Title: Ministry Events
Author: loony4lupin
Gift for: kaikiki
Pairing: Albus/Scorpius and other canon pairings
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 8,600
Summary: Ministry events were the absolute worst thing about being a Potter.
Warnings: Man porn, various queer slang, language, dirty talk, frottage, facial, semi-public sex, alcohol and slight crack.
A/N: A HUGE thank you to my wonderful beta, S. I do hope you enjoy this kaikiki. I took your "teasing, mean to each other because they like them" and ran with it. Enjoy!
Ministry events were the absolute worst thing about being a Potter.
Next to being James' brother, of course. But, I think that's pretty irrelevant because as much as I would just as soon lose James in a sea of flesh eating pixies, I can't because Mum would flip an ovary, and Dad would go ape shit Auror on everyone, and my life would suck. Ministry events, on the other hand are something that I loathe and wish, beyond all natural hope, that I will one day never have to attend. But until Mum stops insisting we go, I have to go. Not because I live in her house or some other hogwash, but mostly because she gets this wild look in her eye when she informs us kids of the function we have to attend, and I'm afraid she might lose it one day if any of us did more than bicker and complain about it.
I mean, Dad's a bad ass hero and everything, but Mum has eyes in the back of her head and hormones that are prone to uncontrollable magic. All of which is hilarious if someone other than me is on the receiving end, but even then, I think about what if it was me and it's not very funny anymore. I'm not stupid; I know the tides could turn against me at any moment.
So, I don't make a sound when Mum marches into the den, throws down the invitation and practically dares anyone to say anything. For a moment, I think James is going to. His right eye begins to twitch, which is something it does when he is about to do something incredibly stupid. But Mum points her wand at him and he shrinks back. She nods once at each of us and leaves. Like I said, scary as hell when need be.
"Go on then. Give us a read, Lils."
Lily slowly opens the invitation like it's going to bite her. And it's going to. It's going to bite all of us in the arse. I just have a feeling.
"We request the presence of Mr. and Mrs. Potter and Family for the celebration of the century, honouring the Weasley Family for outstanding contribution to both Wizard and Muggle society."
"Well, fuck."
"Nicely put, James." But, he is right. Most Ministry events, Dad doesn't go to. It's usually limited to honoured friends, family and memorial ceremonies. And even then, sometimes Dad will let Mum off our case. But if the entire Weasley family was being honoured, we are all going to have to go, and we are all going to have to play nice, and we are going to have to pretend to like it.
"We're going to have to go, aren't we?" Lily asks, throwing herself onto the couch and glaring at the invitation. I just nod and do my best to scowl. I've been perfecting it since I was sorted into Slytherin. Aunt Luna says I'm getting quite good, and the great thing about Aunt Luna is that she never lies and that makes everyone uncomfortable.
"Yes we are. And we're going to have to smile and play nicely with the politicians," James says in his whiny voice that makes me want to pour boiling water on him.
"At least we get to dress up."
"It's not as fun to wear Muggle tuxedos as it is to wear dresses, Lils," I say. Because it isn't. The best thing about summer is the lack of ties, and it doesn't seem fair that I'm going to have to wear a tie for something that isn't school.
"Look at the bright side," James says, flashing his annoyingly big teeth at me. I have the distinct urge to shove my wand up his nose and watch him bleed. "At least we'll be entertained when Al follows Scorpius around and makes a complete and utter fool out of himself."
"Oh fuck off, you wanker!" I don't blush because I do not under any circumstances follow anyone around. Nor am I a fool.
"Poofter."
"Neanderthal."
"Fairy."
"Slag."
"Arse licker."
I grin.
"Oh Jamie, you have no idea."
And then things resort to violence because we're Potters, and James is a complete and utter twat.
<3<3<3
This whole debacle really started long before I was born.
As far as I know, or from what Mum told me when I whinged about having to go play at the Malfoys', is that after the war a lot of the Pure-blood families that weren't obviously involved in the Order were under a lot of scrutiny. Dad, being an Auror and all, had to go through and vouch for those he knew weren't involved and investigate the rest. But, I guess Dad thought he owed something to the Malfoys, although he won't ever say what, and the Ministry wouldn't compromise on the Malfoys. They wanted to throw them all in Azkaban and just be done with it. I would have been fine with that, if I had known it was going to effect me in anyway. My dad's noble complex fucks everyone over, not just Mum.
Finally the Ministry agreed to compromise, if Dad would supervise the Malfoys personally. Well, as you can imagine, that went over like Hagrid at a Death Eater meeting. Mr. Malfoy was furious, Dad was apologetic; Mr. Malfoy was violent, Dad was irritated; Mr. Malfoy was even more violent and then Dad got petulant and everything went back to a bathroom stall in Hogwarts before the war was even probably started. My dad is awesome, but sometimes he really is a stupid Gryffindor.
In the end, it all worked out. Mr. Malfoy and Dad struck up a very thin but non-violent friendship and the Malfoys got their life back. Not long after Lucius Malfoy went to prison, Narcissa Malfoy went to the mad house and Draco went to some foreign country no one could pronounce and brought back a wife. Finally, the Malfoys had their money back, and Dad had his sanity back. The only down side was Dad actually liked Draco Malfoy. Not in that way, although I would totally doubt Dad's sexual orientation if he wasn't so arse-over-tea kettle for Mum that it actually made people violently ill sometimes (no one should have to see a worldwide hero making eyes at anyone). The whole point of the story is that Dad made us play with Malfoy's only child, Scorpius, because he said, "Family feuds are childish and they will end now."
Uncle Ron doesn't agree. But that will be obvious when we attend the Ministry event. His Gryffindorness is amusing and probably the best part of Malfoy-Weasley interactions.
But, I digress.
Dad always made James and I play with Scorpius. And James and Scorpius got on fine. But something about Scorpius never sat well with me, which led to lots of accidental magic incidents, more trips to St. Mungo's than anyone cared for and a burning desire to fuck Scorpius' brains out.
I'm not sure how it's all correlated, but I'm pretty sure it all would have been fine if I wasn't named after Severus Snape because I'm pretty sure that's what made me gay. So, in conclusion, the entire Scorpius issue is entirely Dad's fault, and I think I will probably hate him for it for the rest of my life. Good thing everything else about him is wicked enough to make up for it.
<3<3<3<3
"Wanna go shopping with me?"
"What for?"
"Dress for the Ministry thing."
"I think you're mistaking me for someone else."
"Come on, Al!"
"Lily, just because I'm gay doesn't mean I give a hippogiff's arse about fashion."
"But Scorpius said-"
"Do I look like I give a fuck what he said?"
"Merlin! You are such a limp wand about everything!"
"Well, why don't you go tell Scorpius? I'm sure he cares so much about you."
"Scorpius is a better brother than you'll ever be."
"I'm shattered."
"You're such an arse and I AM going to Scorpius!"
"Fine!"
"Fine!"
<3<3<3<3
The most annoying thing about Lily, is that fact that she's best friends with Scorpius. Pretty little Scorpius. Sometimes I question my own sexuality because I want to bed Scorpius for some insane reason, but Scorpius might as well be a witch. Seriously. He's a queen. He loves to go shopping with Lily, and they giggle and share lip gloss and read magazines and are generally just intolerable as they go around flinging glitter at every flip of their hair. I'm not even sure how that friendship blossomed. All I know is that it is the bane of my existence.
At least Mr. Malfoy feels my pain.
See, when I came out, it wasn't a huge surprise. I had always thought girls were useless, brainless twats and I spent enough time talking to Dad's portrait of Snape to know I was gay. Dad choked on his tea when I told him, poured himself a drink and then got over it, which was a surprise. But I guess he has two other children to bring him tons of bratty grandchildren. Plus, he's always liked me the most, so he had to forgive me. Mum, on the other hand just said, "I know" and sent me to see Uncle Charlie because she didn't know anything about the prostate. But she felt like our family had to gather for unity or something and everyone was wearing "I am proud of my gay son/brother" robes for three weeks before Dad took pity on me and accidentally ruined the laundry with that load in them. Sometimes Mum goes a little too far in trying to include everyone. Dad says it's because she was always excluded as the only girl when she was a kid. Whatever. It was no excuse for those awful robes.
And I did go see Charlie just before I hit puberty, which provoked the Charlie years. For a good four years, I thought I was in love with my Uncle Charlie, much to my family's amusement. It was a phase; I was seven. Not that I'm totally against incest or anything, but Charlie does manual labour for a living. And likes it. No matter how attractive his muscles are, I prefer my blokes to be less... peasant-like.
But when Scorpius came out... all hell broke loose. Mr. Malfoy had a be detained because he was having some sort of fit, and Astoria yelled at him all the way to St. Mungo's for being, and I quote, "Such a stuck-up, Momma's boy who can't see past his own genes enough to value the life of their wonderful son who just happens to like boys." The pictures were in the tabloids forever.
The thing was that overnight Scorpius went from fine upstanding Pure-blood heir to a glitter queen in white leather pants. And I went from hating him for being a straight, uptight son of bitch to hating myself for wanting to fuck his pretty self seven ways to Sunday.
I hadn't had any warning. And I feel like I certainly deserved some sort of warning. I was just minding my own business, in my own fucking back garden when I spotted Lily by the pond with someone else. I walk over, and there is Scorpius, decked out in glitter and a tight baby blue tee-shirt that screamed touch my nipples. He was also wearing the tightest pants known to man. I was instantly hard and infuriated. The information exchange went something like this.
"Hi, Al!"
"What the fuck is he doing here?"
"Al, be nice to Scorpius."
"And why the fuck is he dressed like a fairy?"
"Don't be so crude."
"Why don't you stop being so catty and answer my questions?"
All the while, Scorpius was just blushing and acting like he didn't know what the fuck I was talking about. Then, James swam over and opened his nasty, over-sized mouth.
"Haven't you heard? Scorpius here is an arse bandit just like you."
No amount of violence could ever explain my fury.
<3<3<3<3<3
The greatest thing about Grandpa loving Muggles is walkie talkies. We tried to get the cell phones to work and some magical families can if they don't have tons of magic around them all the time. But obviously, we're so full of magic (and bullshit) that cell phones just burst into flames every time we try to charm them.
But two way radios are less complex. And Grandpa tweaked a pair, so that distance didn't matter for reception and they function pretty well around large amounts of magic. It was like having a portable Floo in your pocket. And when he slipped them to me for my eleventh birthday, I knew exactly who to give the other one to.
Hugo Weasley was by far the black sheep of the family. This may come as a surprise. And I would have pegged myself as one too, but even though I'm one of the only Weasley-Potters to go into Slytherin, I'm still very Potteresque. Hugo, on the other hand, was from another fucking planet.
Hugo was some sort of magic child prodigy. He was doing wandless magic before he even got his Hogwarts letter. But Hugo went to Hogwarts for three years before he had just enough of all the bullshit and left. Seriously. He just fell off the face of the earth at age thirteen. Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione had the Aurors out looking for him and everything. They'd completely forgotten about the two way radios that Hugo and I had, so when everyone else was freaking out about what they were going to do when they found Hugo dead in a ditch, I sneaked up to grab the radios and made for the Lovegood property because no one ever bothered anyone there.
Turns out, Hugo had saved his money and bought a flat in London and was working, illegally of course, for a magical repair shop in Diagon Alley. I wasn't too worried because Hugo always bounced from one thing to another, and I honestly wouldn't be surprised if Hugo up and left to become apart of the Ministry Unspeakables or something equally as cool.
I could always count on Hugo to cause a bigger scene than me. It's a comforting thought.
<3<3<3
I pick up my two way after Lily leaves and relax against my bed.
"You around?"
There are a couple of moments of silence before the radio crackles to life and Hugo's voice rings clearly through my room.
"Yeah. Just watchin' porn."
"You're a waste of space," I reply without much vigor.
"Being a genius is hard work. I have to relieve stress."
"I can imagine. I thought you were working on some project."
"Was,” Hugo says. “Finished it two days ago. But it was boring once I got around the problem."
Not a suprise.
"Anyway, I've been thinking of getting out of the miracle cures business," he adds nonchalantly.
"Oh really?"
"Yeah."
"To do what?"
"Porn,” he quips.
"Naturally.”
There is a small moment before he laughs into the radio and I hear his Saint Bernard bark in the background.
"Did you get your invitation?" I ask.
"Yeah. I'm not going."
"Fuck you."
"Alright, fine, but only if I get to top,” Hugo retorts back without taste.
Hugo is as straight as they come. But he loves to practise coming onto me, so that when he does show up at a family event, he will scare the shit out of Uncle Ron.
"I expect you to be there. Your Dad's a guest of honour," I say.
"Yeah. Guess I'll swing by. Might have a surprise."
My smirk is so wide, I am practically grinning. Hugo's surprises always promote chaos, hospital stays and constitutional magic amendments. It's wicked.
"Did you get more ink?"
"Yeah, I got a vag on my bicep."
"You did not." I say without any real conviction.
"You're right. I got 'tears' and 'toil' on the backs of my upper arms."
"Aunt Hermione's gonna-"
"Oh, for sure. But wait until the real surprise."
I cannot wait until I turn eighteen in exactly four days and get the fuck out of this house and into Hugo's flat. Mum said I had to be of Muggle age before I went flouncing off and got myself killed. And she did say 'flouncing.' I contemplated poisoning her pudding, but she would know it was me, so I let it go. I do not flounce.
"Thanks for making this Ministry thing worth it," I say.
"No problem. But I thought Malfoy was going to be there."
"I thought we agreed not to discuss him until after I moved in," I reply angrily.
"Right, well you can wallow in your angst for another couple of days then. If that's what you want."
"I know what I want," I grumble back.
"See you tomorrow?"
"Yeah, and the rest of our family."
"Cheers."
<3<3<3<3
T minus fours hours until we had to leave for the Ministry, and I am already fed up with everything. I can admit to being slightly dramatic. But the Ministry is torture, and I really want to refuse to go. Instead, I sit in Dad's study talking to Snape until he gets bored with me and I leave. He is always annoying when he acts as if he has better places to be, which always amuses me to no end. He's a bloody portrait. He doesn't have anywhere better to be. Plus, it is not like the Wizarding world has a picture of him in every room of their house like they do my dad. Snape is lucky to have a portrait at Hogwarts with all the shit he managed to pull back in the day.
In my own form of misplaced rebellion, I fix myself a sandwich. A cucumber and cheese sandwich. Not only is the Ministry full of stupid, ugly people who are only there to make themselves look good, but their food is absolute shit. Seriously, I wouldn't put it anywhere near my mouth. Plus, it's a Weasley event, which means that there will be tons of disgusting meat choices for dinner, and if I even wanted to partake, I would have to eat frozen lettuce.
"Hey, Al."
Dad always walks into a room like he's not supposed to be there. It's something that I love about Dad. He's not in your face or loud or even remotely noticeable. He doesn't walk around like he saved the world, twice. And it rocks. Because as much as I hate being in this family at times, Dad makes everything worth it.
"Hey," I say and lift my sandwich to him in invitation. He wants to refuse. I know he does. But he just smiles and nods. We both get up and move to the cutting board. Dad cuts slices of bread and I cut the cheese and cucumbers. We work silently and once Dad has a sandwich we sit almost simultaneously.
He sits across from me and smiles. And for a few seconds, I don't mind going to this stupid Ministry thing because it keeps everyone off of Dad's back. And I like to see Dad happy and relaxed and not worried if our lives are going to be ruined because he was accidentally the saviour of the world.
"Is Hugo going to be gracing us with his presence tonight?"
"Think so," I say. "He said he had a surprise for us."
Dad groans, but I can see him smiling. He loves the chaos. So do I. But for different reasons. He loves it because it symbolises family and love. I love it because it's chaos and people are imbeciles.
"Don't worry, Dad. I don't think it will be like the time he wore the dress."
"Good. I think once might have been enough."
We finish our sandwiches in silence. I'm washing our plates and putting them back in the cupboard when I hear Dad shifting behind me. He sighs and I go still, but I don't turn around because sometimes Dad needs to say things without having to look at me.
"You don't have to go, Albus."
Part of me wants to scream, 'Thank Merlin!' and run off to tell Hugo that we can go get pissed instead. But the other half, the part that wants to be there when Dad gets a little too drunk and hits on Mom in front of important Ministry officials, when Hugo pulls out a joint and gets half of us Potter/Weasleys baked and see the family be ridiculous but manage to be wonderful at the same time, that part wins out.
"I'm going," I say. And I can hear feel his smile fill the room before I even turn around.
<3<3<3<3
The tux looks nice. I will admit that I look fine in a tux. I burnt the cummerbund in my room, so that I wouldn't have to wear it because, frankly, I look much better without it. It's pretty simple for a tux, but it's well tailored and my skin appreciates the extra money Mum spends on evening wear. I'm not sure I'd go out in anything less.
I descend the stairs early. Sometimes I can catch Dad having a drink before and get one too. But as soon as I hit the bottom stair, I can hear Lily and Mum and realise that I have taken too much time making my hair sexily messy to get away with a drink before we go. I try to put on the most nonthreatening face I can manage for Mum's sake, but I'm not sure I accomplish much more than a sour look.
"You look lovely!"
I raise an eyebrow to Mum and mumble, "You too," but she just winks and give me a once over. I can dress myself, thank you very much. James on the other hand, cannot. He's a complete idiot and Mum goes back to fighting with his shirt-tails. I snap my suspenders at him, revealing my lack of cummerbund as James glares over Mum's shoulder. Some victories are too simple.
Dad is nowhere in sight, but he always tries to get his hair to behave. I've realised that the reason our hair doesn't want to behave is because it knows that messy is dashing and sexy and we just look better that way. I've stopped wrestling with it and embraced it. Lily is staring out the front window, her red hair down in loose curls that flow down her back. My sister is strikingly gorgeous. This isn't news to me, but as the years go by, I realise just how beautiful she is. Dad does too. It's why he's upped his daily drink to two glasses of Firewhiskey.
"I see you've managed to look beautiful without my shopping advice," I say by way of apology. Lily looks at me over her shoulder, her eyebrow raised and a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"It seems so. I thought you would enjoy the green, you stupid Slytherin."
I kiss her cheek and remind myself again to make sure that the Ministry boys keep their hands to themselves.
"Right then! Potters, ready to go?" Dad slides into the room flushed and pretending to be excited when he really was not. I imagine the flush was from fighting with his hair, the back was still standing up on end while the front had finally given up the battle. His hair is ridiculous.
"Harry, your hair."
And then Mum is swooping down and we are officially late.
Did I mention how much I dread Ministry events?
<3<3<3<3
Every time we have to go to one of these ghastly, tedious events I try and get us in through the back door. Because if not, we have to stand around in the entrance hall and let all those freakish photographers, who by the way already know everything that there is to know about all of us because they stalk us, take pictures of us and we have to smile a lot. This always leads to problems because there is always a picture with one of us not smiling and the newspapers always report that there is "Trouble Amongst Potters" the next day. It's stupid. Really. And impossible because anyone who has met me knows that I can't possibly smile for that long.
I may be a Slytherin, but I'm still a Potter and social callings aren't really my expertise. Seriously, none of us are good at it. Dad doesn't know how to talk to the press without stumbling into a question that he really should not answer. Mum always gets mad, it never fails, and there is usually violence involved. Lily gives vague answers because she is too preoccupied with watching what everyone is wearing or something equally daft. And James, the stupid mangy cur that he is, talks too damn much about other people's business. Mostly mine, if I might add.
I gave up on talking to the press entirely.
We spend a perilously long two hours taking photographs and making comments to the press, in which James tries his damndest to make every answer, no matter the question, about my sexuality. I stopped smiling after someone asked me who designed my tux. But, all in all, it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Mum didn't hit the reporter from the Daily Prophet like she wanted to, and Dad was too distracted by Mum's breasts when they were asking some question about his future plans to take over the Ministry, so all was saved. When we finally got out of there and into the ballroom, we all headed for the bar.
I hope the press gets a picture of that- all five of us grappling for drinks. Even Lily.
Dad orders a whisky sour and I nod. We receive two, and Mum finishes her double, orders a martini and motions to Dad. He nods and they disappear into the crowd to find people they want to talk to, although they'll just get bombarded with people they have no intention of talking to- or more to the point, no intention of giving money to.
Lily orders a beer and laughs when the barman looks shocked.
I finish my drink and order another because, honestly, the only way any of us are going to make it through the night is if we are thoroughly pissed out of our mind. The barman sets my drink down in front of me and I'm very tempted to just chug it, but James' wonderful presence makes me want to throw it in his face.
"Your Juliet is here, dear Romeo."
I arch an eyebrow at his pathetic face.
"Oo," Lily coos, and looks around. "I want to see him in his tux."
"Tell me it has glitter."
"No, James. It does not have glitter, but his shirt is a nice shade of pale pink."
I snarl at them and leave the bar in search of Hugo.
<3<3<3
It turns out that finding Hugo wasn't going to be much of a problem, seeing as how he had just arrived to give his mother a kiss... with his hair dyed black and a tongue piercing.
"What in Merlin's name did you do?"
"Don't you love it, Ma?"
"Hugo Weasley!"
"I think it matches my tux quite well."
"HUGO!"
"Ma, you're yelling again in public. You know how much Dad hates it."
"You've got metal in your body!"
"Where's Dad?"
"METAL!"
I work my way through the small crowd to stand on the edge. Hugo is smiling and wiggling his eyebrows around in a manner that must hurt his face while Aunt Hermione is flailing. And really, there is no better explanation of it. Oh, and here comes Uncle Ron.
"Have you gone mental?"
"Dad, Ma said metal, not mental."
"I know what she bloody said. What is wrong with you?"
"What?"
Someone hands Hermione a glass of wine from the crowd and she glares over at Hugo, who just smiles more broadly and sticks his tongue out.
"You can't just show up here-"
"Sorry, Dad. I'd love to stay for your lovely lecture, but I think you should save your public humiliation tonight for Mr. Malfoy. In the meantime, there's Albus and, you know, I better let him inspect my tongue ring. He's such a smart bloke, I bet he'd love to check out the benefits."
There is momentary silence before the room bursts into conversation and Hugo seems to disappear from the crowd. I can't stop smiling because it was almost better than the time that Hugo had shown up wearing a dress. But in all honesty, the black hair does look rather good on him.
"Stop trying to wish me gay," Hugo's voice comes from behind me and I slowly turn around with the first genuine smile of the night making its appearance on my face. "I really would love to be. But the kissing cousin thing isn't really as shocking as your affair with Uncle Charlie. And you know how I hate to be upstaged."
I huff. "I never had an affair with Uncle Charlie."
"So you say."
Hugo shakes his head, his shaggy black hair falling into his face. He winks at me, slowly scanning the crowd and swiping a sip, or several, from my watered down whisky sour. I straighten my tie. I've been pretty good at avoiding contact with any Malfoy all night and from staying away from James. But being around Hugo always held that foreboding sense of woe, as if something nasty was about to pop up, and he would do nothing but smile. Hugo isn't Satan. He's the guy who goes to the petrol station to buy Satan a pack of fags.
"I know we aren't supposed to be speaking of this but-" Hugo starts and I glare, snatching back my drink.
"Then why don't you shut your trap."
"Because I have a chalice of knowledge," he says smugly.
"What does that even mean?" I say and throw my hands up in the air.
"I'm smarter than you."
"Oh, fuck off."
"No can do at the moment," Hugo says with a smile so wide that it hurts my eyes. He really is too cheery for a despondent, rebellious genius.
"You have permission to be an arsehole when I officially elect you as Vice President of my World Domination Campaign."
"But until then?"
"Until then there will be no speaking of my unnatural affinity for Scorpius Malfoy," I say firmly.
"But you admit there is one?"
I sigh and finish my drink. I've learned to swallow and glare at the same time. Hugo just leers at me.
"Yes, Hugo. I do indeed have a campaign for world domination in the bag."
Hugo cocked an eyebrow.
"Do you know you're wearing suspenders?" He says.
"Hugo-"
"Really, suspenders? Are you wearing sock suspenders too?"
"Hugo-"
"Very poncy of you, isn't it?"
"Hugo, why do I get the feeling that we are talking about Malfoy without me really know it?" I say.
"Because you're always secretly talking about me, Al,” says a voice from behind me.
Really? Honestly? Because I was doing so well up until this point. Hugo is wearing that smile that he wears right before he willingly uses me as a sacrifice- and likes it. I slowly turn around, to see Scorpius Malfoy looking--well, looking smug and beautiful in his deep black tux and pale pink shirt with a tie just a darker shade of pink that complements his skin and makes the ice of his grey eyes stand out sharply. Not that I am noticing that much, but damn, it's hard not to when he's standing right there and fucking glowing. And wait. Is he wearing eye liner? I've lost my ability to form words.
"You are looking lovely," Hugo says as he practically shoves me out of the way to shake Scorpius' hand. Scorpius beams. My urge to drink myself to death increases, and as soon as I've gained back my ability to speak and move, I will go to the bar and drown myself.
"Thank you, Hugo. I saw your impressive performance." Scorpius leans close when he speaks, practically sealing me off from the conversation. For a fucking Ravenclaw, Scorpius is pretty damn tactful and sneaky. And for some reason, it makes me want to suck his cock.
"I do what I can."
Malfoy turns and smiles, his hair catching the light and reflecting off the tiny slivers of glitter. He's got glitter in his hair. And now my cock's hard.
"Did you get Albus Severus to check out the benefits of your tongue ring?"
"Not yet, I think he's holding onto his virtue until you finally give in and fuck him."
Scorpius laughs, breathy and loud at Hugo's comment and suddenly I process that they are talking about me. That they are laughing at me, and I recapture my ability to speak.
"Are you wearing eye liner?" And honestly, it's the first thing that comes out of my mouth. And I can't take it back, unfortunately, because being around Scorpius is seriously addling my brains. They both turn, Scorpius looking confused and Hugo looking as if he's staring at a very sad and beaten puppy.
"So much for tact, Al. Merlin. It's a wonder you ever get laid," Hugo says.
"Stop looking at me like I'm a puppy, Hugo!"
"If you were a puppy, you'd be one mean arse Rottweiler."
Hugo nudges Scorpius with his elbow and Scorpius smirks. I press my fingers into my eye sockets until the pain is blinding enough to ignore my complete humiliation. Why is this so hard? Why do I pull other wizards like it's my day job, but every time I'm around Scorpius I become a complete and total incompetent idiot? Who, by and by, it has shown will never get laid in such condition. NEVER.
"I would resent that comment, if it made a damn bit of difference. Now, why don't you all just stay here and be chummy. I'm going to go drown myself in a large vat of whisky, seeing as you all are actually the bane of my existence," I say in my best clipped tones, without staring at Scorpius' tongue as it licks at his smile. I stalk towards the bar.
This night is a catastrophic event. And I will have nightmares for weeks. Not only that, but I will have to watch for the rest of the night while Hugo paws at Scorpius to make his dad fume and my head explode. The thing about geniuses is that they are predictable and evil. Not Slytherin or mean or genius- no, Hugo is just evil. He revels in people's misery. Unfortunately, he likes to revel in mine more than others. I think it has to do with the plain fact that I'm prettier. But he's a genius, so I think it all evens out in the end. Well, I thought that, but seeing as how I'm getting completely fucked, I was obviously confused.
The barman frowns when I order three shots of top shelf whisky, but with one glare he's pouring them nice and full in front of me. It looks like relief. I scan around the room briefly, taking in the state of each of my family members. If they are too drunk, I can only take one of these shots. But if it's only Dad, then I am free to drink at will. Lily's dancing surprisingly gracefully with Hagrid, and James is trying to get out of a conversation with Aunt Luna, his eyes fluttering towards my shots and then back to her. He knows that if I drink them, he won't be able to get drunk because he'll have to monitor Dad's behaviour. He always get rather flirtatious when he's drunk, and Mum always gets man handled. It's tantalising to watch, but getting drunk and forgetting about Scorpius Malfoy was on the top of my list of things to do.
"How did that feel?" Speak of the fucking devil. I sigh, not turning to look at him. I can feel his eyes on me though as he orders from the barman. And I can smell him, clean and sweet lemonade.
"Like I just got screwed with my pants on."
Then the three shots go down fast and quick, twisting against my throat and heating the pit of my belly, radiating towards the rest of my body like a wild fire. I feel marginally better as I take a small chase from my newly poured sour and hear James cry out in defeat form somewhere behind me.
I feel much better when my nose goes numb two shots later. It also helps that Scorpius hasn't said anything since he positioned himself next to me at the bar, sipping at his drink and staring at me. I ignore him. I don't get him. And that annoys me greatly. I'm not sure what he wants. I don't like that his intention are veiled and everybody and their mother knows exactly what mine are. I never wanted to like Scorpius Malfoy, but have you seen his arse? Nevermind. It doesn't matter because Scorpius has known since he came out that he was a walking wet dream and I'd bend over for him with a flick of his limp wrist. But he hasn't done one fucking thing about it, other than torment my soul. Seriously, my soul here. And my pride because, honestly, I'm the one who is supposed to have boys falling to their knees, not the other way around. And believe me when I tell you, Scorpius is the only one that has made me feel that way. Lily can rhapsodise all she wants about love and all that bollocks because maybe she's right. All I know is love sounds a lot like vulnerability, which was exactly what I was when Scorpius was around- vulnerable. And that thought, didn't really sit well when sober.
I finish my drink and the barman kindly brings me another. It must be the look on my face, of a boy who has just a drunken realisation that he might be in love with someone other than himself. It's a shocking thought.
"Hugo says you're moving in with him in a few days."
And Scorpius' self imposed silence has ended. Lucky me.
"Yes."
"So you'll be eighteen soon?"
"Yes."
"Are you moving in before or after your party?"
"What is this? Tthe fucking Spanish In-queer-sition?"
He looks hurt for about three seconds before he sips his drink. I can't look away. As much anger as I have for him, he's still beautiful and I still want him. I can't help it. He taps his finger on his glass and gulp at my drink. He's insanely pretty.
"I was just wondering where I'd be giving you your birthday fuck."
And I spray whisky sour in an impressive spread across the bar and the barman. He doesn't look very happy, but excuse me, my mind is exploding here?
"Y-you what?"
"I've decided to stop torturing you," he says as he takes a sip of his drink, swirling his tongue to lick the rim of the glass. "I mean, you were an asshole to me while we were children and even now, after you've obviously fallen arse over tea-kettle for me, you're still an overwhelming jackass. But you've gotten a lot cuter and the waiting is starting to punish me, too, not just you."
My brain is scrambling to process this. Scorpius just sits comfortably as if this was something he did everyday, and that my reactions were predicted. Fucking Ravenclaw.
"We haven't been shagging because you were teaching me a lesson?"
Scorpius rolls his lips into his mouth as if he is holding back a smile and says, "I guess so."
"You guess so?" I say it a little too loudly and several people around the bar look up. I just stare because Scorpius looks thoughtful and calm, which I feel I should be angry about! I mean, he should be terrified to tell me that he has been mind fucking me for years and not actually fucking me. My arse practically pulses with loss. And I can already hear what Snape is going to say. Hell, by the time I get home, he'll probably already know and I won't even be able to defend myself. Fuck.
"Don't queen out." I grunt and glare at him between large drinks. "You've always been such an unattainable bastard, mocking my clothes and my glitter and everything you actually like about me that it took me longer than usual to figure out that you actually fancied me and didn't hate me. I mean, I thought you were just being a slut. But since becoming such good friends with-"
I'm done with this. I've gotten over my shock and now, I'm done. It's time to take action. I do not have a twat. I don't need to talk about this. I finish my drink and hall him out of the ballroom with all the calm and grace I have left. He's really trying my patience tonight.
"ALBUS! What are you-"
"Shut up," I growl, and I stalk across the hallway looking for some sort of privacy. Of course he doesn't shut up or stop squirming and it's really difficult trying to be determined and menacing with a wiggling mass of man candy up against you. Really. Luckily, I find what looks to be a linen cupboard and shove him inside.
"I don't think violence-"
I cut him off with the slant of my mouth, diving in deep and demanding. His mouth is wet and pliant underneath my tongue as I clutch his lapels in my hands, twisting the exquisite fabric as he writhes. It's hot and desperate, but I couldn't care less. Because I'm finally, after years of pointless denial and a fair bit of damage to my ego, kissing Scorpius Malfoy. And it is possibly worth the wait. He melts into me, demanding more of my mouth as his cold fingers slip underneath the waistband of my pants and wiggle their way up underneath my shirt. His hands feel like ice against my skin and I gasp into his mouth, while he laughs into mine, breathless and fantastic just like I always pictured him in my bed. His laughter flutters across my forehead as I dip to press my mouth against his jaw, tasting sweat, lemonade and salty skin that makes me pull him closer to maneuver his head to my advantage. Scorpius moans, his laughter disappearing as his hands wind around my waist to grasp my arse and slam our hips together with an arch of his back.
"Fuck." I tongue into his neck as he sets a heady rhythm with our hips, and the length of his cock against mine is almost enough to make me come. But the thought of coming other places than the inside of my trousers compel my hands to fall away from his silky hair and pull at his fly. But he's faster than I, and unzips us both startlingly fast. But, to my defence, I'm much more occupied with the sinful taste of his neck and how many bruises I can create under my mouth.
"Albus," he says, and I nip at his bobbing Adam's apple.
"Al," he repeats a little more forcefully, and I abandon his neck to delve back into his mouth. Talking is not something I'm very interested in right now.
Biting at his lips as he grinds us together isn't enough, and I have the sudden urge to claim him, even more than I already have. I find distinct pleasure in knowing that the bruises are probably blooming as we fuck in the darkness of the cupboard. I slam him up against the wall and take to my knees, pulling his trousers around his thighs and moaning my approval at his lack of underwear. The thought of him walking around the ballroom, speaking to Ministry officials and fuck, my family, without pants is hot and dirty and probably something that will become mandatory at future Ministry events.
I lick a long line, from the base to the tip of his cock in appreciation. He bucks against the wall and says my name again, in a half moan that has me frantically pulling my own cock out of my pants as I swirl the head of his cock with my pointed tongue. I fuck his slit as best as I can, tasting the salty spice of his pre-come before I swallow him whole. We both moan, his mouth leaving a strain of curses hanging in the air while his fingers pull and tangle through my hair. I just can't get enough of him in my mouth. I breathe deeply through my nose that brushes his pubic hair and I swallow around his cock, but stay stationary with my lips clamped liked a vise around the base of his cock, my tongue tracing light and teasing patterns along the bottom vein.
"Fuckin' hell, Albus! Move," Scorpius breaths, and I want to grin around his cock, but my mouth is full and his weight is heavy on my tongue as I pull back and plunge back down, fucking my mouth on his cock. His hands twist and he writhes, bucking from the wall and he picks up his own rhythm, fucking my mouth with every pump of his hips. His cock hits the back of my throat and slides, again and again. I swallow when I can, but I'm more concerned with getting off myself. He's making delicious noises, a whine paired with a moan as he takes my mouth with force.
My own cocks leaks enough pre-come that I slide easily up and down the shaft. It's a fast and brutal pace to keep up with his hips, and I'm so close to coming it hurts. I pull one hand away from my balls and reach up, sliding my hand against Scorpius' own hand, that has found it's way to my jaw, before slipping a rough finger deep inside his hole on his down thrust.
He screams, deep and throaty, and I really want to smirk as I roughly milk his prostate because making this git scream is almost worth all the waiting I've had to endure. Unfortunately, I'm too busy swallowing his come, trying not to choke and working my own cock to care. I'm aware of Scorpius gasping and sliding to the ground in front of me, his clothes wrinkled and his face flushed. His hands reach for me, but I push them away from my cock and push down on his shoulders until he is slumped even farther against the wall, his body a picture of debauchery with his trousers undone and his cock still half hard hanging out of the opening. My balls ache as I straighten up and work my cock faster, shuffling towards Scorpius until his face is practically pressed up against my cock. I moan as he licks his lips and his sated, lust clouded eyes lock with mine.
"Gonna come on my face, Albus?"
"Yeah," I grunt, tightening my fist around my cock and pumping my hips so that my cock is fucking the tight ring of my fingers.
"Do you want me to beg for it? Beg for your come all over my face, Albus. Claiming me after all these years of teasing. Is your come on my face a punishment?" Scorpius says, and his voice is low and scratchy from screaming. I can only nod because I can feel my orgasm approaching in the base of my spine.
"I want it, Al. I want to taste you all over me for days. Please. Please give it to me."
His fingernails rake down my thighs hard and the head of my cock pumps once, twice against his cheek and then I'm coming, my load splashing against his cheek and mouth in long ropey strands. I pump lazily until my thighs spasm from the strain of being on my knees for so long and I collapse onto him with a grunt. I'm still hard, my cock pressed up against his as I push myself up onto my elbow and lick my own come from his face. Scorpius moans underneath me and takes his hand through some of my come on his face before working his hand between us and using it to lube us both and stoke us together. My cock feels raw from my first orgasm, and it feels too soon, but his cock feels too good, heated and long against mine and I pump my hips as best I can as I lick his face clean. We kiss, sloppy and wet and he tastes like my come.
I want him to always taste like my come.
My second orgasm approaches without warning and it hurts, blinding and too soon and so fucking good. I arch up, feeling Scorpius' hot splashes of come against my stomach as he whispers dirty things about his cock so deep in my arse, and how much he's going to spread me open for him and I'm coming again, chanting his name and sinking my teeth into his neck.
I slump against him, his hand caught between our bodies and kiss at the large bruises on his neck. I know that they must hurt, but they give me an intense pleasure in knowing that I put them there and he fucking enjoyed every moment of it. He treads the fingers of his other hand through my hair and shifts so that his hand moves out from between us and squeezes my arse cheek. I grunt in response. I was never very articulate after sex.
"So," he says and his chest rumbles against my own in a way that I really, really like. Probably more than I'm allowed to. "That was long overdue."
I nod, my smirk pressed against the hard bone behind his ear.
"We should," Scorpius pauses to palm my arse more firmly. "We should do this again."
I nod.
"And again."
I laugh.
"And probably a few hundred times. We should make it part of our daily routine."
Our laughter bubbles out between us and we spend a good thirty minutes making out and being complete girls about the whole thing, which I blame on post-coital bliss, and not because I might actually be a fairy, before we clean up what we can with careful cleaning spells.
I do not let him hold my hand when we re-enter the ballroom, but I do let him grope me in front of everyone and make out with me by the bar, which I guess would have been the highlight of the night if Uncle Ron and Draco Malfoy hadn't attacked each other over a chicken wing.
Maybe Ministry events weren't as bad as I originally thought.
Or at least, they won't be any longer.
