Harry Potter and Another Malfoy

Pairings: main Harry/Scorpius, mentions of Harry/Draco and Harry/Ron

Additional Warnings: mentions of mpreg, totally screwed-up canon, epilogue, kids, jobs and relationships and mean!Ron (cause someone has to be); Spoilers.

Thank you very much for your reviews! Be prepared for some angst in this chapter!

Part 6

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Harry was in a foul mood. It’s been his busiest day at work to date and as far as he was concerned it was a complete waste of his time and energy – though unlike him, the rest of the wizarding world seemed to be holding its collective breath in anticipation of Draco Malfoy’s birthday. And Harry had a hell of a time ordering stuff for the party, compiling guest list over and over again, sending out invitations and receiving confirmations and gritting his teeth each time his gaze fell upon perpetually growing pile of birthday presents. Just shrinking them (the ones that could be shrunk) was making him sick. It’s not like it was a big deal, but it was as if nobody, Malfoy included, was going to live beyond the Event of the Age and thus wanted to make the most of it.

Harry didn’t know what the fuss was all about, anyway. Was it so great to add in years that it called for such massive celebration? Granted, wizards lived longer than muggles and didn’t age quite as fast but, still, it was almost sad to be reminded of it every year. He himself preferred a quiet dinner with his family and friends. However, it would never satisfy Malfoy, who was expecting guests from all the continents it appeared. It strongly reminded Harry of the atmosphere surrounding the Quidditch World Cup before his fourth year. Harry pointed out that the 5th of July was not an international holiday but Malfoy seemed to be convinced otherwise and his self-importance rose so high it caused nausea.

‘I’m expanding and strengthening international links, Potter. I’m doing this country a favour.’ he said haughtily.

‘Right.’ snorted Harry, shifting a stack of parchment he’d looked through to one side of the table before taking another. ‘And here I thought you were simply trying to turn your mansion into Turkish Bazaar. I’m sure I remember ordering a set of flying carpets, though when I last checked they were banned in England.’

‘You’ll find Potter that I have connections in places you can only dream about – though I doubt that even in your dreams your imagination can stretch that far – anyway, suffice it to say that the ban has been lifted within the Malfoy Manor grounds.’

Harry shook his head with disgust. Malfoy, who saw the movement in the mirror while he was arranging his face into the best ‘I’m a pompous ass’ expression, lifted his eyebrows arrogantly.

‘I wonder why you always feel the need to question my decisions and contradict me with your stupid ideas.’ he asked.

‘Because it’s what you’re doing that’s stupid – not my ideas.’ snapped Harry and swore when his quill fell apart with the force he was squeezing it.

‘Tut, tut, Potter.’ crooned Malfoy mockingly. ‘I would think that you could be a bit more grateful to a person who’s been paying your bills these past few years.’

Harry clenched his jaw and tried to will the flush of humiliation off his face. It didn’t work.

Malfoy smiled sweetly.

‘Yes, I expected that a little reminder would shut you up most effectively.’ he said.
Harry wanted nothing better than to punch his smug face until it bled, but the next moment in an exaggerated whirl of expensive robes Malfoy was gone.

Yes, Harry was in a foul mood, but there was a good chance that it would get better.

He had just spelled the drawer that contained very detailed information on every guest (including but not limited to their blood status, social/political influence, favourite food/drinks and mode of entertainment) locked, when he heard a familiar voice saying his name.

It was warm, amused and with that bit of drawl that, in this case, Harry found endearing rather than annoying.

Turning around to say hi, Harry couldn’t quite catch the hitch in his breath before it embarrassed him. There, in the doorway, stood Scorpius Malfoy, smiling at him, his grey eyes sparkling. Harry frantically grasped for memory, because he suddenly couldn’t remember how long it’s been since he’d seen Scorpius last. Two years? Three years? A decade? Whatever it was, the boy he knew had certainly grown.

‘Hello, Scorpius.’ said Harry brightly, when he could finally draw another breath. ‘We’ve been expecting you.’ He was sure that he didn’t have to say how glad he was to see him, because it was written all over his face.

Scorpius smiled broader still and Harry didn’t like that suspiciously warm sensation that spread like a breeze in his chest before blazing into a full-blown forest fire. He felt like travelling by Floo powder for the first time – everything was spinning around him and he wondered if he fell out off the wrong fireplace. He had to remind himself that it was Scorpius – his son’s best friend and that he had known him since he was eleven. It didn’t help. He wished next that someone would slap him and stop this weird feeling from spreading further. It was not possible. More than that – it was all kinds of wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. He recited it a few times in his head and it seemed to work.

‘Well, here I am. I hope I didn’t make you wait long.’ said Scorpius and Harry knew for sure that he was going crazy – the wobbliness in his knees was a dead giveaway. He smiled faintly but was unable to say anything through his shock. Scorpius came further into the office and spreading his arms said, the corner of his mouth curving upwards: ‘Come on Harry, won’t you give me a hug?’

Harry didn’t think so. He also hoped that Scorpius wouldn’t get any closer. He looked him pointedly up and down: tall, lean, broad-shouldered, in form-fitting dark cloak, his blond hair reaching his chin, and asked half-jokingly, half-seriously: ‘Aren’t you a bit too big for hugs?’ Scorpius laughed and shook his finger at Harry, who looked transfixed by the motion. ‘Now, that’s not fair. I used to get hugs from you all the time and I fully expect to get one now.’

Harry started. The situation was escalating into something that Harry didn’t think he could handle – didn’t know that he had to handle until this point in time. Scorpius’s suggestive behaviour was seriously pushing the boundaries of their relationship; Harry could hear them cracking under the onslaught and he wondered when everything changed so drastically and why he wasn’t informed of it beforehand.

Scorpius, meanwhile, made another step forward as if stalking a prey and then stopped. It happened so suddenly that Harry wondered if he had imagined him moving in the first place. At once Scorpius’s face turned grim and his good mood was sucked out of him as if by a Dementor. He gave Harry a dark look and Harry felt unnatural chill creeping up his spine.

‘Scorpius?’ said Harry carefully. ‘What is it?

‘What?’ asked Scorpius sharply, his eyes boring into Harry’s. And that look… Harry knew that look. He knew it well. The possessive look. The one that he had witnessed so many times before on another. But he was sure that neither Scorpius nor the other one had any right to cast it at him. He must be wrong. He must be…

‘What is it?’ repeated Harry. ‘You’re looking at me like I’ve just sold your innermost secret to the Daily Prophet.’

Scorpius laughed, but it was an ugly laugh this time and Harry stared.

‘Funny you should mention the word ‘sold’.’ said Scorpius with a mean twist to his lips. ‘After all, haven’t you sold yourself to my father?’

‘What are you talking about?’ gasped Harry, growing cold with dread amidst the terrible fire that caught their friendship in a fire trap, started by a stray spark.

‘I must say that this is a big step up from what father originally bought you for.’ continued Scorpius, ignoring Harry’s question and making a vague gesture around the office. ‘I had no idea that things progressed this far with the two of you. But I must admit that I have trouble imagining you all cozy and domestic on the hearthrug – oh, wait! This is why you have this office for, right?’

Harry was feeling numb and not a little scared. Things were spinning out of control and Scorpius’s extreme change of mood was very worrisome. What brought this on? When did it start? How could he stop it? Could he stop it?

‘Scorpius, what are you talking about?’ asked Harry again, hoping against hope that Scorpius was bluffing and didn’t know a thing.

Instead of answering, Scorpius made a sharp turn and swiftly moved to stand behind Harry. Their bodies didn’t touch, but Scorpius bent his head over Harry’s right shoulder and his breath was scorching Harry’s cheek when he finally spoke: ‘Did you think I had no idea about your little liaison with my dad, Harry?’ He sneered. ‘So much for your wonted honesty.’

Harry frowned and craned his neck to catch Scorpius’s eye. ‘I was always honest with you when it concerned my thoughts and feelings. However, I am not entitled to inform you of your father’s extra-marital activities.’

‘Even if they involve you?’ asked Scorpius, almost meeting Harry’s lips – but Harry jerked back, hitting Scorpius in the jaw with his head.

‘Even then.’ he replied. ‘It is not something you tell children.’

Scorpius snorted.

‘No, you let them find that for themselves.’

Harry’s heart was hammering in his chest and it affected the rest of his body so much that he had trouble containing his trembling and his legs gave a nasty impression of giving up on him. Scorpius’s proximity and the way he was breathing down his neck didn’t make things easier.

‘I’m sorry.’ said Harry. ‘I had no idea that you knew.’

Scorpius didn’t reply and Harry asked the question that bothered him even more than Scorpius’s knowledge of the affair.

‘Does Al know?’

‘No, he doesn’t, and before you ask – no, I sure am not going to be the one to tell him.’
Harry nodded and asked the next question bugging him.

‘How did you find out?’

He breathed a sigh of profound relief when Scorpius moved away. However, the respite was short-lived as Scorpius was back in position the next moment.

‘It was at the Christmas party – the only one you’ve ever attended.’

‘Dear Merlin!’ gasped Harry, going red. ‘You were no more than thirteen!’

Scorpius smiled grimly.

‘Al accidentally drank spiked punch and fell asleep before the fun had even started, so I took your Invisibility Cloak, that he had brought along, and decided to go and have a look at what adults were up to. I saw father arguing with mother. Then he went off, fuming, and after circling the room, he joined you of all people. You argued too, but instead of walking on you, he motioned for you to follow him and surprise-surprise – you actually complied. Well, I couldn’t leave it at that, you understand.’

And without any warning, Scorpius slipped his arm around Harry’s waist and splayed it across his chest, bringing them flush together.

‘Imagine my shock when I saw a fascinating tableau in front of my eyes: my father bending you over the bed.’

Scorpius moved as if to demonstrate, but Harry had had enough and pushed him away, before snarling: ‘I don’t remember giving you leave to manhandle me.’

Scorpius straightened himself and scowled darkly at Harry.

‘No, this is obviously my father’s prerogative.’

They were both breathing heavily and Harry sagged into his chair. Sweat was coating his skin, and as he put his head in his hands he could feel just how horribly they were shaking.

Scorpius, who took up pacing, stopped in front of Harry’s desk and crossed his arms.

‘It turned out that it wasn’t the first time – and hardly the last one. You know,’ he said after a short pause, ‘I’ve been thinking what to give my father for his birthday. I think I know now. How about your full-size portrait? Naked. We could put it over my parents’ bed and use Permanently Sticking Charm to hold it in place. I’m sure my mother would love it.’ he said fiercely.

‘I think it’s time for you to go home, Scorpius.’ said Harry with a heavy heart.

‘I am not done yet!’ said Scorpius furiously.

Harry shook his head sadly.

‘No, I think we’re done here.’

He stood up and pointed at the door with such command and finality that Scorpius lost his nerve and, wearing a horrible expression on his otherwise handsome face, left in as much the same manner as his father had done before.

Once he was gone, Harry’s head wearily hit the desk.

He was in a foul mood to begin with, there was a chance that it would get better but, as it so often happens, it only got worse.

TBC…