Fic: In Which Three is Also Company (James/Teddy/Scorpius), NC-17
Recipient: amusinglee404
Title: In Which Three Is Also Company, Part 1 of 2
Pairing(s): Established James/Teddy, James/Teddy/Scorpius threesome.
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Explicit sex
Summary: In search of celebration, Scorpius Malfoy finds, very possibly, the night of his life.
Word Count: 15k
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author’s/Artist's notes: Thank you to my lovely (and speedy) beta, M.
Scorpius sits back in his chair and looks at the neatly stacked manuscript in front of him. Before any of the comical accidents that haunt his nightmares can occur (a breeze will get in from somewhere and blow the first half of it across the room; a Krup will burst in through the window and eat it; it will spontaneously combust) Scorpius starts the spell work. The first tap transforms his scrawled handwriting into neat, legible print. Those that know what he does for a living all say he is insane for writing longhand rather than using a Quick Notes Quill. Given the extent to which he mutters to himself while writing ('no, bugger, that doesn't make sense...would he really do that...what if...') Scorpius imagines a Quick Notes would probably be more trouble than it's worth. Some of the other writers in the same publishing house as Scorpius have begun to use Muggle computers, but there is no way on earth that Scorpius would entrust his work to one of those infernal boxes.
The next spell recreates the manuscript on a blank pile of parchment next to it, and the third binds them both neatly. Scorpius wraps one and addresses it to his editor, Charles. The other copy, he banishes to a locked drawer. Otherwise he knows that he will spend the interval between now and receiving Charles's comments engaged in reading and editing and picking out little problems until his head spins. To be on the safe side, he Floos over to Charles's office and leaves the manuscript neatly on his desk. Once he gets back home he owls Marie at Alohamora Publishing and assures her that the draft is finally finished. She has been owling and Flooing on a near-daily basis since he breezed past his initial deadline a month and a half ago with almost nothing to show for it, and Scorpius knows that if he Floos her now, he won't get away for ages.
Ritual complete, Scorpius pours himself a glass of Merlot and drinks it on the tiny roof terrace, watching as the sun starts to sink down low over the London skyline, painting the sky with a vivid splash of pink above the horizon, shot through with dark grey wisps of cloud. The honeysuckle planted by the last occupant seems to have absorbed the heat of the day and is pouring it out again in a perfumed haze. Scorpius leans back in the little wooden chair and breathes in deeply, letting the wineglass dangle from his fingertips.
He's still always slightly shocked to think that he is actually making a living from writing. He'd always been entranced by stories of lives unlike his own, and from a very young age he'd started making up his own. His parents indulged his vivid imagination, always willing to listen to his tales, and even sometimes to act out the little plays he wrote. At Hogwarts, he'd never found any subject, nor any potential career, that gave him nearly as much of a thrill as he got from hiding out in the dormitory with a book, or writing short stories about heroes and danger, villains and adventure.
On leaving school, he was faced with the depressing possibility of being just another louche aristocrat, another spoiled little rich boy living on an allowance until the family inheritance came due. And then, on a whim, he'd entered a writing competition in one of his mother's magazines. The first place prize that he won only consisted of ten galleons and a certificate, but it had spurred him on. Surprisingly quickly, he'd sold a few short stories to Witch Weekly, each under a different name. Even at the time he'd thought they weren't his best work, but the fact that they were deemed good enough for publication (even if it was in a relatively disreputable rag) had given him the confidence to finish his first novel. A story about the last of a mythical race of dragon lords, Scorpius had been writing it since he was at school, since before he ever considered writing as something from which he could make a living.
In the interim, all-unknowing, his father had offered him the Malfoy heir's traditional apartments in Belgravia. It was tempting as hell, but Scorpius had resisted, renting a room (to his mother's faint horror) from a bunch of Muggle students. His parents were careful not to ask too many questions, but he knows that time must have confused them beyond all measure. He imagines they thought he was rebelling, or caught up with a Muggle lover. To pay for the room, Scorpius found work proof-reading essays at the local university, and even took a job in a Muggle cafe. He always thought that his voracious appetite for books, both Magical and Muggle, was what had given him the idea in the first place. All his life, he'd been reading and writing about other possibilities, unconstrained lives. And so there was no reason for him to do anything that people expected of him. Life's possibilities were endless. A few more short stories supplemented his income well enough, and before too long he had a draft, and then a redraft.
And then he realised he had no idea what to do next. Guessing, he had sent the manuscript to a few publishers and on the same day, sat down to tell his parents about his new career. They have tried their best ever since then to be supportive, but his father especially has made no secret of the fact that he thinks Scorpius is insane. Writing textbooks - dry, dusty textbooks to litter the shelves of equally dry, dusty professors - would have been bad enough, but popular fiction? Clearly, some horrific bump on the head had been overlooked in childhood.
There had been a while when he'd thought that he'd earned all those baffled looks for no reason at all, because he heard nothing from any of the publishers for weeks, months. And then he'd received a brief letter from Marie LeFeuvre at Alohamora, a plaintive plea to contact an editor, and the recommendation of one Charles Laurenson. And the rest, as Scorpius likes to joke, is stranger than fiction. Everything had seemed to happen so quickly from there. Before he knew what was happening he was holding a copy of his first novel, then seeing it on bookshelves, hearing it mentioned on the Wireless, seeing it reviewed in Parrott and Purview's Wizarding Literary Digest. It seemed, and sometimes still seems, an impossible dream.
His first two novels, both written under the same pseudonym, had each topped the best-seller list, a fact which Scorpius still sometimes can't quite believe. Marie and Charles are always keen for him to reveal that Abelard Pennington and Scorpius Malfoy are one and the same. Scorpius supposes that the truth will out at some point, but for now he's wary. He doesn't think the public will be so keen on tales of epic battles between good and evil when they're not quite sure which side the author is rooting for.
Because of his constant refusal to touch any of the Malfoy fortune to which he is already entitled, Scorpius is far from rich. The money from the first book had paid for the deposit on his flat, and nifty spell work had kept the costs down while he worked on the second book. There were times when it was difficult, but Scorpius has long since proven to himself that he can deal with difficult, he can manage his own life perfectly well. Of course, he knows that he could very easily be living in the idle lap of luxury rather than just managing, but what matters most is that in spite of his own expectations, he is doing his own thing, living for himself, and he is still managing to keep his parents on side.
Now, five years after leaving school, three and a half after his first book was published, life is good in a variety of ways, and as Scorpius drains the last of his Merlot he summons a pack of unfiltered Gauloise cigarettes from inside, taking off the preservation charm and sliding one out. He still considers his expensive French cigarettes an indulgence and ekes the packets out, rewarding himself occasionally for a job well done. This definitely counts, and he lights the Gauloise with the tip of his wand, exhaling an aromatic plume of smoke and turning his face towards the setting sun.
The quiet lull between finishing a book, and receiving Charles's first round of comments is almost as good as the process of writing itself, and Scorpius is determined to enjoy it to the full. He's been putting off and putting off going to see his parents in the mad scramble to finish, so that'll have to be done before long. His mother, in this as in everything, is downright pushy in her support, and Scorpius knows from experience that he will have to field requests to read the draft.
Scorpius leans his chair back on two legs and rests his feet on the table, leaning to one side enough to drop his wine glass down onto the terrace. With a long stretch and a gaping yawn, and Scorpius abruptly decides that he is going out tonight. A little too much to drink, a little bit of embarrassing dancing, maybe a surreptitious snog in the darkened corner of a crowded dance floor. A quick round of Floo calls leaves him a little disheartened, as none of his friends are available at such short notice. Resolving not to let that ruin his evening, Scorpius ducks into the shower, idly wondering where to go until a spark of inspiration hits and he almost laughs to himself.
Bar 29 is technically a Muggle place, but when Scorpius was at school two barmen and one of the bouncers were wizards. Contrary to his classmates' expectations (he was never as much of a goody-two-shoes as people imagined) Scorpius knew about the place back then - just like every other witch and wizard between seventeen and twenty-five seems to know about it - and although it's been a while since he was there, it doesn't change much. It's comfortable, it's safe, it's small and fairly cheap, and the last time Scorpius was there, there were still a couple of magical staff members who turned a blind eye to Apparition from the cloakroom. It's also, in the Muggle parlance, gay-friendly.
Perfect, Scorpius decides cheerfully.
***
The club is busy, as ever, but not unpleasantly crowded given that it's a Friday night. Although the entrance is at street level, the bar and dance floor are downstairs and Scorpius pauses for a moment, resting his elbows on the barrier and scanning the crowd for any instantly recognisable faces. Not seeing anyone, he makes his way over to the cloakroom and leaves his black leather jacket with the cloakroom girl. She was a couple of years above him at school but he can't remember her name and she only gives him a vague smile as though he's familiar and she can't work out why.
He heads downstairs next, picking his way around the crowd on the dance floor to the bar. Some nights they have live music in an eclectic range of styles, but tonight there is only a DJ, a tiny looking girl with bright green hair obviously having the time of her life in the booth, playing a mixture of rock and electronic sounding pop music. For the first time he can remember, Scorpius doesn't recognise any of the bar staff, but a quick glance shows him that one of the club's greatest - and most unexpected - assets is still there. A near-comprehensive range of highland whiskys, ranging from fairly standard blends all the way up to perfectly aged single malts.
Reasoning that he's supposed to be celebrating, Scorpius goes for his old favourite first, a twenty-five year aged Talisker. It's a beautiful, spicy single malt, with a strong flavour. A normal Talisker, the ten year one, is sometimes too harsh but in the more aged bottlings like this one, the fiery, peaty flavour has time to mellow into something extraordinarily smooth and completely blissful. Scorpius drinks it slowly, and it's perfect to the last drop, comfortable warmth already spreading through him. It's miles better than Firewhiskey, better than anything the magical world has yet developed.
He buys a bottle of water when he's finished his Talisker and heads out onto the dance floor. It's friendly and informal sort of place, and Scorpius soon finds himself dancing with a group of Muggle girls when one of them stumbles into him and then throws her arms around his shoulders in apology. Scorpius laughs and lets her pull him over to her friends. He feels good, confident and happy and attractive; he can feel the odd appreciative glance on him as he dances with one of the girls, careful not to give her the wrong idea, holding her hand and twirling her around like they're at a ballroom dance. She laughs and plays up to it, making a valiant attempt to curtsey and maintain a little modesty while wearing a mini-dress.
Before long Scorpius is stolen away from the girls by a short blond guy who shoots him flirty smiles and come hither looks. It's hard to tell in the darkened club, under the flashing strobe lights, but he seems to have improbably bright blue eyes and although he's maybe not conventionally handsome, his smile is utterly infectious. While he's not planning to go home with anyone tonight, Scorpius enjoys the dancing, the flirtation, the tease and the temptation. Still, he's not that bothered when he loses the bloke in the crowd, and is content to dance alone, losing himself in the throbbing bass notes, so deep he can feel them through his feet and in his throat.
When he goes back to the bar again, he settles on a Speyside single malt, lighter and sweeter than the Talisker. It goes down just as smoothly as the first one did and as he finishes it he becomes aware of someone at his side, leaning against the bar, and he thinks maybe he can feel their eyes on him. A quick glance shows him a tall, good looking, dark haired man wearing a white t-shirt with a thick red stripe at chest level, and dark trousers. Another glance and Scorpius can't help thinking there's something familiar about him. He catches Scorpius looking the next time and smiles, a slow, wide, knowingly sexy smile that ignites an unexpected spark of interest in Scorpius. The man gives Scorpius a quick - and blatantly appreciative - glance up and down and smiles again before leaning in close.
"Drink?" he asks, and Scorpius only pauses for a moment. It's not like he was intending to go out on the pull tonight but hell, there's more than one way to celebrate and the lazy, comfortable smile reels him in easily.
"Yeah," he nods, and receives another smile in return. It's like each smile is different from the one that came before, and this one in particular is familiar somehow, like maybe it reminds Scorpius of someone he used to know. He's fairly sure he never knew this man though. He'd remember, he thinks cheerfully. He'd remember that broad back, those strong shoulders and - god that seriously nice arse. And, clearly, impeccable taste, Scorpius thinks, watching the man order two glasses of Glencadam. He holds one of the glasses towards Scorpius who reaches for it with a smile. Before the man lets go of the glass though, he leans in close to say into Scorpius's ear,
"I'm James."
Scorpius moves back to look at him again, the niggling familiarity suddenly becoming clear.
"You're Al Potter's brother!"
Al Potter, in Scorpius's year at school, had gone effortlessly from being Slytherin seeker to Slytherin captain to Magpies seeker to Magpies captain, and no one doubted that he'd be in the England line up for the next world cup. He was a heart-throb at school, and that only multiplied when he was in the papers on a day to day basis. There's a superficial resemblance between the two of them and now he thinks about it, Scorpius can remember James from school, a cheerful Gryffindor more interested in messing around and playing practical jokes than in lessons or worrying about being overshadowed by his little brother.
"Er - " James says, looking at Scorpius a bit warily like maybe he's a secret Quidditch-stalker.
"Scorpius - "
"Malfoy?! Wow. Damn you look completely different."
"Different?" Scorpius asks.
"Good different. Sexy different," James confides with another bright grin.
"Oh," Scorpius grins, leaning his elbow on the bar and angling his body towards James's.
"You were in Al's year, right?" James asks, pressing close to lean against his side and talk into his ear.
"Yeah. Ravenclaw, though," Scorpius says.
"Ah, thought so. Well, it's good to see you again," James says, clinking his glass against Scorpius's.
"You too," Scorpius nods.
It's not like they can have anything approaching a coherent conversation, given the volume of the music, but Scorpius can't deny the instant thrill of attraction, nor the warm thrum of pleasure when James's hand lands on the small of his back, his thumb moving in little arcs across the narrow strip of skin exposed between Scorpius's trousers and shirt. A while later, Scorpius leans forward, attracts the barmaid's attention and buys another round.
"Here," he says, passing another glass of whisky over to James.
"Mmm, thanks," James says, lifting the glass to his lips.
As they finish that drink, James kisses the shell of Scorpius's ear, arms winding around his waist, asking in a whisper, "Come and dance?" Scorpius turns his head in time to catch James's mouth in a brief kiss.
"Alright," he nods, and lets James lead him out onto the crowded dance floor.
Without hesitation, James puts his arms around Scorpius's waist and pulls him close. Scorpius realises that he's actually taller than James by an inch or two. He hadn't noticed earlier because James is broader than him in the shoulders and chest, and the brashly confident smile probably makes him seem taller than he is. James's hands feel warm and square against his lower back, his body firm where their chests brush together in the crowd. Up this close, Scorpius starts to see a weird mixture of prettiness and imperfection on James's face. His eyelashes are long like a girl's, framing delicately shaped eyes, but his nose is a little crooked at the top as if from an old break that didn't heal quite right. There's a spray of fair freckles across his nose and cheekbones, soft and smudged, but there is also a jagged scar near his hairline to the left of his eyebrow, white and livid against his skin even in the strobe lighting.
He's gorgeous, Scorpius realises. And, of course, Scorpius has observed that anyone who can dance sensually without their hands dipping below the waist, and without resorting to grinding against their partner, is almost bound to be good in bed. He grins at James who lifts his chin enough to ghost his lips over Scorpius's, barely touching, the slightest brush of James's breath teasing over his mouth in a warm gust.
Increasingly sure that he's onto a good thing, Scorpius barely notices that they are edging towards the outer limits of the crowd, away from the speakers. The noise level is less insane at such a distance, and the lack of other people jostling them means that Scorpius knows it is no mistake when James steps closer to him, barely enough room to slide a sheet of parchment between their bodies. This time it's Scorpius that closes the gap between their mouths, pressing a proper kiss onto James's lips. James goes still almost instantly, arms tightening a little around Scorpius's waist, and his soft lips part easily for Scorpius, warm lick of his tongue darting out in a hot tease. He feels one of James's hands land on his cheek, sliding up to dip his fingers into Scorpius's hair, holding him still while James shifts to kiss the angle of his jaw instead, sliding down to glide his closed mouth along the length of Scorpius's throat.
Scorpius closes his eyes contentedly, turning his head against the grip of James's fingers, giving him free access to the spot below his jaw that always makes his knees weak. It only takes James a moment to find it, and when Scorpius shudders just from a brush of lips over skin, James laughs against him, quickly escalating to lick and suck and then finally to nip at the same patch. Scorpius's eyes fly open at the insistent press of James's teeth and, all unintentional, he finds himself looking into the eyes of a tall, lanky man who's leaning against the wall and watching the two of them with unabashed interest.
Scorpius blinks, turns his head enough to trade a quick kiss with James and then glances back at the other man. He's still watching and, although it's hard to tell at a distance, Scorpius thinks he quirks an eyebrow challengingly. Never one to back down - even when it'd probably be in his best interests to do so - Scorpius kisses James again, for longer this time, fingers pressed to the underside of his jaw, making a point of sucking on James's lower lip to see it swollen and glistening in the ever-changing lights.
Sure enough, the man is watching with keen interest when Scorpius glances up again, and Scorpius laughs, ducking his head to talk into James's ear.
"That bloke's really staring," he says, and instead of just looking over his shoulder, James moves around Scorpius until he's pressed close behind him, his hands spread wide on Scorpius's hips.
"Well, yeah, that's Teddy, he's my boyfriend," James says casually.
"He's your what?" Scorpius demands, jolting in James's arms, and looking at the other man in a new light.
"Don't be such a prude," James laughs, lowering his mouth to Scorpius's ear. "We think you're gorgeous."
"And what?" Scorpius asks. "He likes to watch?"
"Preferably take part, but whatever," James shrugs.
Scorpius feels a warm coil of lust uncurling in his belly. He thinks he chokes back his groan in time but obviously doesn't because James laughs throatily in his ear, the fingertips of each hand moving towards the other, just nudging the unmistakeable bulge in Scorpius's trousers.
"Like that idea?" James asks, laughing again.
What the hell, Scorpius decides, and he reaches one hand up and back to slide his fingers into James's hair and pull him closer. "Maybe," he admits, his lips against the corner of James's mouth. James leans forward enough to kiss him slowly, his tongue skating over Scorpius's lower lip, one hand on his hip and the other flat on his stomach.
"Very nice," a new voice says, barely audible over the music. James breaks the kiss to lean forward and kiss the newcomer - Teddy, with slate blue hair in the darkness, and lean legs that go on forever - instead.
Scorpius bites down on a groan at the twin feeling of bodies pressed against his front and back. He can feel James's arms around him, hands hooking onto Teddy's waist and pulling him closer. It's a distinctly weird sensation, almost able to hear their kiss over the music, he's so close to them, their hair in his face as their tongues tangle. And then Teddy smoothly breaks his kiss with James and transfers his attention to Scorpius, one hand cupping his cheek, dark eyes caressing his face before he ducks his head and presses a soft kiss to his lips before shifting away again, eyes flicking to look at James over Scorpius's shoulder.
Under normal circumstances the teasing look on Teddy's face would be infuriating, but through the warm haze of lust and alcohol, it just makes Scorpius laugh, stepping closer and reaching up, wrapping his arms around Teddy's neck, leaning up to claim a longer, deeper kiss. Teddy tastes noticeably different from James, his mouth sharp with the burn of cigarettes, some lick of sugar-sweetness underneath it, like the warmth of candyfloss. James says something into Scorpius's ear, but all he hears is a soft rumbling that makes him shiver in Teddy's arms before James's lips fall onto the side of his neck, kissing gently at first before his lips part and he sucks softly at the tendon in Scorpius's throat, sharp teeth just barely scraping over his skin.
Teddy's thumbs slide into his belt loops and he tugs gently, pulling Scorpius tight against him, their kiss becoming urgent and more heated as Scorpius sinks his fingers into Teddy's thick blue hair and presses the whole length of their bodies together, sweet hot drag that makes them both groan. Teddy's hand falls onto the side of Scorpius's throat, warm and strong, thumb tracing the corner of his jaw as Teddy sucks on his lower lip, bites it softly as he pulls away, looking down at Scorpius with warm eyes.
"Damn," James says appreciatively with a bright, probably drunken smile, kissing them both on the cheek. "Bar," he nods, glancing back at them as he reels away. Teddy watches James go, and Scorpius can't help noticing the heat of his stare before he turns back to Scorpius with a smile.
"Alright?" he asks, craning his neck to talk into Scorpius's ear. Scorpius nods, feeling Teddy's hair brush over his cheek before he turns his head to kiss Teddy again, sucking Teddy's lower lip into his mouth and nudging him into a long, leisurely kiss.
If James is charmingly attractive, Teddy is deadly sexy. Scorpius would be willing to bet that Teddy's long, lanky body hides a lot of strength. The sure, determined way his hands fall onto Scorpius's hips is undeniably dominant, as are the string of kisses he places along Scorpius's jaw before claiming his mouth once more. He looks down at Scorpius with bright, sharp eyes, and Scorpius can't help noticing that those eyes flicker down to his lips before Teddy kisses him again.
Scorpius winds his arms around Teddy's neck again, unable to resist scratching his fingers through the thick hair hanging at his nape. Teddy closes his eyes and lets his head drop forward, making it the easiest thing in the world for Scorpius to go onto tiptoe and kiss him again, keeping the contact light and brief, more teasing than actually kissing.
"That's not even vaguely like dancing," James says critically, appearing beside the two of them a little while later. He's carrying three glasses in one hand and uses them to gesture towards the edge of the dance floor where there are a number of small tables. Teddy takes one of the glasses from James's hand and slings his free arm around Scorpius's shoulders. The three of them head over to the tables and Scorpius can't help glancing back and forth between the two of them, cataloguing the differences. Teddy is much more angular, sharp cheekbones and pointed chin to James's soft smile and square jaw.
They're a sodding wet dream come true is what they are, and as Scorpius accepts a glass of whisky from James, James takes the opportunity to brush their fingers together, giving Scorpius a sunny smile before he throws himself into a chair between Scorpius and Teddy, looking back and forth between them for a moment before he leans towards Scorpius and asks where he lives.
"I've a flat in Balham," Scorpius says, and it's a bit of an effort to make himself heard until Teddy makes a surreptitious movement with his left arm and an unnatural quiet falls around their table.
"Oh, you bad boy," James says in mock horror. "In front of all these unsuspecting Muggles, too, hmm? I shall report you to your superiors."
"Shut up," Teddy says good naturedly.
"We live in Camden," James says, as though there'd been no interruption. Scorpius nods, trying not to stare at the way Teddy is drinking his whisky - slow, savouring it, with a look on his face that is probably what Scorpius's friends mean when they talk about his whisky-sex-face. Taking a sip of his own - James clearly went for the Glencadam again - Scorpius glances over to where other people are dancing, and when he looks back Teddy has leaned across to steal a quick kiss from James, flashing Scorpius a sharp, angular smile as he retreats.
Silencing charms or no, a place like this doesn't lend itself to cogent discussion, but Scorpius still finds himself laughing at the way the two of them are together. James is obviously the younger of the two, and he's exuberant and expansive. In between crowd-watching and talking to Scorpius, Teddy watches James with this quietly affectionate, indulgent expression that Scorpius can't help finding oddly sweet.
One time, when Teddy has been staring wordlessly into the crowd for several minutes, a frown growing on his face, James leans over and pokes him in the ribs.
"What're you staring at?" he demands and Teddy shakes himself, looking back to James.
"Thought I saw something a bit dodgy," he shrugs.
"Work, work, work," James scoffs and Teddy laughs, good-natured embarrassment on his face.
"What do you do?" Scorpius asks curiously.
"Auror," Teddy says, and Scorpius can't help raising his eyebrows. It's not easy to reconcile red-robed propriety with the lanky blue haired man wearing tight, ripped jeans and a black t-shirt bearing the logo of a Muggle rock band. "Hey, we're allowed to have fun," Teddy adds at the expression and Scorpius lifts his glass.
"I'll drink to that. Another?" he offers and they both nod. "What d'you fancy?" he asks.
"They've got a nice Aberfeldy," Teddy says.
"Oh god," James groans. "It all tastes exactly the same."
"You heathen," Scorpius winces.
"Don't bother," Teddy says sadly. "I've tried, he's a lost cause."
"Thank you, lover," James teases and Teddy exchanges an amused look with Scorpius as he leaves the table.
He glances back over his shoulder to see the two of them sitting with their heads close together, obviously talking. They're clearly a close, long-term couple, and as Scorpius places his order at the bar, he wonders exactly what their game is. Most likely, he thinks it's just a bit of fun on their behalf. They'll slip off home together at some point, and if they get off on the tease, fair play to them. Scorpius can't deny that this is more than a little enjoyable. And if it's more than a bit of a tease? Well, okay, Scorpius hasn't done anything like that before, but what red-blooded male turns down a threesome with two of the hottest people he's come across in a long time?
With a bit of fumbling, Scorpius manages to arrange three bottles of water in one hand and the three glasses of whisky in the other, picking his way carefully around the edge of the dancefloor. James and Teddy are still at the same table when he gets back but they have shuffled their seats closer together and are kissing enthusiastically. As he looks, James's fingers curl around Teddy's upper arm, pressing into what's obviously hard muscle. Merlin, Scorpius could watch them all night. They make such a lovely sight, mouths pressed so close, but Scorpius can still see the occasional flash of tongue even if he can't tell who it belongs to. As he watches, Teddy runs his thumbs along James's jaw, deepening the kiss and it's a bit like a splash of cold water, because it's such a familiar, comfortable gesture, very obviously the gesture of two people who know each other perfectly.
Sitting down again, Scorpius grabs a bottle of water and takes a long drink, relishing the ice-cold liquid. When he looks back to James and Teddy he sees them talking earnestly, James's mouth close to Teddy's ear. Teddy bites his lip and nods, then his eyes dart towards Scorpius and he gives him a crooked, distinctly devious smile. James looks around and sits back in his chair when he sees Scorpius, with a significantly more innocent smile. Scorpius grins at them both and nods towards the drinks on the table.
"Oh, hey," James grins as he reaches for a bottle of water. "What about you?"
"What about me what?" Scorpius blinks.
"Coherent conversation is always a challenge for him," Teddy says sympathetically, patting James's knee.
"Piss off, you," James laughs. "What do you do?"
"I write," Scorpius says impulsively. Normally, he makes a joke about the aristocracy's allergy to work, but for tonight he decides he wants to give them the truth. Or at least, elements of the truth.
"Yeah?" James asks, brightening up. "What do you write?"
"Books. I just finished one today, actually. Celebrating."
"Really?" James grins, leaning closer. "Is it any good?"
"I'd like to think so," Scorpius shrugs.
"Have you written anything I'd have read?" James asks and Scorpius shrugs again, making a noncommittal noise. "Give me some titles," James demands and Scorpius shakes his head.
"It's a secret."
"Oh, God," Teddy groans, just as James brightens up even further. "That's like his trigger word back to being five years old."
"Shut up," James tells Teddy, then turns back to Scorpius. "Are you Rockford Bannister?"
"Nope," Scorpius says, leaning back in his chair and taking a brief sip of his Talisker. Bannister's gritty tales of Muggle crime and harsh reality could not be further from Scorpius's own flights of fantasy.
"Wellesley Almsforth?" James suggests
"Author of text books even I used at school?" Teddy laughs.
"Oh, yeah," James says in a tone of dawning realisation. "Hey, are you Daphne Tallesbury?"
"No!" Scorpius splutters, horrified at the very idea. Tallesbury's overwrought, faux-erotic romances turn his stomach.
"Good," James laughs. "My little sister loves that trash."
"Her prime market is people's little sisters and maiden aunts," Scorpius scoffs. "Those too old or too young to have any hope of doing the stuff she actually writes about."
Teddy laughs and exchanges a glance with James.
"You should tell Lily that one," he says, and James laughs.
"One must not criticise the great Tallesbury," he intones, like it's something he's heard countless times before.
Teddy shifts in his seat, finishes the last of his whisky and glances towards the exit. James rolls his eyes and leans towards Scorpius, hooking their fingers together and tugging gently.
"Come outside?" James asks.
"Oh. Er, okay," Scorpius nodded.
"This one needs his fix," James explains, nodding towards Teddy who reaches out casually and flicks his finger against James's forehead.
"Cigarette?" he offers, and Scorpius nods, watching James finish his drink before Teddy pulls him to his feet. When Scorpius stands as well, Teddy slings an arm around his shoulders, steering all three of them towards the exit. On the way out, a bouncer stamps small green circles on their hands before they leave, sparing only an impassive glance for the three of them, their arms around each other. Scorpius supposes they see a lot worse.
After the heat of the club, stepping out onto the street and walking far enough down the road to be out of sight is like being slapped by a cold hand. Scorpius shivers even in the mild summer evening, wishing he'd thought to collect his jacket from the cloakroom before they left. Teddy reaches for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket and gets as far as lighting one for himself and then offering them to Scorpius before James grabs him and kisses him. It's like the cold air has awoken some sort of urgency in him and before long James has Teddy backed up against the wall of the club, face turned up to receive Teddy's kisses which look hot and tempting.
It lasts so long that Scorpius takes a cigarette from Teddy's packet even though they're a cheap low-tar brand, and lights it with the tip of his wand, occasionally glancing at the two of them, curls of smoke rising unheeded at their sides from Teddy's neglected cigarette. James lets out a little whimper that's pure pleasure, his arms winding around Teddy's neck like Scorpius's had earlier, their bodies close together. Teddy's cigarette drops to the ground in a shower of orange sparks and his hands fall onto James's waist instead, tight and intriguingly controlling.
"Hey," Teddy says eventually, and nudges James back. "Be polite."
"Blah, blah," James says, stealing another kiss before he glances around at Scorpius with a friendly little grin.
"Don't mind me," Scorpius laughs, shrugging beatifically. "If I'm being left high and dry, at least I'm getting a good show, right?"
Teddy lights another cigarette and takes a drag that hollows out his cheekbones, at the same time as he gives Scorpius a heated look from beneath lowered lashes.
"Who said anything about leaving you high and dry?" James asks, laughter in his voice as he pushes away from Teddy and steps up behind Scorpius instead. He wraps his arms around Scorpius's waist and holds him close, chin hooked over his shoulder. It probably looks like a mostly friendly gesture, like maybe James is keeping him warm in the crisp night air. Scorpius can feel James though, hard against his backside, and James's chest rises and falls against him a little too fast to be considered composed.
Scorpius licks his suddenly dry lips. "Really?" he asks, not sure exactly which of them he's addressing to question to.
"Yeah," Teddy says, dropping the dog-end of his cigarette and crushing it under his heel. "We're nice boys like that," he adds, smiling in a way that looks a million miles from nice and moving closer to the two of them.
"Mm-hmm," James agrees and his hand drops to the waistband of Scorpius's jeans, thumb hooking into his belt loop. "C'mon," he says hotly into Scorpius's ear, sweet threat of his teeth just brushing over the lobe. "Come home with us. We'll give you the night of your life, I swear."
"Alright," Scorpius nods, turning his face enough to feel the slight scratch of James's stubble against his cheek.
"Now?" James suggests.
"Now what?" Teddy teases.
"You know now what. Let's go," James laughs gleefully.
"Yeah?" Teddy asks, looking to Scorpius. He shrugs in agreement, and feels James's smile grow wider against his cheek.
"I've got a jacket in the cloakroom, though," he says.
"Cool," James nods. "Whatsherface will let us Apparate."
"Probably not if you call her whatsherface," Teddy points out dryly.
"Charlotte? Possibly. Hell, I have no idea," James confesses.
In the event, it falls to Teddy to smile at nameless cloakroom girl and charm their way into a warded little alcove.
"Tart," James says good-naturedly and Teddy flutters his eyelashes and blows James a kiss.
"You alright to Apparate?" he asks James, who nods. "Sure? Last time..."
"Shut up you arse. Yes, I'm sure," James laughs, and there's obviously a backstory. It's another one of those couply moments that makes Scorpius feel a little bit awkward until Teddy steps closer to him, wrapping an arm around his waist.
"Feeling good?" he asks, and Scorpius nods. "Alright, hold tight," Teddy says, and Scorpius holds back a smirk as he wraps both arms around Teddy.
Given that Teddy has been drinking, and he has to transport Scorpius as well, the Apparition is remarkably smooth, and Scorpius wonders if they get some special Apparition training at Auror school. They arrive in a darkened room, just enough light coming through the windows to show Scorpius Teddy's enquiring look.
"Fine," Scorpius nods, moving away a little. Teddy draws his wand and flicks it a few times, lights appearing as the curtains close themselves, showing a cosily haphazard living room, a door at each end. James arrives a second later, stumbling over a footstool and swearing creatively.
"Easy, tiger," Teddy laughs, grabbing James by his upper arm and steadying him easily. James laughs into his shoulder.
"M'not a tiger. Lion. Roar," he says, the words muffled. Teddy laughs and nudges his chin up to look him in the eye.
"Didn't leave any important parts behind?"
"No," James laughs. "Head was just spinning a bit." He straightens up and turns away from Teddy. "Hey, Scorpius."
"Hey," Scorpius echoes.
"Anyone want a drink?" Teddy offers.
"Grab me a glass of water?" James asks, glancing over his shoulder at Teddy.
"Scorpius?"
"Water would be good," Scorpius nods and finds himself momentarily distracted by Teddy's flirty smile before James gets his attention again, making short work of peeling off Scorpius's jacket. After a lingering glance at the two of them, Teddy turns and heads out of the room, presumably to fetch the drinks.
"C'mon," James murmurs, slipping his hand into Scorpius's and tugging him gently towards the other door. "Bedroom's this way."
Part Two
Title: In Which Three Is Also Company, Part 1 of 2
Pairing(s): Established James/Teddy, James/Teddy/Scorpius threesome.
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Explicit sex
Summary: In search of celebration, Scorpius Malfoy finds, very possibly, the night of his life.
Word Count: 15k
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author’s/Artist's notes: Thank you to my lovely (and speedy) beta, M.
Scorpius sits back in his chair and looks at the neatly stacked manuscript in front of him. Before any of the comical accidents that haunt his nightmares can occur (a breeze will get in from somewhere and blow the first half of it across the room; a Krup will burst in through the window and eat it; it will spontaneously combust) Scorpius starts the spell work. The first tap transforms his scrawled handwriting into neat, legible print. Those that know what he does for a living all say he is insane for writing longhand rather than using a Quick Notes Quill. Given the extent to which he mutters to himself while writing ('no, bugger, that doesn't make sense...would he really do that...what if...') Scorpius imagines a Quick Notes would probably be more trouble than it's worth. Some of the other writers in the same publishing house as Scorpius have begun to use Muggle computers, but there is no way on earth that Scorpius would entrust his work to one of those infernal boxes.
The next spell recreates the manuscript on a blank pile of parchment next to it, and the third binds them both neatly. Scorpius wraps one and addresses it to his editor, Charles. The other copy, he banishes to a locked drawer. Otherwise he knows that he will spend the interval between now and receiving Charles's comments engaged in reading and editing and picking out little problems until his head spins. To be on the safe side, he Floos over to Charles's office and leaves the manuscript neatly on his desk. Once he gets back home he owls Marie at Alohamora Publishing and assures her that the draft is finally finished. She has been owling and Flooing on a near-daily basis since he breezed past his initial deadline a month and a half ago with almost nothing to show for it, and Scorpius knows that if he Floos her now, he won't get away for ages.
Ritual complete, Scorpius pours himself a glass of Merlot and drinks it on the tiny roof terrace, watching as the sun starts to sink down low over the London skyline, painting the sky with a vivid splash of pink above the horizon, shot through with dark grey wisps of cloud. The honeysuckle planted by the last occupant seems to have absorbed the heat of the day and is pouring it out again in a perfumed haze. Scorpius leans back in the little wooden chair and breathes in deeply, letting the wineglass dangle from his fingertips.
He's still always slightly shocked to think that he is actually making a living from writing. He'd always been entranced by stories of lives unlike his own, and from a very young age he'd started making up his own. His parents indulged his vivid imagination, always willing to listen to his tales, and even sometimes to act out the little plays he wrote. At Hogwarts, he'd never found any subject, nor any potential career, that gave him nearly as much of a thrill as he got from hiding out in the dormitory with a book, or writing short stories about heroes and danger, villains and adventure.
On leaving school, he was faced with the depressing possibility of being just another louche aristocrat, another spoiled little rich boy living on an allowance until the family inheritance came due. And then, on a whim, he'd entered a writing competition in one of his mother's magazines. The first place prize that he won only consisted of ten galleons and a certificate, but it had spurred him on. Surprisingly quickly, he'd sold a few short stories to Witch Weekly, each under a different name. Even at the time he'd thought they weren't his best work, but the fact that they were deemed good enough for publication (even if it was in a relatively disreputable rag) had given him the confidence to finish his first novel. A story about the last of a mythical race of dragon lords, Scorpius had been writing it since he was at school, since before he ever considered writing as something from which he could make a living.
In the interim, all-unknowing, his father had offered him the Malfoy heir's traditional apartments in Belgravia. It was tempting as hell, but Scorpius had resisted, renting a room (to his mother's faint horror) from a bunch of Muggle students. His parents were careful not to ask too many questions, but he knows that time must have confused them beyond all measure. He imagines they thought he was rebelling, or caught up with a Muggle lover. To pay for the room, Scorpius found work proof-reading essays at the local university, and even took a job in a Muggle cafe. He always thought that his voracious appetite for books, both Magical and Muggle, was what had given him the idea in the first place. All his life, he'd been reading and writing about other possibilities, unconstrained lives. And so there was no reason for him to do anything that people expected of him. Life's possibilities were endless. A few more short stories supplemented his income well enough, and before too long he had a draft, and then a redraft.
And then he realised he had no idea what to do next. Guessing, he had sent the manuscript to a few publishers and on the same day, sat down to tell his parents about his new career. They have tried their best ever since then to be supportive, but his father especially has made no secret of the fact that he thinks Scorpius is insane. Writing textbooks - dry, dusty textbooks to litter the shelves of equally dry, dusty professors - would have been bad enough, but popular fiction? Clearly, some horrific bump on the head had been overlooked in childhood.
There had been a while when he'd thought that he'd earned all those baffled looks for no reason at all, because he heard nothing from any of the publishers for weeks, months. And then he'd received a brief letter from Marie LeFeuvre at Alohamora, a plaintive plea to contact an editor, and the recommendation of one Charles Laurenson. And the rest, as Scorpius likes to joke, is stranger than fiction. Everything had seemed to happen so quickly from there. Before he knew what was happening he was holding a copy of his first novel, then seeing it on bookshelves, hearing it mentioned on the Wireless, seeing it reviewed in Parrott and Purview's Wizarding Literary Digest. It seemed, and sometimes still seems, an impossible dream.
His first two novels, both written under the same pseudonym, had each topped the best-seller list, a fact which Scorpius still sometimes can't quite believe. Marie and Charles are always keen for him to reveal that Abelard Pennington and Scorpius Malfoy are one and the same. Scorpius supposes that the truth will out at some point, but for now he's wary. He doesn't think the public will be so keen on tales of epic battles between good and evil when they're not quite sure which side the author is rooting for.
Because of his constant refusal to touch any of the Malfoy fortune to which he is already entitled, Scorpius is far from rich. The money from the first book had paid for the deposit on his flat, and nifty spell work had kept the costs down while he worked on the second book. There were times when it was difficult, but Scorpius has long since proven to himself that he can deal with difficult, he can manage his own life perfectly well. Of course, he knows that he could very easily be living in the idle lap of luxury rather than just managing, but what matters most is that in spite of his own expectations, he is doing his own thing, living for himself, and he is still managing to keep his parents on side.
Now, five years after leaving school, three and a half after his first book was published, life is good in a variety of ways, and as Scorpius drains the last of his Merlot he summons a pack of unfiltered Gauloise cigarettes from inside, taking off the preservation charm and sliding one out. He still considers his expensive French cigarettes an indulgence and ekes the packets out, rewarding himself occasionally for a job well done. This definitely counts, and he lights the Gauloise with the tip of his wand, exhaling an aromatic plume of smoke and turning his face towards the setting sun.
The quiet lull between finishing a book, and receiving Charles's first round of comments is almost as good as the process of writing itself, and Scorpius is determined to enjoy it to the full. He's been putting off and putting off going to see his parents in the mad scramble to finish, so that'll have to be done before long. His mother, in this as in everything, is downright pushy in her support, and Scorpius knows from experience that he will have to field requests to read the draft.
Scorpius leans his chair back on two legs and rests his feet on the table, leaning to one side enough to drop his wine glass down onto the terrace. With a long stretch and a gaping yawn, and Scorpius abruptly decides that he is going out tonight. A little too much to drink, a little bit of embarrassing dancing, maybe a surreptitious snog in the darkened corner of a crowded dance floor. A quick round of Floo calls leaves him a little disheartened, as none of his friends are available at such short notice. Resolving not to let that ruin his evening, Scorpius ducks into the shower, idly wondering where to go until a spark of inspiration hits and he almost laughs to himself.
Bar 29 is technically a Muggle place, but when Scorpius was at school two barmen and one of the bouncers were wizards. Contrary to his classmates' expectations (he was never as much of a goody-two-shoes as people imagined) Scorpius knew about the place back then - just like every other witch and wizard between seventeen and twenty-five seems to know about it - and although it's been a while since he was there, it doesn't change much. It's comfortable, it's safe, it's small and fairly cheap, and the last time Scorpius was there, there were still a couple of magical staff members who turned a blind eye to Apparition from the cloakroom. It's also, in the Muggle parlance, gay-friendly.
Perfect, Scorpius decides cheerfully.
***
The club is busy, as ever, but not unpleasantly crowded given that it's a Friday night. Although the entrance is at street level, the bar and dance floor are downstairs and Scorpius pauses for a moment, resting his elbows on the barrier and scanning the crowd for any instantly recognisable faces. Not seeing anyone, he makes his way over to the cloakroom and leaves his black leather jacket with the cloakroom girl. She was a couple of years above him at school but he can't remember her name and she only gives him a vague smile as though he's familiar and she can't work out why.
He heads downstairs next, picking his way around the crowd on the dance floor to the bar. Some nights they have live music in an eclectic range of styles, but tonight there is only a DJ, a tiny looking girl with bright green hair obviously having the time of her life in the booth, playing a mixture of rock and electronic sounding pop music. For the first time he can remember, Scorpius doesn't recognise any of the bar staff, but a quick glance shows him that one of the club's greatest - and most unexpected - assets is still there. A near-comprehensive range of highland whiskys, ranging from fairly standard blends all the way up to perfectly aged single malts.
Reasoning that he's supposed to be celebrating, Scorpius goes for his old favourite first, a twenty-five year aged Talisker. It's a beautiful, spicy single malt, with a strong flavour. A normal Talisker, the ten year one, is sometimes too harsh but in the more aged bottlings like this one, the fiery, peaty flavour has time to mellow into something extraordinarily smooth and completely blissful. Scorpius drinks it slowly, and it's perfect to the last drop, comfortable warmth already spreading through him. It's miles better than Firewhiskey, better than anything the magical world has yet developed.
He buys a bottle of water when he's finished his Talisker and heads out onto the dance floor. It's friendly and informal sort of place, and Scorpius soon finds himself dancing with a group of Muggle girls when one of them stumbles into him and then throws her arms around his shoulders in apology. Scorpius laughs and lets her pull him over to her friends. He feels good, confident and happy and attractive; he can feel the odd appreciative glance on him as he dances with one of the girls, careful not to give her the wrong idea, holding her hand and twirling her around like they're at a ballroom dance. She laughs and plays up to it, making a valiant attempt to curtsey and maintain a little modesty while wearing a mini-dress.
Before long Scorpius is stolen away from the girls by a short blond guy who shoots him flirty smiles and come hither looks. It's hard to tell in the darkened club, under the flashing strobe lights, but he seems to have improbably bright blue eyes and although he's maybe not conventionally handsome, his smile is utterly infectious. While he's not planning to go home with anyone tonight, Scorpius enjoys the dancing, the flirtation, the tease and the temptation. Still, he's not that bothered when he loses the bloke in the crowd, and is content to dance alone, losing himself in the throbbing bass notes, so deep he can feel them through his feet and in his throat.
When he goes back to the bar again, he settles on a Speyside single malt, lighter and sweeter than the Talisker. It goes down just as smoothly as the first one did and as he finishes it he becomes aware of someone at his side, leaning against the bar, and he thinks maybe he can feel their eyes on him. A quick glance shows him a tall, good looking, dark haired man wearing a white t-shirt with a thick red stripe at chest level, and dark trousers. Another glance and Scorpius can't help thinking there's something familiar about him. He catches Scorpius looking the next time and smiles, a slow, wide, knowingly sexy smile that ignites an unexpected spark of interest in Scorpius. The man gives Scorpius a quick - and blatantly appreciative - glance up and down and smiles again before leaning in close.
"Drink?" he asks, and Scorpius only pauses for a moment. It's not like he was intending to go out on the pull tonight but hell, there's more than one way to celebrate and the lazy, comfortable smile reels him in easily.
"Yeah," he nods, and receives another smile in return. It's like each smile is different from the one that came before, and this one in particular is familiar somehow, like maybe it reminds Scorpius of someone he used to know. He's fairly sure he never knew this man though. He'd remember, he thinks cheerfully. He'd remember that broad back, those strong shoulders and - god that seriously nice arse. And, clearly, impeccable taste, Scorpius thinks, watching the man order two glasses of Glencadam. He holds one of the glasses towards Scorpius who reaches for it with a smile. Before the man lets go of the glass though, he leans in close to say into Scorpius's ear,
"I'm James."
Scorpius moves back to look at him again, the niggling familiarity suddenly becoming clear.
"You're Al Potter's brother!"
Al Potter, in Scorpius's year at school, had gone effortlessly from being Slytherin seeker to Slytherin captain to Magpies seeker to Magpies captain, and no one doubted that he'd be in the England line up for the next world cup. He was a heart-throb at school, and that only multiplied when he was in the papers on a day to day basis. There's a superficial resemblance between the two of them and now he thinks about it, Scorpius can remember James from school, a cheerful Gryffindor more interested in messing around and playing practical jokes than in lessons or worrying about being overshadowed by his little brother.
"Er - " James says, looking at Scorpius a bit warily like maybe he's a secret Quidditch-stalker.
"Scorpius - "
"Malfoy?! Wow. Damn you look completely different."
"Different?" Scorpius asks.
"Good different. Sexy different," James confides with another bright grin.
"Oh," Scorpius grins, leaning his elbow on the bar and angling his body towards James's.
"You were in Al's year, right?" James asks, pressing close to lean against his side and talk into his ear.
"Yeah. Ravenclaw, though," Scorpius says.
"Ah, thought so. Well, it's good to see you again," James says, clinking his glass against Scorpius's.
"You too," Scorpius nods.
It's not like they can have anything approaching a coherent conversation, given the volume of the music, but Scorpius can't deny the instant thrill of attraction, nor the warm thrum of pleasure when James's hand lands on the small of his back, his thumb moving in little arcs across the narrow strip of skin exposed between Scorpius's trousers and shirt. A while later, Scorpius leans forward, attracts the barmaid's attention and buys another round.
"Here," he says, passing another glass of whisky over to James.
"Mmm, thanks," James says, lifting the glass to his lips.
As they finish that drink, James kisses the shell of Scorpius's ear, arms winding around his waist, asking in a whisper, "Come and dance?" Scorpius turns his head in time to catch James's mouth in a brief kiss.
"Alright," he nods, and lets James lead him out onto the crowded dance floor.
Without hesitation, James puts his arms around Scorpius's waist and pulls him close. Scorpius realises that he's actually taller than James by an inch or two. He hadn't noticed earlier because James is broader than him in the shoulders and chest, and the brashly confident smile probably makes him seem taller than he is. James's hands feel warm and square against his lower back, his body firm where their chests brush together in the crowd. Up this close, Scorpius starts to see a weird mixture of prettiness and imperfection on James's face. His eyelashes are long like a girl's, framing delicately shaped eyes, but his nose is a little crooked at the top as if from an old break that didn't heal quite right. There's a spray of fair freckles across his nose and cheekbones, soft and smudged, but there is also a jagged scar near his hairline to the left of his eyebrow, white and livid against his skin even in the strobe lighting.
He's gorgeous, Scorpius realises. And, of course, Scorpius has observed that anyone who can dance sensually without their hands dipping below the waist, and without resorting to grinding against their partner, is almost bound to be good in bed. He grins at James who lifts his chin enough to ghost his lips over Scorpius's, barely touching, the slightest brush of James's breath teasing over his mouth in a warm gust.
Increasingly sure that he's onto a good thing, Scorpius barely notices that they are edging towards the outer limits of the crowd, away from the speakers. The noise level is less insane at such a distance, and the lack of other people jostling them means that Scorpius knows it is no mistake when James steps closer to him, barely enough room to slide a sheet of parchment between their bodies. This time it's Scorpius that closes the gap between their mouths, pressing a proper kiss onto James's lips. James goes still almost instantly, arms tightening a little around Scorpius's waist, and his soft lips part easily for Scorpius, warm lick of his tongue darting out in a hot tease. He feels one of James's hands land on his cheek, sliding up to dip his fingers into Scorpius's hair, holding him still while James shifts to kiss the angle of his jaw instead, sliding down to glide his closed mouth along the length of Scorpius's throat.
Scorpius closes his eyes contentedly, turning his head against the grip of James's fingers, giving him free access to the spot below his jaw that always makes his knees weak. It only takes James a moment to find it, and when Scorpius shudders just from a brush of lips over skin, James laughs against him, quickly escalating to lick and suck and then finally to nip at the same patch. Scorpius's eyes fly open at the insistent press of James's teeth and, all unintentional, he finds himself looking into the eyes of a tall, lanky man who's leaning against the wall and watching the two of them with unabashed interest.
Scorpius blinks, turns his head enough to trade a quick kiss with James and then glances back at the other man. He's still watching and, although it's hard to tell at a distance, Scorpius thinks he quirks an eyebrow challengingly. Never one to back down - even when it'd probably be in his best interests to do so - Scorpius kisses James again, for longer this time, fingers pressed to the underside of his jaw, making a point of sucking on James's lower lip to see it swollen and glistening in the ever-changing lights.
Sure enough, the man is watching with keen interest when Scorpius glances up again, and Scorpius laughs, ducking his head to talk into James's ear.
"That bloke's really staring," he says, and instead of just looking over his shoulder, James moves around Scorpius until he's pressed close behind him, his hands spread wide on Scorpius's hips.
"Well, yeah, that's Teddy, he's my boyfriend," James says casually.
"He's your what?" Scorpius demands, jolting in James's arms, and looking at the other man in a new light.
"Don't be such a prude," James laughs, lowering his mouth to Scorpius's ear. "We think you're gorgeous."
"And what?" Scorpius asks. "He likes to watch?"
"Preferably take part, but whatever," James shrugs.
Scorpius feels a warm coil of lust uncurling in his belly. He thinks he chokes back his groan in time but obviously doesn't because James laughs throatily in his ear, the fingertips of each hand moving towards the other, just nudging the unmistakeable bulge in Scorpius's trousers.
"Like that idea?" James asks, laughing again.
What the hell, Scorpius decides, and he reaches one hand up and back to slide his fingers into James's hair and pull him closer. "Maybe," he admits, his lips against the corner of James's mouth. James leans forward enough to kiss him slowly, his tongue skating over Scorpius's lower lip, one hand on his hip and the other flat on his stomach.
"Very nice," a new voice says, barely audible over the music. James breaks the kiss to lean forward and kiss the newcomer - Teddy, with slate blue hair in the darkness, and lean legs that go on forever - instead.
Scorpius bites down on a groan at the twin feeling of bodies pressed against his front and back. He can feel James's arms around him, hands hooking onto Teddy's waist and pulling him closer. It's a distinctly weird sensation, almost able to hear their kiss over the music, he's so close to them, their hair in his face as their tongues tangle. And then Teddy smoothly breaks his kiss with James and transfers his attention to Scorpius, one hand cupping his cheek, dark eyes caressing his face before he ducks his head and presses a soft kiss to his lips before shifting away again, eyes flicking to look at James over Scorpius's shoulder.
Under normal circumstances the teasing look on Teddy's face would be infuriating, but through the warm haze of lust and alcohol, it just makes Scorpius laugh, stepping closer and reaching up, wrapping his arms around Teddy's neck, leaning up to claim a longer, deeper kiss. Teddy tastes noticeably different from James, his mouth sharp with the burn of cigarettes, some lick of sugar-sweetness underneath it, like the warmth of candyfloss. James says something into Scorpius's ear, but all he hears is a soft rumbling that makes him shiver in Teddy's arms before James's lips fall onto the side of his neck, kissing gently at first before his lips part and he sucks softly at the tendon in Scorpius's throat, sharp teeth just barely scraping over his skin.
Teddy's thumbs slide into his belt loops and he tugs gently, pulling Scorpius tight against him, their kiss becoming urgent and more heated as Scorpius sinks his fingers into Teddy's thick blue hair and presses the whole length of their bodies together, sweet hot drag that makes them both groan. Teddy's hand falls onto the side of Scorpius's throat, warm and strong, thumb tracing the corner of his jaw as Teddy sucks on his lower lip, bites it softly as he pulls away, looking down at Scorpius with warm eyes.
"Damn," James says appreciatively with a bright, probably drunken smile, kissing them both on the cheek. "Bar," he nods, glancing back at them as he reels away. Teddy watches James go, and Scorpius can't help noticing the heat of his stare before he turns back to Scorpius with a smile.
"Alright?" he asks, craning his neck to talk into Scorpius's ear. Scorpius nods, feeling Teddy's hair brush over his cheek before he turns his head to kiss Teddy again, sucking Teddy's lower lip into his mouth and nudging him into a long, leisurely kiss.
If James is charmingly attractive, Teddy is deadly sexy. Scorpius would be willing to bet that Teddy's long, lanky body hides a lot of strength. The sure, determined way his hands fall onto Scorpius's hips is undeniably dominant, as are the string of kisses he places along Scorpius's jaw before claiming his mouth once more. He looks down at Scorpius with bright, sharp eyes, and Scorpius can't help noticing that those eyes flicker down to his lips before Teddy kisses him again.
Scorpius winds his arms around Teddy's neck again, unable to resist scratching his fingers through the thick hair hanging at his nape. Teddy closes his eyes and lets his head drop forward, making it the easiest thing in the world for Scorpius to go onto tiptoe and kiss him again, keeping the contact light and brief, more teasing than actually kissing.
"That's not even vaguely like dancing," James says critically, appearing beside the two of them a little while later. He's carrying three glasses in one hand and uses them to gesture towards the edge of the dance floor where there are a number of small tables. Teddy takes one of the glasses from James's hand and slings his free arm around Scorpius's shoulders. The three of them head over to the tables and Scorpius can't help glancing back and forth between the two of them, cataloguing the differences. Teddy is much more angular, sharp cheekbones and pointed chin to James's soft smile and square jaw.
They're a sodding wet dream come true is what they are, and as Scorpius accepts a glass of whisky from James, James takes the opportunity to brush their fingers together, giving Scorpius a sunny smile before he throws himself into a chair between Scorpius and Teddy, looking back and forth between them for a moment before he leans towards Scorpius and asks where he lives.
"I've a flat in Balham," Scorpius says, and it's a bit of an effort to make himself heard until Teddy makes a surreptitious movement with his left arm and an unnatural quiet falls around their table.
"Oh, you bad boy," James says in mock horror. "In front of all these unsuspecting Muggles, too, hmm? I shall report you to your superiors."
"Shut up," Teddy says good naturedly.
"We live in Camden," James says, as though there'd been no interruption. Scorpius nods, trying not to stare at the way Teddy is drinking his whisky - slow, savouring it, with a look on his face that is probably what Scorpius's friends mean when they talk about his whisky-sex-face. Taking a sip of his own - James clearly went for the Glencadam again - Scorpius glances over to where other people are dancing, and when he looks back Teddy has leaned across to steal a quick kiss from James, flashing Scorpius a sharp, angular smile as he retreats.
Silencing charms or no, a place like this doesn't lend itself to cogent discussion, but Scorpius still finds himself laughing at the way the two of them are together. James is obviously the younger of the two, and he's exuberant and expansive. In between crowd-watching and talking to Scorpius, Teddy watches James with this quietly affectionate, indulgent expression that Scorpius can't help finding oddly sweet.
One time, when Teddy has been staring wordlessly into the crowd for several minutes, a frown growing on his face, James leans over and pokes him in the ribs.
"What're you staring at?" he demands and Teddy shakes himself, looking back to James.
"Thought I saw something a bit dodgy," he shrugs.
"Work, work, work," James scoffs and Teddy laughs, good-natured embarrassment on his face.
"What do you do?" Scorpius asks curiously.
"Auror," Teddy says, and Scorpius can't help raising his eyebrows. It's not easy to reconcile red-robed propriety with the lanky blue haired man wearing tight, ripped jeans and a black t-shirt bearing the logo of a Muggle rock band. "Hey, we're allowed to have fun," Teddy adds at the expression and Scorpius lifts his glass.
"I'll drink to that. Another?" he offers and they both nod. "What d'you fancy?" he asks.
"They've got a nice Aberfeldy," Teddy says.
"Oh god," James groans. "It all tastes exactly the same."
"You heathen," Scorpius winces.
"Don't bother," Teddy says sadly. "I've tried, he's a lost cause."
"Thank you, lover," James teases and Teddy exchanges an amused look with Scorpius as he leaves the table.
He glances back over his shoulder to see the two of them sitting with their heads close together, obviously talking. They're clearly a close, long-term couple, and as Scorpius places his order at the bar, he wonders exactly what their game is. Most likely, he thinks it's just a bit of fun on their behalf. They'll slip off home together at some point, and if they get off on the tease, fair play to them. Scorpius can't deny that this is more than a little enjoyable. And if it's more than a bit of a tease? Well, okay, Scorpius hasn't done anything like that before, but what red-blooded male turns down a threesome with two of the hottest people he's come across in a long time?
With a bit of fumbling, Scorpius manages to arrange three bottles of water in one hand and the three glasses of whisky in the other, picking his way carefully around the edge of the dancefloor. James and Teddy are still at the same table when he gets back but they have shuffled their seats closer together and are kissing enthusiastically. As he looks, James's fingers curl around Teddy's upper arm, pressing into what's obviously hard muscle. Merlin, Scorpius could watch them all night. They make such a lovely sight, mouths pressed so close, but Scorpius can still see the occasional flash of tongue even if he can't tell who it belongs to. As he watches, Teddy runs his thumbs along James's jaw, deepening the kiss and it's a bit like a splash of cold water, because it's such a familiar, comfortable gesture, very obviously the gesture of two people who know each other perfectly.
Sitting down again, Scorpius grabs a bottle of water and takes a long drink, relishing the ice-cold liquid. When he looks back to James and Teddy he sees them talking earnestly, James's mouth close to Teddy's ear. Teddy bites his lip and nods, then his eyes dart towards Scorpius and he gives him a crooked, distinctly devious smile. James looks around and sits back in his chair when he sees Scorpius, with a significantly more innocent smile. Scorpius grins at them both and nods towards the drinks on the table.
"Oh, hey," James grins as he reaches for a bottle of water. "What about you?"
"What about me what?" Scorpius blinks.
"Coherent conversation is always a challenge for him," Teddy says sympathetically, patting James's knee.
"Piss off, you," James laughs. "What do you do?"
"I write," Scorpius says impulsively. Normally, he makes a joke about the aristocracy's allergy to work, but for tonight he decides he wants to give them the truth. Or at least, elements of the truth.
"Yeah?" James asks, brightening up. "What do you write?"
"Books. I just finished one today, actually. Celebrating."
"Really?" James grins, leaning closer. "Is it any good?"
"I'd like to think so," Scorpius shrugs.
"Have you written anything I'd have read?" James asks and Scorpius shrugs again, making a noncommittal noise. "Give me some titles," James demands and Scorpius shakes his head.
"It's a secret."
"Oh, God," Teddy groans, just as James brightens up even further. "That's like his trigger word back to being five years old."
"Shut up," James tells Teddy, then turns back to Scorpius. "Are you Rockford Bannister?"
"Nope," Scorpius says, leaning back in his chair and taking a brief sip of his Talisker. Bannister's gritty tales of Muggle crime and harsh reality could not be further from Scorpius's own flights of fantasy.
"Wellesley Almsforth?" James suggests
"Author of text books even I used at school?" Teddy laughs.
"Oh, yeah," James says in a tone of dawning realisation. "Hey, are you Daphne Tallesbury?"
"No!" Scorpius splutters, horrified at the very idea. Tallesbury's overwrought, faux-erotic romances turn his stomach.
"Good," James laughs. "My little sister loves that trash."
"Her prime market is people's little sisters and maiden aunts," Scorpius scoffs. "Those too old or too young to have any hope of doing the stuff she actually writes about."
Teddy laughs and exchanges a glance with James.
"You should tell Lily that one," he says, and James laughs.
"One must not criticise the great Tallesbury," he intones, like it's something he's heard countless times before.
Teddy shifts in his seat, finishes the last of his whisky and glances towards the exit. James rolls his eyes and leans towards Scorpius, hooking their fingers together and tugging gently.
"Come outside?" James asks.
"Oh. Er, okay," Scorpius nodded.
"This one needs his fix," James explains, nodding towards Teddy who reaches out casually and flicks his finger against James's forehead.
"Cigarette?" he offers, and Scorpius nods, watching James finish his drink before Teddy pulls him to his feet. When Scorpius stands as well, Teddy slings an arm around his shoulders, steering all three of them towards the exit. On the way out, a bouncer stamps small green circles on their hands before they leave, sparing only an impassive glance for the three of them, their arms around each other. Scorpius supposes they see a lot worse.
After the heat of the club, stepping out onto the street and walking far enough down the road to be out of sight is like being slapped by a cold hand. Scorpius shivers even in the mild summer evening, wishing he'd thought to collect his jacket from the cloakroom before they left. Teddy reaches for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket and gets as far as lighting one for himself and then offering them to Scorpius before James grabs him and kisses him. It's like the cold air has awoken some sort of urgency in him and before long James has Teddy backed up against the wall of the club, face turned up to receive Teddy's kisses which look hot and tempting.
It lasts so long that Scorpius takes a cigarette from Teddy's packet even though they're a cheap low-tar brand, and lights it with the tip of his wand, occasionally glancing at the two of them, curls of smoke rising unheeded at their sides from Teddy's neglected cigarette. James lets out a little whimper that's pure pleasure, his arms winding around Teddy's neck like Scorpius's had earlier, their bodies close together. Teddy's cigarette drops to the ground in a shower of orange sparks and his hands fall onto James's waist instead, tight and intriguingly controlling.
"Hey," Teddy says eventually, and nudges James back. "Be polite."
"Blah, blah," James says, stealing another kiss before he glances around at Scorpius with a friendly little grin.
"Don't mind me," Scorpius laughs, shrugging beatifically. "If I'm being left high and dry, at least I'm getting a good show, right?"
Teddy lights another cigarette and takes a drag that hollows out his cheekbones, at the same time as he gives Scorpius a heated look from beneath lowered lashes.
"Who said anything about leaving you high and dry?" James asks, laughter in his voice as he pushes away from Teddy and steps up behind Scorpius instead. He wraps his arms around Scorpius's waist and holds him close, chin hooked over his shoulder. It probably looks like a mostly friendly gesture, like maybe James is keeping him warm in the crisp night air. Scorpius can feel James though, hard against his backside, and James's chest rises and falls against him a little too fast to be considered composed.
Scorpius licks his suddenly dry lips. "Really?" he asks, not sure exactly which of them he's addressing to question to.
"Yeah," Teddy says, dropping the dog-end of his cigarette and crushing it under his heel. "We're nice boys like that," he adds, smiling in a way that looks a million miles from nice and moving closer to the two of them.
"Mm-hmm," James agrees and his hand drops to the waistband of Scorpius's jeans, thumb hooking into his belt loop. "C'mon," he says hotly into Scorpius's ear, sweet threat of his teeth just brushing over the lobe. "Come home with us. We'll give you the night of your life, I swear."
"Alright," Scorpius nods, turning his face enough to feel the slight scratch of James's stubble against his cheek.
"Now?" James suggests.
"Now what?" Teddy teases.
"You know now what. Let's go," James laughs gleefully.
"Yeah?" Teddy asks, looking to Scorpius. He shrugs in agreement, and feels James's smile grow wider against his cheek.
"I've got a jacket in the cloakroom, though," he says.
"Cool," James nods. "Whatsherface will let us Apparate."
"Probably not if you call her whatsherface," Teddy points out dryly.
"Charlotte? Possibly. Hell, I have no idea," James confesses.
In the event, it falls to Teddy to smile at nameless cloakroom girl and charm their way into a warded little alcove.
"Tart," James says good-naturedly and Teddy flutters his eyelashes and blows James a kiss.
"You alright to Apparate?" he asks James, who nods. "Sure? Last time..."
"Shut up you arse. Yes, I'm sure," James laughs, and there's obviously a backstory. It's another one of those couply moments that makes Scorpius feel a little bit awkward until Teddy steps closer to him, wrapping an arm around his waist.
"Feeling good?" he asks, and Scorpius nods. "Alright, hold tight," Teddy says, and Scorpius holds back a smirk as he wraps both arms around Teddy.
Given that Teddy has been drinking, and he has to transport Scorpius as well, the Apparition is remarkably smooth, and Scorpius wonders if they get some special Apparition training at Auror school. They arrive in a darkened room, just enough light coming through the windows to show Scorpius Teddy's enquiring look.
"Fine," Scorpius nods, moving away a little. Teddy draws his wand and flicks it a few times, lights appearing as the curtains close themselves, showing a cosily haphazard living room, a door at each end. James arrives a second later, stumbling over a footstool and swearing creatively.
"Easy, tiger," Teddy laughs, grabbing James by his upper arm and steadying him easily. James laughs into his shoulder.
"M'not a tiger. Lion. Roar," he says, the words muffled. Teddy laughs and nudges his chin up to look him in the eye.
"Didn't leave any important parts behind?"
"No," James laughs. "Head was just spinning a bit." He straightens up and turns away from Teddy. "Hey, Scorpius."
"Hey," Scorpius echoes.
"Anyone want a drink?" Teddy offers.
"Grab me a glass of water?" James asks, glancing over his shoulder at Teddy.
"Scorpius?"
"Water would be good," Scorpius nods and finds himself momentarily distracted by Teddy's flirty smile before James gets his attention again, making short work of peeling off Scorpius's jacket. After a lingering glance at the two of them, Teddy turns and heads out of the room, presumably to fetch the drinks.
"C'mon," James murmurs, slipping his hand into Scorpius's and tugging him gently towards the other door. "Bedroom's this way."
Part Two