By the time Scorpius was thirteen, the innocent childhood hero-worship had blossomed into something else. He wasn’t certain quite what it was yet, only that his first wet dreams had been of Potter, and he often thought about what it would feel like to be touched by him.
Scorpius, of course, had made it a point to befriend Potter’s son Albus from the very beginning, despite the fact they belonged to different houses. During the course of their friendship, Scorpius was invited to the Potter home many times, but his father always forbade it.
Draco began to suspect something was amiss when Scorpius started asking more pointed questions about the Malfoy-Potter rivalry. He took his son aside and told him, in no uncertain terms, he was not to go messing about with a married man- especially if that married man were Harry Potter. Sixteen-year-old Scorpius had laughed.
“I just want to suck him off,” he’d said, looking his father in the eye. Draco coloured, and left the room.
Scorpius decided that if he couldn’t have the Potter he wanted, he’d take the Potter he had. Every time he had Albus’ cock in his mouth he thought of Harry. When he finally convinced straight little Albus to fuck him (blow jobs were one thing, real sex was another), he closed his eyes and imagined that it was Harry who’d taken his virginity instead. When they started fucking regularly, whenever Al didn’t have a girlfriend who would put out, Scorpius was in heaven.
Once, his imagination got the better of him and he said Harry’s name. Albus fucked him harder.
Scorpius bought Albus a pair of plain glasses to wear when they had sex, which he did without argument. He almost asked why he was so willing to go along, but decided it was easier for Al to know that Scorpius wasn’t in love with him; he just wanted him for his body and his resemblance to Harry. It kept things superficial, and oddly, their friendship didn’t suffer.
The summer before their seventh year, Draco let Scorpius stay with the Potters for a fortnight. He knew of the relationship the boys had (or what Scorpius had told him of the relationship), and thought that his son had outgrown his obsession. He could not have been more wrong, of course, but as Scorpius was now seventeen and of age, Draco couldn’t really stop him going.
“You want my father to fuck you, Scorpius?” Al asked on the second night. He was buried balls-deep, with his hand around Scorpius’ cock.
“Yes.”
“You think he’d want to?” Al pulled nearly all the way out, and pushed back in, hard.
“No.”
“You’re right.” He thrust in deep. “But I don’t mind doing it for him.”
“Harry,” Scorpius said, touching the useless eyeglasses that adorned Albus’ face. “Fuck me, Harry.”
Night after night, they did this. Albus pounded away at Scorpius, Scorpius fantasised about Harry. One night, close to the end of Scorpius’ stay, something happened.
Whether it had been a careless mistake, or Al had done it deliberately, the bedroom door had not been silenced. At the sound of his name, Harry burst into the room. If what he saw disturbed him, he hid it well; he simply turned around, shutting and silencing the door. Scorpius flung it open and fled across the hall to the guest room, not caring that he was naked or that Albus’ spunk was sliding down his thigh.
Later that night, after everyone else had gone to sleep, Scorpius lay awake in his bed. It was one thing to fantasise, one thing to scheme, but he’d been caught. He wasn’t sure what was coming next, and he found himself terrified. This was not in the plan. There never really was a plan.
Slowly, the bedroom door opened, and Scorpius could see someone silhouetted in the frame. His heart beat faster; it was Harry.
“May I come in?” He asked, though not really waiting for an answer. Scorpius couldn’t have spoken if he’d wanted to, so he nodded. “Good. Now, about what you were doing with my son.” This door was shut and silenced as well.
“Sir,” he managed.
“Harry,” Harry said, and began to walk closer to the bed. “You’ve known me since you were a child. I should think you could call me by my name.” He smiled, and Scorpius could just make it out in the moonlight. “You seem to have no problems saying it when I’m not around.”
“I- I-”
“I’m as old as your father.”
“I know, sir. Harry. I know.”
“And I’ve a wife and children,” Harry continued.
“I know.” Scorpius swallowed hard, but the lump in his throat would not budge.
“What would Draco say?”
“He knows. That’s why he’d never let me stay here. He thought I’d do something foolish, like seduce you.” He laughed, but it was a nervous laugh.
“Did you think you could?” Harry’s voice was low, but not threatening. Scorpius’ cock was hardening at the sound of it.
“No.”
“I see.”
“It’s just- just a fantasy.”
“You look very much like Draco when he was your age.” Harry sat on the bed, and Scorpius pulled his knees in to hide his erection.
“Sir?”
“I had fantasies, too, Scorpius,” Harry said, smiling enigmatically. “Still do.”
“I could be him for you.” Scorpius bit his lip and tried to look Harry in the eye. “If you want.”
“Yes,” Harry whispered, folding the sheets down. He leant in and kissed Scorpius on the mouth.
It is often said that reality never lives up to fantasy, but Scorpius would have disagreed. Feeling Harry’s mouth on his was better than he’d imagined. The tongue that slid against his, the hands that moved on his body- they were far more perfect in reality than they’d ever been in his mind.
“What do you want me to do?” Scorpius asked against Harry’s neck. “Anything you want.”
“I want to come inside you,” Harry murmured as Scorpius’ hand slid up and down his cock. “I want to fuck you hard and come inside you.”
Scorpius let go of Harry, and turned over onto his stomach. “Like this? Or-”
“I want to see your face. His face.”
“Anything,” Scorpius repeated. He turned back over and opened his legs. Harry Accioed moisturiser from the en suite and pumped a bit into his hand.
“I didn’t think you’d indulge me,” he said, “or I would have brought something with.”
“I don’t care. I want it so bad, I don’t care.”
Harry chuckled and pushed two fingers into Scorpius. He was still stretched a bit from being fucked by Albus, but Harry added a third, simply to pleasure the boy. “Feel good?”
“Mmhm, oh, yes.”
“You like being fucked, don’t you?”
“Gods, yes.” Scorpius wasn’t sure if that was for him or for Draco, not that it mattered.
“Does Albus fuck you the way you like it?”
The question caught Scorpius off guard. “Yes,” he said, matter-of-factly. “He does.”
“Good.” With a short nod, Harry slipped his fingers from Scorpius’ hole and positioned his cock there. “Ready?”
“So ready.” He was beaming.
When Harry entered Scorpius, he was not gentle. He held his legs apart and pounded him hard, as though working out years of want and frustration. Scorpius moaned and writhed and bucked beneath him, and when he came, he came hard, and Harry didn’t have to touch his cock.
Harry wasn’t finished. He thrust harder and harder into his seventeen-year-old lover’s body, digging his fingers into the soft, white flesh of Scorpius’ thighs as he held them open. Finally, after what seemed like a blissful eternity to both of them, Harry came, adding his semen to what was left of Albus’.
“Perfect,” Scorpius said breathlessly, as Harry slid out of his stretched hole. “Perfect.”
Harry laughed, and brushed a sweaty strand of hair off Scorpius’ forehead. “Tonight I had Draco. Tomorrow, I’m having you.” He cleaned them both up, kissed Scorpius deeply, dressed, and left the room.
Scorpius slept soundly for the rest of the night, the pleasant ache in his body proof that his fantasy had been fulfilled.
- END -
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