Fic: Happy Christmas, Father?
Dec. 1st, 2010 10:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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mini_festTitle: Happy Christmas, Father?
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sabinefrappe
Rating: almost R
Characters: Albus/Scorpius, eventual Harry/Draco
Prompt(s): Prompt #120 Harry/Draco – Scorpius and Albus form a plan to get their fathers together.
Warnings: Fluffiness
Summary: Scorpius and Albus have a little surprise for their Fathers on Christmas Eve.
Word Count: 4545
Disclaimer: Don’t own a thing – just having fun. For free.
A/N: My first fic! *flails*
“I can’t believe he said yes.” Scorpius held Albus about the waist, leaning lazily against the corridor wall. He disregarded the hour as usual. They rarely made it to Charms on time.
“He is going to have my arse on a platter when he finds out that your father only invited me for Christmas Eve – and not the both of us,” Albus said, eyes downcast. Still, a small smile twitched at the corner of his lips. “My father knows James is going to be at his girlfriend’s, and Lily just wants to spend time at Mum’s. He hadn’t committed to anything himself for Christmas Eve and knew I was aware of it. So, he just looked at me kinda funny for a moment. When he said he’d come with me, I almost choked, Score. I mean, why in the world would my father agree to accompany me to Malfoy Manor when half the entire wizarding world invited him to their celebrations? It’s crazy. Don’t get me wrong, I’m really glad he fell for it, but he’s definitely going to want to hex me into oblivion.”
“Not if it works, Al.” Scorpius said in a sly, sing-song voice. “It’s about time we took matters into our own very capable hands.” Albus thought for a moment about Scorpius’ hands. They were slender and strong, deft and demanding, just like he was. With his piercing blue eyes, and golden hair swaying to his shoulders, Scorpius was a force to be reckoned with. He was stunningly beautiful, but it was deceptive. Scorpius was a ruthless, maniacal presence on the Quidditch pitch, and cleverer in his studies than he had a right to be. This was considering he hated to spend too long studying – not that he had to; his marks were still stellar – especially when he could be off tormenting Albus with his very touch.
Scorpius released Al from his loose grip and slung an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulder, walking them slowly towards the Charms classroom. A few third years stared as they shuffled by, but one rather scary look from Scorpius, genetically trademarked eyebrow raised, sent them scurrying past. Albus chuckled and shook his head, quite familiar with his boyfriend’s ‘I’ll do as I please and hurt you if you don’t like it’ attitude. It was one he shared, if a little less actively.
Scorpius began an exasperated tirade. “Look, I’m as tired of watching those two deny their attraction as you are. Merlin, they find every excuse in the damned book to see each other – usually using us to do so, I might add – and then run off like scared little kids who’ve just seen their first Thestral. It’s humiliating! My father is a very powerful wizard, you know, and yours is…well, Saviour So-and-So and all that. They should get over their qualms and be assertive for Merlin’s sake. Our mums are happy, right? Why shouldn’t we push things along a bit? I say we’re giving them the best Christmas gift a son could manage. A hot bloke, who will definitely liven….”
Albus cut him off. “You still think my dad’s hot, don’t you?” He tilted his head to throw a sideways smirk at Scorpius.
“Where do you think you got your good looks from, wanker? Of course I think he is. He looks just like you. Or you like him or….whatever. You’ve both been blessed with supreme hotness, so be grateful. And don’t even try to pretend you don’t find my father an attractive bloke. I’ve seen you ogling him. It’s amusing, really.”
Embarrassed for a moment, Albus quietly muttered, “Yeah, well, I hope they don’t try to ruin those good looks by hexing the other’s lights out. Or ours, when they manage to realise we’ve set them up for this little gathering. God, why can’t they just give up the row and do something productive like, like…”
“Snog?” Scorpius helpfully suggested.
Albus sighed. “We must be insane, Score. But it’ll be worth it, right? If it works, that is. Then they’ll spend all their free time together, instead of constantly messing about with our lives. I love my father, truly I do, but he needs this. He works too damn much, and I know he wants to be happier. He admits to the entire wizarding world that he’s gay, but can’t even ask someone he clearly fancies out himself? This has to work out for them.”
Scorpius spoke with his usual arrogance. “Of course it will work. We’re geniuses, really. They’ll thank us for helping them get the ball rolling, so to speak. I feel like a magnificently supportive son, and you should, too.” He leaned forward and pecked Albus’ lips, smirk still firmly in place.
Albus sighed again, and entered the Charms classroom behind Scorpius, who was ploughing down the aisle as though he was the professor himself, feeling unhappy with the stares of longing he was getting from a pair of admiring girls. He was gay. So was Scorpius. No amount of explaining seemed to sway their fangirl attitudes. Would they ever take the hint?
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Harry Potter was on edge. He had agreed on a spontaneous whim to attend a Christmas Eve’s dinner with his son, Scorpius, and Draco Malfoy. Draco bloody Malfoy. That annoying git who had been the sharpest of thorns in his side for most of his life. That stubborn, haughty prat, who thought he was so much better than everyone else. That same prat, who knew the worst hexes, who got perfect marks, who flew like a blur, who had the most gorgeous, silky blond hair and plump, pink lips………Harry stopped his imaginings. They always ended like this. He thought about being there, in Malfoy Manor, inches away from Malfoy and his undeniable sexiness. It was making him a bit mad to think he had actually signed on for this. He hadn’t even argued with Albus. He simply agreed to go, and was now wondering what the boy must have thought of that. Perhaps that he was willing to attempt a truce in the wake of holiday cheer? And why in the world did Malfoy even ask him there? Harry figured it must be the truce thing. There really weren’t many other options.
Albus had waited until exactly the right moment to casually suggest they head out for Malfoy Manor. Harry was pacing about, straightening things in the kitchen (including his hair), and finally stopped, hands falling by his side in defeat. “Well then, we had better arrive in a timely fashion, lest we be subject to the wrath of Malfoy. He’d think it rude to be a split second late, yeah?”
Albus succeeded in getting him to the fireplace.
“Wait!” Harry cried. “Do you have the pouch with the gifts? Oh, and I had a…..”
“Will you stop worrying and come on?” Albus whinged. “I’ve got every little thing you put by the door and then some. We’re supposed to be having fun. You do remember fun, don’t you, Father?”
“Just never outright associated Malfoy with fun, that’s all. Unless I was waving the Snitch in front of his face or something.” Harry smiled a bit at that.
“God, who’s the grownup here, anyway? Just stop imagining the worst and attempt to be civilised. I’ve hung around with Score’s dad plenty of times, and he’s always been very pleasant to me. Witty, actually. He’s really very interesting when you aren’t biased to begin with. Now do me a favor, and promise you won’t embarrass me in front of Scorpius. I know you’re nervous, but it’s just not necessary.”
“Quite a speech, son. I’m not nervous. I’m an experienced Gryffindor, if you’ll recall. I’m still just wondering why I plan to spend a perfectly good holiday with Draco Malfoy. Must have caught something nasty at the office that’s seriously impairing my judgment.” Harry smiled bemusedly at Albus. “Don’t worry. I’ll use the spirit of holiday cheer to curb my desire to snipe at Malfoy. I’ll even be nice.” Harry hoped he was hiding his nerves. He also hoped he neither killed nor pounced on his arch nemesis. It was a truly confusing, exhausting state of mind, and yet, in the back of said mind lingered the thoughts of that hair, those lips, and that firm, delicious-looking arse….
As Harry shuffled about, Albus sighed heavily for the thirtieth time that day, wondering again how he let Scorpius talk him into this, but glad his father was allowing it to happen. ‘Please let this be okay,’ he silently wished. ‘I don’t want to be the only bloke at Hogwarts whose father killed someone over the hols, got himself killed, killed his own son and his boyfriend, or worse yet, was simply disappointed. In anything or anyone.’
Within moments, Albus heard his father sifting handfuls of powder onto the floor of the fireplace, requesting loudly that the floo deposit them both at one Malfoy Manor.
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Albus had barely shaken the soot from his pant leg when Scorpius raced toward him, grabbing the bags from his hands. “You’ve made it!” he teased, grinning widely. “Hullo, Mr. Potter.” Scorpius said like a confident, proper host. “I’m so glad you’ve joined Al this evening. We’re all really happy you’re here. Aren’t we, Father?” Scorpius turned his grin on Draco Malfoy, who had strolled closer to the fireplace with his controlled, graceful gait, then stopped abruptly when Harry stepped out from behind his son.
Draco cleared his throat, seemingly focused on choosing his words. “Yes, of course. Nice to see you again, Albus,” he deadpanned, then shifted his gaze to Harry. “Potter. What a pleasant surprise.”
“Thank you for having us, Malf….surprise? What do you mean surprise? We accepted more than a week prior.” Harry stiffened.
“It appears that Scorpius neglected to mention that he was extending his hospitality to you as well is all. I was expecting Albus. But, it’s fine, really.” Draco’s voice was strained and overly polite. “There’s more than enough dinner to go round. The house elves are not accustomed to such a small gathering for Christmas Eve and have prepared a feast worthy of the annual sorting.” Draco was strangely calm, but narrowed his eyes at Scorpius. Instead of stomping off in his usual ‘I’m upset and don’t you dare even come near me’ mode, Albus and Scorpius held their breath as Draco returned his gaze to Harry and merely raised his hand in a leading gesture. “Shall we?”
Harry reacted as if playing a scripted role. “Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind.” Albus couldn’t decide if Harry was relieved, or hiding his anger as efficiently as his polished undercover Auror skills allowed.
The uneasy group walked slowly behind Draco through the dimly lit halls. It was clear that both Harry and Draco were muttering to themselves in whispers, alternating between looking angry and nervous. Scorpius had regained a bit of his swagger, and relaxed the tiniest amount, most likely comforted by the fact that at least he was in his own home, Albus thought. Albus was not feeling as victorious as he had hoped, and was thanking Merlin for each new step that
Harry made toward the dining hall without turning back, or saying something they’d all regret later.
Albus waited patiently in the huge dining hall, hands clasped behind his back. Harry finally stepped directly in front of him and said in a soft voice meant only for Albus’ ears, “We will definitely have a chat about this later, son. I’m not sure why you wanted me here uninvited, but I assure you, I’ll find out. For now, you’d better be on your very best behavior to stay on what’s left of my good side, right?” Albus nodded his head immediately and leaned in to whisper an apology, but was halted by the abrupt sight of his father’s back as he walked away.
A smiling Scorpius patted the back of a tall, high-backed chair, motioning to Albus to sit next to him. Draco took the seat at the table’s end, and Harry sat across from the teens, on Draco’s left. It was a fumbling attempt to get comfortable, and everyone was spared the onset of small talk by a pair of house elves rushing in with trays of drinks and little crocks of steaming soup. Draco lifted his wine glass and addressed the shorter one. “Rueben, I’d like you to bring the whole bottle, please.” Rueben bowed his head and backed out the door, only to return a second later with two bottles of deep crimson-colored wine.
After a few minutes of purposeful catching up with Scorpius about the goings on nat Hogwarts, Draco turned his attention to Albus. He spoke as he continued to pour wine into everyone’s glasses. Albus found it odd he was doing so; he generally cut Scorpius off after one goblet with his meal.
“Scorpius tells me you are becoming quite the Keeper, Albus. Your record is flawless. You must enjoy the beatings you are giving the other houses, are you not?” Harry flinched a tiny bit. It was not lost on him that he was amongst three Slytherins, though he knew that Albus had the heart of the Lion. It occurred to him briefly that Albus competed against Gryffindor regularly. Harry lifted his chin and squared his shoulders, proceeding to proclaim how proud he was that Albus continued the Potter tradition of Quidditch excellence, and neglected to mention the houses altogether. He honestly didn’t mind that Albus had been sorted into Slytherin, though he found it amusing that the old hat had taken damn near five full minutes to decide.
Talk of classes, N.E.W.T.S., and future plans gave way to more trivial topics like the boys’ resemblances to their fathers, and even a few surprising jokes about how their relationship was the polar opposite of what Harry and Draco had shared over the years. Harry supposed the wine was helping to keep things light-hearted, and was strangely pleased with how the dinner was shaping up.
“The roast duck was fantastic, Malfoy. I’m beyond stuffed.”
“You should consider just calling me Draco, Potter. I think formalities may be behind us at this point in time.” Draco raised his eyebrows and smiled a bit at his son, who was leaning over into Albus’ chair, laughing into his shoulder at some remark. Albus look bemused at Scorpius’ words, and circled his back with his arm.
They slowly shifted their focus to their fathers, wondering what was being said. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt, but you’d have to accept your own advice, you know.” Harry quipped, and leaned back in his chair, staring at Draco in friendly challenge. Draco sighed. “Well then, Harry,” he enunciated, “Why don’t we take ourselves into the parlour and leave these young buffoons to laugh and make merry on their own?” Harry was caught off guard by the proposal that they leave their sons behind, but gave a hearty nod, and scooped up the last of the wine as he stood. Draco chuckled and reached for both his and Harry’s goblets as he led the way out of the dining hall. Albus looked slightly tense, while Scorpius tried not to smirk, and pressed his hand on Albus’ shoulder in gentle warning to leave well enough alone.
Harry walked behind Draco, finding it hard to believe he was acting as though it might be Ron leading the way down the hall. He actually felt all right with it, and found himself once again admiring Draco’s appearance. He was certain Draco could feel him studying him from behind, and yet he kept walking. Harry watched the graceful movement of Draco’s arms, the swish of his trousers, the tantalizing view of his toned arse outlined through the material when his suit coat moved just the right way. He forgave himself for admitting in his own mind that he was deeply attracted to Malfoy. Draco. The one who had always been there, who had hurt him over and over with taunts, hexes, blows. Who was now inviting him to sit like an old friend in front of the fire, on Christmas Eve of all the bloody days. It was confusing, yet exciting. It was what he wanted. Perhaps Albus would crawl unscathed from the mental dungeon Harry had sequestered him in earlier. Perhaps Albus and Scorpius were not devious and sly. Maybe they were smart. Or Seers, or …..hell, the greatest people that ever lived! Harry smiled through his wine haze, and planned a lengthy word of thanks to them both. He went forth through the doorway of the sitting room feeling a little giddy, and glad he was right where he was at that moment.
Draco turned and tipped his head toward a long, leather sofa. “Have a seat, Harry.”
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Harry was positive Draco would seat himself in the furthest armchair, but was secretly pleased when he flopped, however gracefully, only an arm’s length from where Harry had positioned himself on the sofa.
“Our sons are right Slytherin in their dealings, don’t you agree?” Draco mused.
“I’m certainly surprised they would plot to get us all together like this. It seems a little unusual is all.” Harry responded.
“Well, I’m flattered that you would agree to come, seeing as how you originally thought the invitation had been sent from my own lips, you know?” Draco playfully countered.
Harry looked him straight in the eye, accepting his half empty goblet from Draco’s outstretched hand. “Why do you suppose it was so important for them to see us spending time here together? I know we haven’t always got on...” They both chuckled lightly at the harmless remark, knowing full well that in the past years they had been virtually at each other’s throats.
Harry continued, “I’m guessing that they have grown rather attached to one another, and may feel it’s high time their fathers became better acquainted as friends, or even just less as enemies?”
Draco stretched his neck and sighed loudly. “You must be aware that we’ve seen a lot of each other lately, and have surpassed the enemy point. I, for one, am relieved to have a chance to visit with you, and maybe talk like civilised beings. It wouldn’t be the strangest thing if you and I turned out to be friends, now would it.” Draco smiled triumphantly.
Harry relaxed a bit more, and feeling the wine-induced bravery, he decided to make a little suggestion. “Yes, I think it would be a very good thing indeed if we were to put the past to rest once and for all and well, be friendly.” He snorted with the effort of trying not to laugh out loud. Draco must have felt similarly, and the both of them burst into a quiet fit of giggles. Draco even managed to swat Harry’s arm in a gesture of camaraderie.
“Oh hell, Harry. I can’t believe how easy it is to call you that. It’s been Potter for so long. Potter this, Potter that. Hey, Potter, you suck the unformed goo from the egg of a Hungarian Horntail!” Draco laughed merrily at his own humour, while Harry tried not to spit his sip of wine back into the goblet.
“And you, Malfoy, are the slime that oozes from the wrong end of a squashed flobberworm. You probably spread that on your morning toast, and…..” Harry stopped his intended insult to burst yet again into a small fit of chuckles. The room was getting smaller around him, and less in focus, as his shoulders shook with laughter.
The second bottle of wine had gone quickly, what with the youthful joking and bantering going on. Harry and Draco had dissolved into comfortable rest, sprawled across the sofa facing each other with Harry’s legs draped over Draco’s lap, feet crossed at the ankles. They were definitely feeling the effects of so much wine, and it was evident in their speech, their demeanors, and their incessant inching toward each other. Each slurred comment was accompanied by a poke or a light slap. It was getting giddy and ridiculous in there, and neither was even thinking anymore of the whereabouts of their sons.
“Hey Harry,” Draco said suddenly, “What would you do if I gave you a little kiss? I mean, I’ve felt that stupid mistletoe giving me dirty looks all night.” Draco pointed aimlessly around in the general direction of the doorway, and the imminent fit of giggles was underway.
“Well, shit. It’s sorta like a tradition around here, yeah?” Hurry mumbled through his chuckles, wiping at a stray tear that was escaping his eye.
“It’s sorta like a tradition around everywhere, you dolt.” Draco slurred right back, grinning with authority. He started laughing again, but was halted by the pair of lips that had come within a fraction of an inch of his. Draco looked up with only his eyes and barely breathed. Harry leaned in and clumsily bumped lips with Draco. That was simply all it took. The laughter died out completely, and they moved closer together, anticipation hanging in the air like a thick fog.
When Draco returned the press of lips, Harry felt lost. He released the tension built up over time, time spent thinking of how wonderful Draco’s perfectly pink, pouty lips would feel against his own. He groped around until his arms encircled Draco, and practically climbed into his lap. Harry kissed him with fervor, allowing his tongue to snake into Draco’s mouth, circling around and around, the high of the wine paling to what he felt in this kiss. It made him feel warm and moist all over, like his clothes would suffocate him in a short space of time.
Draco grew more and more aggressive, groaning softly as he kept the kiss moving at a fierce pace. He saw blazing lights behind his eyelids, and thought he’d never felt such a strong yearning in all his years. He became more determined to grasp all of Harry, and pulled him flush against his chest. Harry pushed down into his lap, knees on either side of him, sinking into the sofa.
They stayed that way for a long while, kissing deeply, tongues claiming the other’s mouth. Their hands stroked the other through rumpled clothing, and squeezed and grasped like it was the only chance they may have, the only excuse – this drunkenness, this mistletoe requirement – to feel what the other had to offer. It was a heady, brilliant feeling – one they were reluctant to end.
When the kiss tapered, slowly, softly, they broke apart. Breathing a bit heavily, Draco was the first to speak. “That was incredible,” he whispered. “I think I like being your friend, Harry.”
Harry choked out a small snort. “Yeah. I know what you mean,” he said smiling back. Harry did not move out of Draco’s tight hold on him. He stayed seated in Draco’s lap, arms firmly wound around him. He nuzzled into the fold of Draco’s neck. “What do you say we loosen these damnable clothes and try this being friends out a little more?”
Draco responded by pulling the hem of Harry’s shirt from his trousers, sliding his hands underneath, caressing Harry’s back. He closed his eyes, and shivered, allowing Harry to lick up and down his neck. He knew he would make his long-awaited move on Mr. Harry Potter.
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Scorpius backed away from Albus’ lips, panting slightly from the delicious snogging session they had been having at the dining room table for the last twenty minutes. “Do you think our fathers are okay out there?” He questioned. “We haven’t heard a single word since they stole our wine and wandered off.”
Albus pushed out of his chair. “Let’s have a look then. Shhhh, we’ll not interrupt any conversation they may be having. If we’re lucky, they’ll be some of the innuendo we’ve seen them make in passing, or maybe they’ve advanced to a bit of outright flirting?” he hopefully proposed.
Scorpius grabbed Albus’ wrist and pulled him into the hallway. With great stealth, they crept down the hall, and leaned to peer into the darkened parlour.
Harry’s shirt was strewn on the floor, along with his shoes and socks. He sat upright in Draco’s lap, head thrown back a bit, murmuring something quietly, interspersed with sounds of longing. Soft grunts and groans filled the quiet room. Draco was busy running his mouth down Harry’s chest, teasing a nipple with little flicks of his tongue. His soft moaning was muffled by the skin he was eagerly tasting. His jacket was scrunched in a ball on the sofa next to him, and his trousers were wide open. Harry’s hands were moving furiously up and down, his back mercifully blocking the view of what they were busy working on so rapidly. Draco’s hand was splayed on Harry’s back, gripping and flexing, while the other was tucked into the back of his trousers, apparently trying to rub the skin off of his arse.
Albus quickly covered his mouth to stifle the shocked gasp. Scorpius stood stock still with his mouth agape, until Albus’ back hurtled against his front, effectively knocking him away from the doorway.
“Holy mother of Merlin….” Albus croaked out.
“Did you see what the fuck was going on in there?” Scorpius whispered as they hurried back toward the dining hall.
Albus stopped and slunk heavily against the wall. “I don’t think I’ll ever be forgetting that sight for the rest of my life. I….God, Score! What the hell?”
“I know, I…..what the fuck!” Scorpius put his hands over his face and barked out a shocked laugh.
The two stood wide-eyed and grinning the grin of panicky kids who had stumbled on a tremendous secret.
Scorpius shook his head slowly. “I know we wanted them to get together, but God that was fast work of it.” He walked further, chuckling. “That stupid plan to make them talk is likely to end in some sort of fucking shagfest.”
Albus blinked and made a retching sound. “Stop giving me more images to scar my fragile mind, damnit.” he jokingly retorted.
They got as far as the dining room door, when Scorpius turned and faced Albus. “So then. Success. Just like I promised. That was scary, yeah, but you have to admit, love, we did what we set out to do. I feel rather proud of myself, and happy for Father, I guess. He’s wanted your dad for far too long. Hell, let them have their fun. So shall we.” Scorpius raised his eyebrows.
Albus shook his head, smiling, and allowed Scorpius to dip his head in for a kiss. He vaguely wondered how in Merlin’s good name they would all make it through breakfast. He followed Scorpius to the staircase, and resigned himself to the fact that his father was probably going to shag Mr. Malfoy. Or be shagged. Repeatedly. Who knows? This could be the start of the happiness he wanted for his father.
As he made his way up the stairs behind Scorpius, his gaze fell on his boyfriend’s gorgeous arse above him. It would have to wait until the morning to be found out. They had a little holiday cheer to promote of their own.
Author:
sabinefrappeRating: almost R
Characters: Albus/Scorpius, eventual Harry/Draco
Prompt(s): Prompt #120 Harry/Draco – Scorpius and Albus form a plan to get their fathers together.
Warnings: Fluffiness
Summary: Scorpius and Albus have a little surprise for their Fathers on Christmas Eve.
Word Count: 4545
Disclaimer: Don’t own a thing – just having fun. For free.
A/N: My first fic! *flails*
“I can’t believe he said yes.” Scorpius held Albus about the waist, leaning lazily against the corridor wall. He disregarded the hour as usual. They rarely made it to Charms on time.
“He is going to have my arse on a platter when he finds out that your father only invited me for Christmas Eve – and not the both of us,” Albus said, eyes downcast. Still, a small smile twitched at the corner of his lips. “My father knows James is going to be at his girlfriend’s, and Lily just wants to spend time at Mum’s. He hadn’t committed to anything himself for Christmas Eve and knew I was aware of it. So, he just looked at me kinda funny for a moment. When he said he’d come with me, I almost choked, Score. I mean, why in the world would my father agree to accompany me to Malfoy Manor when half the entire wizarding world invited him to their celebrations? It’s crazy. Don’t get me wrong, I’m really glad he fell for it, but he’s definitely going to want to hex me into oblivion.”
“Not if it works, Al.” Scorpius said in a sly, sing-song voice. “It’s about time we took matters into our own very capable hands.” Albus thought for a moment about Scorpius’ hands. They were slender and strong, deft and demanding, just like he was. With his piercing blue eyes, and golden hair swaying to his shoulders, Scorpius was a force to be reckoned with. He was stunningly beautiful, but it was deceptive. Scorpius was a ruthless, maniacal presence on the Quidditch pitch, and cleverer in his studies than he had a right to be. This was considering he hated to spend too long studying – not that he had to; his marks were still stellar – especially when he could be off tormenting Albus with his very touch.
Scorpius released Al from his loose grip and slung an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulder, walking them slowly towards the Charms classroom. A few third years stared as they shuffled by, but one rather scary look from Scorpius, genetically trademarked eyebrow raised, sent them scurrying past. Albus chuckled and shook his head, quite familiar with his boyfriend’s ‘I’ll do as I please and hurt you if you don’t like it’ attitude. It was one he shared, if a little less actively.
Scorpius began an exasperated tirade. “Look, I’m as tired of watching those two deny their attraction as you are. Merlin, they find every excuse in the damned book to see each other – usually using us to do so, I might add – and then run off like scared little kids who’ve just seen their first Thestral. It’s humiliating! My father is a very powerful wizard, you know, and yours is…well, Saviour So-and-So and all that. They should get over their qualms and be assertive for Merlin’s sake. Our mums are happy, right? Why shouldn’t we push things along a bit? I say we’re giving them the best Christmas gift a son could manage. A hot bloke, who will definitely liven….”
Albus cut him off. “You still think my dad’s hot, don’t you?” He tilted his head to throw a sideways smirk at Scorpius.
“Where do you think you got your good looks from, wanker? Of course I think he is. He looks just like you. Or you like him or….whatever. You’ve both been blessed with supreme hotness, so be grateful. And don’t even try to pretend you don’t find my father an attractive bloke. I’ve seen you ogling him. It’s amusing, really.”
Embarrassed for a moment, Albus quietly muttered, “Yeah, well, I hope they don’t try to ruin those good looks by hexing the other’s lights out. Or ours, when they manage to realise we’ve set them up for this little gathering. God, why can’t they just give up the row and do something productive like, like…”
“Snog?” Scorpius helpfully suggested.
Albus sighed. “We must be insane, Score. But it’ll be worth it, right? If it works, that is. Then they’ll spend all their free time together, instead of constantly messing about with our lives. I love my father, truly I do, but he needs this. He works too damn much, and I know he wants to be happier. He admits to the entire wizarding world that he’s gay, but can’t even ask someone he clearly fancies out himself? This has to work out for them.”
Scorpius spoke with his usual arrogance. “Of course it will work. We’re geniuses, really. They’ll thank us for helping them get the ball rolling, so to speak. I feel like a magnificently supportive son, and you should, too.” He leaned forward and pecked Albus’ lips, smirk still firmly in place.
Albus sighed again, and entered the Charms classroom behind Scorpius, who was ploughing down the aisle as though he was the professor himself, feeling unhappy with the stares of longing he was getting from a pair of admiring girls. He was gay. So was Scorpius. No amount of explaining seemed to sway their fangirl attitudes. Would they ever take the hint?
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Harry Potter was on edge. He had agreed on a spontaneous whim to attend a Christmas Eve’s dinner with his son, Scorpius, and Draco Malfoy. Draco bloody Malfoy. That annoying git who had been the sharpest of thorns in his side for most of his life. That stubborn, haughty prat, who thought he was so much better than everyone else. That same prat, who knew the worst hexes, who got perfect marks, who flew like a blur, who had the most gorgeous, silky blond hair and plump, pink lips………Harry stopped his imaginings. They always ended like this. He thought about being there, in Malfoy Manor, inches away from Malfoy and his undeniable sexiness. It was making him a bit mad to think he had actually signed on for this. He hadn’t even argued with Albus. He simply agreed to go, and was now wondering what the boy must have thought of that. Perhaps that he was willing to attempt a truce in the wake of holiday cheer? And why in the world did Malfoy even ask him there? Harry figured it must be the truce thing. There really weren’t many other options.
Albus had waited until exactly the right moment to casually suggest they head out for Malfoy Manor. Harry was pacing about, straightening things in the kitchen (including his hair), and finally stopped, hands falling by his side in defeat. “Well then, we had better arrive in a timely fashion, lest we be subject to the wrath of Malfoy. He’d think it rude to be a split second late, yeah?”
Albus succeeded in getting him to the fireplace.
“Wait!” Harry cried. “Do you have the pouch with the gifts? Oh, and I had a…..”
“Will you stop worrying and come on?” Albus whinged. “I’ve got every little thing you put by the door and then some. We’re supposed to be having fun. You do remember fun, don’t you, Father?”
“Just never outright associated Malfoy with fun, that’s all. Unless I was waving the Snitch in front of his face or something.” Harry smiled a bit at that.
“God, who’s the grownup here, anyway? Just stop imagining the worst and attempt to be civilised. I’ve hung around with Score’s dad plenty of times, and he’s always been very pleasant to me. Witty, actually. He’s really very interesting when you aren’t biased to begin with. Now do me a favor, and promise you won’t embarrass me in front of Scorpius. I know you’re nervous, but it’s just not necessary.”
“Quite a speech, son. I’m not nervous. I’m an experienced Gryffindor, if you’ll recall. I’m still just wondering why I plan to spend a perfectly good holiday with Draco Malfoy. Must have caught something nasty at the office that’s seriously impairing my judgment.” Harry smiled bemusedly at Albus. “Don’t worry. I’ll use the spirit of holiday cheer to curb my desire to snipe at Malfoy. I’ll even be nice.” Harry hoped he was hiding his nerves. He also hoped he neither killed nor pounced on his arch nemesis. It was a truly confusing, exhausting state of mind, and yet, in the back of said mind lingered the thoughts of that hair, those lips, and that firm, delicious-looking arse….
As Harry shuffled about, Albus sighed heavily for the thirtieth time that day, wondering again how he let Scorpius talk him into this, but glad his father was allowing it to happen. ‘Please let this be okay,’ he silently wished. ‘I don’t want to be the only bloke at Hogwarts whose father killed someone over the hols, got himself killed, killed his own son and his boyfriend, or worse yet, was simply disappointed. In anything or anyone.’
Within moments, Albus heard his father sifting handfuls of powder onto the floor of the fireplace, requesting loudly that the floo deposit them both at one Malfoy Manor.
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Albus had barely shaken the soot from his pant leg when Scorpius raced toward him, grabbing the bags from his hands. “You’ve made it!” he teased, grinning widely. “Hullo, Mr. Potter.” Scorpius said like a confident, proper host. “I’m so glad you’ve joined Al this evening. We’re all really happy you’re here. Aren’t we, Father?” Scorpius turned his grin on Draco Malfoy, who had strolled closer to the fireplace with his controlled, graceful gait, then stopped abruptly when Harry stepped out from behind his son.
Draco cleared his throat, seemingly focused on choosing his words. “Yes, of course. Nice to see you again, Albus,” he deadpanned, then shifted his gaze to Harry. “Potter. What a pleasant surprise.”
“Thank you for having us, Malf….surprise? What do you mean surprise? We accepted more than a week prior.” Harry stiffened.
“It appears that Scorpius neglected to mention that he was extending his hospitality to you as well is all. I was expecting Albus. But, it’s fine, really.” Draco’s voice was strained and overly polite. “There’s more than enough dinner to go round. The house elves are not accustomed to such a small gathering for Christmas Eve and have prepared a feast worthy of the annual sorting.” Draco was strangely calm, but narrowed his eyes at Scorpius. Instead of stomping off in his usual ‘I’m upset and don’t you dare even come near me’ mode, Albus and Scorpius held their breath as Draco returned his gaze to Harry and merely raised his hand in a leading gesture. “Shall we?”
Harry reacted as if playing a scripted role. “Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind.” Albus couldn’t decide if Harry was relieved, or hiding his anger as efficiently as his polished undercover Auror skills allowed.
The uneasy group walked slowly behind Draco through the dimly lit halls. It was clear that both Harry and Draco were muttering to themselves in whispers, alternating between looking angry and nervous. Scorpius had regained a bit of his swagger, and relaxed the tiniest amount, most likely comforted by the fact that at least he was in his own home, Albus thought. Albus was not feeling as victorious as he had hoped, and was thanking Merlin for each new step that
Harry made toward the dining hall without turning back, or saying something they’d all regret later.
Albus waited patiently in the huge dining hall, hands clasped behind his back. Harry finally stepped directly in front of him and said in a soft voice meant only for Albus’ ears, “We will definitely have a chat about this later, son. I’m not sure why you wanted me here uninvited, but I assure you, I’ll find out. For now, you’d better be on your very best behavior to stay on what’s left of my good side, right?” Albus nodded his head immediately and leaned in to whisper an apology, but was halted by the abrupt sight of his father’s back as he walked away.
A smiling Scorpius patted the back of a tall, high-backed chair, motioning to Albus to sit next to him. Draco took the seat at the table’s end, and Harry sat across from the teens, on Draco’s left. It was a fumbling attempt to get comfortable, and everyone was spared the onset of small talk by a pair of house elves rushing in with trays of drinks and little crocks of steaming soup. Draco lifted his wine glass and addressed the shorter one. “Rueben, I’d like you to bring the whole bottle, please.” Rueben bowed his head and backed out the door, only to return a second later with two bottles of deep crimson-colored wine.
After a few minutes of purposeful catching up with Scorpius about the goings on nat Hogwarts, Draco turned his attention to Albus. He spoke as he continued to pour wine into everyone’s glasses. Albus found it odd he was doing so; he generally cut Scorpius off after one goblet with his meal.
“Scorpius tells me you are becoming quite the Keeper, Albus. Your record is flawless. You must enjoy the beatings you are giving the other houses, are you not?” Harry flinched a tiny bit. It was not lost on him that he was amongst three Slytherins, though he knew that Albus had the heart of the Lion. It occurred to him briefly that Albus competed against Gryffindor regularly. Harry lifted his chin and squared his shoulders, proceeding to proclaim how proud he was that Albus continued the Potter tradition of Quidditch excellence, and neglected to mention the houses altogether. He honestly didn’t mind that Albus had been sorted into Slytherin, though he found it amusing that the old hat had taken damn near five full minutes to decide.
Talk of classes, N.E.W.T.S., and future plans gave way to more trivial topics like the boys’ resemblances to their fathers, and even a few surprising jokes about how their relationship was the polar opposite of what Harry and Draco had shared over the years. Harry supposed the wine was helping to keep things light-hearted, and was strangely pleased with how the dinner was shaping up.
“The roast duck was fantastic, Malfoy. I’m beyond stuffed.”
“You should consider just calling me Draco, Potter. I think formalities may be behind us at this point in time.” Draco raised his eyebrows and smiled a bit at his son, who was leaning over into Albus’ chair, laughing into his shoulder at some remark. Albus look bemused at Scorpius’ words, and circled his back with his arm.
They slowly shifted their focus to their fathers, wondering what was being said. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt, but you’d have to accept your own advice, you know.” Harry quipped, and leaned back in his chair, staring at Draco in friendly challenge. Draco sighed. “Well then, Harry,” he enunciated, “Why don’t we take ourselves into the parlour and leave these young buffoons to laugh and make merry on their own?” Harry was caught off guard by the proposal that they leave their sons behind, but gave a hearty nod, and scooped up the last of the wine as he stood. Draco chuckled and reached for both his and Harry’s goblets as he led the way out of the dining hall. Albus looked slightly tense, while Scorpius tried not to smirk, and pressed his hand on Albus’ shoulder in gentle warning to leave well enough alone.
Harry walked behind Draco, finding it hard to believe he was acting as though it might be Ron leading the way down the hall. He actually felt all right with it, and found himself once again admiring Draco’s appearance. He was certain Draco could feel him studying him from behind, and yet he kept walking. Harry watched the graceful movement of Draco’s arms, the swish of his trousers, the tantalizing view of his toned arse outlined through the material when his suit coat moved just the right way. He forgave himself for admitting in his own mind that he was deeply attracted to Malfoy. Draco. The one who had always been there, who had hurt him over and over with taunts, hexes, blows. Who was now inviting him to sit like an old friend in front of the fire, on Christmas Eve of all the bloody days. It was confusing, yet exciting. It was what he wanted. Perhaps Albus would crawl unscathed from the mental dungeon Harry had sequestered him in earlier. Perhaps Albus and Scorpius were not devious and sly. Maybe they were smart. Or Seers, or …..hell, the greatest people that ever lived! Harry smiled through his wine haze, and planned a lengthy word of thanks to them both. He went forth through the doorway of the sitting room feeling a little giddy, and glad he was right where he was at that moment.
Draco turned and tipped his head toward a long, leather sofa. “Have a seat, Harry.”
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Harry was positive Draco would seat himself in the furthest armchair, but was secretly pleased when he flopped, however gracefully, only an arm’s length from where Harry had positioned himself on the sofa.
“Our sons are right Slytherin in their dealings, don’t you agree?” Draco mused.
“I’m certainly surprised they would plot to get us all together like this. It seems a little unusual is all.” Harry responded.
“Well, I’m flattered that you would agree to come, seeing as how you originally thought the invitation had been sent from my own lips, you know?” Draco playfully countered.
Harry looked him straight in the eye, accepting his half empty goblet from Draco’s outstretched hand. “Why do you suppose it was so important for them to see us spending time here together? I know we haven’t always got on...” They both chuckled lightly at the harmless remark, knowing full well that in the past years they had been virtually at each other’s throats.
Harry continued, “I’m guessing that they have grown rather attached to one another, and may feel it’s high time their fathers became better acquainted as friends, or even just less as enemies?”
Draco stretched his neck and sighed loudly. “You must be aware that we’ve seen a lot of each other lately, and have surpassed the enemy point. I, for one, am relieved to have a chance to visit with you, and maybe talk like civilised beings. It wouldn’t be the strangest thing if you and I turned out to be friends, now would it.” Draco smiled triumphantly.
Harry relaxed a bit more, and feeling the wine-induced bravery, he decided to make a little suggestion. “Yes, I think it would be a very good thing indeed if we were to put the past to rest once and for all and well, be friendly.” He snorted with the effort of trying not to laugh out loud. Draco must have felt similarly, and the both of them burst into a quiet fit of giggles. Draco even managed to swat Harry’s arm in a gesture of camaraderie.
“Oh hell, Harry. I can’t believe how easy it is to call you that. It’s been Potter for so long. Potter this, Potter that. Hey, Potter, you suck the unformed goo from the egg of a Hungarian Horntail!” Draco laughed merrily at his own humour, while Harry tried not to spit his sip of wine back into the goblet.
“And you, Malfoy, are the slime that oozes from the wrong end of a squashed flobberworm. You probably spread that on your morning toast, and…..” Harry stopped his intended insult to burst yet again into a small fit of chuckles. The room was getting smaller around him, and less in focus, as his shoulders shook with laughter.
The second bottle of wine had gone quickly, what with the youthful joking and bantering going on. Harry and Draco had dissolved into comfortable rest, sprawled across the sofa facing each other with Harry’s legs draped over Draco’s lap, feet crossed at the ankles. They were definitely feeling the effects of so much wine, and it was evident in their speech, their demeanors, and their incessant inching toward each other. Each slurred comment was accompanied by a poke or a light slap. It was getting giddy and ridiculous in there, and neither was even thinking anymore of the whereabouts of their sons.
“Hey Harry,” Draco said suddenly, “What would you do if I gave you a little kiss? I mean, I’ve felt that stupid mistletoe giving me dirty looks all night.” Draco pointed aimlessly around in the general direction of the doorway, and the imminent fit of giggles was underway.
“Well, shit. It’s sorta like a tradition around here, yeah?” Hurry mumbled through his chuckles, wiping at a stray tear that was escaping his eye.
“It’s sorta like a tradition around everywhere, you dolt.” Draco slurred right back, grinning with authority. He started laughing again, but was halted by the pair of lips that had come within a fraction of an inch of his. Draco looked up with only his eyes and barely breathed. Harry leaned in and clumsily bumped lips with Draco. That was simply all it took. The laughter died out completely, and they moved closer together, anticipation hanging in the air like a thick fog.
When Draco returned the press of lips, Harry felt lost. He released the tension built up over time, time spent thinking of how wonderful Draco’s perfectly pink, pouty lips would feel against his own. He groped around until his arms encircled Draco, and practically climbed into his lap. Harry kissed him with fervor, allowing his tongue to snake into Draco’s mouth, circling around and around, the high of the wine paling to what he felt in this kiss. It made him feel warm and moist all over, like his clothes would suffocate him in a short space of time.
Draco grew more and more aggressive, groaning softly as he kept the kiss moving at a fierce pace. He saw blazing lights behind his eyelids, and thought he’d never felt such a strong yearning in all his years. He became more determined to grasp all of Harry, and pulled him flush against his chest. Harry pushed down into his lap, knees on either side of him, sinking into the sofa.
They stayed that way for a long while, kissing deeply, tongues claiming the other’s mouth. Their hands stroked the other through rumpled clothing, and squeezed and grasped like it was the only chance they may have, the only excuse – this drunkenness, this mistletoe requirement – to feel what the other had to offer. It was a heady, brilliant feeling – one they were reluctant to end.
When the kiss tapered, slowly, softly, they broke apart. Breathing a bit heavily, Draco was the first to speak. “That was incredible,” he whispered. “I think I like being your friend, Harry.”
Harry choked out a small snort. “Yeah. I know what you mean,” he said smiling back. Harry did not move out of Draco’s tight hold on him. He stayed seated in Draco’s lap, arms firmly wound around him. He nuzzled into the fold of Draco’s neck. “What do you say we loosen these damnable clothes and try this being friends out a little more?”
Draco responded by pulling the hem of Harry’s shirt from his trousers, sliding his hands underneath, caressing Harry’s back. He closed his eyes, and shivered, allowing Harry to lick up and down his neck. He knew he would make his long-awaited move on Mr. Harry Potter.
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Scorpius backed away from Albus’ lips, panting slightly from the delicious snogging session they had been having at the dining room table for the last twenty minutes. “Do you think our fathers are okay out there?” He questioned. “We haven’t heard a single word since they stole our wine and wandered off.”
Albus pushed out of his chair. “Let’s have a look then. Shhhh, we’ll not interrupt any conversation they may be having. If we’re lucky, they’ll be some of the innuendo we’ve seen them make in passing, or maybe they’ve advanced to a bit of outright flirting?” he hopefully proposed.
Scorpius grabbed Albus’ wrist and pulled him into the hallway. With great stealth, they crept down the hall, and leaned to peer into the darkened parlour.
Harry’s shirt was strewn on the floor, along with his shoes and socks. He sat upright in Draco’s lap, head thrown back a bit, murmuring something quietly, interspersed with sounds of longing. Soft grunts and groans filled the quiet room. Draco was busy running his mouth down Harry’s chest, teasing a nipple with little flicks of his tongue. His soft moaning was muffled by the skin he was eagerly tasting. His jacket was scrunched in a ball on the sofa next to him, and his trousers were wide open. Harry’s hands were moving furiously up and down, his back mercifully blocking the view of what they were busy working on so rapidly. Draco’s hand was splayed on Harry’s back, gripping and flexing, while the other was tucked into the back of his trousers, apparently trying to rub the skin off of his arse.
Albus quickly covered his mouth to stifle the shocked gasp. Scorpius stood stock still with his mouth agape, until Albus’ back hurtled against his front, effectively knocking him away from the doorway.
“Holy mother of Merlin….” Albus croaked out.
“Did you see what the fuck was going on in there?” Scorpius whispered as they hurried back toward the dining hall.
Albus stopped and slunk heavily against the wall. “I don’t think I’ll ever be forgetting that sight for the rest of my life. I….God, Score! What the hell?”
“I know, I…..what the fuck!” Scorpius put his hands over his face and barked out a shocked laugh.
The two stood wide-eyed and grinning the grin of panicky kids who had stumbled on a tremendous secret.
Scorpius shook his head slowly. “I know we wanted them to get together, but God that was fast work of it.” He walked further, chuckling. “That stupid plan to make them talk is likely to end in some sort of fucking shagfest.”
Albus blinked and made a retching sound. “Stop giving me more images to scar my fragile mind, damnit.” he jokingly retorted.
They got as far as the dining room door, when Scorpius turned and faced Albus. “So then. Success. Just like I promised. That was scary, yeah, but you have to admit, love, we did what we set out to do. I feel rather proud of myself, and happy for Father, I guess. He’s wanted your dad for far too long. Hell, let them have their fun. So shall we.” Scorpius raised his eyebrows.
Albus shook his head, smiling, and allowed Scorpius to dip his head in for a kiss. He vaguely wondered how in Merlin’s good name they would all make it through breakfast. He followed Scorpius to the staircase, and resigned himself to the fact that his father was probably going to shag Mr. Malfoy. Or be shagged. Repeatedly. Who knows? This could be the start of the happiness he wanted for his father.
As he made his way up the stairs behind Scorpius, his gaze fell on his boyfriend’s gorgeous arse above him. It would have to wait until the morning to be found out. They had a little holiday cheer to promote of their own.
