Ficlet: Albus/Severus - implied AS/S/Harry
I wanted to stop by and wish everyone a Merry Christmas... so Merry Christmas, everyone!
Then I saw sceasleycest was offering daily pairings/prompts and was intrigued by Albus Severus/Scorpius/Harry, so I wrote a little something for it. Errrr... I hope it makes sense. In my mind it does, but then again, my mind can be a rather odd place.
Title Mirrored
Author: asnowyowl
Pairing: Albus Severus/Scorpius; implied AS/S/Harry; unrequited Harry/Draco
Warnings: NC17, Disjointed thoughts, voyeurism, underage sex (16), impending incest
Summary: It hurts so fucking much.
Word Count 491
Notes I'm gifting this to bk7brokemybrain because I know she kinda enjoys my broken Harry. Unbetad
Mirrored
He should leave.
The moment he walked through the door and saw it… saw them, he should've turned and walked out.
But he didn't.
It was cold outside, so he didn't.
Bullshit.
There were other reasons.
There were reasons why. Reasons why he stood rooted to the spot, reasons why he watched his younger son (his sixteen-year-old son!) take the other boy (and, Oh Merlin, he took him carefully, lovingly - he'd thought if there was anything between them it would be angry-red, hurtful. Why would it be?).
His reasons were rubbish, but still he watched.
It was too much like old dreams, old fantasies. Hogwarts fantasies from a time when he wasn't yet a killer, didn't wear blood on his hands, hadn't redeemed himself through marriage and children. Through being the best husband, dad.
Except he wasn't, because he was seldom there - mentally, at least.
So fucking seldom.
Mentally, he was stuck at Hogwarts, fifth year… sixth. He rooted around the castle, chasing a glimpse of blond hair, a hint of pale skin. Chasing but never catching. Never catching, but always thinking. Always thinking. His thoughts would have sickened Ron and Hermione.
They still would. Especially now.
Thoughts of just this - just this sight - lithe young boys, one dark haired and green eyed, the other blond and gray. Olive against pale. Rough against smooth. Fantasy against reality.
Fantasy.
He blinked. Refocused. They were still there - Harry and Draco, except it wasn't. It was never Harry and Draco. It never would be.
Albus and Scorpius.
Twining, grunting, sweating.
Moaning, thrusting, loving.
It should be Harry and Draco.
It should be 1996.
It should be his fantasy, damn it. Not theirs. His!
It wasn't.
It never would be.
His hands fisted at his sides. He'd stop them. He had to stop them. Not that they were doing anything wrong. They were young, but not that young. He'd been ready at that age. So ready. And not that his boy shouldn't fuck another boy. After all, he'd do it. If he could.
If he could go back.
If he could go back to Hogwarts and step out of the shadows and offer his hand.
Would Draco take it? It haunted him. That question. Haunted him for decades on end. If he could go back….
But he couldn't, so he'd stop them. Stop them because it hurt so fucking much.
He cleared his throat. Stepped forward.
The boys turned, light and dark, good and evil… No! That wasn't right. Another generation. Good and good. He was the evil one. The one who wore blood on his hands.
The boys turned. Looked at him. Unsurprised. Albus grinned that cocky-damned-smile only he could pull off. The one only he could wear while looking out of Harry's face, his eyes.
Scorpius's pink tongue laved pinker lips. He held out his hand.
Harry didn't hesitate. He dove forward, only just keeping that name from dripping off his lips. Draco.
end
Then I saw sceasleycest was offering daily pairings/prompts and was intrigued by Albus Severus/Scorpius/Harry, so I wrote a little something for it. Errrr... I hope it makes sense. In my mind it does, but then again, my mind can be a rather odd place.
Title Mirrored
Author: asnowyowl
Pairing: Albus Severus/Scorpius; implied AS/S/Harry; unrequited Harry/Draco
Warnings: NC17, Disjointed thoughts, voyeurism, underage sex (16), impending incest
Summary: It hurts so fucking much.
Word Count 491
Notes I'm gifting this to bk7brokemybrain because I know she kinda enjoys my broken Harry. Unbetad
Mirrored
He should leave.
The moment he walked through the door and saw it… saw them, he should've turned and walked out.
But he didn't.
It was cold outside, so he didn't.
Bullshit.
There were other reasons.
There were reasons why. Reasons why he stood rooted to the spot, reasons why he watched his younger son (his sixteen-year-old son!) take the other boy (and, Oh Merlin, he took him carefully, lovingly - he'd thought if there was anything between them it would be angry-red, hurtful. Why would it be?).
His reasons were rubbish, but still he watched.
It was too much like old dreams, old fantasies. Hogwarts fantasies from a time when he wasn't yet a killer, didn't wear blood on his hands, hadn't redeemed himself through marriage and children. Through being the best husband, dad.
Except he wasn't, because he was seldom there - mentally, at least.
So fucking seldom.
Mentally, he was stuck at Hogwarts, fifth year… sixth. He rooted around the castle, chasing a glimpse of blond hair, a hint of pale skin. Chasing but never catching. Never catching, but always thinking. Always thinking. His thoughts would have sickened Ron and Hermione.
They still would. Especially now.
Thoughts of just this - just this sight - lithe young boys, one dark haired and green eyed, the other blond and gray. Olive against pale. Rough against smooth. Fantasy against reality.
Fantasy.
He blinked. Refocused. They were still there - Harry and Draco, except it wasn't. It was never Harry and Draco. It never would be.
Albus and Scorpius.
Twining, grunting, sweating.
Moaning, thrusting, loving.
It should be Harry and Draco.
It should be 1996.
It should be his fantasy, damn it. Not theirs. His!
It wasn't.
It never would be.
His hands fisted at his sides. He'd stop them. He had to stop them. Not that they were doing anything wrong. They were young, but not that young. He'd been ready at that age. So ready. And not that his boy shouldn't fuck another boy. After all, he'd do it. If he could.
If he could go back.
If he could go back to Hogwarts and step out of the shadows and offer his hand.
Would Draco take it? It haunted him. That question. Haunted him for decades on end. If he could go back….
But he couldn't, so he'd stop them. Stop them because it hurt so fucking much.
He cleared his throat. Stepped forward.
The boys turned, light and dark, good and evil… No! That wasn't right. Another generation. Good and good. He was the evil one. The one who wore blood on his hands.
The boys turned. Looked at him. Unsurprised. Albus grinned that cocky-damned-smile only he could pull off. The one only he could wear while looking out of Harry's face, his eyes.
Scorpius's pink tongue laved pinker lips. He held out his hand.
Harry didn't hesitate. He dove forward, only just keeping that name from dripping off his lips. Draco.
end