Fic: Only a Love Story (Harry/Scorpius) - Part 3

[ciraarana]

Here at the Office,
We dance between the lines

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One more thing to worry about.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry blinks. 'Who?'

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

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

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

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

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

'Harry? I-'

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

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

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

Despondently, Harry continues to eat his now tasteless sandwich.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'S-scorpius,' Harry croaks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Scorpius!' It's barely a whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Fuck me, Harry,' Scorpius says softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'I don't care,' Scorpius snaps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The chattering and giggling outside doesn't stop.

Harry groans and sags with sated desire and relief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Oh, yes. I am.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * *

>> Part 4