry. And when someone comes to offer help or comfort, you push them away. If you want him to comfort you, you need to allow him to do so.'

Harry blinks at her. Frowns. 'Do you think �?'

She shrugs and sips her tea. 'Why don't you go and ask him?'

Harry chews on his lip, looking from Luna to the door. He scratches his head. He sighs and heaves himself up. 'I � I think I'll do that.'

Luna smiles and calls for Priddy to pour her another cup of tea. Harry can hear the house-elf's chirp from the living room as he stands in front of the closed kitchen door, hesitating. Wondering what he'll find in there. But isn't that what he came home for? To pin Scorpius down and solve the problem? Harry takes a deep breath, nods, and opens the door.

Scorpius stands with his back to the door, staring down at the teapot. He raises his head when he hears the door, and his eyes widen when he sees Harry. It's the first time Harry gets a good look at his face, and he is immediately worried. Scorpius is paler than usual and has deep circles under his eyes. He looks as if he hasn't slept at all.

'Scorpius,' he begins, stepping into the room.

Scorpius whirls around and stares at the tea. His fingers clench around the edge of the worktop. 'Tea will be ready soon.' His voice sounds strangled.

'Scorpius.' Harry steps up behind him, puts his hands on his lover's shoulders. They are tense and tighten even further at his touch. 'What's wrong?'

'Nothing's wrong,' Scorpius says with a toss of his head. 'You can go back to Luna. Priddy will probably bring biscuits if you ask her, even though�'

'Scorpius,' Harry says again, interrupting the flood of words. Their airiness is so clearly forced it's painful to hear. He steps closer and wraps his arms around Scorpius. 'What's wrong?'

A violent shudder runs through Scorpius's body, and his breath hitches. He tosses his head again, but doesn't say anything. Harry can hear him swallow.

'You talk to her, but you don't talk to me,' Scorpius finally says, stiff in Harry's arms. 'You tell her �'

With a rough sound, Scorpius tears himself away and moves to the other end of the kitchen. Harry stares helplessly after him. He doesn't understand why talking to Luna would upset Scorpius so much. He's about to ask when Scorpius turns around and glares. He's shocked to see tears in the pale blue eyes.

'If you don't want me any more, just tell me!' Scorpius cries heatedly.

Harry swears he feels his jaw drop. 'Wha�? Where did get that idea? Why wouldn't I want you any more?'

Scorpius gives a hollow laugh and turns his head away, wrapping both arms around himself protectively. Harry longs to pull him into his arms and comfort him. Like he always does. But Scorpius starts speaking.

'You stay late. Even when you promised you'd be home on time. You never talk to me anymore. You always push me away.'

'What?' Harry interrupts. 'I don't!'

Scorpius glares at him. 'Yes, you do!' he says hotly, misery turning into fury. He approaches Harry and stabs his finger at him. 'I ask you when you'll be home, you say late. I ask you why, you say work. I ask you what, you just grunt.'

'But I've never talked about my work,' Harry protests, stung.

'Of course you did,' Scorpius snaps back. 'No, not a lot, and no details. But you used to complain about a case or something stupid your Aurors did or grouse about stupid department heads and incompetent secretaries and shitty canteen coffee and � and � everything! You never do that any more!'

'I thought you weren't interested,' Harry tries to justify himself. 'You � you didn't ask!'

Scorpius snorts impressively. 'Well, after you'd told me for the fifth time that you didn't want to talk about it, I considered that final.'

Harry blinks. 'I � did that?' He frowns, tries to remember. He can't.

Scorpius snorts again and walks past him to fiddle with the teapot. His shoulders are drawn, his fury gone. Harry feels terrible. This time, he does go to him and pulls the younger man into his arms, despite Scorpius's resistance.

'I'm sorry,' Harry whispers. 'God, Scorpius, I � I never meant to � I just didn't want to, well, think about it. At all. Just ignore it when I didn't have to deal with it directly, you know? I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you.' He hugs Scorpius tightly and presses a kiss to the tip of his ear as the next available spot he can reach.

Scorpius makes a sound like a hiccough and suddenly clings to him, fingers digging into Harry's robes.

'You didn't even come � when I played�' is whispered into his shoulder. Harry aches.

'I'm sorry. I � I didn't think � I was just so tired, Scorpius. I just didn't want to � I just couldn't deal with more trouble.' He kisses the ear again. 'I'm sorry I let you down.'

The blond head shakes against his shoulder. 'No, I �' Scorpius lifts his head and looks up at Harry. His eyes are dark and pained. 'I'm sorry, too. I always expect you to be there and put everything aside for me. Like you always do. I � I'm sorry I'm still such a child, sorry to be such a bother, I � Sorry.'

'Don't!' Harry says emphatically, gripping Scorpius even tighter. 'Don't say that! You're not a bother, Scorpius, you're not a child! And it's nothing bad to want to be comforted. And � I like comforting you. I like it when we sit on the sofa and I can hold you and snuggle with you and comfort you. I think �' He has to stop and swallow, then adds quietly, 'I love it that you let me do that for you. At least that.'

'What?' Scorpius's fingers dig into Harry's shoulders as he stares into Harry's eyes, searching.

'I � Well, I thought you �' Harry bites his lip and can't go on.

Scorpius's eyes become uncomfortably sharp. His fingers dig even deeper. 'What?'

'I �' Harry looks away, stares sightlessly at the teapot. 'You've been � distant. Lately. And � I thought �'

Scorpius gasps as he puts things together. 'That I didn't want you?' He sounds so stunned and disbelieving that Harry dares to look back. Scorpius gapes at him, mouth actually hanging open. 'You thought � Harry!'

He is so incredulous that Harry's words burst out uncontrollably. 'But don't you see, Scorpius, you are so much younger, and I'm a middle-aged man with no fashion sense and no interest in politics, no ambition except helping people, and you're so brilliant and bright and I don't even understand half of what you're doing with your Arithmancy thing and�'

'How could you think that?' Scorpius's voice is low and intense. His eyes bore into Harry's. 'How could you possibly � ? Don't you know what you mean to me? Don't you know �?' He shivers and clings to Harry, breathing rapid and shallow. 'Oh, Merlin, Harry.'

Harry rubs his arms soothingly. 'Scorpius, calm down, I �'

'No!' Scorpius shakes his head wildly, pale blond hair flying around him. 'I'm going to say this. I never � and I thought it would be ridiculous and � and mushy and � Listen!' He takes a deep breath and continues, more steadily but still intense.

'I'd been listening to stories about you for years, Harry. People at Hogwarts remember you and Hagrid especially was always willing to talk some more about you. And sometimes I'd talk to Rose. She adores you and was even more willing to tell me everything about you. And I used to look at pictures and, well, fantasise � But it was always just that, a fantasy, we never really met, and I was just a schoolboy. But that party at Haversham Hall � You looked at me as though you'd seen me for the first time. Not a schoolboy. Not just my father's son and heir. You looked at me and I felt � I felt like someone truly beautiful and desirable for the first time.

'You looked as though I mattered. As though I was important. No one had ever looked at me like that before. It made me feel strong. Powerful. You made me feel powerful. And that night � I was so nervous the whole time, and I wondered how far I could push you before you put your foot down and told me to go away and play. I was determined to get you any way I could and � and you let me! I truly was powerful then. Strong and beautiful and desirable, just for you!'

He stops to breathe again. Harry simply holds him, caressing his back and shoulders, stunned and awed.

'You didn't treat me like a child,' Scorpius continues, softer, 'you never did. Yes, as someone a lot younger than you, but you didn't patronise me when we were together. Except just now, you idiot. But before, you never gave me the impression that I was too young to know what I wanted.

'Then Father found out, and I came to you because � because I knew you wouldn't try to tell me to go back and apologise or rant at me about what a bastard he was. I knew that I � that I'd be safe with you. And I was. You comforted me. You listened to me, talked to me, you took me seriously! You let me be weak without scolding me. You took me in, me and Priddy and my piano, without protest. You gave me a home, a haven. No expectations, no traditions to uphold!'

He shivers. Harry brushes his hand through Scorpius's silky hair, and Scorpius smiles at him. It's a little misty, but then, Harry's feeling misty as well.

'Then you pushed me to sign up for the Arithmancy project,' he goes on, speaking calmly now. 'I was bored and wanted to do something, but I couldn't think of what or get off my arse to look for something. You pointed me that way and � made me sign up, and you didn't do it so that I could make a name for myself, but because you thought I'd like it. Because you wanted me to exercise my abilities, because you knew that would make me happy.'

He's stroking Harry's face now, tears sparkling in his eyes.

'You gave me strength, Harry. You gave me something to live for. No, not you.' He shakes his head when Harry opens his mouth. 'But you expected me to be the best I could be, just because I could be, and that gave me something to live for. To strive for. Have you forgotten,' he adds in a whisper, 'meaning of my life?'

Harry looks at him, looks into his eyes, and suddenly, something falls. Whether it is a burden off his shoulders or a veil that has been hanging between them, preventing them from seeing each other. Whatever it is, it falls.

And Harry sees Scorpius, truly sees him. Sees a beautiful and gifted young man, sees his deep love for Harry, sees Scorpius's insecurities and fears.

He sees himself mirrored in Scorpius.

The sudden revelation makes his heart clench and his throat close.

He is beautiful and gifted. Even if only in Scorpius's eyes. But that is Scorpius's truth, that is how he sees Harry.

He is loved. He knows that Scorpius can trust in Harry's love for him. Now he understands, truly understands. He can trust Scorpius's love in him, too.

He sees the same sudden understanding in Scorpius's eyes.

Harry's grip on Scorpius tightens. He can feel a trembling smile curling his lips upwards and sees it answered on his lover's face. Then they are kissing, Scorpius's arms twined around Harry and his body moulding itself perfectly to Harry's.

'I love you,' Harry whispers against his lover's lips and feels the smile and the wordless answer.

At long last, Scorpius pulls back and sighs. It's too heavy for the moment, making Harry frown. 'Scorpius? What is it?'

Scorpius raises his head. He looks a little dejected. 'It's � We managed to entirely misunderstand and misread each other, Harry.'

'Yeah,' Harry agrees with an embarrassed grimace. 'And act like complete idiots, too.'

'Don't you think �?'

'Don't I think what?'

Scorpius bites his lip. 'Don't you think it shouldn't have happened? We've known each other for three years, lived together for two and a half. Shouldn't we have known each other better?'

'Probably.' Harry shrugs. 'Or at least we ought to have known that not talking about it is no use.'

'No, I mean � After three years, don't you think we ought to know each other? Really well?' Scorpius frowns.

'Well, we know each other really well. And better, now,' Harry adds with a smile.

Scorpius's frown deepens. 'Know each other entirely,' he elaborates. 'Through and through.'

'What, why?' Harry has the distinct feeling he is missing something. Again.

Scorpius sighs. 'It's just, the books say it's a sign of a real and deep and lasting relationship when the partners know each other really well.'

Harry can't stop the smile at those words. Sign of the Ravenclaw, to try to live life according to books. It also shows how young Scorpius still is.

'I'd think that would be terribly boring,' he says gently. Scorpius's head jerks up and he splutters. 'Well, think about it. Can you imagine how boring that would be, living with someone you knew through and through? We have so much still to learn about each other. With each other. It's an adventure, Scorpius. An adventure for a lifetime.'

And then Scorpius's head is pressed into his shoulder again and Scorpius is sobbing and mumbling something, but Harry can hear the words nevertheless.

'I love you, Harry.'

Harry closes his eyes and leans his head against Scorpius's and simply is.

A small sound makes him look up aeons later. Luna is standing in the door, smiling at them. 'Talking,' she mouths to Harry, gives him a little wave and withdraws. The door closes silently behind her.

At long last, Scorpius heaves a sigh and raises his head, scrubbing at his eyes. 'We're a couple of sappy idiots,' he says, trying and failing to sound derisive.

'Yep.' Harry grins.

Scorpius scowls up at him. 'You didn't need to agree so quickly.'

Harry grins more broadly and kisses the tip of Scorpius's nose, feeling ridiculous and giddy and about sixteen years old. 'I'm a sappy idiot, and I love you, Scorpius Malfoy.'

Scorpius blushes and ducks his head, apparently finding Harry's Ministry tie worthy of intensive study. 'Me, too,' he mumbles.

A finger under his chin, Harry tilts Scorpius's head up and kisses him soundly. The other hand gropes Scorpius's arse, pulling the younger man's body closer against his. Harry sighs with surprised pleasure when he feels Scorpius's hardness against his hip bone.

'Luna,' Scorpius whispers breathlessly against Harry's lips.

'Left.'

'Oh.' And a little later: 'When?'

Harry shrugs, too busy trailing kisses over Scorpius's jaw and throat to find words. His hands are running up and down Scorpius's back and then slip under his clothes to touch warm skin. He is aware of a suddenly urgent need to touch and kiss and take, stamp his mark into Scorpius's skin, have Scorpius leave his mark on Harry, reaffirming their bond.

Scorpius moans softly and melts, head tilting back to give Harry's searching mouth room. His fingers are kneading Harry's shoulders, and his hips are starting to wriggle and writhe, rubbing his erection against Harry's slowly filling cock. Harry tightens his hold on Scorpius and unceremoniously Apparates them to the bedroom.

They stumble upon landing, but thankfully Harry has got them close enough to the bed, so when they fall, they land comparatively softly. Scorpius lands on top and he immediately takes advantage, pressing Harry into the mattress and kissing him and attacking his clothes. Harry pulls him close and kisses back. In a mess of tangling robes and limbs they undress each other, sliding and rolling over the bed, never relinquishing the kiss.

Then they are both naked, and a last roll brings Scorpius on top. He sits up, hands propped somewhere above Harry's head, and there is a devilish gleam in his eyes. Harry, distracted by a very naked, very aroused Scorpius above him, notices too late that the silky sliding sensation around his wrists can't be Scorpius fingers. Startled, he means to pull away � and realises that he can't.

'What �?' he begins, craning his head, and blinks at the wand in Scorpius's hand that directs Harry's tie, length securely wrapped around Harry's wrists, to knot around the carved opening in the headboard. He pulls but the tie holds. 'Scorpius, what �?'

Scorpius pokes his wand once more at the knot before he sits back with a satisfied grin and drops his wand carelessly onto the bed next to him. Sitting back onto Harry's thighs, he looks down, grin broadening into a smirk. 'What does it look like, Harry?'

Harry pulls again, but no, he can't get free. He has a little wiggle room but nothing more. He must look utterly gobsmacked because Scorpius begins to chuckle.

'Scorpius, you �'

'Tied you up.' Scorpius rubs one of Harry's nipples. It tingles at the base of his cock. 'Yep, I did.'

'But � but � why?' Harry splutters.

'Because I wanted to.'

Harry stares up, speechless, into the smiling face above him. Scorpius's eyes are bright with happiness and desire. In the curve of his mouth Harry can see hints of the siren-smile that had so thrown him off balance all those years ago, but it's a tempered siren now, less aggressively seductive and more genuinely wanting. It's beautiful.

And more than a little worrying.

'Um�'

Scorpius laughs and sits on Harry's thighs, his erection sliding along Harry's. 'Now, tell me what you want.'

Harry twists his wrist and grabs his tie, needing to hold onto something. He can feel a fiery blush rise from his chest. 'I � what � I �'

'Yes, you. Tell me.' Scorpius wiggles his butt and the tip his erection jabs Harry's balls. 'We need to practise our communication skills.'

Harry's torn between amusement and desire and utter embarrassment. 'I � I can't �'

'Yes, you can. Come on, Harry. Love. Tell me,' Scorpius tempts, trailing his fingertips down Harry's body.

Harry closes his eyes. He can tell his face is flaming. Scorpius tickles his ribs, and Harry chokes out, 'Touch me.'

'Hmmm? But I am touching you, Harry.'

Harry opens his eyes and tries to glare, conveying his meaning, but doesn't seem to manage very well. Scorpius only smiles at him and keeps feathering his fingertips over Harry's skin. Harry lets his head fall back, screws up his eyes and his courage and says, 'Touch my cock.'

Immediately, warm fingers wrap around him. 'See, that wasn't so hard, was it?'

Harry groans a laugh and bucks into Scorpius's touch. 'It's very hard, believe me.'

'Ah, bad puns.' Scorpius nods sagely. 'You're feeling frisky, Harry.'

'I'm feeling horny, you tease.' Harry wriggles his hips demandingly. Scorpius's touch feels very nice, but Harry wants more.

'Me? A tease?' Scorpius flutters his lashes and gives Harry an innocent smile.

'Touch me!' Harry attempts another glare. Scorpius only laughs.

'I am touching you,' he repeats with a meaningful look at his fingers around Harry's cock.

'Touch me more, then,' Harry tries.

'More?'

The question is so full of faked lack of understanding Harry growls and tugs on his restraints. 'You're really going to make me say it, aren't you?'

'Yep.' Scorpius looks absolutely delighted with the situation. 'In excruciating detail.'

'Oh, God, Scorpius,' Harry moans, mortified. He can't say � stuff aloud.

'Come on, Harry, be brave,' Scorpius cajoles. 'Let me know how to please you.'

Harry groans and gives in. Has he ever been able to say no to this � to his siren? 'Stroke. Me,' he grits through his teeth. His eyes fly open, and he adds quickly, 'My cock.'

Scorpius laughs, pats Harry's shoulder, and strokes his cock. Slowly. Lightly.

'Harder,' Harry forces himself to say, eyes closing again. 'Grip � harder.'

Scorpius laughs quietly, but complies, tightening his hold on Harry's dick. But he doesn't stroke faster, neither does he anything else.

'Lube,' Harry groans when the constant rubbing begins to chafe a little. There is silence, and then warm oil drips down onto his cock. Scorpius smears it without prompting, but then resumes the slow strokes. Harry bites his lip, then says, 'Faster. And � with � with that twist at the end?'

'My pleasure,' Scorpius purrs and Harry moans aloud, back arching off the bed. God, it feels so good and he needs. Needs friction. Touch. Needs to touch himself.

'I want to touch you,' he whispers to Scorpius.

Scorpius smiles. 'Yes?'

'Untie me.' Harry tugs on his bonds. 'I want � oh, yes, want to touch you.'

Scorpius shakes his head. 'No,' he says and nothing more. His eyes are fixed on Harry's face.

Harry twists, pulling on the tie, hips jerking upwards. But neither does the knot miraculously loosen, nor is he able to thrust upwards into the touch because Scorpius sitting on him holds him down.

'Please!' The word is ripped from his throat, and while part of Harry is ashamed of begging, it feels good to say it. Let loose. 'Please, Scorpius, I want � I want �'

'Tell me what you want,' Scorpius prompts in a whisper-soft voice.

'Touch you.' Harry moans and writhes ineffectively. 'I want to touch you. Feel your skin. So soft and warm and �'

Scorpius's breath hitches, and he squeezes Harry's cock without being told, just the right way. Harry's eyes snap open, and he stares into Scorpius's eyes. They are intense, glowing, fixed on his. Harry is lost in their warmth and sheer fucking intensity, and the words begin to flow.

'I want to kiss you. Kiss you all over. Your mouth and neck and your � your ass. Your cock. All over. Want to l-lick you.' Harry licks his lips and gazes hungrily at Scorpius's leaking cock. 'Lick your cock. Want to suck you. Suck you into my mouth and taste you. Want to make you come and swallow and taste and, God, Scorpius, I need you!'

Scorpius is breathless and panting by now, face flushed. But his hand on Harry's erection is moving steadily.

'Tell me what to do,' he asks. Wriggles and lifts slightly, and the tip of his cock brushes damply against Harry's, making them both sigh. 'Want me to suck you? Ride you?'

Harry swallows hard. 'Prepare yourself,' he gasps. Clinging to the tie, all restraints gone, Harry orders, 'Slick one finger and push it in your ass.'

Scorpius whines and shivers and, after a moment, he does exactly what Harry told him to do. Harry watches with bated breath as Scorpius rises to his knees and bends slightly forwards, moving one hand behind his back. Harry's gaze flies up to Scorpius's face to watch the moment the finger pushes in. Scorpius's lashes flutter and he moans.

'Yes. Good,' Harry tells him. 'How far?'

'All the way,' Scorpius chokes. Harry moans at the image.

'Okay. Move it. Slowly.'

Scorpius bites his lip.

'Feels good?' Harry whispers.

'Yeah.'

'Add another one.'

Scorpius nods. He twists a little and hisses as he enters himself with two fingers.

'Good,' Harry says again, watching intently. 'Move them, slowly. In and out. Can you touch your prostate?'

Scorpius's eyes roll back, a little whimper gurgling in his throat. Apparently, he can. Harry almost smiles.

'Good, that's it. Touch it. Stroke it. God, I love watching your face.'

'Me, too,' Scorpius murmurs, watching Harry from below his lashes. Harry wants to reach out, grab Scorpius's hips, but the tie stops him. He hisses angrily, then tells his lover, 'Touch yourself. Your cock. Stroke it. Stroke yourself, inside and outside. Show me.'

Scorpius's visible hand is shaking as he lets go of Harry's cock to grab his own. He squeezes it, cries out. He shoots up to his knees, back arching as he follows Harry's order, pulling on his cock and rubbing his prostate. Harry watches, his now freed hips pushing upwards futilely. He wishes he could reach out and squeeze his own cock.

An almost violent shiver runs through Scorpius's body and he tenses. His hands speed up, and Harry can feel him quiver, getting closer.

'Stop!' he barks out, and Scorpius startles, cries out, eyes flying open, but he obeys. His hands drop to the sheets and clench. 'Harry,' he pleads.

'On me,' Harry says, hips bucking and straining. 'Take my cock and put it inside you.'

Scorpius is sinking down on him almost before he has finished speaking. Harry hisses as his rock hard dick is slowly engulfed by velvetyhottight. Then Scorpius's butt touches Harry's thighs, and he's in all the way.

'God, Scorpius,' he groans.

Scorpius shivers again, clenches. 'Tell me � what to do,' he repeats. His eyes are glassy. Fine strands of blond hair stick to his forehead and cheeks.

'Ride me. Hard.' Harry pulls on the tie. The headboard creaks. 'Fast.'

And Scorpius obeys.

The bed creaks and the headboard groans. Scorpius's thighs are soon shaking, but he doesn't falter, doesn't slow down, keeps rising up and thrusting back down, arse slapping Harry's thighs. Harry meets every thrust with one of his own, bucking up hard. The bonds around his wrists dig into his skin but they are something he can hold on to, cling to, balance himself with in this wild, passionate ride.

Scorpius's cock is bobbing madly up and down, smearing both their stomachs with sticky pre-come. It draws Harry's eyes, and he wants to grasp it, tug on it and pull Scorpius's orgasm out. He grips his restraint even harder, twisting and pulling and wanting.

His writhing changes the angle of penetration, and with a sudden, surprised cry, Scorpius stills above him and comes, spraying Harry's stomach and chest. The sight and the scent and the clenching of muscles around his cock tip Harry over as well. Distantly, he hears his grunt and feels his arms strain against the restraint as his back arches up.

Then he falls back down, and Scorpius slumps onto him, warm and sticky. Harry feels like smiling with deep, sated contentment but his mind floats away.

Some time later, he becomes dimly aware of Scorpius rising up and of his wrists being released and a Cleaning Charm cast on him. A warm, welcome body snuggles against him and a blanket is pulled over them.

His arms are heavy and prickle faintly with the rush of blood as he wraps them around Scorpius. He hears Scorpius's hum and feels a smile against his shoulder.

He knows that all isn't well and that they really need to talk more. About what happened and about why it happened. And they will talk, Harry is sure. They've both learnt not to assume and that the other isn't a mind-reader. They will need to tell each other what they want.

But right now, Harry buries his face in Scorpius's hair and falls asleep, and his last conscious thought is wonder about what he has done to deserve more than one Happy Ending.
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