Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9264863.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Scorpius_Malfoy/Hugo_Weasley
  Character:
      Scorpius_Malfoy, Albus_Severus_Potter, Hugo_Weasley, Rose_Weasley, Lily
      Luna_Potter, Lysander_Scamander, Lorcan_Scamander, Gabrielle_Delacour
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-01-09 Chapters: 5/5 Words: 24183
****** Scent of Innocence ******
by my_thestral
Summary
     Scorpius Malfoy is in a world of trouble like only one confused
     teenager could be. No date for a Yule Ball yet - with only three days
     to go! - and no idea who to take. Oh, and no right opportunity to
     discuss his confused sexuality with his best mate yet - because all
     bloody Al Potter seems to care about these days is, what his dreamy,
     artistic cousin Hugo is up to! Now how is that Scorpius's concern?!
Notes
     This was a part of the Sceasleycest's_December_2016_fest and my
     sincere thank you goes to the super fast and capable bleedingangel84
     for another beta job of epic proportions.
     I had to squeeze this one in before I tackle another fest, but the
     fandom needs more of this pairing and looks like someone's gotta
     write it (*volunteers*)
     Disclaimer: Nope, still not making any money from this, as the
     characters clearly aren't mine, but it's not always about the money,
     is it? ;)
See the end of the work for more notes
***** That damn Yule Ball! *****
“Look at him! Just look at him, and tell me that’s not a waste of good Weasley
genes! All that potential – and look what he’s doing with it!”
Oh, no… I rolled my eyes like the proper martyr that I was. Don’t tell me we
stumbled upon Hugo again! At this point I’d rather come across a Bubotuber
leaking pus! We had things to discuss, for fuck’s sake, big things, important
things – after all, the Yule ball was just around the corner, and we needed
dates – the right dates! Sadly, all my best friend Al was keen on these days
was lamenting the sorry life choices the youngest Weasley was happily pursuing.
Not that Hugo gave a sick rat’s arse about all the anxiety he was causing his
cousin – er, nope, that wasn’t his style. He was nowhere near grounded enough
for that.
Joyfully strolling about the castle with smudges of paint and unknown
substances smeared upon his face – usually on his brow or his cheek because he
was often absent-mindedly fixing his long, glossy hair behind his ear – Hugo
was quite blissfully ignorant of all the ruckus he was causing. That, or he
simply didn’t care. He definitely cared less than I, ready to have a breakdown
every time I saw a sign of brilliant red colour on the horizon, and just
knowing I’ll be submitted to another half an hour of Al’s hissing about his
cousin’s poorly-used talents and neglected assets. Why couldn’t the silly
Potter just let the eccentric boy be?! Al was as close to a superstar as one
got to be in the wizarding world. Why did he even care?!
So what if Hugo was the best Keeper this school has seen in ages, but after a
year on the team, he flat-out refused to play? True, he nearly gave James – the
now-former Gryffindor captain – a coronary, but the redhead had a right to
choose, and if he said he found it boring… Well, I suppose it was boring – if
you played the entire season and only let eight bloody Quaffles in! Quidditch
wasn’t everything. Well, unless you were James Potter. In that case, Quidditch
is the whole fucking cake with a cherry on top. No one was surprised to see him
go professional. And… I might have had my own reasons for being so tolerant of
Hugo’s unreasonable stubbornness. You see, I’ve been a Chaser for Slytherin for
a while now, and Hugo made me cry several times the last season he played. I as
sure as hell didn’t miss him on the field. Nope!
And so fucking what if the dreamy redhead with a golden cloud of freckles and
the physique of a professional athlete calmly refused to date? It happens! He
just wasn’t game; nope, not at all. With no encouragement whatsoever from him,
Hugo had enough girls batting their eyelashes at him to cause tornadoes across
the planet; yet he was about as interested in them as I was in growing pimples.
“Just look at that!” Al, the alleged number one Casanova of Hogwarts, would
hiss enviously every time Hugo strolled past us. His fiery head was always so
clearly stuck in the clouds that he never seemed to notice the small army of
squealing girls that followed him around. “Look at him! He’s got all the best
genes! He doesn’t do anything to look this fit. I swear to God, it’s bloody
effortless – and he does fuck all with it!”
Did I mention that next to his average height, my best mate Al also has a vile
tongue? Well, he does. I suppose that’s what comes with being the only
Slytherin in the Potter-Weasley clan. He, along with the rest of us serpents,
is also rather obsessive.
“Imagine what I could do with those fucking long legs and those bulky
shoulders?! You’d never stand a chance against me, Malfoy!”
I mean, you’d imagine that someone that aggressive would welcome Hugo’s
decision not to compete for the available supply of female curves at school…
but not Al! The boy is so bloody competitive he thought having me as his only
proper contender for the title of biggest Hogwarts slut was lame! For the
record, I could give him a run for his money in the honourable discipline of
dating, yeah? More so because the poor sod was – much to his dismay – related
to half the school. As things were, he was far more challenged than I in who to
bestow his charms upon. To put it simply, I could choose whichever girl I
wanted to, and he… not so much.
But he, being a true Slytherin, promptly decided to cheat, and he opened up his
dating options considerably by also starting to pick up random boys. Merlin, I
was furious! How dare he?! If that wasn’t unfair competition, then I don’t know
what was! For a good while, I was certain that he was only doing it to annoy
me, until he once got drunk as a chimp and tried to pull Professor Longbottom,
the head of Gryffindor house. Talk about awkward! I don’t think I’ve ever seen
anyone so close to the colour of a baboon’s bum as poor, very much married
Professor Longbottom when Al sat in his lap! I was almost tempted to humour my
poor mate the next morning when he repeatedly whined to be obliviated. I
suppose that after that particular fiasco, I was a tad more convinced that Al
really didn’t have a clear preference when it came to one’s gender. And it got
me… interested.
Not that I should be, God, no… As the very last heir to the name of Malfoy, I
assumed I would be a proper disappointment to my father if I didn’t get engaged
to a nice girl from reputable family straight out of Hogwarts! But still… I was
curious. So, I managed to, uhm, borrow a few copies of Wizards ’n’ Brooms from
Al’s brother James during my visit of the Potter household. What?? I was going
to give them back, but did you know that Scourgify doesn’t work that well on
paper? Uhm, no, neither did I. Anyway, I borrowed – permanently – the damn
thing, not expecting much, or rather, not knowing what to expect. I just
thought I’d test – uh, you know, scientifically – my interests, and measure my
responses to compare them to those I had to girls. Only – no such thing
actually happened.
You see, as soon as my confused cock spotted the glossy pages full of fit,
gorgeous men doing very naughty things, its confusion was no more, and it let
its preference be very obviously known. In short, I ended up wanking to nearly
every page of that sinful, lovely publication, and I’ve been miserably torn
ever since between the glory of being able to compete with Al once again, and
the horror of acknowledging my unwelcome new interest in front of the entire
world, including Father. Damn it, I wasn’t Al Potter! I couldn’t do and choose
as I pleased with some Aunt Hermione having my back for representing a
minority! I was the last Malfoy; I had responsibilities to the family name –
yet ever since I had sunk into the beautiful world of longing for boys and
drooling over their, uhm, glorious bits, I knew that was it.
I wasn’t even sure I could swing both ways the way Al did. Sadly, my rampant,
evil cock had made the choice very clear. It was always ‘mildly’ to ‘not
interested’ in all the girls I was dating and fooling around with. But just a
stray thought, the flash of an image of any naked male body – ripped and
covered in droplets of sweat from playing Quidditch – and my knees went weak
and my cock turned into a jackhammer. It was all right while we actually played
Quidditch, because everyone was covered from head to toe in protective gear –
the showers after practice, though… Pure, sweet torture. I feared them, and
anticipated them feverishly because they provided some of the only fuel for my
insatiable teenage hormones.
I spent most of my showering time stubbornly facing the wall, but inevitably
allowing my weakness to take over and glancing covertly towards the other boys,
lathering their bodies, laughing and making dirty comparisons. Some of the guys
kept pushing each other about playfully, the soap making their muscles appear
slick and glossy, just like in those magazines… ohhh… While some of the boys
were at half-mast from the warm water and their own hands, spreading the soap
down their wet, naked bodies, I was fucking solid. No one was as desperately
hard as I was, not even Al; a carefully concealed glance told me as much. So I
kept my deviant cock pressed into the wall so it at least appeared as if it was
semi-erect, despairing that I probably looked as if I was interested in fucking
the damn wall. I waited for everyone to leave, unscrupulously lying about
loving long, hot showers – plausible for a spoilt Malfoy – just to have a
sweet, glorious wank afterwards. I couldn’t bloody walk around without one.
I was always a wreck afterwards – my body soft as a jelly, but my head all over
the place. I’ve been desperate to talk to Al about it for ages, to confess and
perhaps at least come clean to the one person I was the closest to, but with
the damn Yule ball around the corner, our lives have turned into a circus, and
there has never seemed to be good time for it.  It didn’t exactly help that
every time I tried to bring it up, I felt as if I’d swallowed a bloody Bludger
and I couldn’t utter a word, couldn’t think of where to start so it wouldn’t be
awkward between us, and a thousand crazy, scattered thoughts assaulted my half-
hearted intent…
Like, what if Al thought I was only doing it to compete with him? Well, I was,
kind of, at the beginning, but one look at those magazines had cut that
monster’s head – only that Hydra has grown too many heads to count since! Or –
Merlin help me – what if he thought I was trying to pull him? Don’t get me
wrong, I loved my gorgeous, olive-skinned, green-eyed best mate to bits but he
was, uhm… just not my type. James… perhaps. Quite a bit taller than his
brother, beautifully built, with that copper tinge to his dark locks… yum. A
bit too flashy, though… and it would be awkward, oh god, yes. Too awkward for
words, much less a fair attempt. Not to mention he was out of reach since he
left Hogwarts. So, er, no. Back to Al I was. Oh, Merlin, what if I brought up
my predicament in the same sentence as I brought up the Yule ball, and he
thought I wanted to go with him?! Merlin save me! He was a Potter, he’d
probably go with me out of sheer pity!
That blasted Yule Ball… honestly! I blamed it all on that unfortunate thing.
Most glamorous event in a decade, they called it but it was really the Yule
ball that made it all urgent; it was three days from now and I still didn’t
have a clue who to take. Should I fake it and go with a girl? Rose Weasley,
perhaps, the closest thing I had to a female friend? Would she take pity on me?
Nah, she was probably three times overbooked by now, gorgeous and popular as
she was. Lily Potter? She’s such a pretty girl, but so sweet and innocent.
Yeah… that last bit made it into a big, fat nope. Al was extremely protective
of his baby sister, and if he as much a suspected I was only using her for a
beard, I just might end up that particular evening without my favourite bits.
Or… should I just put my balls on the table and ask a boy? The problem was –
which boy? There were plenty I liked in general, but no one in particular!
Merlin, so many important life questions with no answers, and – still – no one
to talk to! Oh, why did my silly sexual orientation go and ambush me like
that?! I had a good mind not to go to the Yule ball at all, with the way my
stupid teenage libido trolled me!
“I bet he won’t even go to the Yule ball – or he’ll show up all by himself!”
The words woke me up from my brooding, and they seemed to mirror the depressive
cloud of thoughts in my head so well that for a moment there, I had a wild
thought Al had turned into a crazy Legilimens! I had already opened my mouth to
comment on it, but I promptly closed it when I discovered that he was still
looking at Hugo. Oh, yeah, Hugo… what was the annoying boy still doing here,
taking away the precious time I had with my mate? Who cared if the carrot-head
didn’t go to the bloody ball?! Well, other than half a school of squealing
girls, but still. I didn’t care, and Al shouldn’t, and that was all that
mattered.
“Who cares if he doesn’t go?!” I finally barked in annoyance, when I was
certain the dreamy redhead was safely out of hearing range. “He’s your cousin,
so not dating material. Why do you keep bringing it up?”
But Al just looked at me as if I was from another planet.
“Because he’s family, of course,” he said softly. “We take care of our own;
that’s the first thing Grandma Molly taught us, with a pancake pan around the
ears if she had to. Teddy wasn’t allowed to go swimming unless we all went. He
was expected to take care of us and keep us safe. Just as we were expected to
stand guard when he was snogging Victoire and didn’t want Uncle Bill to know
just how much.”
Oh. I never thought of it that way. I sighed. Not having any family other than
my parents to speak of could be annoying at times, and it often left me lacking
knowledge of certain social codes of behaviour.
“Fine, then,” I mumbled grudgingly, realising this was going to have to be
dealt with. “So, what do you want to do about it?”
“Find him a date, of course,” Al said calmly. “I’d take him myself, but as you
cleverly pointed out – he’s family, so that would be bloody awkward. Not to
mention that it would make half of the school cry if two of the hottest blokes
in Hogwarts went together,” he shrugged and gave me his warmest shit-eating
grin.
I just rolled my eyes, ignoring the provocation. Honestly, if you could bottle
Al’s self-confidence and sell it, you’d have more money than God. That shit is
worth pure gold.
“So, who are you taking?” he asked me so suddenly it knocked the breath out of
me. There was a strange gleam to those mischievous emerald eyes of his that
could only mean one thing: he was going somewhere with this question – no way,
he didn’t have a hidden agenda. But I didn’t care. This was the first time we’d
really touched the subject, and I wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass by.
By this point, I didn’t even care if we were standing in the middle of the
hallway and not somewhere more private and cosy; this was too bloody important!
“There’s one thing you need to know first…” I said in a shaky voice. “I think I
might…”
“Hey, how’s my favourite pair of serpents doing?”
No!!! No, no, no, no, no!
Bloody Rose Weasley! Don’t get me wrong – I love the rambunctious girl to bits,
but her terrible timing is the stuff of nightmares. She always breaks up the
best conversations.
“Hey, Rosie!” Al said with a genuine smile. Thick as thieves, those two; I
heard Rose was crying for days when they were broken up at the Sorting. “I
swear, if you spend any more time in the library, I’m going to have to
introduce myself next time I see you; you won’t recognise me anymore! Scorp and
I were just busy discussing the Yule Ball, like everyone and their mum. Who are
you going with, pretty face?”
Only Al with his Slytherin charm and his “favourite relative” status could get
away with calling Rose Weasley “a pretty face” – that girl put her own mother
to shame with her fierce “I can do anything boys can, only better” attitude.
But because it was Al, she just smiled at him indulgently, smacked his butt
playfully before he could see it coming, and replied cheerfully:
“Oh, I’m going with the Scamanders.”
“Which one…? Wait, what?! With both of them?!”
Al’s jaw just hit the ground, and mine wasn’t far behind. That was a little
extreme even for Rose.
“Yep!” she confirmed merrily. “And stop giving me that look. It was an
accident, really, more than anything else. Lorcan asked me first – or was it
Lys? – and I said ‘yes’, but then Lysander… or… oh, never mind, the other one
asked me as well, and I didn’t really realise that it was the other twin, you
see. So, I said something like “Oh, you know I’ll go, I considered it a deal
already” and though he gave me a funny look, I didn’t think much of it. But
then they both showed up in front of me a day later, a bit bruised, and
demanded to know who I was going with. Uhm… I couldn’t really decide, you see,
I can’t bloody tell them apart, can I?! So, I asked them if they were all right
with the idea of going with both – like, the three of us – and they exchanged
this really weird look and smiled to the point of their heads nearly splitting
in half, and they said “Yes!” as one – so that was pretty much it.”
Oh, bloody hell. I guess Rose didn’t know how dirty a teenage boy’s mind could
get. I saw the same alarmed look on Al’s face. He’d already opened his mouth to
say God-knows-what when she added as an afterthought:
“But then again, I might ask Lily to join us. She’s been a tad depressed
lately. It seems that the boy she was hoping to go to the ball with never
thought to ask…”
Well, that must have been some arse! Girls didn’t get any better than Lily
Potter; she was fun and pretty as a flower, and so very sweet! I had an urge to
smack the idiot across the gob myself, as soon as I found out who it was.
Which, considering the dark, disapproving looks Al and Rose were both giving
me, might have been expected of me. Strange. Still, I was ready to get right on
it. My honest, vengeful intentions came to nothing, though, because in that
moment Rose asked curiously:
“And who are you taking, Scorp?”
Fuck. Just… fuck. What the hell was I supposed to tell her?! I couldn’t come
out to her, she wasn’t Al, and… ugh, just no. How incredibly dumb of me that I
hadn’t thought to have a non-committal answer ready for an inquiry like that!
“Well, I haven’t quite…” I started in a choked voice, but Al beat me right to
it, and the sly smile on his pretty face should have warned me.
“Funny, you should ask, Rosie! Scorp and I were just discussing Hugo when you
interrupted us.”
No!!! What?! No!! Fuck you, Al, you cheeky idiot… He wasn’t lying, technically
speaking, but now Rose was going to think…
“You… are planning to take my brother?”
The way Rose was looking at me, you’d think someone told her I was planning to
rob the Gringott’s and run off into the sunset with hobbling ol’ Filch. Which
was still much more plausible than me taking Hugo to the Yule Ball.
“I wasn’t…” Wait, I had to be careful. Like all the Weasley-Potter-Grangers
Rose was fiercely protective of her own family, and her dreamy, artistic
brother made the top of the list. I was so not interested in going to the Yule
Ball with furry piggy tails growing out of my ears or some such; that girl was
mental with her hexes!
“What makes you think he wouldn’t go with me?” I choked out instead. There. Let
her tell me, and I’d promptly agree to all her reasons and kick Hugo off the
non-existent list of my candidates.
“You’re not good enough for him,” she said, as if she was merely stating an
indisputable fact.
Wait – what?! I, the one contender of Al Potter to the title of top Hogwarts
hunk, was not good enough for one measly, scatterbrained Hugo Weasley?! Oh, she
had better be joking!
“Well, I beg to differ,” Al offered calmly because, hell, yes, that’s what best
friends are for! “I think you’d be perfect together. Sadly, he doesn’t care for
what I think, and I guess you can’t make him change his mind. He’d never go
with you.”
Excuse me?! Have I woken up into some bad, twisted reality in which Albus
Severus Potter, my best friend, thought I couldn’t pull some oddball like Hugo
Weasley?! I bloody well could, and I was willing to prove it!
“Like hell he wouldn’t!” I hissed angrily. “Why would he turn me down? It’s not
like he’s going with someone already, is he?”
Was he? I looked at Rose and she shook her head reluctantly.
“No, he hasn’t said yes to anyone… yet. Not for the lack of offers, though! I
swear, I can’t talk to him for ten bloody minutes before someone stops by and
squeals if he’s willing to go with them, but unless he’s found someone in the
last half-hour since I met him, he remains unattached.”
Oh, good. Well, fuck. I mean… not good. What the hell was I doing?! My sluggish
brain was slowly catching up with me and I just realised that I was led like a
fool into a trap, carefully laid by that clever green-eyed serpent that called
himself my best friend. How did I ever agree to asking the infamously eccentric
boy to the Yule Ball again?! Oh, fuck me backwards!
One look at Al’s big sunshine grin told me he knew that I had finally woken up
and found myself up to my confident cock in the hippogriff dung. Oh, to hell
with him and his competitiveness! Now, how do I get out of this one without
surrendering my guns?! I had been way too cocky to simply back off – and I
wouldn’t – not in front of Al anyway; and the bastard knew it!
“Moment of truth, then, Mr. Confident,” the green-eyed devil incarnate elbowed
me in the ribs. “Here he comes. Time to blast him with your glorious charm.”
And there was Hugo indeed, strolling down the corridor, with green smudges on
his forehead like the markings of some guerrilla in the bush, and… a paint
brush behind his ear? Oh, Jesus, kill me now! How am I supposed to pretend to
be serious about asking him to the most elegant, prestigious, event of the year
when he looks like one of those Muggle hippies singing about peace in the
world?! Still, I had to at least give it a semblance of a fair attempt; I
wasn’t just going to hand this one to Al  on a silver platter!
Rose turned around politely, her shoulders shaking with restrained giggles as
Al practically pushed me in Hugo Weasley’s way, so he either had to stop or run
me over with those endless legs of his. But as distant as the look on his face
might have been, he clearly kept his Keeper’s instincts well oiled. He stopped
about an inch from me and slowly looked down at me from his freakish height…
and I was staring straight into Hugo Weasley’s face for probably the first time
without his protective Quidditch gear blocking the view.  And all the noises of
the busy world around us seemed to slowly fade away, as if reality somehow got
switched off and the time came to a halt.
From up close, Hugo’s sapphire-blue eyes were really something. I mean, oh,
god… really. They took my breath away. Not only they were the most intense,
brilliant colour I have ever seen, the pattern in them seemed to change, almost
as if they were made to glitter. They were in a beautiful contrast with his
ridiculously long eyelashes, bronze coloured and looking incredibly soft…
almost girlishly soft, only the effect was nullified by those strong Weasley
eyebrows framing his face. He had breathtaking eyes. And with no effort at all,
he was looking at me as if he could see straight into my heart with no obstacle
whatsoever.
He said nothing because he was just weird like that, but he kept looking
straight into my eyes, and the spell he kept me under was pure magic. I felt,
for once in my life, like I didn’t have to explain myself – this boy on the
other side of our silent bond simply knew who I was. I saw his lips move, but
for a while there, I couldn’t quite understand what he was saying because they
looked obscenely soft, rosy and simply… oh, god, kissable. I’d love to kiss
them, I wondered how they tasted. And speaking of tasting him… those freckles…
a golden trail of them just above his upper lip, looking utterly lickable, just
waiting for my tongue to collect them. That pale, virgin skin of a true redhead
seemed to have a pearly glow, and it emitted the most heady scent I’ve ever
come across. It was like the earthy fragrance of warm skin, mixed with the
edgy, rich scent of the paint, and it was so sexy and intoxicating, I could
barely keep away. Oh, god, he smelled like a massive orgasm to me…
“Excuse me, I’d like to pass,” his voice finally floated into my ears, and the
way he had said it - impatiently - it was obvious he had already said the words
a few times. But I was only slowly zoning back in, and I could barely make out
Al’s hysterical chuckling and Rose’s sighed, “Merlin, this is embarrassing”.
And it took a while before it began to dawn on me how foolish I must have
looked. Merlin’s golden knickers, I was supposed to ask him…
“Would you go to the Yule Ball with me?” flew out of me, and though my
invitation had the grace of an armoured cow, at least the kneazle was out of
the bag now, and perhaps this god-awful, awkward situation could still be
salvaged somehow. Suddenly, I realised I was no longer entirely averse to the
idea of going with Hugo Weasley, and if he said yes…
“No,” he said calmly, but it still felt like a slap that woke me up completely.
What?? But why not?! I knew I should have been happy, really – only I had just
realised I was uncommonly upset!
“Hugo! Manners!” Rose gasped, and the redhead closed his eyes for a brief
second as if trying to gain composure to humour her. When he opened them again,
he said in the same polite but adamant tone:
“Thank you… but no. I don’t wish to go with you.”
“But why not?” I blurted out before I could stop myself. He tilted his head
gently as if he was trying to get a better perspective of me, but then without
another word, dislodged a bag from his shoulder, pulled out an empty scroll,
and said imperiously:
“Turn around.”
Seriously, I don’t know what was up with that boy… I mean, at 17, I was a year
older than him; Al and I were practically the uncrowned kings of Hogwarts – but
when Hugo Weasley told me to turn around, there was such hidden authority in
his voice, it might as well have been in the form of a Howler from the queen of
all intimidators, Molly Weasley. I turned around with no objections, and I felt
him plaster a scroll to my back. I could feel his hand moving, and it was
incredibly fast and dexterous. He was clearly drawing, and this was something
Hugo Weasley was exceptional at.
You see, there was another reason besides a set of war-hero parents and good
looks that made the eccentric redhead popular with the girls. That boy could
throw an exhibition of art featuring Hogwarts and its inhabitants that made the
French and British Ministries of magic nearly declare a war every spring over
who would purchase that year’s collection. He had an incredible knack for
capturing people’s characters. Al told me he only ever saw his Uncle George
bawl when Hugo painted his long-deceased twin, Fred, because he looked as if
could’ve stepped out of the painting, alive and well. He certainly spoke to
George Weasley that way, and the owner of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes was often
heard discussing business, joking and laughing with the portrait – and no one
could really blame him. I once sat in front of the window for a quarter of an
hour admiring the view, before I noticed that it was painted. I swear the damn
thing had a breeze coming out of it! No wonder the girls were dying to be
declared his muse.
And now he was drawing something on my back, and I couldn’t wait to see what it
was. I certainly didn’t mind the sensation of strong, warm fingers pressing
through my too-thin school shirt on either  side of the parchment. It was kind
of… erotic, to have a boy use me as his canvas. Oh, hell, fuck, no… I really
shouldn’t let my susceptible horny mind wander in that direction.
But then the warm fingers moved away, and I knew he was done. As I spun around
to see what this was all about, he shoved a parchment into my hand and just
stood there, watching me silently.
I looked at the picture – and gasped. He sketched me… and I was ugly. I mean –
it was me, it was incredibly like me, the high cheekbones, the shape of my
mouth, my fashionably longish, carefully-mussed up hair, the likeness – it was
all there. Yet I was ugly. There was haughtiness to my expression, coldness in
my stare, and a certain smirking, condescending trait in the curve of my mouth
that yelled “grandfather Lucius” from ten feet away and utterly shell-shocked
me.
“This is how you look to me,” he said quietly. “You are self-absorbed, false,
and certainly not very kind. Your beauty is skin deep, nothing but a shell you
hide your shallowness behind. You don’t care about anyone but yourself. You’d
only go with me to fulfill some childish challenge of Al’s. You’d never take me
because I mattered to you, to show me a good time, to make me feel happy,
proud, and admired, like anyone going should feel. So I won’t go with you.”
As he picked up his discarded bag, and gracefully moved around me to pass me
by, I just stood there, frozen, sickened, feeling about two inches tall and
ridiculously exposed. How did he see all that?!
“Oh, Hugo…” Rose whispered, sounding almost as shocked as I. “You shouldn’t
have.”
His step stalled for a second and he turned his head around slowly, as if he
had one last thought. His pretty face was unapologetic, his magical eyes
fierce.
“You should have asked Lily,” he said darkly, with a tinge of sadness. “She
waited… and you made her cry. You fool.”
Oh. Oh.
So I was the stupid arse… oh.
I looked at Al, and for once the smirk on his face was gone, and he looked
incredibly guilty instead. Slytherin or not, my best mate was a Potter, and as
such, he didn’t have a single, truly bad bone in his body.
“Excuse me,” Rose said tactfully after taking one glance at us, because she was
just super smart that way. “I have a certain bottom to dust. Hugo!!! Hugh! You
come here, young man! Remember that talk Mum had about not mixing up honesty
with rudeness?!”
And she was off like a storm.
“Uhm… sorry about that,” Al said hastily – and more than a bit sheepishly – as
soon as she was gone. “I had no idea he would go after you like that. Never
mind him, he’s madder than a hatter. Lils and him, they’re joined at the hip,
and I guess you triggered his protective instincts. I swear he turns into
Grandma Molly when you step on his tail. I never should have tried to match you
with him. He’s seven kinds of barmy.”
And only then something really important finally dawned on me – seriously I was
über slow that morning – and I just blurted it out before I could stop myself:
“How did you even know that I was into boys? I never ever told you that. I
imagine I’d remember such a detail!”
And Al just smiled that sly brilliant Slytherin smile of his that lit up his
eyes like the green lanterns and made the girls crazy.
“Scorp, mate…” he said pointedly, “I reckon I could show you any male arse in
Hogwarts, and you’d be able to match it to its owner. You stare, mate. Like,
you have a serious staring problem.”
OhmyfuckingMerlin. I never knew. Well, nothing for it now; at least I was saved
from the tedious task of letting Al in on a secret… which was apparently
anything but. No point in chasing that kneazle on the loose anymore; I had a
more important task on my mind.
“Never mind that now,” I said as casually as I could muster. “How do I change
Hugo’s mind?”
I could’ve sworn I saw Al’s jaw hit the ground.
“You’re not seriously considering still going on with the stupid challenge, are
you?!” he looked at me incredulously with those big emerald eyes.
“What if I am?” I shrugged. I couldn’t say it, but the silly challenge was the
last thing on my mind. Because, you see, from one moment to the next, I
developed this utterly insane desire to take Hugo Weasley to the Yule Ball. Not
as a challenge… but as my actual date. It seemed I was just a masochistic idiot
that way… but his honesty took my breath away. The way he looked at me and said
all those words… it moved me, as if somehow he had reached under all that
polished rubbish I was made of and touched the true me – who happened to be a
rather awkward, somewhat geeky, and truly shy guy. And then there were those
eyes… yes. And that arse when he walked away. Oh, yes… yes!
“Well,” Al said slowly, thoughtfully. “I suppose Rose would tell you to just be
yourself.”
I gulped silently. Oh. Oh, blast. That advice was scary… and probably worth
pure gold with regard to Hugo.
“Good luck,” Al said, sounding sympathetic, and then he unexpectedly hugged me
around the shoulders. “If all else fails, I’ll take you.”
“Uhm… thanks,” I mumbled distractedly. I guess going as someone’s charity case
was still better than not going at all, and I could definitely do a lot worse
than Al. It was just… I didn’t want to go with Al. I wanted Hugo. The more I
kept thinking about it, the clearer it became that the quiet redhead ticked all
the boxes on my list of attractive traits. Being a redhead was the first, but
not only one of those. Those blue-diamond eyes, the spray of golden freckles,
that sensual mouth… tall with long, muscled legs, strong warm hands, and those
dexterous fingers… oh, god, my stupid adolescent brain was making me hard with
images of Hugo Weasley in a very public place! How stupid was I for never
noticing him before?! And he didn’t date, so he was most likely still… oh,
totally worth it!
So… being myself it was. If I still knew how.
***** A chance at last *****
“You were right. You know… about me.”
I was standing next to Hugo Weasley in the Great Hall the following morning
with my heart beating madly in my throat, silently praying he wouldn’t dismiss
those words, because it took me long sleepless hours to come up with them. But
they were sincere, and I hoped that would count for something in his book. I
was clearly willing to make a fool of myself in front of all his Gryffindor
companions, who seemed very obviously thrilled with the possibility of fresh,
exciting gossip. It was less than ideal, sadly, that I had to ambush him at
breakfast, but I only had measly two days to change his mind, and I was
determined to make the best of them.
He didn’t react immediately as I was hoping he would, and my heart sank a
little. Being sincere and myself was scary, and it came hard, but just when I
was beginning to think that the price of Hugo’s company might be too high for
me, he got up, turned towards me – and when his magical eyes found me, that one
look was worth it. I kind of let myself drown in those depths of blue… and my
hormonal, overactive imagination made me feel as if I didn’t even have much
choice. As soon as our eyes locked, there was a buzz of connection between us
so intense it was nearly palpable, and it… electrified me to the point of
shivering. I was desperate to keep it.
“I know,” he said calmly, and made a big pile of books and painting supplies
zoom into his hands with a nifty spell. But then he looked at me again and
added quietly:
“But you’re here, so I wasn’t entirely right. Rose said you weren’t quite as
bad as I made you out to be. Just… troubled.”
Oh, Merlin, bless Rose Weasley with a long, happy life, full of exciting books.
“Look, can we talk? Please?” I asked hastily, determined to keep on ploughing
until my cow died.
“Not here,” he said curtly. “I’m late for my Care of Magical Creatures class
already.”
Oh, damn. That didn’t go so well. At any other time, I’d be happy to just stand
there and admire that glorious arse from behind, this time I couldn’t afford to
lose the whole morning!
“Would you like some help with those arty… things… supplies?”
Oh, sweet Merlin on a pink tricycle, someone murder me now! What did my
feverish, befuddled brain think I was – twelve?! Of all the desperate lines…
But as if by a miracle, he turned around halfway, and there appeared to be a
small amused smirk in the corner of that lovely mouth of his.
“Not with those, no,” he said, sounding somewhat entertained. “But you can help
me with the books. They need to go back to the library. I can’t drag them
around in this weather; Pince would happily drown me in the lake.”
I nearly huffed when a pile of Hogwarts’ heaviest books landed in my lap, and I
bravely tried to ignore several fits of giggles that erupted behind my back
from the evil red-and-gold table. Here goes my cool… It only took me six-and-a-
half years to build it up, and one unfortunately positioned pile of books to
make it crumble. But it was all forgotten when the redhead slowed down
graciously, and we were suddenly walking shoulder-to-shoulder. That… was
definitely more like it.
Oh, sweet, horny Salazar, I could smell the fresh, exotic fragrance of his
shampoo every time the silken strands of glossy red hair brushed against my
shoulder, and the scent was making me wild and dizzy, and way too horny. How
could someone smell so good and so impossibly… right? How did he not have
people jumping him on that scent alone?
“Here we are,” he said, startling me stupid from my randy contemplation. How
were we at the library already?! Oh, I did not just waste all that precious
time thinking on how good he smelled?! All that got me was an embarrassing
pressure in my pants. I seriously needed to get my act together.
“I’ll meet you here,” I said hastily, unwilling to waste the precious chance I
had risked my reputation for.
“What for?” he looked at me perplexed.
“You’re not going out only in your shirt, are you?!” I asked alarmed. “It’s
cold enough for penguins to be banging on the door, seeking shelter! You’ll
freeze to death! We need our coats.”
“Malfoy, you’re seriously demented if you think I’d ever go up that tower just
to get my coat – I’d barely be back by the dinner with the shifting staircases
and whatnot!” he chuckled. “I came prepared.”
With these words, he pulled a perfectly shrunken winter coat out of his bag,
enlarged it, and smiled smugly into my stricken face. Oh, hell of all hells, I
wasn’t going to lose him now on some technicality, such as a winter coat I
didn’t bring along, was I?! Oh, just how rotten was my luck?!
“You can have this one,” he said matter-of-factly. Stretched out in his arms
was a warm winter coat, freshly enlarged – with paint smudges all over. Oh,
Merlin, Hugo…
“Uhm, I’m afraid that’s all I’ve got,” he smiled sweetly – and I was already
busy putting the damn coat on. For that smile, I would have put a troll’s
smelly sheepskin on top of it.
“My painting studio is just under the top of the Astronomy tower, where there
is light aplenty, but it does get bloody cold up there, so I use this... and,
uhm, it might need a cleaning charm… or twenty,” he said, almost
apologetically, but I no longer cared… because that coat was the best thing
ever. Even if it was slightly too big around the shoulders, it was ridiculously
soft and warm, and best of all – it smelled of him, most divinely. So, suddenly
I was deeply immersed into the sensual, addictive fragrance of Hugo Weasley
teasing my senses, and I could barely hold back a moan. Oh, sweet MerlinJesus,
that boy was a walking aphrodisiac.
“So what did you want to talk to me about?” he nearly made me jump again. Oh,
damn… I could barely remember my own name around him, how the hell was I
supposed to recall all those words I had been preparing so carefully?! Luckily,
we had just stepped outside, and the cold gust of wind that blew a handful of
snowflakes into our faces bought me some time. The day was bitterly cold, grey,
and cloudy, as if it couldn’t quite decide if daylight was a good idea at all.
It was certainly not a day that would fill anyone with optimism… but it was all
I had.
“I know I’m all those things you called me…” I started awkwardly, just to say
something and not lose more precious time. “Or at least I appear that way. But
since you didn’t give me a chance to defend or explain myself before you
stormed away, I’d like to do that now.”
He was silent for a few endless moments, and then he nodded: “All right. Sounds
fair enough. Go on.”
Right, uhm… Where to start? I glanced at him sideways, nervously, but I
immediately got distracted by a million lovely details in his profile, and I
decided to stare straight ahead instead – looking at Hugo was clearly not a
good idea.
“You called me self-absorbed, false, and not very kind,” I started, and I hated
how insecure my voice sounded. “I am… rather self-centred, but you have to
understand this: I was literally the centre of attention of every living
creature around me for nearly my entire existence. I have no siblings to
compete with for attention and to share things with. It was just my
grandparents, who adore me, and my parents, who are a tad overprotective due
to, uhm, the events in that blasted war. And that brings me to another part of
your accusation… uhm, I mean, argument.”
I chanced another frantic look at him covertly, but his serene, pretty face
betrayed nothing. Merlin, that boy was fit to be an Unspeakable! I tried to
focus on the road ahead, but the thick snow falling all around us made the
image blurry, and suddenly everything felt somehow… surreal as if I was stuck
in a trippy, dream-like alternative reality, where I got to talk to myself with
no one except the world silenced by the snow listening in. When I opened my
mouth again, my voice was strangely subdued, as if it was indeed coming through
a thick veil of my suppressed feelings.
“As soon as I made it to Hogwarts, I realised that some people were more than
willing to hold me accountable for the things my father had done. One of the
first things I learned was that this was not a good time to be a pureblood. If
your surname was Malfoy, you could not afford to show weakness. You could not.I
could not. I couldn’t show anyone how scared and lost I was, and how little I
understood of why they called me those scary derogative names and threw jinxes
at me from behind. I didn’t even know what a Death Eater was, for Salazar’s
sake; I had to look it up in the library! Yet I got called that and worse, and
I was completely unprepared. My father never, ever speaks of the war, but it
makes him have a glass too many in the evenings, and it makes him keep a very
solitary existence. I honestly don’t know how I would have survived my first
year if Al hadn’t got sorted into Slytherin.”
This was hard, all right? It felt like purging, and it made me feel fragile and
strangely hollow, and… Merlin… so incredibly vulnerable just to remember those
days. But then there was a puff of frozen air headed toward me, and I realised
Hugo had turned his head to look at me. Was it my imagination, or was the curve
of his mouth a bit softer? A second later, the little up-curve turned into a
proper, most gentle smile, and my relief was so great and unexpected that I
released a most embarrassing noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob. Oh,
god. This was just… he had a beautiful smile. I was willing to go a step
further into my sorrow for that smile.
“Go on,” he repeated quietly, in that short manner of his; but somehow it
wasn’t unkind, and I nodded with a knot in my throat. This was anything but
easy.
“Those first few weeks… they left a mark on me. Being kind didn’t work for me;
I was damaged goods on my name alone. I realised I had to act proud, just short
of menacing, to be even left alone, and I could never let anyone see that their
remarks hurt me. But they did, you see. I was paying for something I had
nothing to do with, and it also affected the way I feel about my father. I…
used to think he was the centre of the universe, and now… now I feel sorry for
him. He donates to countless charities, anonymously, for something he did when
he was barely more than a kid, and only to save his family. I swore I would
never turn out like him. I would be the most popular kid out there, whatever it
took. So I put a lot of emphasis on what people can see and appreciate – the
glamour of the old money, the good breeding, the clothes and appearance, even
my treasured friendship with Al – and I keep the rest buried underneath.”
“Why?”
Oh, blood hell, he just had to ask, didn’t he?
“Because I don’t think it’s worth much,” I managed, and I suddenly had it with
the stupid snowflakes landing on my face, and the tears stinging in my eyes. I
just wanted to run and hide and forget I ever said all those things… and forget
I ever felt that way.
But suddenly, his long fingers were on my face, surprisingly, wonderfully warm
and soothing, and I wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and lean into
that warmth for some comfort. His thumb, undoubtedly made rough by countless
hours of holding the paintbrush, slowly moved down my cheek in the most erotic,
heart-wrenching caress ever, and he spoke quietly, passionately:
“It’s the only thing worth something. It is the essence of you… and it’s rich,
and insanely colourful, and more beautiful than you can imagine. I guess I’ll
have to paint a new image of you; the first one was… not quite on the mark.
Especially that part about your beauty being skin deep… no. Will you sit for
me, Scorpius Malfoy?”
The proposal was shocking in so many ways, it literally froze me to the spot.
He had used my name, my first name, and he was asking me – what?!
“What do you mean?” I said dumbly. “You don’t mean like… for the painting?”
“That’s exactly what I mean,” he smiled slightly, and it was scary how hypnotic
his vivid blue eyes were against the pale, snowy background. He was clearly
dead serious. It’s quite impossible to describe the mad mixture of
contradictory feelings that flooded me. I just knew he’d be able to show the
entire world who I really was – he was just good that way. But the thought was
insanely scary. I’ve seen him capture the true gist of a person a number of
times, and there was no doubt of his talent – he would expose and reveal me to
the world and everyone would know that I was – what? Scared? Shy? Lost? All of
those things? I was afraid of what I would see in my portrait, how much would
shatter; what part of me was even real?
Yet the thought of posing for him was also incredibly appealing. Not only
because he was referred to as “the prodigy” and people were willing to pay to
see the way he viewed the world – but because there was the thrill of being
close to him, and an unspoken promise of intimacy I was desperate for. I knew
without a shadow of a doubt that if I didn’t consent to this, that could be the
end of my Yule Ball dreams with Hugo.
“All right,” I heard myself agree, while I could vividly picture my rational
mind head-desking, “Merlin, you horny idiot, stop thinking with your cock!”
But this was not about my adventurous cock anymore; this was far more…
essential. If I was intent on being dramatic, I’d probably call it self-
discovery.
“Brilliant,” he said briefly, but I could tell by the tone of his voice that he
was genuinely pleased. His fingers brushed against my cheek one last time, and
then his hand disappeared into his pocket. There are no words to describe how
much I’d missed it. I was still a bit of a wreck, to be honest. But he had
already resumed his route towards the Forbidden Forest, and I had no choice but
to follow him.
“Why did you tell me all that?” he asked unexpectedly, and his voice was
intriguingly dark and subtly demanding. I found I had no way of saying no to
that voice; I loved its golden, solid undercurrent of power. Oh, sweet Merlin
here we go. I gulped and then blurted out as fast as I could:
“Because I’d still like to take you to the Yule Ball.”
His step slowed down just a fraction, as if I had surprised him, but then it
resumed its original pace and he nodded almost imperceptibly.
“So you would.”
“Will you let me?” I asked hastily because this was too good an opportunity to
pass up. “This isn’t about some silly challenge anymore,” I kept rambling,
desperately trying to keep my shaky voice under control. I really didn’t have a
back-up plan if this failed. “It was, initially; I’m not going to lie about
that. I was ready to ask you simply because Al said you wouldn’t be willing to
go – but even yesterday, that was not what happened. I took one look at you,
and I felt… I asked you because I really wanted to take you. Even though Rose
told me flat out I was not good enough for you.”
“And she calls me rude,” he murmured, but there was a strange proud gleam in
his eyes, and I could tell he didn’t really mind having such a fierce sister.
“So will you go?”
Those words barely made it past my lips. My voice was insecure and trembling,
and my whole inside seemed to be resonating with it. It was part cold, part
excitement, and just the overwhelming feeling that I was going to find out if I
was, after all, good enough.
He looked at me one last time, as if he was trying to read me, and those blue
eyes seemed to brand me from inside, leaving me raw and yearning. If he
rejected me again…
“We’ll see,” he finally said quietly. “I need to see the real you before I
decide. Tonight after dinner, the Astronomy tower. You’ll know where it is when
you get there.”
Wait, what?! He wanted to… paint me tonight?! But that was… I wasn’t ready!
But he was already walking towards a group of his classmates, and I was left
standing there, frozen and filled with confusion, nervous thrill, and a slow-
burning fire of sweet expectation. This was as good an offer as I was going to
get. He was giving me a chance. I told myself that was all I needed.
***** More than meets the eye *****
I was slightly nervous all day long, to be honest. Just slightly, nothing I
couldn’t control. I might have charred Hagrid’s beard a bit (it was way too
bushy anyway!), made Parkinson-Nott’s bowl of pudding explode (not proven it
was me!), and slightly splintered Al’s wand (the nosy arse totally had it
coming!). Oh, yeah, and I discovered I had absolutely nothing to wear. All
right, there was always my Yule Ball attire, but I had a tiny inkling Hugo
might consider me overdressed if I showed up at his studio dressed to the
nines. Oh, why didn’t I have any Muggle clothes to choose from like my friends
did?! All I had were those stiff medieval wizarding clothes, a set of
uncomfortable school uniforms and absolutely none of it was nice! In the end, I
ended up in school trousers – at least those hugged my arse nicely – and a soft
silver jumper with a silly blue “S” on it that I got from Al’s grandma Molly
Weasley last Christmas. It was a bit tight this year – but that was the point,
wasn’t it?
He was right – I did know where it was when I got to the Astronomy tower. All
the walls leading up to his studio were covered in paintings and half-done
sketches. There was a roaring crimson dragon that ambushed me from around the
corner, looking so majestic, gorgeous, fierce, and alive it made me jump two
steps down. I immediately decided it reminded me of Rose Weasley – and quietly
hoped she would never find out. The colourful, incredible portrayals of magical
creatures and real people followed me all the way up the stairs, and at some
point, I’d subconsciously moved to the side to clear the way for the painted
Headmistress McGonagall marching down the painted staircase. Hugo was insanely
gifted. By the time I made it to the door of his studio, I wasn’t sure if it
was an actual door, or something he had painted onto the wall and made look
real. But I decided to try my luck anyway, and I rapped with my knuckles on the
surface, relieved that it felt like actual wood under my hand.
I didn’t hear any call to enter, but the door opened for me, and I was
immediately hit by the fascinating smell of oily paint and candle wax. Merlin’s
knickers, this smelled like an adventure already! I exhaled nervously and
entered.
“Hey,” I heard Hugo’s voice coming from somewhere in the room. “I won’t be a
minute. Get comfortable.”
But I was too in awe of everything I saw to be concerned with getting
comfortable. I came expecting it would be cold up there, but I found myself in
a pleasantly warm room which, more than anything, reminded me of a cave. There
were candles everywhere, brightly illuminating the small, round place, with
paint containers, and scrolls of canvas and parchment scattered all over the
ground. Their warm, golden light made the studio appear cosy and intimate, and
the effect was further emphasised by the relatively low ceiling rising to a
point towards the centre that told me we were in one of the many turrets
adjacent to the Astronomy tower. I was shocked to see that the ceiling had been
charmed transparent, with evening mists and clusters of snowflakes landing all
around us adding to the magic of the place. All the sounds of the castle were
muffled up here, and it felt as if we were suspended on top of the world in a
mystical crystal snow globe from my childhood, looking down onto the silent,
virgin landscape like a pair of immortals. The place was pure magic; the
feeling it gave me was almost… godlike. I could feel my own magic surging
through me all the way to the tips of my fingers.
“You like?”
The soft voice came unexpectedly, and so close from behind my back, it made me
jump. Hugo’s warm fingers were on my arm immediately, possibly to still me and
calm me down, but their warmth spread up my arm like Fiendfyre, and from one
minute to the next, my skin felt flushed and charged.
I turned around to reply, but the words got stuck in my throat. Oh, how dare
he… Hugo Weasley was shirtless, clad in nothing but a pair of paint-stained
jeans that were entirely too low on his hips. And MerlinfuckingChrist, was he
ripped! Was painting some kind of an extreme sport I didn’t know about?! Oh, Al
was so right – Hugo had all the best genes! And he had no right having a bloody
meter across the shoulders at mere sixteen… no right whatsoever! That was just…
oh, I am a proper sucker for broad shoulders, I’ll have you know, and Hugo’s
were calling my name like a pair of Sirens!
“Scorpius?”
Oh, Merlin and Morgana in fishnet stockings, I was staring again, wasn’t I?! I
gulped thickly and forced my eyes from the thin silver necklace that hung
around the sexiest, most elegant neck I’ve ever seen on a living person, and
ended with a tiny scorpion pendant, resting somewhere on top of his heart. Hugo
Weasley was sin personified… on endless, muscled legs… with a slow, predatory
smile that made me want to tear my clothes down the middle and scream “Take
me!”.
“Sorry…” I whispered, and got another massive jolt of power straight from those
blue eyes smiling at me. “I love you. I mean… oh, God… I love it. I love it
here. That’s what I meant,” I said clumsily, mentally looking for a latch to
pull that would allow me to sink all the way to China – surely it would be less
painful than this. But he merely smiled at me again, somewhat intriguingly, and
looked around the place as if he was seeing it for the first time.
“It’s all right, I suppose,” he nodded. “I certainly get all the peace and
quiet I need to focus.”
“Do you often get people up here?” flew out of me before I could hold it back,
and I’m sure that, by that moment, I was as crimson as one Malfoy could get –
which would probably qualify as slightly rosy in everyone else’s book. But I
couldn’t help feeling insanely jealous just at the thought of sharing this…
this atmosphere, this this enchanting view, the sight of Hugo Weasley roaming
around only in his jeans … with countless others. Oh, hell, I knew it was
wrong, I just couldn’t help my stupid, possessive Malfoyian nature, all right?!
“Just you.”
He wouldn’t look at me when he said the words, which was just as well, because
they took my breath away. Oh, my god, really?! Like… for real?
“Not even Rose?” My voice was genuinely shaking when I said the words - but I
simply had to be sure.
“God, no. She’d probably want to clean the place up.”
“Lily, then?”
“Definitely not Lily,” he smiled. “She’s so romantic; she’d never want to
leave.”
“Al?”
“No one. Just you.”
Ohbloodyhell. And now what?
“Why?”
Oh, I just had to go and ask, didn’t I? I probably ruined everything!
“That’s why you’re here,” he said quietly, cryptically. “To find out why. I’m
not sure I know myself.”
I just nodded this time. Clearly, I was not the only one without all the
answers.
“Do you want to start?” he glanced at me, and when our eyes locked for a
second, I had to hold back a shiver. There was that connection again, and it
felt nothing short of physical.
“Uhm, sure,” I said a bit breathless, and feeling seven kind of awkward and
distracted. “Where do I... sit? Or, uhm, whatever? Do I have to do something?”
“No. Just come here, we need to find a good place to position you; the light
has to be just right…”
There was that distracted look I was so used to seeing on his face now, and I
knew he was in his element again. That’s why it utterly surprised me when he
held out his arm… and I nearly had to kick myself to take his hand with
trembling fingers. Not until those long, warm digits locked around mine did I
allow myself to believe my luck. Golden Merlin, did I love the feeling of my
hand in his, or what?! It was big, wonderfully solid, and calloused – the hand
of a boy who was used to putting it to good, hard use. He made me follow him
around the room for a bit, occasionally dragging me in front of him and
positioning me with a fiery river of candles at my back, murmuring something
like “No, this won’t do”, “Too much shadow”or“Bloody winter, will it end
already and give me some proper light?!” and then dragging me around some more.
Until it was suddenly:
“Yes. Stand right here. Yes, this is it. That’s just perfect.”
To be honest, that spot didn’t look any worse or better than any other from my
perspective, but clearly, to Hugo’s skilled eyes, it had something other spots
did not. At that moment, I might have hated it a bit, because finding it meant
I’d have to let go of his hand, and I loathed the idea.
He did let go of my hand, but only for a bit. As soon as he transfigured an
empty paint can into a surprisingly comfy and glamorous looking sofa with one
hell of a spell, he unexpectedly took both of my hands into his and looked me
straight in the eye. Oh, I could do this forever and a day... Look into his
eyes, I mean. They were so crystal clear I could see my awed face in them, and
that thick fan of long, copper eyelashes was to die for… oh… I had a sudden,
irrational desire to feel it brush against my cheek and the very thought made
my heart flutter and my trousers feel tighter. Merlin, he was a sight…
“You’re going to have to trust me, all right?” he said quietly, with that
silent, passionate power that ran through him resonating through his words.
“This might be a bit unorthodox, but there’s no other way for me to do this.”
I nodded, my heart stuck in my throat, and the nearly soundless “All right” 
barely made it past my lips. He smiled at me, and it was one of those
heartbreaking, sweet, and sexy smiles that were clearly his trademark and had
the power to take my breath away.
“Sit down,” he said, never letting go of my hands. When I obeyed, he sat down
next to me, close enough for our knees to touch. Merlin, was he trying to give
me a heart attack?! My breath hitched and my stupid heart was bursting with
fireworks.
“Close your eyes,” he said in a subdued, yet incredibly commanding voice. “And
whatever happens – please don’t move.”
“What – ?”
But he put a finger on my mouth, whispered, “Please”, and with this one
gesture, I was his. Merlin, yes... He was free to do whatever he liked with me.
I closed my eyes willingly this time, or I would have made a complete fool of
myself this way, staring into his heavenly eyes with his warm finger pressed
gently against my lips. I could feel my cock swelling, and the mad pace of my
heart set me on edge. Yes, I was better off not seeing Hugo Weasley sit next to
me. Or so I thought.
Because in the next moment both his hands were on me – warm, calloused, yet
cupping my face with incredibly tenderness, and I could barely hold back a gasp
and a moan. My eyes flew open in shock, and I was surprised to discover that he
had closed his eyes as well. Oh. I… I didn’t know what his game was, but I was
more than willing to play. I closed my eyes again, and only then did his hands,
still locked like warm, safe armour around my face, tremble in their first
movement.
“Ready?” he asked quietly, and I realised he knew what I was going to do, and
was giving me time to adjust.
“Yes,” I breathed, and I could almost see his tiny, dreamy smile blossoming in
the corner of his generous mouth in my mind’s eye.
His fingers moved with breathtaking gentleness, outlining my face, brushing
against its every feature – tenderly, thoroughly, leaving behind a trail of
aching yearning for more. His thumbs swept across my forehead, and once again
over my pale eyebrows, slowly, as if he was trying to remember their texture.
“So beautiful…” he murmured quietly, as if he could sense how much I needed the
reassurance from him. He pushed the loose strands of my hair behind my ears,
and I bit my bottom lip, hard, to stop myself from moaning when his fingers
outlined every curve of my ears as well.
“This is how I learn,” he said in a low voice, his warm, moist breath teasing
my skin from close by, as if it wasn’t prickling with sparkly, golden charge
under his masterful touch already. “I have to experience everything… to
remember, to understand, to create and play with later, wherever my imagination
drives me. I once climbed all the way into the mouth of a sleeping dragon to
get the texture right – my mum shouted herself silly at me as you can imagine.
But you see, I need to know… I need to learn and feel the gist of things, their
essence, their true nature and meaning. What’s on the surface has no meaning to
me. And this…” – his finger brushed across my lips gently, and I thought I
would die of it – “… this is also why I don’t date. I find it too empty and…
superficial.”
Oh. But…
“But don’t you miss it?” flew out of me in a subdued, choked voice. Oh, Merlin
on a golden cloud, what pitfall did my silly mouth lead me into?!
“Miss what?” he murmured as his thumbs outlined my cheekbones and the rest of
his fingers caressed my cheeks. Oh, god this was…
“Sex…” I exhaled miserably, because this was honestly the only thing on my mind
at the moment. JesusMerlin, I was in heaven and in hell at the same time. I
craved more, so much more, yet the swollen, untouched prick in my pants kept
pulsating and filling… and pressing against the fabric of my trousers, begging
for attention… and the pressure in my heavy balls was sending a warning, low-
humming buzz of pent-up pleasure into every nerve-ending of my tense body. Oh,
bloody hell, how much of this sweet torture was I still supposed to take?
He chuckled in a low voice, and then his fingers sank into my hair, strong,
unapologetic, demanding. As soon as they moved to massage my scalp, they shot
searing jolts of pleasure straight to my cock, and a hopeless whimper escaped
me.
“Oh, yeah…” he whispered, his hot breath teasing the shell of my ear. “I wank
like a motherfucker.”
“JesusfuckHugh…”
Oh, I didn’t just say that out loud… Someone murder me in my sleep, please!
Judging by the tension in my balls, I was seconds from shooting my load, and I
had no idea how to stop myself.
“You shouldn’t have asked, blondie…” he murmured sweetly, and then suddenly
added in a hushed voice: “Be still now… please.”
And I held my breath just because he told me to. The only sound in the room
seemed to be the rush of blood through my veins to a very unfortunate place.
And then they came. Tenderly, like the butterfly wings, his lips touched my
eyelids, first one and then the other, and it was the world’s… ohgod… fucking…
most erotic feeling ever. I mewled most embarrassingly.
“Please…”
And I didn’t even realise I’ve breathed the desperate, choked word until it was
out.
But then his lips brushed against mine, soft and tasting like pure heaven, and
his gentle tongue slipped across my lower lip like a wistful lover… And I
finally lost my shit.
“Hugo…”
God, I wanted that tongue. I wanted to come with it buried deep in my mouth,
plundering, taking, licking that fucking fire he started in my veins, and I
wanted it so much, I was willing to beg for it. I pulled him closer with the
urgency of a desperate man, and I felt his forehead press against mine, almost
as if he was trying to hold back. Oh, I so wasn’t having any of it; this was a
bloody emergency, this needed to happen!
“Please, just… kiss me… lick my mouth…” I whispered, so pleadingly I knew I’d
be willing to die of embarrassment when I thought of it later, but at that
moment, it didn’t matter one little bit. The heavy scent of sex was all around
me, and I couldn’t think, I just wanted, wanted, wanted... Another desperate
“please” might have escaped me, right before  his strong teeth unexpectedly
sank into my lower lip, and I was unable to hold back a moan. Oh, seven hells…
he so knew what he was doing… He worried my lip between his teeth for a moment,
and then nibbled on it, making me teeter madly on that ungodly edge between
pain and pleasure I loved so much. I could just die of this fucking thing.
“Fuck... please… I need… I need this… I need your fucking tongue fucking my
mouth… please… I’ll do anything…”
“Anything?” he wanted to know in a muffled voice, and I tried to ignore the
devilish undertone in it.
“Any fucking thing,” I promised, breathless and completely out of my mind with
heavy, unforgiving lust.
“Will you come back tomorrow… to do the rest?” he whispered, and the very
thought that there would be more… of this, this heavenhell, poured molten lust
down my veins, and made me utter a yelped “Jesusfuck, yes, yes!”
His mouth found me… ohgodhavemercy… and then our tongues met, and he tasted
heavenly, deliciously of moremoremore… They kept meeting and touching and
brushing against each other in a sloppy, dirty way that made me ignore my need
for air… and then they finally wrapped around each other like a pair of
decadent serpents… fuckingMerlinyesyesyes!!
“So fucking needy…” he whispered brokenly, and the way he had said it just
poured a bloody barrel of fuel onto my fire. I had one last helpless thought
that I was being thoroughly tonguefucked by a boy who’s never even kissed
anyone… oh, fuck… and with a muffled cry, I came in my pants, nearly fainting
in the process. Merlinfuck… I’ve never blacked out before… But this time… this
time it was different. Hugo was different. He was a boy, and… ohbloodyhell… I
just had my first kiss with a boy, didn’t I? And what a kiss it was! I needed
to have more, I was dying to have more, this couldn’t be it!
But he had promised me more, hadn’t he? Oh, this totally needed to happen. I
didn’t even care about the fucking Yule Ball anymore, I’d go with a bloody
troll if I had to, if only I could keep this...
“Can I open my eyes now?” I said weakly, and whimpered happily, when he pressed
one last gentle kiss onto my lips.
“Of course,” he said in that subdued voice of his that revealed nothing, and I
did. The very first thing I saw, though, knocked the breath out of me. The
giant, hard bulge in his trousers was still there, and I had to keep back an
excited squeal because it was just... fucking beautiful and I so wanted to
touch it.
“You still didn’t – ”
“You need to go now,” he interrupted me, his eyes glittering like precious
diamonds, and his body tense as a spring.
“But you – ”
“Tomorrow,” he told me, his voice urgent and unrelenting. “I need to paint now.
Just…”
He brought out his wand and cleaned me in one brisk movement.
“Go now. Please, go,” he corrected himself more politely, as if realised how
unorthodox his behaviour was. “And be back tomorrow, same time. Your portrait
should be ready. And then we’ll do… the rest.”
I just nodded, my knees so weak I could barely get up, and my eyes kept being
pulled towards him when I walked through the door he held open for me. I so
wanted to stay… why wasn’t I allowed?
But then a long arm pulled me back in, and I got bent backwards like a bow when
his arms closed behind me, and he kissed the very breath out of me.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “You are such a masterpiece… you don’t even
know.”
Then he shut the door behind me, and my stupid, uncooperative legs finally said
“do it yourself”. I collapsed by the wall in the corridor, and I was seriously
considering spending the time until the next evening right there. I honestly
couldn’t think of a better place to be… or a place I’d rather be. My head was
swimming somewhere in the clouds, my body was still insanely boneless, and
there was an ache in my heart I didn’t know what to do with.
***** The making of a masterpiece *****
There’s no point in asking how I got to my dorm that evening. Not as if I have
a clue, do I? I must have gotten up at some point and let my legs take me there
out of habit, but I can’t say I’ve spared any thought as to where I was walking
and how I got there in the end. Despite the late hour, Al was still waiting for
me. Before, in a different reality, when my crazy, bone-melting encounter with
Hugo had not yet occurred, I had mentioned Hugo’s invitation to him in a moment
of weakness. He was my best friend after all, and he could be as annoying as
any mosquito if he chose to, so I did it to get him off my back. He nearly fell
off the bench in the Great Hall when I had whispered it under my breath.
“Merlin, he did what?!” he nearly shouted, and I had to quiet him down to
prevent him from drawing even more attention to us. “But he never asks anyone
up there!” I’d never seen his eyes grow so big, green, and excited before. “At
least I don’t think so… Bloody hell! Wait till Rose finds out about this! She’s
been asking him for ages to let her come up, but I don’t believe he’s ever
humoured her. You know Rose – that wouldn’t have stopped her, but apparently,
he’s got some really wicked charms on that door…”
“You’re not telling Rose!” I hissed – and I bullied him long enough that he
grudgingly promised me he wouldn’t tell a soul. Right now, I was glad I
insisted. I had no desire to explain to anyone how my meeting with Hugo had
gone. I didn’t even know how, where to start, what words to use. Words were not
enough to express all the colourful, wonderful, scary emotions this evening had
filled me with. No, words weren’t up to the job. I just wanted to crawl into my
bed and relive every moment I had spent in that enchanted snowy refuge filled
with Hugo’s magic.
And Al, my brilliant green-eyed wonder of a friend, had somehow guessed all
that.
“Merlin… that mad, huh?” he huffed.
I merely nodded tiredly, mentally begging him to let me be. Wonderful as he
was, he did just that. Someone give the boy The Order of Merlin, First Class
for best mate in the entire world. But he still wanted to know one last thing
before I extinguished the light.
“No decision on the Yule Ball yet, I presume?”
I couldn’t really blame him for his curiosity – it kind of concerned him as
well.
“Not yet,” I shook my head. “Perhaps tomorrow. He asked me to come again. Nox.”
“Bloody hell. Right set to give you a heart attack, is he?” he murmured into
the darkness, but it wasn’t sarcastic, just kind of wistful. I exhaled slowly
and gave him a sincere, full-hearted reply:
“You have no idea.”
I didn’t know if he had even heard me, but a second later he grunted “Good
night, you secretive arse!” and I chuckled in response “Good night, you
gossiping arse!”
And then I was finally free to be alone with my thoughts.
I sank into my mattress gratefully, and as soon as I closed my eyes, my head
was flooded with images, fragrances, and magical experiences of the evening
behind me, still captured in the cobwebs of my mind. It was like I hadn’t quite
woke up from the sensual dream I took part in, and my consciousness refused to
acknowledge that I had left tiny, candlelit room behind. I wanted to be back so
desperately. I imagined I could still smell the melting wax, the exotic
fragrance of paint and fresh canvas, and the seductive musk of warm skin and
arousal hanging about in the air like intoxicating cloud. Hugo…
The image of him seemed to be burned into the back of my eyelids, and I exhaled
slowly, shakily, as the colourful images and untameable impressions of his
magical presence filled me up from inside. My smitten brain wasn’t even putting
up a fight. I let the memories of him take over my mind, until my chest ached
with longing and my skin felt branded by the sense-memory of his touch. It was
almost as if I could still feel his strong fingers caressing my cheeks, those
tender lips worshipping my fluttering eyelids, and that first kiss… God, it
made me yearn! My body tensed at the mere memory of his warmth, sweet mouth,
and that godless scent of sex that made my balls grow heavy and my cock fill
with blood. JesusMerlin, he barely even touched me…
Was there to be more of that? Oh, sweet, horny Merlin, let there be more of
that! I was desperate for it, desperate for his magic, desperate for more of
his wild, sublime essence pouring into me, making me feel on top of the world
and quenching my thirst to be special, wanted, and adored. He asked me back,
had me promise, he had called me a masterpiece… that had to mean something,
right? Just thinking of him had made me desperate for a wank. But I didn’t want
to. It didn’t feel right. I wanted his warm breath on me, his low chuckle in my
ear, that small gasp and that held-back moan he gave when he touched me; I
wanted his strong, curious hand on my cock and not my own – I wanted him. This…
my body… I was for him to explore, to own and to worship in that sensual way he
had, that put all my previous sexual encounters to shame. I wanted to belong to
him, it was as simple as that.
So I turned onto my stomach and put my head on my arms chastely, hoping that my
unruly cock would somehow get the message and the unfortunate hard-on I was
sporting would eventually disappear. I must have been knackered, though,
because I can’t recall much after that. But there was this vivid dream that
seemed to involve a sight of fierce blue eyes, slow, sexy smile, glossy red
hair, and uhm, an awful lot of naked skin that made me wake up in my own wet
mess. Oh, hell, of course it did. By the look of the thoroughly humped mattress
underneath me, I was lucky we were already in the dungeon and there wasn’t
anywhere lower to sink, or I might have landed on some curious grindylow’s
head. I just sighed heavily and spelled the mess away. Well, at least I had
tried. I was a teenager; I had zero control over certain of my bodily functions
when I was asleep.
As it turned out, I had next to no control left over my smitten, frenzied brain
either. By the evening, I had worked myself into a full-blown panic. I had been
scouting for Hugo the whole bloody day, and though I could swear I would
usually see him half a dozen times on any given day, that day, he had bloody
well disappeared. No sight of him. Nothing. Nada. Not a trace. Bloody hell… It
would have worked miracles on my frayed nerves if I could set my eyes on him
and look for some reassurance, but he was nowhere to be seen, and by the
evening, I was a mess. Nothing seemed to go my way, the food tasted like dust,
and all my bloody clothes needed to be immediately donated to charity! I had
nothing to wear. Again! When I had barked it out to Al in my misery, he just
smiled sweetly and said:
“Then wear nothing. He might actually like you best that way.”
By the time I had left the room, fuming, he was still intermittently giggling
and copiously cursing while trying to fend off his own handily charmed and
extremely violent Weasley sweater, which was determined to give him the beating
of a lifetime with its sleeves over his head. It served him right, bloody
cheek. I hoped he wouldn’t be able to get wool out of his mouth for a week!
And I found myself once again clad in the bloody school trousers – yes, a
different pair, thank you very much; I had a pile of those and barely any
others! I had been seriously considering giving the very same Weasley jumper
another go; partly, because it had worked rather spectacularly, hadn’t it? –
 but mostly because it smelled of him in a most heavenly way. But in the end I
decided against it. It was rather tacky for a Malfoy to put on the same clothes
two days in a row, so with a defeated sigh, I slipped into a rather too classy
silver-coloured button-down, and immediately felt ridiculously overdressed for
strolling around the castle. Oh, bloody hell, why was I always out of options?!
Oh, I suppose it was still better than Al’s cheeky proposal…right? Right??
I nearly strained my neck when I kept looking around the Great Hall during
dinner to spot him, but he was nowhere to be seen, and my heart sank a bit
further into the pit of insecurity. He wasn’t trying to dodge me, was he? I
barely managed to take a few pitiful bites, mostly trying to keep myself
occupied to make the time fly by faster, but the meal dragged on and on until I
thought I was caught in a time loop and it would never end! But finally, it was
time.
My legs were made of pure jelly when I climbed the tower once again. I was
welcomed by the roaring dragon and I gave room to the painted McGonagall just
like the night before, and with every step I took, I felt more like I was
coming home. In the end, I was rushing up the stairs like a child chasing
Christmas because I was all too desperate to be on the other side of that door.
Would it open for me once again?
For a full minute I just stood there, in front of it, with a raised hand ready
to knock on the wood and my heart racing madly. I told myself I had to calm
down, I couldn’t go in like that. But finally I could no longer delay.
I rapped on the door. Once, tw – oh… It opened just fine. Merlin, here we go… I
crossed the threshold and took a step into my own personal Heaven.
Oh… It was just as spellbinding as I remembered from the night before. The warm
atmosphere made by a small ocean of candles, the scattered paint, the abandoned
scrolls, the enchanted winter night ceiling, the beautiful soundless peace and
serenity, the portrait… oh… the portrait. It stood in the middle of the room on
a wooden easel, like it was meant to be an altar. I approached it on wobbly
feet, almost dizzy with a sudden rush of blood to my head. I somehow knew this
was going to be the moment of truth. Subconsciously, I saw a number or sketches
strewn on the floor, and I was afraid to look at them because I just knew they
would all be of me.
Finally, I came to stand before it – and it took my breath away. The portrait
of me,  in all truth, was breathtaking. My face was turned a bit to the side,
as if I was captured looking at someone who caught my fancy. My eyes, all
dreamy and bright, seemed nearly translucent, like a pair of magical pools made
of glittering silver and the palest shade of blue, and – Merlin, were my
eyelashes really that silken-looking and long?! I never knew... A glossy mop of
my trademark silver-blond hair framing my narrow face appeared to glow softly,
as if it was made of something as precious as moonlight, and there was a
sublime tenderness to my mouth that made me look almost boyish, as if I was
about to smile sweetly in some secret worship.
And then there was that one detail that made me hold my breath and wonder if I
was ever really seen like this: the tiniest hint of pink to my cheeks might
have looked innocent enough, but to me it spoke clearly of one thing only –
arousal. For all my winter colours – the grey and blue, the magnificent silver,
the paleness of my eyebrows and my thick golden eyelashes – it was that tinge
of pink that made me look shyly seductive, and so incredibly alive that I
wasn’t entirely sure if my portrait wasn’t breathing. He had clearly painted me
looking at someone longingly, openly, the way I would never like to be caught
in real life because it was… oh, my God, it was just too revealing, to honest,
too vulnerable, wasn’t it? Merlin, was that how he saw me looking at him?!
“Yes,” he spoke behind me softly, and at the sound of his warm voice my heart
went positively wild. But how…? He couldn’t possibly know what I was thinking!
I turned around with my heart beating madly in my throat, and just melted into
a bloody pool of yearning and arousal when I looked into the smiling blue eyes.
It took me a moment to notice that he was shirtless again, and yet another to
be hit by that tantalising, sensual fragrance of him that made my knees soft.
Oh, bloodyfuckinghell… The way he was looking at me didn’t help one bit,
either. Goddammit, that boy was made of sex!
“Yes…?” I whispered, breathless and almost dizzy from some savage feeling I
couldn’t name.
“Yes,” he nodded thoughtfully. “This is the way I see you. Yes, you really are
that beautiful. Yes, I’d like to do more of you.”
“Do… more of me?” I gulped, drowning in so many dirty, wrong thoughts it was a
pure wonder I didn’t jump the boy.
“Yes… do you… paint you, you know?” he blinked innocently, but those predatory,
brilliant eyes said everything he wouldn’t.
“All right, then,” I said weakly. “I supposed I said – ”
“Anything,” he reminded me, and I just nodded because Hugo’s anything really
could have been exactly that: any bloody thing.
“Come then,” he took my hand so casually, as if he knew there wasn’t anyone
else I’d rather give it to. This time there was no going around the room. My
sofa was still there, waiting for me, and when he nodded approvingly, I sank
into it slowly, trying very hard not to think of what happened in that exact
spot the night before, not to… uhm, spill anything accidentally. Perhaps it was
just my imagination, but when I relaxed into the sofa, it appeared to be a bit
larger than a day before, and Merlin’s golden shoelaces, was it comfortable! I
could totally imagine lying flat on my back, stretching my muscles like a
purring kitten, and pulling Hugo’s magnificent body on top of me. Ohbloodyhell,
I did not just think that! I seriously didn’t need those thoughts! Shush, dirty
thoughts, shush! As if I wasn’t in deep enough in that sweet, decadent hell of
arousal as it was…
He was still standing near me, with that dreamy, distant look in his eyes that
I slowly came to appreciate. From my sitting position, he seemed wonderfully
tall, with that muscled, naked torso so ridiculously alluring that it took all
my willpower to stop my trembling fingers from touching that creamy warm skin,
emitting its unique, captivating scent that was turning my brain into a pile of
goo. I tried to focus on counting the sexiest clusters of freckles in the
universe scattered all over that symphony of a body, but that seemed to be the
wrong way to go as well. My incorrigible teenage mind immediately provided me
with very vivid images of slowly collecting the little specks of gold off his
skin with my tongue, and I could barely hold back a helpless mewl. I should
have known that my dignity would never survive another encounter with the
redheaded god that was Hugo Weasley.
He absent-mindedly rubbed the knuckles of my hand, still resting in his palm,
as if he had somehow forgotten to give it back and I certainly had no intention
of reminding him. But his dazzling eyes suddenly focused and caught mine, as if
he had somehow found a place to come back to. My very skin seemed to prickle
and come to life when he held my eyes captive, and if someone had told me I was
on fire, it wouldn’t have been hard to believe. It certainly felt that way.
“Ready?” he asked with that quiet, determined voice of his, and all I could do
was nod silently.
“Nox,” he spoke softly, and with that one spell, all the candles in the room
were extinguished, the only light in the room coming from the full moon
illuminating the magical night with its silver glow. Then he slowly sank onto
his knees next to me, and I... I forgot how to breathe.
“You can close your eyes again if you wish,” he whispered, but I shook my head
faintly. I didn’t want to miss a single moment of this. I would see as much of
my shadow-cast lover as I could; I would breathe in his wonderful intoxicating
fragrance until it filled me from the inside out and melted its way into that
place where I always felt a bit lonely and cold. I would sink into his warmth
without ever looking back and be ruined by his tenderness if I had to. The one
thing I wasn’t ready to do was to let him go. I wouldn’t even risk it.
His hands reached out to me first, the long fingers pushing a loose lock of my
hair behind my ear lovingly, and this time I had no reservation about rubbing
my cheek against it, hungry for his touch as I was. Was it just my imagination,
or did his breath hitch? His fingers certainly trembled slightly as they took a
gentle journey across my mouth, and I let them spread my lips apart just a bit
before I went on boldly and kissed them. Just the chaste, worshiping kiss of a
boy in love with his master, but it was enough. The warm digits stilled on my
mouth, as if giving me a chance, and it wasn’t one I was willing to pass up. I
sucked them in one by one, and this time there was no mistaking his muffled
moan of pleasure. For some reason, he was letting me play tonight, and
ohbloodyhell, I was going to make the most of it. The darkness was making me
infinitely bolder, and perhaps I would never get another chance.
“How do you want to do that?” he leaned into me, the sweet breath of his
whisper teasing my ear and making my toes curl. “Naked, or – ?”
“Jesusfuck, Hugo…”
A desperate, gasped yelp escaped me before I could help it, and my cock pressed
against the fabric of my trousers with such sudden force, I felt as if I was
about to drown in mad, insatiable desire. But my obvious lack of self-restraint
seemed to only fuel the devil in him.
“I could let you keep your clothes on…” he murmured, and the way he peppered my
neck with tiny, delightful kisses was driving me absolutely spare. “… but I
can’t guarantee the right effect. I’d rather feel your skin under my hand…
under my mouth… my mouth is somuch more sensitive… it lets me pick up the
delicate sensations my hands never could… I could…”
“Anything... naked… please…”
I was whimpering already, my arousal so acute that I was ready to fuck thin
air, if only my cock could be mercifully released.
“Your choice, blondie,” he murmured, and his tongue slowly licked a thorough
goodbye to the tender skin above my pulse point, making me hate him just a
little. I desperately wanted more of him, not less! But he was already sitting
back on his heels, and he spoke in that low, masterful voice that melted my
bones.
“You need to remember to be still. Don’t forget, you’re a work of art in
progress, and I’m the artist… not you. So no touching yourself, lovely.”
What?! He wasn’t serious, was he?! I couldn’t keep my mouth shut; no Malfoy
would!
“Not fair! Merlin, Hugh…”
But he tilted his head to the side gently, smiled with that devilish mirth I
couldn’t resist, and I capitulated immediately and spectacularly.
“All right, then,” I pouted, but I quit, because his soft chuckle told me he
found it way too entertaining.
“Unless…” he offered, and I fell for it like the goo-brained fool I was.
“Unless…?”I repeated eagerly.
“Unless I decide to paint you that way,” he said sweetly.
“OhJesusfuckChrist, Hugh… You’re not bloody serious, are you?” I had to
literally swallow my drool. The thought of being painted with my hands all over
myself was… it was… oh, how wrong. Only, my silly cock didn’t seem to think so.
The way it jumped forward, it was obvious it was more than willing to second
that bad, terrible thought. Dumb, evil thing, my cock. You’d never guess it
came with a head!
“All right…” I agreed feebly. “No touching. Only… I don’t know if I can help
myself,” I blurted out miserably. In all honesty, I couldn’t imagine how I
could keep from freeing my cock at some point during this mad game, and
surrender to wanking until my fucking head shot off my shoulders.
“Oh…” he said softly, as if he hadn’t thought of that. “Then I suppose... we
have two options. You could always show me how you do it… how you like it… take
some pressure off yourself… for later.”
“Merlinfuck, Hugh,” I whimpered because the very thought nearly made me shoot
my load. “Don’t even… you can’t say that… I’m too… ohbloodyhell… what’s the
other option, then?”
“Or I could help you… not to touch yourself.”
“Oh, my – you’re… you can’t…” I said in a shaky stutter, because that idea… oh,
god, that very idea…
He slowly sunk his fist into my hair and pulled just hard enough to tilt my
head backwards. The noise that escaped me was out of this world. I guess I was
into this… domineering thing as well. The amount of new things I was learning
about my perverted self was too damn high! My whole body tensed at his actions,
and I was practically offering myself to him.
“Anything,” he murmured into my ear, sending shivers down my spine with his
dark voice. “You said anything. Any fucking thing I want. And you can’t deny
how much you want it as well. Your cock has leaked a fucking lake since I’ve
brought it up. You’re my piece of art for tonight, Scorpius. I need to own
you.”
“Yes, god, yes… ohbloodyhell, please, yes…”
He only had to tell me he wanted to own me, and I fell apart at the seams.
There was no more room for lies and pretence; I needed this too damn much. I
bloody well craved it. I offered my wrists to him willingly, and he pulled them
upwards, his spellbinding eyes still focused on my face, like a snake
hypnotising its prey to stillness. I couldn’t hold back a mewl when he ran his
finger across the tender flesh of my wrist, whispering a charm to form
restraints around them. I fucking loved being at his mercy; I loved it too damn
much. When it was done, he brought my tied wrists to his mouth, and ran his
tongue lightly along the restraints, electrifying every last bit of my skin. It
was so incredibly erotic, I could barely take it. Then he placed my arms
carefully above my head and leaned down to my face.
“Thank you,” he whispered into my ear softly. “Thank you for letting me do
this. I’ve been thinking about this… about you… about painting you with my
tongue the whole bloody endless day. Please, don’t be mad at me. I know I’m
selfish when it comes to my art, but I’d never hurt you. I just want to feel
you. I want to feel those things you keep from everyone else. Your tenderness,
your beauty that comes from that dreamy, secret place buried deep inside of you
that has kept you pure. You’re so very beautiful… The scent of your innocence
is making my head spin. I can smell it on your skin, and now I’m going to taste
it. You feel… and taste... like all the colours of the universe to me, Scorpius
Malfoy. You don’t even know what you do to me.”
Merlin Almighty… I just had an epiphany. I was in love. Like, for real. And I
wasn't in love with just anyone. I was in love, head over bloody heels, and all
the way bonkers about the most intricate, magical creature I was ever likely to
come across. I was never in love before, but now… now I was completely
overwhelmed. There seemed to be a deep ache somewhere inside of me that needed
to get out, and my heart was literally bursting for me to say it, to recognise
it and bloody well shout it out from the rooftops. I love you. I love you,
Hugo.
If only he’d let me. If only he’d want me to. I wasn’t even sure he’d want to
hear it.
But, intuitive creature that he was, he must have felt how very on edge I was.
His long fingers caressed my cheek gently, as if he was telling me not to be
upset, that comfort was just around the corner. Then he looked deep into my
eyes and whispered as if letting me in on a precious secret:
“I want you, my silver-eyed masterpiece.”
He finally kissed me full on the lips, and the whole terribly bottled up
feeling of all that bloody love which now defined me found release in one
painful wail that came out suspiciously like a sob. Oh, god… He wanted me. He
said he wanted me. He was telling me that he was here for me… to take, to own,
to love - perhaps only for the night, but I wasn’t willing to think about that.
So I finally closed my eyes and let myself have this. The feeling of his tongue
running across the tender flesh of my lips was incredible, and I sucked it into
my mouth greedily, not giving a damn if my wanton, needy moans made me sound
like a depraved whore, dying for it. I loved his tongue; I loved the feeling of
it plundering my mouth until I could barely breathe, and… ohbloodyhell, I loved
having no choice.  I sucked on that tongue like I was born to do just that,
until my mouth ached and my body arched backwards like an offering. I just knew
I could make myself come like this if I kept at it.
He finally pulled away, breathless, tousled, and beyond beautiful. The
moonlight reflecting in his eyes made them look lit up like ice-blue stars, and
with that tender mouth, swollen from my kisses, he was to die for. Every one of
my reservations melted like snow in the summer sun. I could no longer hold
back.
“I love you,” I blurted out in a shaky voice, because I had to. I just had to.
There was no longer any way for me to keep it to myself, because my stupid
heart would surely burst.
“I’m in love with you,” I clarified in a choked, small voice, because I didn’t
want there to be any doubt about that. I had stubbornly refused to think about
the painful possibility that he might reject me. I was prepared to take a risk.
He simply had to know.
But those blue diamond eyes lit up like they had caught fire, and he smiled
such a stunning smile that it made my poor heart soar all the way to the sky.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” he said quietly, running his fingers down my
cheek gently. Oh god, was he saying what I hoped he was saying? Or was I just
so desperate that I was willing to hear something that wasn’t there?
“Because I want no one but you,” he said simply, with those incredible bright
eyes focused on my face as if he wanted me to see the truth.
“Hugh…”
I actually sobbed that out. Merlin… did he really?!
And there was that devilish, radiant smile again, and he told me with that
lethal, sweet honesty that was going to be the death of me one day: “And I’m
willing to prove it.”
“You… are?” I still wasn’t too coherent; I barely choked that out, and I
blinked furiously to stop my silly, hysterical tears of utter joy from escaping
me.
“Oh, yes,” he nodded, and then his fingers moved to slowly undo the tiny
mother-of-pearl buttons on my ridiculously expensive shirt. My heart went
positively wild in the proximity of his warm fingers.
“I’m going to undress you…” he said quietly, but there was tension in his voice
that was setting my nerves on fire. “I’m going to explore every inch of your
skin with my hands first… and my mouth next…”
His fingers ran across my exposed nipples lightly, and a frantic whimpered
“...please…” was all I dared. It was all I needed. His mouth came down on my
rosy peaks like a storm, and the way he worshipped them, sloppily, eagerly,
with utter delight and just to the edge of pain, transformed them into shiny,
wet pebbles, begging to be lavished in attention.
“So needy,” he said softly when I wouldn’t stop begging for his godless mouth
to return and give me more. His tongue slowly painted a wet collar around my
neck, and when he bit me into that sweet spot at the crook of my neck, I
couldn’t hold back a needy scream.
“Merlin, you’re gorgeous when you’re gagging for it, Scorpius,” he whispered
feverishly. “I’m going to have to paint you like this, my debauched blond
angel… just like this… tense, needy, almost at the point of bursting… with
those silver eyes of yours absolutely glazed over with lust and love… You’re
too beautiful… I need to remember you like this, I need to make you immortal…
just the way you are right now…”
“Jesus, Hugh…” My adventurous, sensual redhead was making a religious man out
of me. Every touch of those warm, rough fingers, followed by the insanely
tender mouth made my blood pulse madly through my veins, and my skin, always so
marble-pale and cold, had turned pink everywhere he touched it.
With his mouth eager to mark me from that sensitive spot behind my ear all the
way down to my clavicles, he pushed the silken shirt off my shoulders as far as
it would go – but then took another look at my tied arms, smiled like a proper
barbarian, and simply tore it to rags to free me of it.
“Better,” he grunted, and I must say that this atrocious act did absolutely
fucking nothing to make my cock less interested in the gorgeous brute who
performed it. If anything, the evil thing fell positively in love with this
savage menace.
Then he straddled me, and when those muscled thighs closed around my body, I
felt so deliciously trapped I thought I would perish of it. Merlin, I never
knew I had such a submissive streak, but then again, I wasn’t very likely to
learn it from all the delicate girls I used to date, was I? But the next thing
I knew, a keening sound of utter need escaped me, and my brain finally switched
off whatever feeble functions it was still struggling to perform: our heavy,
trapped bulges had lined up, I honest-to-God thought that was it. There was no
way in Heaven and Hell I wasn’t going to come with that maddening, blissful
pressure on my cock.
“Not yet,” he warned me with a hungry, dark smile that made him look every bit
of the predator he was. “I want to… and god help me, tonight I will… but not
yet. I need more first… more of you… more for my painting. You need to be a
good boy now, and let me have it.”
And all I could do was whimper.
“Baby… please… hurry up.”
Oh, Merlin’s stiff balls, was I pathetic begging like this, or what?! But at
that moment, I didn’t give a drunken chimp’s pyjamas how desperate I looked. I
just wanted to have more, feel it there, at the center of my need, and fuck
fuck fuck… until I was all spent, boneless, and soft as a rag doll. In short, I
needed to come. God, how I wanted to come... My balls felt like they were the
size of oranges, and they were just fucking solid with buzzing pressure. I had
to… soon. JesusMerlin, yes… soon.
But he had already leaned across me and brought my wrists to his mouth.
“I might have a bit of obsession with you being tied up like this,” he
confessed sweetly, and the need to come had turned into a bloody emergency.
 The way he slowly, thoroughly licked the tender skin of my wrists felt as if
they had a direct line to my cock. His skilled, precious tongue kept finding a
way under the bonds, and I whimpered the entire time. This was… ohsweetMerlin…
this was madly arousing. He spread open the palms of my hands and devoutly
licked every life line and every patch of skin between my fingers. The tips of
my fingers literally buzzed with the uttermost need to feel him, touch him, and
hold on to him – and it didn’t take him long to notice.
“This?” he asked softly, and he sucked first one… and then another… and each
and every one of my fingers into his decadent, soft mouth, making me cry out –
and incidentally giving birth to a fetish I haven’t been able to shake since. I
was reduced to incoherent babbling.
“Fuck! Oh, fuck, please… Don’t… please, baby… please don’t, or I’ll come all
over you… and God won’t be able to stop me…”
He had finally pushed me too close to the limits of my endurance – and somehow
he sensed it.
“Enough?” he asked softly, and I snapped at that one word like it was my safety
belt:
“Enough! Yes… please… enough.”
He just nodded silently, and let his adept, curious fingers take a gentle tour
down my body. They rubbed against the ridiculous bulge in my trousers
carefully… and then they strayed over to his own, pressed against it. I don’t
know which made me moan louder.
“I never did it…” he whispered, sounding almost boyish, and beautifully
excited. “I never touched anyone other than myself. I never…” He looked me in
the eye with all that devotion that came so easily to him, and said quietly: “I
never let anyone touch me. You would be my first in every way, Scorpius.”
“I…”
Fuck me if I knew what to say. The thought was too mind-boggling to begin with,
and my mind, long ago turned into a useless pile of goo, wasn’t helping. His
sincerity was incredibly endearing… and my cock found it so fucking sexy it
seemed ready to stage a full-on rebellion and jump into his hand by itself. But
perhaps… it wouldn’t have to. His fingers moved in to undo the world’s most
frustrating buttons, and finally my bursting shaft was allowed to spring free
in all its desperate, swollen glory. I didn’t think I’ve ever seen it so purple
and hard.
“Merlin…” he exhaled slowly, and his eyes locked onto my proud prick, leaking
madly. He looked in awe, and I could barely keep down an excited, very unmanly
whimper as my heart swelled at the sight of his worshipping gaze. Oh, why
wasn’t I allowed to touch myself?! I could have shot my load three feet high at
the sight of Hugo Weasley staring at my cock in hungry adoration. But then that
redheaded demon slowly ran his curious fingers across the leaking tip of my
prick, collecting the pearly liquid and promptly bringing it to his mouth – and
if you’ve never seen Hugo Weasley’s kiss-bruised lips decadently glistening
with your come, you and your treasures have nothing on me. No fucking thing in
this world could be more precious. I reckon when I’m 190, I’ll still be
furiously wanking to this memory.
But then my breath hitched madly because his fingers moved again, this time to
free himself… and ohfuckinggodhelp me… and kill me on the spot if I’d ever seen
anything more gorgeous than Hugo’s cock. That beast… needed a church of its
own. I wanted to lick its crown of liquid crystals so badly I was drooling. I
just knewI was destined to shoot my load the first time he ran his fingers down
this magnificent monster's length. Seriously, that super impressive thing was
the king of cocks. James could throw his fucking magazines into the bonfire.
They were a joke. If only I could have a piece of it… It was making me scream
in frustration that I wouldn’t be able to. Or so I thought.
“Would you like to… touch me… while I touch you?” my wonderful redhead offered
next, sounding just on the right side of shy and daring – and I nearly screamed
out my answer.
“OhfuckingMerlin, yesss!”
God, yes, yes, that was so much more than I could have hoped for mere moments
ago!
“Oh, lovely,” he said quietly, with that dark, sensual, sex-laced voice of his.
“Because I need you to.”
Oh, he so needn’t ask twice! As soon as my bonds fell apart, I pulled him down
onto me like the world was ending in the next five minutes. The sensation that
flooded me when our cocks rubbed against each other was so earth-shattering, it
made me feel like the world was indeed crumbling around me. There was no time
for words, this was all the way too urgent. The sensitive, needy, naked flesh
mashed together in the cage of our hands was a fucking symphony, an ode to sex,
a fucking need-to-happen-now-now-now struggle for perfect bliss that was making
us both yelp loudly and rut against each other. It wasn’t the prettiest of
sights, it was a proper debauchery, fucking messy and brutal, yet so
unbelievably good and right that I happily chanted his name and every bloody
expletive I could think of like the lovesick fool that I was. We were like two
young animals in love.
At some point, he crushed his mouth to mine, drawing blood with those perfect
white teeth, and he hissed: “I’m taking you to the Yule Ball… so you can have
your crystal chandeliers and fancy robes… and I’m fucking you there. Because
you’re worth it to me. And because I think… I think I might love you.”
I came so hard I saw stars. And my redheaded god was right there to meet me in
my decadent, heavenly bliss.
***** A Yule Ball to remember *****
“But are you sure he's coming?!”
It must have been an umpteenth time that I had asked Rose that question, and I
knew I annoyed her – blast, I annoyed myself! – but I couldn’t bloody well help
it, could I?! I was so insanely nervous I was ready to jump out of my skin, and
I was willing to bet my inheritance and my left testicle that  something was
going to interfere with the Yule Ball date I had with Hugo. Knowing my luck,
I’d still be standing here seven generations later, serving as a living warning
to the kiddies that being a lovesick fool was a precarious business.
“I told you seven million times and I’m telling you again, you blond basket
case – he’s coming! I saw him getting ready with my own eyes. Will you relax
already?!” Rose barked at me, sounding miffed enough to hex me, so I wisely
shut my mouth. Oh, I knew she wasn’t lying – why would she be? – but she could
still be wrong! We’ve been standing here in front of the Great Hall, dressed to
the nines, for a good while – actually, for a total of… How has it only been
five minutes?! I feel like I’ve grown roots long enough to reach the Forbidden
Forest already; my Tempus charm must be utter crap!!
Anyway, while the entire world was buzzing around us in happy excitement and
more people flooded down the various staircases every second, Hugo was still
nowhere to be seen. Oh, Merlin’s huge cock, what if the notoriously antisocial
redhead didn’t show up?! If this was going to be a calamity, I’d rather blame
it on anything else – like a Scottish tornado picking up Hogwarts from the
ground and giving us all a spin, or a mountain troll crashing the party –
honestly, anything would have been preferable to Hugo abandoning me at the alt-
… Jesus, I meant at the entrance, not at the altar – oh, you scrambled
spaghetti-brain, what are you up to?!
Giving up the effort of using the bloody useless thing for further brooding,
miserable contemplation, and doom-scenarios, I nervously smoothed down my
clothes and tried to work up the courage to ask Rose again if she was
positively, one hundred percent sure her brother was coming to the ball with
me. I would be utterly wrecked if he decided to miss it. It took me a good part
of the day to get ready – every hair had to be just right, the sapphire buttons
polished carefully, and my clothes absolutely impeccable – so I could truly be
good enough. I glanced at Rose standing by my side and jealously determined I
would never be quite that beautiful – honestly, in her emerald green dress and
with that cloud of fiery hair loose behind her, she was like a mythological
Queen of Fire and Water – but at least Rose was the one person that wasn’t
competition. After last night… I couldn’t handle competition.
He didn’t let me go immediately last night. How could he when I felt as if
every last one of my bones had melted, and I was nearly sobbing with release?
He held me instead, mess that I was, and the time I spent in his embrace,
quietly, deeply immersed in his personal space with his fingers gently
threading through my hair, was something I would lock in my heart for the dark,
lonely, loveless days, and treasure forever. I would be hard pressed to tell
which I loved better – our decadent, mind-blowing love-making session, or the
quiet bliss that came afterwards and filled me to the brim with happiness and
serenity. I hated him a little when he finally whispered into my ear that it
was time for me to go. How could he let me go so easy?
“I don’t want to,” I told him stubbornly. “Why can’t I stay here?”
“Because I won’t be staying here either,” he told me. “With all the candles
blown out, this place will turn into a freezer. And I need my rest. You see, I
had foolishly promised a certain boy that I would escort him to the Yule Ball –
and since I didn’t plan on going, last-minute arrangements will have to be
made,” he told me with that sweet, sexy smile – and I surrendered promptly. I
wasn’t made to oppose Hugo Weasley.
He cleaned us with one of those wordless spells he was so good at, and then
handed me something he had picked up from the ground.
“Here,” he said, and I saw he was holding his own Weasley jumper, with a
ridiculous, endearing H at the middle. “It’s only fair, since I wrecked your
shirt,” he said somewhat sheepishly, and it hit me all over again how badly I
had fallen for him. I practically pulled the ugly, precious thing out of his
hands for fear he might change his mind. I got to be immersed in that
loveliness that was Hugo Weasley’s scent, and I just knew I would sleep in it
that night. Leaving was just a little easier that way. But I found immense
comfort in the fact that he found it hard as well. I was almost on the corridor
already when he pulled me back again and surprised me with a mind-boggling kiss
that made me forget I was supposed to leave.
“We’ll be back tomorrow, after the ball,” he promised me comfortingly. “The
sketch of for your painting should at least be ready – and I’m sure we can…
find things to do,” he chuckled softly and kissed me on that sacred spot under
my ear that always nearly gave me a religious experience. So I went,
successfully dodging all the professors’ patrols that might have been scheduled
a bit loosely in this arctic weather, and I was happy to find Al sleeping
already. I was knackered and not willing to discuss my treasured memories of my
time with Hugo with anyone.
I woke up in the morning to an all-around general frenzy regarding the Yule
Ball, and no Al. He only left me a message not to eat the blue cheese at
breakfast, because Parkinson-Nott vomited after she had a piece (but it could
have been her nerves), and that he would see me later. And when I finally made
it to the Great Hall, I stepped into a proper nuthouse, nearing exploding point
from all the excited, hormone-fuelled teenagers expecting their first grand
ball. And of course it had rubbed off on me. I was more of a nervous wreck with
every passing moment, and it didn’t exactly do wonders for my frayed nerves
that, once again, I hadn’t seen Hugo the whole day. In the end, I was desperate
enough to approach Rose at the lunch break and ask her about him, but she said
that she only saw him come to breakfast very early in the morning, but then he
had “vanished without a trace” – her words, not mine. So, you tell me – how
could I not be nervous after that?!
Even when Rose met me in front of the entrance to the glamorously decorated
Great Hall and told me that she had seen her brother at last and that he was
getting ready, it didn’t quite settle my nerves. What if he had changed his
mind? Did a runner, even? Ohbloodyhell, I really shouldn’t have been thinking
those thoughts!
“Rose, are you positively…”
“Merlin have mercy, here they come at last!”
I turned around so fast I nearly snapped my neck and put myself out of my
misery. Coming down the staircase leading from the Gryffindor quarters was a
small army of Gryffindor boys, including Rose’s dates, the Scamander twins, but
I only had eyes for one boy, towering above all of them: Hugo. He came. And he
was… oh, god, he was stunning. Like, seriously spectacular.
He was dressed to the nines, just the way I was – but he had added his own
personal touch to his evening attire that no other boy could pull off. The
black dress robes, fitting like second skin, were made of soft leather polished
to a shine, with silver ornamented lining down the length and all around the
open Russian collar, which made him look incredibly classy and sexy. The black
silken vest over the anthracite shirt accentuated his narrow waist and broad
shoulders, and instead of a bow, there was a shiny black-and-silver brooch of a
coiled dragon linking the two sides of his shirt together. He even had white
leather gloves… fingerless gloves. Jesus… like I said: only Hugo. He exuded
style, confidence, and… oh, god, pure undistilled sex. My knees had turned into
jelly only looking at him. But his attire was only half the story.
For the night, the fiery waterfall of his hair was trapped in an intricate
plait that looked as if he had spent hours making it, but a few loose strands
were left out and they fell softly along the creamy, freckled face, bringing
out those incredible eyes like blue flames. He was so beautiful I had literally
stopped thinking, and I just stood there, rooted to the ground, with my heart
beating madly, filled to the brim with admiration, stunned speechless. Ladies
and gentlemen: my date. My Hugo.
Every girl in the radius of ten meters, and even most of the boys openly gawped
at him, as if they weren’t entirely sure this was the same dreamy boy they were
used to seeing strolling around the castle with colourful smudges on his cheeks
and a forgotten paintbrush behind his ear. Tonight, Hugo Weasley was going in
for the kill – and I was the lucky prey. I had to stop myself from literally
squealing in excitement!
And because under all those fancy, stylish clothes, this was still Hugo, he
made no secret of his feelings. He walked past Rose, gaping like the rest of
them, and straight on to me.
“Hey, baby!” he murmured, and when my melted brain barely managed a feeble
“Hugo…”, he smiled that wild, sexy smile of his – and kissed me breathless.
Seriously – breathless. Among the shocked gasps of the entire school. I would
have collapsed like an empty sack of beans if his arms hadn’t crawled behind my
waist and held me together. There was no chance in hell I could keep the
problem he gave me concealed. Seven hells… You know what – to hell with it. I
was going to strut around with it proudly!
“Merlin, Hugh… he’s not on the menu, you know!” Rose murmured, but judging by
the sound of her voice, she was far from displeased, just wonderfully
entertained. But I could have hexed her when he slowly let go of me, and I
couldn’t hold back a pathetic little whimper. Why did she always have to ruin
all the fun?! But he smoothed out my bow, kissed my brow with a smile, and
quietly whispered:
“Later, yeah?”
Oh, yessss! Try getting rid of me, you redheaded tease!
“So, uhm, why aren’t we going in?” one of the Scamander twins wanted to know,
but Rose merely looked at him imperiously.
“Because we’re still waiting for Lily and Al, aren’t we? I certainly don’t wish
to appear desperate, you know? I’m not Parkinson-Nott! I think she’s been
sitting in there since lunch!
“Hello, I’m here. Sorry I’m late, I just… I couldn’t find…”
I turned around to see Lily Luna Potter, lovely in her long, sky-blue dancing
dress, staring at Hugo and I – or to be more precise, at our intertwined
fingers. Her lips trembled, and it looked like her pretty brown eyes were going
to drown in tears.
“Oh…” she said in a quiet lost voice. “I… I didn’t know…”
“Hey, Lils, you made it,” Rose hugged her cousin warmly. “Look, our dates are
already here. We only have to wait for Al, and then…”
“I don’t know about that,” Lily whispered in a tiny voice, sounding incredibly
sad. “I mean… it was awfully nice of you to offer and I am very thankful, but
none of them really asked me, and… oh, I don’t know…”
She lowered her eyes, and it was heartbreaking to see her face, usually so
sweet and cheerful, looking so pale and miserable.
I took one look at Hugo. One. And he nodded slowly, and gave me that
breathtaking smile of his. Cupping my face into his hands, he looked me
straight in the eye, and said quietly:
“I would be incredibly proud of you.”
He kissed my brow lightly, and I closed my eyes to get what little I could,
knowing that there would always be later to have more. Then I turned around to
prove to Hugo Weasley that I was indeed worthy of his heart.
“Lily Luna Potter, would you do me the immense honour of accompanying me to the
Yule Ball?”
The chatter around us died as if someone had put a big lid over it. Everyone
seemed to stare at us with bated breath, waiting for Lily’s answer. The people
of Hogwarts loved their drama.
“But… but… he’s… you are…”
She couldn’t even form a sentence – I had stunned her to silence. But her eyes…
oh, her pretty brown eyes lit up in hope like a pair of stars, and I knew I was
doing the right thing.
“Darling Lily, I think it is safe to say that my father would see fit to murder
me in my sleep if he found out I wasted those ridiculously expensive dancing
lessons to dance with this brute,” I raised my Malfoyian pointy nose high.  “No
matter how much I love him,” I murmured to myself, but she heard me, and a
sweet chime of a giggle escaped her.
“You really don’t have to,” she said under her breath, but her eyes looked so
bright and hopeful that I didn’t even find it hard to say the words:
“But I want to. Someone once told me that everyone going to the Yule Ball
should feel happy, proud and admired. And I am quite determined to make you so,
Lily. Hugo here won’t be any less of all those things if I go with you.”
“Damn right, Lils,” my wonderful redhead with a heart of gold chipped in – and
then it was up to her.
“All right,” she breathed shakily after what felt like a suspenseful moment of
absolute silence, and the whole corridor erupted in cheers.
“A bloody nice thing to do, Scorp… a bloody nice one,” Rose hugged me fiercely,
and I kind of felt all smug and damn proud of myself.
“But what about you, Hugh?” Lily worried immediately, the gentle, caring soul
that she was. “You dressed up all nice and smart – Merlin, you look handsome!
Won’t that be awfully hard on you?”
“Oh, don’t you worry about me, Princess,” my redhead smiled one his priceless,
lazy smiles. “I’m told Rose got greedy – as usual – and now has a date to
spare. Does anyone of you two prefer boys, by any chance?” he looked at the
Scamanders, and a surge of unbelievable jealousy flooded me instantly. I hadn’t
planned for that!
“Nope,” they said as one, but then one of them took another good look at Hugo,
and sighed: “Sadly. However, I might be…”
“Oh, good,” Hugo said quickly, smiling like the cat that ate the canary. “Or my
boyfriend might skin me alive.”
That bloody… Weasley boy! Oh, grrrr! I can’t believe him! He nearly gave me a
heart attack!
“What did I miss?”
Al, at last. Dressed up like royalty to match his attitude, with a big, sunny
smile on his handsome face.
“Oh, nothing much,” Rose said lightly. “Scorpius here hooked up with Hugo –”
“You did?! Oh, that’s brilliant, mate,” Al offered me his fist for a fist-bump,
and I remembered why I adored that green-eyed monster: he, like every Potter in
existence, had a heart of gold.
“Yes, but that’s not all,” Rose said dryly. “This blond dolt put Hugo’s
boyfriend status on hold to take your sister to the Yule Ball.”
“You… what?!”
“I don’t mind,” Hugo said quickly. “And before you start flailing those gorilla
arms of yours around, threatening me with your Potter-ness – Lily is 16, more
than capable of taking care of herself, and she knows about us. It was her
choice in the end.”
“Are you all right with this, Lils? Like, for real?” Al didn’t forget to shoot
me a dark look of doom before he turned to his sister with genuine concern in
his eyes.
“Absolutely!” the pretty redheaded princess confirmed, with a lovely smile that
made her look glowing. “I get to dance with the most handsome boy in Hogwarts –
what is there to fret about?”
“Second most handsome,” Al mumbled grudgingly.
“Find yourself a place in the queue, cousin dearest,” Hugo chimed in casually
with his devilish grin. “I dare say I’m pretty fucking hot myself.”
Bloody hell – who would have guessed?! Looks like Hugo’s self-confidence could
give Al’s cockiness a run for its money! Oh, he was totally gorgeous, wasn’t
he?! And I couldn’t wait until I got myself a piece of that confident attitude,
yield to the masterful fingers and… oh, fuck, I really was stupid, wasn’t I?!
At this rate I’m going to pierce poor Lily with my unruly cock! I really needed
to get my act together, it wouldn’t do to embarrass a lady! I only had to hold
on for a few more hours. The Yule Ball was the only thing between me and the
night full of bliss I was promised. Talking of the ball…
“Where is your date?” I asked Al eagerly, because in all honesty, I was dying
to know. “Are you bringing a boy or a girl?”
“A… female, actually,” he said matter-of-factly. “I was never really that
interested in boys. It was mostly experimenting… but the gist of it was to get
you interested in boys.”
Wait, what?! What?!
I must have worn my shell-shocked expression on my face, because he just smiled
that radiant, decadent Potter smile that told me he was utterly enjoying this,
and explained casually:
“Scorp, mate, you’re so bloody competitive that you were practically a sitting
duck. And so deeply in the closet you didn’t even know there was a closet.
Hell, I’m surprised that when you came out, it wasn’t in bloody Narnia!”
Honestly, those Muggle references of his… and in a serious moment like this!
“So, you, dating everyone – that was about me?!” I asked weakly barely able to
believe the grand-master level of his cunningness. Honestly, I wasn’t even
angry, that was amazing!
“Yup,” he confirmed merrily. “Couldn’t let you mope around the wrong gender
forever, could I?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, do you two mind being all nice and chummy on your own
time?!” Rose interrupted him before I could reply. “I’d like to go in now, or
we’ll miss the beginning. Albus, if your date fell through…”
“Good evening, everyone. I trust I am still on time, yes?”
Everybody turned around at the sound of that voice. Everybody. And… bloody
hell. Bloody hell, Al, you brilliant, lucky bastard!
Madame Gabrielle Delacour had been invited from Beauxbatons to Hogwarts for one
term as an exchange professor of the newly introduced Social Integration and
Cultural Diversity class, and she was the stuff the dreams were made of. One
quarter Veela, the classy and incredibly poised petite blonde had been an
endless source for every male fantasy and female envy ever since – and it
really should have been my first clue that I was gay and beyond when I was not
daydreaming about her. Some two decades older than us, she was in her prime,
and her airy, ethereal appearance alone was enough to stun an entire class of
rowdy teenagers into silence. And it appeared that tonight she was to be Al’s
date. Bloody hell… No wonder Al seemed to be hovering a foot above the ground –
I couldn’t even blame the lucky sod! The crystal-blue evening dress she chose
sparkled as if it was made of a million snowflakes, and it brought out her ice-
blue eyes beautifully. I confess even I was a bit stunned by how breathtaking
she was.
“You… are going with her?! But she’s a professor!” Rose asked Al in a stunned,
awed voice, echoing everyone’s sentiment.
“Oh, I’m not your professor anymore, Rose dearest,” Madame Delacour replied
kindly. “My engagement at Hogwarts was terminated yesterday, but I was
graciously invited by the Headmistress McGonagall to attend the dance. And
since I don’t know too many people around here, Albus - who is practically
family - gallantly offered to serve as my escort and accompany me… as a
friend.”
“With benefits, I hope,” Al mouthed soundlessly in my direction, and I could
barely hold back a snort when he winked cheekily. The way his green eyes
sparkled like freshly-poured champagne, I was fairly sure that the naughty
sparkle had something to do with the famously beautiful French lady agreeing to
Al’s invitation. The rumour was, she had a bit of a weakness for Al’s father
back in the day when he saved her from the Great Lake – and judging by the old
photographs, Al happened to be the spitting image of his dad in his youth. Oh,
the Hogwarts rumour mill is going to positively explode in excitement tonight!
“Oh, I suppose if you’re going as friends…” Rose murmured to herself, clearly
still having issues with trying to reconcile herself to the idea.
“Rose, if you’re going to be jealous, perhaps you should do that on your own
time,” Hugo proposed leisurely – and oh, my God, does my boyfriend has the
biggest set of balls in Hogwarts or what?! I had the terrible urge to laugh,
only I honestly had no death wish, you see.
“I’m not…” Rose started heatedly, but then looked at the smiling face and
arched eyebrow of one Gabrielle Delacour, and she wisely shut up.
“Shall we?” I offered Lily my arm to resolve the awkward situation like the
gentleman I was bred to be, and when she nodded happily, I took one last look
at a smiling Hugo to last me a while. Soon, lovely, soon. This had better be
one magical evening!
And it was. Of course we caused a bloody earthquake of scandal when we walked
through that door, paired as we were. Parkinson-Nott almost choked on her
canapé, and I’m fairly sure I overheard Freddie Weasley collecting bets from
people who missed our little drama in the corridor on which one of the
Scamanders was dating which one of the Weasleys, but I honestly thought
McGonagall was going to swallow her glasses in surprise when she saw Al leading
in Madame Delacour by the hand.
Those dancing lessons my father insisted on paid off indeed. Lily was a
splendid dancer, but even if she wasn’t: “It is not important if the lady can
move,” my Grandmother Cissy had told me. “It is the gentleman’s job to make her
seem like she can!” So I danced until I could barely feel my feet, and not only
with Lily, but with a smiling Rose, who no longer seemed to be grumpy, Madame
Delacour – who challenged all my dancing skills and kissed me on the cheek
before I led her back to Al – and even Headmistress McGonagall, who seemed
uncommonly flushed and cheerful.
But all that time, my head was full of Hugo, and every time I caught a glimpse
of him – laughing, dancing, or even just chatting with another person – my
heart skipped a beat, my inherent jealousy threatened to overcome me, and I
began to wonder if perhaps, he was having too much fun, and had forgotten about
our plans. But when I had nearly given up hope, finally a slow song began to
play, and Lily promptly collapsed next to Rose on one of the benches and told
me she was skipping this one or her feet were going to fall off. I hastily
excused myself and dove into the crowd to find Hugo, but I didn’t get very far.
Long arms wrapped around me from behind, and I didn’t have to be told that he
had found me.
I leaned back onto him, closed my eyes, and let myself drown in that heavenly
scent of polished leather, warm skin, and the alluring unique musk that was
purely “Hugo” in my hormone-addled mind. There was no better smell for me in
the world. It started that slow fire at the bottom of my balls that could only
go one way, and I could already feel my skin prickle in sweet expectation.
“May I have this dance?” he murmured into my ear, and I had to bite back a moan
when I felt his warm breath on my sensitive skin.
“Oh God, yes, please!” I blurted out, and turned in his arms to face him. How
was it that from close up, Hugo Weasley always took my breath away? Will I ever
get over the shock of how blue his eyes are and how deep inside of me they were
able to see? And that pretty, soft mouth with clusters of freckles all around
it… oh… I launched myself at his mouth to make up for all the lost time, and I
had to close my eyes not to lose my balance when I found my embarrassing
eagerness returned with the same desperate passion. Merlin, will I ever get
used to the idea that he is mine, and that kissing him is something I can do?!
“Would you be terribly upset… if I kidnapped you from this glamourous event… to
ravage this lovely arse of yours completely?” he whispered into our kiss with
that dark, seductive voice of his. When his hands landed on the arse in
question and squeezed it to make a point, my cock answered before I could, and
I reckon… ohbloodyhell, it was a solid, resounding “yesssss!!!”. The answer I
did give him in the end was not something to write home about, but the sound
that escaped me would have made any Neanderthal proud.
“I take that as a yes?” he chuckled, to which I mewled most embarrassingly:
“Cantwedoitherenow?!” – just because it was too far to that bloody tower!
“Baby, you read my mind,” he breathed with a radiant, sexy smile, which made my
heart flutter and my... other... organs move. He paused briefly before
murmuring quietly:
"Besides, I’m dying to taste you in my mouth.” Oh, he was totally mean that way
– I nearly orgasmed a little, you know! I couldn't do that to my fine Italian
trousers!
On our way out I noticed Lily shoot a shy, flirty smile at one of the
Scamanders, while Rose engaged the other twin in a kiss that could lose the
Gryffindors all house points if all the lights were on. Al and his date were
nowhere to be seen – bloody boy, what a lucky sod! – but I wasn’t complaining.
Right there in the palm of my hand, I held the thing I craved the most, and it
was warm, and its grip on me was firm. I could wish for nothing better… just,
perhaps, one thing: some reassurance, because it was worrying me to no end.
“There will be more after this… quickie, right? This is not, like, a one-night
stand, right?”
He stopped and turned me towards himself. Those spellbinding eyes were on me
for a second, and then he leaned down to kiss my brow, the side of my face,
nuzzled my ears – ohMerlinhavemercy! – and when I closed my eyes, I felt the
same fluttering kiss on my eyelids that melted my defences the first time.
“Hugo…” I whispered, but my words were caught by his mouth, and I lost all
sense of reality.
“Scorp, baby… I’m going to open your fancy silken trousers right there, in that
dark alcove by the door, and I’m going to pull this beautiful rosy cock of
yours out… because I’ve been dying to lick… and suck… and worship you on my
knees since the moment I saw you standing there, all polished and dandy,
waiting for me. And then I’m going to take you to my studio and get you naked…
with all the bloody lights on, every single candle, because I want to see… and
feel… and own you… the whole of you. That marble skin turning pink, the perfect
arch of your body when you offer yourself to me, the rosy nipples begging for
attention, that obscenely hard cock leaking all the way down to your tense
balls, that gorgeous round arse I’m dying to explore. I want to devour all your
innocence… I want to corrupt you, my silver-eyed angel… and I want you to do it
to me. My genius needs its inspiration, it needs more of you.I need more of
you. I need all of you, everything you can give me. You’re coming with me if I
have to drag you up there and tie you down to stay.”
Oh my dear horny God… I was a complete and utter sucker for dirty talk as well…
who knew? Tie me down… that alone made me unfit to move in any direction, or I
would have come on the spot. Let alone all that other stuff…
“Tie me down… with ropes and such…?” I asked weakly because the thought was…
ohmyfuckingMerlin…
“I was thinking… with my Gryffindor tie for a start, my little curious
pervert,” he chuckled quietly, and bit my lip the way it made me moan wantonly.
“And I’ll play with you, my naughty blond kneazle, until you promise to come
back.”
“Yesss… I…”
“Every day.”
“Yes… every day.”
And I meant it. Every day. For the rest of my life. Because I had the one boy
that was magical enough to see and love all the geeky, shy, and innocent parts
of me right by my side, whispering “You’re mine, blondie, and don’t you ever
forget it. I don't share well... and I do love you so.”

To hell with my fine Italian trousers.
End Notes
     Happy new year 2017 and if the Universe is listening - you better
     make this one a better one, 2016 was a plague of a year!
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