Don't Get Caught

This is the final chapter; I hope you have all enjoyed reading and reviews are LOVE!

Harry takes one last look around the living room, now devoid of his personal belongings, and briefly closes his eyes. He really does love teaching, but he loves Scorpius more. Giving Minerva his resignation was far harder than expected, especially since he had no answer to her bewildered demands for an explanation. She would find out soon enough, anyway. Part of him wanted to tell her face to face, but he didn’t think he could bear to witness her disappointment. Perhaps after the bonding, given time, she might come to understand.

James did not understand, and now refuses to be in the same room as Harry. Harry holds onto the hope that his first born will prove the love he has for his father is stronger than his homophobic attitude; something Harry is at least confident he had no part in gifting the boy. He has always encouraged his children not just to exert tolerance, but actively support such minorities. It hurt Harry profoundly when James accused him of only holding such beliefs to further his own ‘sick cause’. He has to believe his oldest son will come to realise you cannot choose who you fall for.

When Harry sat Al down to explain, he choked up. Squeezing his son’s hand tightly, his words were stilted and painful until Al squeezed back and told him he wished he’d known sooner; that it wouldn’t change anything between them, or himself and Scorpius. Al even promised to help Harry arrange the bonding; a simple gesture of kindness that left him unable to speak. He hadn’t dared to hope Al would be any more forgiving than James, perhaps less so considering his closeness to Scorpius, so his support touched Harry far deeper than he could adequately put into words.

Lily managed to extract a weak smile from him with her down to-earth-attitude. Like Al, her only concern was for his happiness; that and how much allowance she would get to spend on an outfit for the bonding. She did tell Harry with great seriousness that she had no intention of referring to Scorpius in any paternal manner, because that would just be plain gross, and Harry found himself wholly inclined to agree with her.

There remains a knot of anxiety as he thinks about his friends’ reactions, but the press of soft lips to his neck leeches away most of the tension. Strong, buoyant arms wrap around him from behind as Scorpius surveys the room with his chin on Harry’s shoulder. He motions a nod to where the sofa used to be, and murmurs wicked reminders of how they made excellent use of it. He steps backwards, pulling Harry with him until his back finds the wall, teasing that they’ve done more in this position than everywhere else added together.

Harry sighs quietly as Scorpius finds a nipple, louder still when the boy presses his interest into the cleft of Harry’s arse. Harry turns in the circle of arms, raising his own above his head so that Scorpius can pull his shirt off, before bringing trembling fingers to the collar of Scorpius’ school robes. As he slips each button from its fastening, he kisses the pale skin it exposes, working his way down the smooth chest with a patience he doesn’t feel.

Apparently Scorpius doesn’t feel it either, because he suddenly rips the few remaining buttons, revealing his flushed and swollen cock to Harry’s gaze. Harry drops to his knees and stretches his mouth around the shiny head, smiling at the deviousness of the boy for wearing nothing under his robes. He angles his face to count every twitch of Scorpius’ lips, each silent hitch of breath and all the beads of perspiration that form along his brow. He sees as much as feels the approaching orgasm; sees it in the increased agitation of Scorpius’ facial muscles, feels it in the fat vein pulsing frantically against his tongue.

Harry lets Scorpius fuck his mouth, sucking with ruthless determination until salty fluid glazes his tonsils. His own cock is screaming for release, begging to be allowed to claim the boy’s arse, and as soon as the last drops are swallowed, Harry drags his trousers down and kicks them off.

Scorpius recites the charms Harry taught him for stretching and lubrication, and Harry adds one of his own; a Featherlight charm that makes it effortless to lift Scorpius up and guide him down onto his sweaty, messy cock. The preparation means he can slide all the way in, and Scorpius’ urgent cries and clutching hands spur Harry on; Scorpius needs this as much as he does. Grasping the slender hips, he pulls out and slams back in, driving the boy back into the stone wall.

Scorpius’ legs are wrapped tightly around Harry’s waist as he meets the frenzied thrusts, alternating his grasp between Harry’s broad shoulders and the damp nape of his neck. Harry loses himself to the intensity of their coupling, swearing pledges of ‘mine’ and ‘always’ against the defined muscle of Scorpius’ upper body. Scorpius’ fingers lace through his hair, demanding he look up and Harry does, pierced instantly by the silvery eyes locked onto his own. Scorpius silently mouths the words ‘I love you’, and Harry cries out and kisses the declaration from smiling lips, fingernails digging into the soft flesh of the boy’s hips as he fills him with his own affirmation of worship.

Harry never wants to let go, hates feeling himself soften inside the slick walls and rues the completion of their potent love-making. Scorpius sighs when Harry’s cock leaves his body and he is set down on shaky legs. Harry pulls him to the floor and into an embrace, uncaring of the cold stones beneath them. He doesn’t want to face the next twenty-four hours, leaving the school and his children, watching Scorpius return to the Manor as the boy has insisted on doing before the bonding. He has all but begged him not to, but Scorpius’ mind is made up. He has things to discuss with Draco and despite his assurances that his father will not come between them again, Harry cannot help but worry. With all the enthusiasm of a man approaching the gallows, Harry tells him it is time they left.

***

Al is staring at him. Harry wishes he would stop because he doesn’t have pre-bonding jitters and he doesn’t particularly want to start experiencing them now. For once, Lily is quiet as she sits by his side and fiddles with the golden organza, smoothing it out with her fingers. Harry tells her she looks beautiful, amused to see the blush it invokes. He adds that she looks like she’s the one getting bonded and that rewards him with a chuckle. Al doesn’t laugh, nor does he stop staring at Harry. Lily notices and says she shouldn’t really be sat on so many Galleon’s worth of dress anyway, standing up to take a walk down the Ministry corridor.

Harry wonders how his children grew up so quickly and became mature, sensitive young people. He still likes to think of James in those terms, despite the older boy refusing outright to witness the bonding. Harry understands it, he really does, and as sorry as he is that James has not come, he refuses to live another day of his life at the mercy of others. Harry has always felt like someone’s puppet, tool or toy, and he wants more than that now, something equal. A life in which he chooses to please himself and not warring, tyrannical Wizards or the general public, his ex-wife or gossip columnists.

“Dad?”

Al’s concerned voice cuts through the chaos of his thoughts. Harry’s eyes slide back into focus and register the worry on his son’s face. Al says softly that perhaps they should find an official and have them send an owl to the Manor; that Scorpius is now over an hour late and wouldn’t it be best to know if he had changed his mind. Harry looks away and observes Lily talking to the nameless, faceless Wizard due to conduct the ceremony. With a weak laugh he tells Al not to be so ridiculous; that Scorpius isn’t late and they have not been sitting here for more than an hour, it just feels like it in the dim bowels of this building. Harry continues to watch his daughter’s interaction until the man glances over Lily’s shoulder at him with an expression akin to Al’s. It’s pity, and it makes Harry angry. Everything is fine. Scorpius will be here soon.

“Draco,” Harry blurts out, “Why, Al?”

It wasn’t exactly the change of conversational track he’d been planning on, but it suddenly seems important to know. Al’s face rotates between mortified, embarrassed and indignant. Eventually he mutters something about Malfoy charm and Harry can only nod awkwardly.

“Besides,” his son adds wryly, “you took the good one.”

They both smile at that and Harry is relieved to feel the tension ease again. Lily rejoins them, informing Harry that the world’s Wizarding press is camped outside the Ministry. Well, he can hardly pretend it was unexpected, but unfortunately for them, Harry has no intention of leaving the building any other way than Apparating himself and Scorpius straight into their bedroom.

Harry passes the time by counting the spots of dirt on the wall above Al’s head. For people equipped with magical skill, it really is just pure laziness that they don’t make more effort with the upkeep of the place. He makes a mental note to inform Kingsley next time their paths cross.

“Dad.”

Harry ignores Al and closes his eyes.

“Dad.”

He doesn’t want to be told this is the opposite of a horrific nightmare; where instead of waking to something better, he will fall asleep tonight to escape the something worse.

“Dad!”

Harry forces his eyes open but Al isn’t staring at him with pity anymore, he’s pointing along the length of the corridor and Lily’s acute shriek jars Harry’s head in its direction.

The official has an arm around Scorpius’ waist, which Harry finds rather odd, until they step under a brighter light and the blood flecks become visible. Harry doesn’t realise he’s moved until Scorpius is in his arms, smiling weakly and trying to assure them he’s okay. He’s not convincing; the blood is splattered over the dark green robes and under his chin, streaks of it stand out garishly against the white-blond hair.

Harry is frantic as he searches for the wound, the mass of wounds he expects to uncover, but Scorpius grabs his hands and tells him to stop. His breath is still laboured as he relays the events that made him late; how Draco threatened to disown him and Scorpius just laughed in his face and said he wished he’d do it quickly, because the sooner he became a Potter, the better. His voice cracks slightly as he recounts the terrible things Draco tried to make him believe about Harry, how each accusation only made him hate his father more.

Scorpius’ own allegation that Draco’s sick plan to break them up was borne out of jealousy propelled the older Malfoy to attack him; but that it was Scorpius’ own quick reaction that caught Draco smartly in the face and caused the pattern of red spray across his clothes. Harry winces internally; he’s been on the receiving end of that devastating anger and his memories are still painfully raw. Ever the practical one, Al casts cleaning charms while Scorpius catches his breath and finally the Wizard official asks if they still want to go ahead with the bonding. Lily says if they don’t, she will happily spill their blood herself.

***

The small, bright room, and guests he can count on one hand are so entirely different from his first marriage. A world away from the flashbulbs and entire Wizarding populace that made up the circus of his and Ginny’s betrothal. Another huge difference, Harry knows, is how much his heart is in this one. How each word he has to force around a lump of emotion in his throat, is spoken with the conviction and promise Scorpius deserves. He hears the vows repeated back to him, his own name cited in Scorpius’ tremulous voice. Harry is glad only Al and Lily are witnessing this; the moment is far too personal to share with anyone else. Their hands are bound tightly by invisible cords of magic while they recite word for word everything the official asks them to, anchoring themselves in each other’s eyes.

When the binds begin to dissolve, Harry laments the loss; he could happily be tied to Scorpius this way for ever. Scorpius seems less concerned; with his hands freed, he wastes no time pulling Harry into a life-affirming kiss. Harry hears Lily giggle and the official clears his throat. Apparently they still have parchment to sign before getting to ‘that’ part.

Scorpius grins and snatches up the quill, bending over the table to sign his name and legally declare himself Harry’s. Harry tries very hard not to imagine the curved, toned buttocks beneath his robes and how they would look if his clothing suddenly disappeared. Scorpius hands the quill to Harry with a sly wink and he wastes no time adding his name alongside. The official smiles and congratulates them, adding with a smirk that now they may kiss. Harry thanks him and says if he could just allow them to Apparate out, they’ll happily go somewhere a little more private.

Al is already up on his feet and dragging Lily to the door, having already been informed of Harry’s post-bonding intentions. Harry thanks Merlin and any other deity that might be listening for his wonderful, precious children.

“You know what this means,” Harry whispers in Scorpius’ ear as he takes his arm in anticipation of the wards lifting.

Scorpius smirks then pretends to look concerned, as though he has just married a wicked old witch in disguise.

Pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, Harry murmurs, “Your arse is mine.”

Scorpius turns his head to capture Harry’s lips more fully, “It always has been.”

***
End