Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/743243.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Scorpius_Malfoy/James_Sirius_Potter
  Character:
      Scorpius_Malfoy, James_Sirius_Potter, Albus_Severus_Potter
  Additional Tags:
      Mute!Scorpius, Dark!James, Rating:_NC17, Autoerotic_Asphyxiation,
      Breathplay, Consensual_Violence
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-03-31 Words: 11427
****** Scream For Me ******
by LadySlytherin
Summary
     James Sirius Potter hates Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy more than
     anything.
     At least, that's what he thinks. Until he realizes that he likes
     hurting Scorpius a little too much. Is it possible there's more
     there?
     Scorpius has spent most of his life in silence. But James makes him
     want to laugh; want to cry; want to scream. And he loves the
     Gryffindor for it.
     Will it be enough?
Notes
     A prize for the lovely yeaka, because she beat me at warring. It
     ought to have been 100 words long. Somehow, it turned into THIS. But
     I love it, so all is well. <3
     For anyone who's read my fic, "Perpetua Silencia" - this might seem
     oddly similar. That's because yeaka loved the James/Scorpius sidebar
     and so she got her own Mute!Scorpius fic, with James instead of
     Albus. :D That's where the similarities end, though! I assure you,
     this Scorpius and this James (and even this Albus) are VERY
     different!
     Enjoy!
     ~ LS
 
James Sirius Potter sometimes felt that life was entirely unfair. Such as when
he thought about the fact that his almost-older-brother, Teddy Lupin, had never
gotten to know his parents, who had died shortly after he was born. Or when he
thought about how his Uncle George had lost his twin in battle just hours
before the war was over. Or when he thought about everyone who looked so sad at
the memorial services that were held at Hogwarts every year in the spring. It
just wasn’t right, that one person’s actions could spiral out to cause so much
pain to so many people. It just wasn’t fair.
 
Other times, James thought that life had its own special way of settling the
score…but those times were far less frequent. The biggest one was when James
was twelve. It didn’t happen when he was twelve, of course, but he’d been too
little to read the papers or understand it when it did happen. He’d been a mere
8 years old, in fact, when the incident occurred. But he was twelve when he
first understood it.
 
Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy was the son of Draco Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass.
And while Astoria had done nothing wrong in her life, Draco certainly had. As
had his parents. And in James’ opinion, nothing that any of the three of them –
Draco, Lucius, and Narcissa – had done at the end of the war or after it was
over, made up for the pain they’d caused other people. No amount of money
thrown at charities, or time donated to rebuilding Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, or
tips given for catching rogue Death Eaters, made up for the lives lost or the
people hurt or the damage done. So James had grown up hating Draco Malfoy,
despite having never met the man and despite how his father always quietly
stated that Draco had been just a child when the war had happened and deserved
to be forgiven, especially after so much time.
 
And when he saw Scorpius, standing beside his little brother during the
Sorting, James felt all of that hatred transfer to the little boy. The hatred
just grew worse when Scorpius was Sorted into Slytherin just after Albus and
the two of them seemed to hit it off right away. The hatred melted into self-
righteous smugness, however, when the whispers of the older students –
including some of James’ own cousins – made their way to his eager ears.
Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy wasn’t normal; he was mute.
 
Scorpius hadn’t been born that way, though. No, when he was just 7 years old,
an anti-Death-Eater group had broken into Malfoy Manor and attacked. Though the
Malfoy family had fought them off, a well-aimed curse had severed the young
Malfoy heir’s vocal cords. None of the Healers he’d been taken to see had been
able to repair them; the boy had been unable to speak since. And while James
didn’t think it was right to throw curses at small children, a small part of
him felt vindicated by the fact that Draco Malfoy had been made to suffer
through damage done to his family…just like all the families who’d been hurt by
the Malfoys had.
 
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 
James was in his Fourth Year when his hatred of Scorpius grew into a living
entity of its own; something that consumed him. Albus brought the little boy
home for Christmas and James’ parents fell instantly in love with the petite
blonde. Even Lily seemed enamored. Scorpius used a small slate to communicate;
he scrawled – in neat and tidy letters – across the slate, with chalk that was
charmed to change colors with his mood. Everyone seemed to adore the young boy,
who smiled shyly and blushed easily; whose platinum hair fell in a tousled mess
into grey eyes that were wide and innocent.
 
But James couldn’t help despising the eerily-silent child who seemed to garner
affection so easily. And the more everyone seemed to adore Scorpius, the more
James hated him. It grew inside him, building up and coiling around his soul,
twisting him up inside. And, as these things often do, one day it twisted too
far. And then, James broke.
 
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 
James was in his Sixth Year when he finally snapped. Scorpius and Albus had
been studying in the library with Rose and Lily and some of their friends.
James was sitting with a couple of his own friends at a nearby table, but he
wasn’t studying. He was watching Scorpius through narrowed eyes as he grinned
affectionately at everyone and jotted things down on his little slate. When
Scorpius pushed away from the table and wandered into the stacks, waving off
Rose’s company, James swiftly followed him.
 
He followed the younger boy to a secluded area. Then, glancing around to make
sure no one was nearby, James grabbed Scorpius by the arm and slammed him
against the shelves. Then he pinned the petite boy with an arm across his
throat. Scorpius’ silver eyes were wide and confused as he tried to shrink back
into the books, away from James. The Gryffindor’s face was twisted into a cruel
sneer as he leaned in, his nose practically touching Scorpius’.
 
“You listen to me, you little viper.” James hissed, his hazel eyes narrowed as
he pressed his arm tighter to Scorpius’ throat. Scorpius’ hands scrambled
against James’ arm, clawing and prying to no avail. “You stay the fuck away
from my family, do you understand?”
 
Scorpius was still clawing at James’ arm and he was squirming; writhing against
James in a futile attempt to gain the full use of his lungs again. His eyes
were wide and he was dragging in shallow, rasping breaths against the pressure
of James’ arm. His fingers continued to scrabble against James’ skin, prying
uselessly as his vision began to grey. James watched with a strange, dark
thrill curling through him as Scorpius struggled and gasped. When the boy’s
eyes began to flutter and his hands fell weakly to his sides, James backed off
at last. Scorpius collapsed to the floor the instant James was no longer
supporting him, his hands cradling his throat as he sucked in huge gulps of
air. His eyes were wide and locked fearfully on James’ face. James was startled
to realize, as he stared down at the silent Slytherin, that he was aroused.
 
After a long, silent moment, James sneered down at Scorpius and spat angrily .
“Stay away from my family, Malfoy. Or else.”
 
James turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Scorpius panting on the
floor. He went directly back to his dorm room and sealed himself inside his
red-and-gold bed. As he pulled out his still-hard prick and fisted it roughly,
he closed his eyes and pictured Scorpius. Pinned to the bookshelves. Scared and
struggling to breathe. Writhing against him. Collapsing to the floor. Looking
up at him, terrified and trembling.
 
Then James thought of how Scorpius had looked as he’d hovered on the brink of
unconsciousness. His head thrown back, James’ arm across his throat. His hands
falling limply to his sides. His full pink lips tinged faintly blue and slack
as he tried to gasp for air. His eyelashes fluttering as he struggled to stay
conscious despite the lack of air.
 
With a low, hoarse groan, James spilled himself over his fist, sticky heat
coating his hand and stomach as he slumped into the mattress, utterly spent.
 
As his eyes closed in post-orgasmic bliss, James had only a single thought in
his mind. ‘I need more.’
 
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 
Scorpius Malfoy left the library without stopping to explain to any of the
Potter/Weasley children or their friends. He didn’t know how to explain what
had happened; not in a way that wouldn’t piss off James’ family, especially
Albus. For his part, Scorpius wasn’t angry. He hadn’t been surprised, either,
when he’d been slammed into the bookshelves. Because while Scorpius had spent
his entire life trying to live down the infamy of his last name, James Sirius
Potter had spent his whole life trying to live up to his. All three of them, in
fact.
 
James was confident, bold, and charming. He was brash, arrogant, and suave. He
was a born prankster, a scheming mastermind, and sometimes a bully. He was
fiercely protective, deviously clever, and dangerously flippant. Scorpius had
been expecting James to threaten him ever since he’d first realized James
disliked him, which had been sometime during his First Year. The only thing
that was surprising to Scorpius was that it had taken this long for it to
happen. He had never imagined James Sirius Potter had that type of control and
he’d been waiting for the day the older boy snapped for years.
 
Now that it had finally happened, Scorpius wasn’t quite sure what to do. In the
beginning, he’d imagined walking away from Albus Severus Potter and returning
to his solitary, friendless existence; the one he’d been just fine with ever
since he stopped being able to speak at seven. Children were rarely patient
with children who couldn’t speak and play the way they could; at least, that
had been Scorpius’ experience. But as time had passed, Scorpius had found other
friends as well: Albus, Rose, Lily, Hugo, Lorcan and Lysander Scamander, and
various others. And the idea of walking away from them - from any of them -
wasn’t something Scorpius was okay with.
 
Scorpius loved Albus. Not romantically, of course, but Scorpius loved him
regardless. He also loved Lily and Rose and Hugo and Albus’ parents and Rose’s
parents and their grandparents...Scorpius loved them all. He loved them for
accepting him; for letting him into their lives and their hearts; for treating
him like he was just another person, rather than a cripple. It was lovely to be
treated like he wasn’t made of spun-glass; like he wouldn’t shatter if someone
spoke too loudly or looked at him askance or disagreed with him.
 
Which was why Scorpius had been madly, passionately in love with James for
years. Because James nevergave in to him or pretended to be nice. In fact,
James was barely civil to him. The eldest Potter child had gotten into trouble
for just that on several occasions, in fact. Scorpius didn’t mind, though. He
didn’t want James to like him just because he was ‘that poor Malfoy boy’ like
he sometimes worried people did; he wanted James to like him for him.
 
Which wasn’t going to happen if James wouldn’t even give him the time of day,
but Scorpius had hoped that if he could just prove he had no evil intentions,
James would one day come round.
 
Being slammed into a bookcase seemed to contra-indicate that possibility, but
Scorpius had learned during his years of silence to watch people for non-vocal
cues. He assumed it was because he, himself, didn’t have a tone of voice. And
there had been something in James’ eyes as he’d walked away, leaving Scorpius
on the floor of the library. Something dark, yes, and angry, as expected...but
also something that was almost like curiosity and a little bit like desire.
Something Scorpius was hoping he could work with.
 
Because if there was even the slimmest possibility that James could be his,
Scorpius was going to do whatever it took to make it happen.
 
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 
It was cold in Scotland in the winter, but Scorpius didn’t mind. The snow
muffled everything and he didn’t feel quite so out-of-place in his own silence.
He liked the way the cold seeped into everything: his skin and clothes, the
walls and floors of the castle, the glass of the windows. Scorpius loved to
watch the ice form on the lake, then drift in broken pieces across the surface,
like pieces of shattered glass. But most of all, more than anything, Scorpius
loved to watch his breath form into a small cloud of mist before him. It was
the only time something truly tangible left his mouth anymore and he savored
it, small thing though it was.
 
Which was why he was tromping around the edge of the lake, the thin layer of
snow coating the ground crunching softly under his feet. Big, fat flakes were
falling steadily and Scorpius relished the stinging of his cheeks, nose, and
ears as the cold bit into him. He tipped his head back, his hood falling from
its place over his hair, and flung his arms wide as he spun in a circle. Snow
clung to his hair and lashes, his upturned face a picture of sheer delight as
he twirled in the snow. Not for the first time, Scorpius wished he could laugh
again; his joy was bright and vibrant and, as always, silent.
 
When he’d first been hurt, Scorpius had struggled to make sounds. To laugh, to
sob, to manage some small method of vocalization. But the few times he’d tried,
his parents and grandparents had cringed and shushed him. He had soon learned
full-silence was better than the crushing disappointment of trying to be heard
and understood, and failing. So he did not let loose the laughter tickling his
throat; it wouldn’t sound like a laugh anyway, so why bother? No one but him
would recognize whatever distorted sound left his lips for what it was, so why
break the silence at all?
 
Suddenly, Scorpius was on his back. Flat on his back, in the snow. Which wasn’t
surprising, since snow was slippery and spinning made you dizzy, except that
Scorpius hadn’t fallen.
 
Scorpius stared up, stunned, at James Sirius Potter. To be honest, he’d been
expecting this for the last two weeks. He hadn’t stayed away from Albus, after
all, or any of the others. And he’d known James would be furious, but he hadn’t
cared. Not in the way James wanted him to, anyway; he wasn’t afraid. Instead,
he found himself wantingthe confrontation, if only so he would have all of
James’ considerable intensity focused on him. Even if it wasonly for a moment
or two.
 
James was seated heavily on Scorpius’ hips, glaring down at him. His hands were
clenched into fists and he was grinding his teeth together. He looked livid;
ready to kill. Scorpius’ heart raced and everything in him tingled and sparked;
James was forceful and overwhelming and Scorpius wanted to just beg the older
boy. Not to spare him, but to devour him. To kiss him, shove him, shatter him;
to do to him whatever James pleased. But since he had no words, Scorpius just
stared with wide, silver eyes.
 
James’ lips curled in a snarl and he reached out to fist a hand in platinum
blonde hair. He tugged sharply, dragging Scorpius’ head up, out of the snow.
Then James froze, mouth falling open in surprise. His fingers went slack and
Scorpius’ head landed back on the ground with a soft thud. For his part, it
took Scorpius a moment to realize why James had released him; why James looked
so utterly stunned. He had whimpered without meaning to. The sound had been
high and broken and rusty, like a tin can dragged across asphalt, but it had
been clearly audible.
 
James’ hazel eyes narrowed and he hissed furiously. “You can talk?”
 
Scorpius pressed his lips firmly together and shook his head almost
desperately. His hands scrambled for his slate and chalk, but James slapped at
them and spat. “You made a sound. I heard you.”
 
Scorpius bit his lower lip, tears stinging his eyes; a single sound had no
bearing on his ability to speak and he knew that. Speech required a vast
compilation of sounds that were far beyond him. But he had no way to explain
that and, even if he did, he doubted James was willing to listen. So he just
lowered his gaze, golden lashes sweeping down to shield his eyes. There was
nothing to do now but wait and see what James would do next.
 
James’ fingers curled around Scorpius’ chin, squeezing sharply. His short,
blunt nails dug into the tender skin below Scorpius’ jaw as he leaned in,
growling dangerously. Scorpius’ mouth opened on a silent sound of pain; it
wasn’t one his vocal cords could give voice to, even brokenly. His eyes flew
open and he gave James a hurt look, but didn’t fight the Gryffindor at all.
 
Scorpius cringed when James captured one of his wrists and began to squeeze,
watching the Slytherin’s face closely. As much as Scorpius tried to fight it,
another silent cry left his mouth. He could feel his throat working around the
breath of air; it felt sharp and harsh and unpleasant. But no amount of trying
could make a sound occur; there were many things his vocal cords just couldn’t
do any longer and this was clearly one of them. After a long moment, during
which Scorpius writhed helplessly under James, unable to take the feeling of
his delicate wrist-bones grinding together in James’ grip without doing
something, James finally relaxed his grip.
 
Scorpius turned his face away, ignoring the cold snow melting under his cheek,
and his body shuddered as he sobbed. His wrist came up between their bodies,
cradled carefully against his chest, and James stared at the reddened skin for
a moment, wondering if perhaps it would bruise. The idea of deep purple, vivid
blue, and sickly yellow-green painting the pale flesh of Scorpius Malfoy was
oddly appealing and James’ eyes lifted to the boy’s angelic face.
 
James almost flinched at the accusing, wounded look Scorpius was giving him.
Almost. Too much of his mind was focused on the strange, broken sound Scorpius
had made before to bother with something as petty as a guilty conscience.
 
He licked his lips and leaned in, hissing softly. “We both know you can make
some sounds, so there’s no use pretending you can’t. And I’m going to figure
out just what those sounds are, you know. Even if it takes me the rest of the
year. I’ll wring them from you, one by one.” James pressed two fingers harshly
into the skin of Scorpius’ damaged wrist, ignoring how he flinched, adding.
“And I’m going to enjoy it, too.”
 
Scorpius didn’t doubt that; the dark desire flickering in those hazel eyes
would have been disconcerting to someone who wasn’t a Malfoy. But Scorpius had
grown up in Malfoy Manor, a house still held deep in the shadows of a war long-
since-over. He had been brutally attacked and permanently damaged at a
horrifically young age. Pain didn’t frighten him any longer, and James Potter
didn’t frighten him either. Scorpius’ chin came up in stubborn defiance,
refusing to be intimidated by a mere Gryffindor bully, no matter how gorgeous
or dangerous he was.
 
James smirked cruelly. “Oh, you’re not going to make this easy on yourself,
then?” He purred, looking positively thrilled by this fact. “Lovely. It’ll be
so much better when you finally break.”
 
Scorpius swallowed hard, wondering why James hated him the way he seemed to. He
almost gave up on the idea of changing his best friend’s brother’s mind, but
there was something about the desire etched on James’ face that continued to
give him hope. It wasn’t pure or nice or even heated, but it was there. And
Scorpius would find a way to exploit it. He caught his lower lip between his
teeth, then made a decision. Very slowly, he reached out with his uninjured
hand. He touched James’ wrist, very fleetingly, then reached up to touch his
own hair.
 
James stared at him in shock for a moment, then rolled his eyes. “Of course.
I’d just done this...”
 
Without further expounding, James fisted his hand in Scorpius’ hair again,
hauling the blonde upright until they were sitting practically chest-to-chest,
with James still straddling Scorpius’ lap. Scorpius’ mouth had fallen open, but
no sound was made. James growled, shifting his weight in annoyance and setting
something fluttering in Scorpius’ stomach as their bodies brushed together. The
heat of James’ larger body against his front was a startling contrast to the
cold wetness that had seeped into Scorpius’ back while he was lying in the snow
beneath James.
 
Scorpius didn’t fight it; his head fell back under the sharp points of pain in
his skull, but there was an undercurrent of pleasure to the sensation as well.
James tugged again and his mouth opened on a soft, needy whine. The sound had a
broken cadence to it; it wavered and cut in and out like a note sung an octave
too high, but it was there. And even as James let out a victorious little
laugh, Scorpius’ body arched helplessly underneath him.
 
 
 
James’ eyes widened as he felt the unmistakable press of Scorpius’ erection
against his ass. His laughter - born of pride at having forced that desperate
sound from the silent Slytherin - died on his lips. His eyes narrowed again and
he pulled Scorpius’ hair harder, watching Scorpius’ face carefully. Pain
flickered briefly over haughty, delicate features, then those grey eyes
darkened and those plump lips parted on a sound that - distorted or not - was
clearly one of pleasure. Scorpius’ whole face changed as desire curled through
him and he arched up into James again.
 
James sneered, feigning disgust when really he was fighting the urge to shove
the smaller teen onto his back and grind against him until he came; until they
both came. James’ voice was nasty as he spat. “Are you actually getting off on
this? You twisted little shit!”
 
Scorpius’ glared weakly up at James, then slipped his bruised arm down from
where it was cradled against his chest to press against James’ groin. An
unmistakable hardness met his palm for the barest moment and a triumphant light
showed in Scorpius’ eyes. Then James painfully captured his wrist again and
dragged his hand away, looking ready to kill. Scorpius struggled futilely
against the painful grip, tears stinging the backs of his eyes.
 
James gave one last, harsh squeeze before releasing Scorpius and saying coldly.
“No one said you could touch me, Malfoy.”
 
Scorpius just closed his eyes and tried to turn his face away, though the hand
still twisted in his hair made that difficult. He didn’t understand James’
motivation, which made James harder to predict. And the harder it was to
predict James, the more impossible it became to manipulate him. Scorpius was at
a serious disadvantage and he had no idea how to shift the balance. Then, just
as suddenly as he’d been pinned, James’ weight was gone.
 
His eyes flying open, Scorpius looked around frantically. James took in the
desperation on the blonde’s aristocratic features, an unholy glee coiling in
his stomach. He smirked and drawled. “I’m the one calling the shots here,
Malfoy. Be sure to remember that.”
 
As he watched James saunter away, still sitting on the frozen ground, wet and
shivering from cold now that James’ heat was gone, Scorpius wasn’t quite sure
what he was supposed to do next. But the sad truth was, James was right. He was
calling the shots. And all Scorpius could do was wait. So he did.
 
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 
Scorpius didn’t tell anyone about his interactions with James. He didn’t see
any reason to alarm or upset anyone. He tugged his sweater sleeves down over
his hands to hide the bruising on his wrist and made sure not to look at James.
He didn’t want his eyes - or his chalk - to give away what he was feeling. He
wasn’t sure what might show, but he didn’t want to risk it.
 
So when Albus asked him on Friday (the one a week before Christmas break and
almost a full week after the snow-incident) how he was doing, Scorpius
studiously kept his eyes on the table in front of him. If he glanced across the
Great Hall at the Gryffindor table, Scorpius knew he might break. So instead,
he tugged his slate up from where it rested on his chest and wrote.
 
‘I’m fine, Al. Just tired.’ The words gleamed a soft, subtle blue.
 
Al’s mouth twisted. “Tired, huh? Well, I don’t know about that.” He reached out
and brushed platinum fringe back from pale skin and silver eyes, then sighed.
“You don’t feel feverish, at least. But you’ve got to take better care of
yourself. Everyone is worried about you.”
 
Scorpius gave Albus a wan smile and nodded, chasing peas around his plate with
his fork as he dropped his eyes again. He didn’t want to worry anyone, but
there was no way he was explaining. After a few minutes, he picked up his chalk
again and wrote. ‘I’m going to go lie down.’ This time, the words were a deeper
blue that Scorpius wished he could erase; he didn’t like the color.
 
Albus nodded, looking worried. “If you want to talk about it...” Scorpius just
waved him off as he stood. Albus opened his mouth to say something else, but
Scorpius walked away before he could speak. He just wanted to be alone.
 
Of course, alone wasn’t always an easy thing to do. Especially not when
everyone knew who you were and worried about you all of the time. It was funny
that the reason Scorpius most-often longed for a voice wasn’t because he wanted
to speak, but simply because he wanted to be normal. He wanted to be treated
like he was normal. Not like he was made of spun sugar or glass; not like his
skin was tissue-paper thin and his bones were brittle; not like he could break
under the weight of too-harsh a look.
 
So Scorpius knew that going to the Slytherin dorms wasn’t going to do him any
good. Classes were over for the day and he’d shortly find himself surrounded by
well-meaning friends who would pet his hair and murmur soothingly and offer to
fix everything for him like he was a spoiled prince. Sometimes, Scorpius liked
those things; he was a Slytherin, after all. And having everyone dote on him
was lovely when his nerves were stretched taut at exam-time and he needed some
coddling. But most times, he wanted to just shove everyone away and tell them
to piss off. He wasn’t a child and he hated being treated like one.
 
He didn’t shove them away, of course, because it would be rude. And he was
never that. After all, they just loved him. They wanted to take care of him
because they loved him. And he couldn’t fault them for loving him that much; it
was far too lovely that they did. So Scorpius put up with the fussing and the
coddling and the petting, knowing it was done with the best of intentions. But
sometimes, every so often, it got to be too much and Scorpius sought out
alternative places to hide. Because really, one teenage boy could only take so
much.
 
He’d hidden in the Room of Requirement every now and then, but the Potter-
Weasley children understood the room far better than him and could often get in
even when he didn’t want them to. Sometimes he walked by the lake, as he had a
week ago, but it was out in the open and he was more-likely to be spotted
there. And if he was found wandering in the cold, he’d get lectured and coddled
even more. It wasn’t worth the risk. So he most-often wandered the castle-
proper.
 
Corridors and stairs and classrooms formed a veritable labyrinth for one to
lose themselves in. Scorpius knew the school quite well by now and as long as
he kept moving, the odds of someone finding him were fairly slim. Scorpius knew
which portraits would open if you asked them nicely to reveal hidden passages;
he knew which tapestries hid corridors or staircases; he knew which rooms had a
second way in-or-out and thus made perfect places to disappear. Scorpius also
knew which hallways were dead ends, which stairs had stairs that vanished so
you’d get your foot stuck, and which doors weren’t really doors. So he never
got trapped when trying to hide from others; Scorpius knew the school too well
for that. Sometimes, he thought he knew it better than anyone.
 
So when Scorpius heard footsteps heading towards him, he didn’t panic. He just
kept walking until he reached the next tapestry, then slipped behind it and
began to calmly climb the stairs. His eyes widened slightly when he heard the
footsteps pause, then sound on the stairs as well. He was nearly at the top,
though, so he still didn’t panic. He finished climbing, took the left door at
the top of the stairs rather than the one in the center, and slipped out of the
disused shower room he was in via the door to the hallway.
 
Scorpius shook his head in bemusement, then headed down the corridor. He didn’t
mind when he had to evade someone; it tested his knowledge of the school and
it’s many twists-and-turns. Scorpius turned a corner and froze; the sound of a
door opening and closing behind him meant the person he’d heard had somehow
followed him. His eyebrows drew together in vague annoyance and he quickened
his steps. Even as he moved, he began writing on his slate. The chalk shone a
vibrant pink; he was annoyed, but also exhilarated. He loveda challenge.
 
As Scorpius ducked down a small hallway, he finished writing. He dashed up to a
portrait of a stern-looking woman and held up the slate, looking pleading. ‘I
am afraid and need to hide. Please, let me in?’
 
The woman’s countenance softened instantly and she nodded. “Of course, darling.
Come in.”
 
She swung wide and Scorpius scrambled into the room she hid. It had taken him
months to convince her to let him in the first time and she still sometimes
refused him. It was all in the wording of his request to enter, he’d
discovered. He was grateful it had worked today, and on the first try as well.
The portrait swung shut behind him and Scorpius couldn’t keep the smug grin off
his face. He thought this room had once been a teacher’s quarters since it had
a bed, a small sitting area, and a bathroom. It was old-fashioned and dirty,
but Scorpius knew the proper spells to vanish the dust. He just didn’t bother.
 
Ignoring the cloud of dust it caused, Scorpius dropped down heavily onto the
sofa. He lazily waved his hand in front of his face, dispelling the dust, then
sighed silently. He let his head fall back, resting it on the still-plush
cushioning of the sofa’s back, closing his eyes. Scorpius didn’t mind the dust
in the room, or the silence, or the way the windows were covered in a layer of
grime that kept most of the sunlight out. He liked how peaceful it was; he
liked that no one would bother him here.
 
When the portrait suddenly opened and shut, Scorpius stiffened. There was no
way he’d been followed; no way someone had gotten in. It just wasn’t possible.
The low, angry growl of a voice behind him had him squeezing his eyes shut even
tighter. “Colloportus! Cave Inimicum!”
 
Well, that was one hell of a locking spell combination. Scorpius wondered if he
could break through them to get out, then decided he didn’t want to. This had
been brewing for far too long. And if James was going to track him down in
hidden places, then Scorpius didn’t see any reason to keep running. So he
didn’t even bother opening his eyes, or turning around. Instead, Scorpius
stayed just where he was and waited.
 
James’ low, furious voice sounded from right in front of him. “Hiding from me,
Malfoy? Should’ve known you were a coward!”
 
Scorpius opened his eyes and shook his head slowly, his face blank. Then he
began to write on his slate, holding it up for James to see the blue lettering.
‘Not hiding from you. Hiding from everyone else. How did you find me?’
 
James smirked and waved a battered piece of parchment. “Just a little family
secret for tracking within Hogwarts, Malfoy. Nothing to worry your pretty
little head about.”
 
The sneering edge to James’ voice didn’t lessen the flush of pleasure Scorpius
felt at being called ‘pretty’ by the Gryffindor. Scorpius licked his lips, his
breath quickening, and scrawled new words across his slate; this time they were
a bright pink. ‘Hurt me.’
James’ body jerked as though he’d been given a small electrical shock;
confusion washed over his face. “What are you on about, Malfoy?”
 
Scorpius sighed silently and scrawled more words. ‘We both know you want to.’
The letters shimmered from pink at the start to a deep red at the end; his
annoyance was starting to outweigh the excitement and anticipation he was
feeling.
 
James snorted, disbelief clear on his face. His voice was harsh and angry. “Oh
and you’re just going to let me? Why? So you can get me expelled?”
 
‘Didn’t tell the last two times.’ Scorpius wrote, adding a pointed look as he
turned the slate around again so James could see his new words. ‘Why would I
tell now?’
 
James hesitated, moving a step closer; dark desire was flickering to life in
his eyes, but he was still in control for the moment. “Why? Why aren’t
you...doing something? To stop me?”
 
Scorpius pursed his lips, then wrote again. The words were still a dark, wet-
looking red. ‘We both know you’re going to do it. So just do it already. The
waiting is driving me insane.’
 
James stopped hesitating. His golden-green eyes narrowed and he snapped. “Stand
up.”
 
Scorpius slipped the slate’s chain over his head and set it aside; he didn’t
want it to get broken. He stood and raised his chin, defiantly locking eyes
with James. James reached out and lightly brushed his fingers over Scorpius’
cheek. Scorpius’ eyes widened, then darkened, and James stroked his cheek
again. Scorpius wasn’t sure what to do, so he followed his instincts. He turned
his head slightly and nuzzled against James’ hand, savoring the warmth of
James’ skin against his.
 
Sharp pain shot through his skull as James’ other hand clenched in his hair and
jerked his head back, bringing Scorpius back to the reality of James’ hatred.
His breath left his mouth in a silent sob as James backhanded him; his head
snapped to the side, painfully pulling against the hand still tangled in his
hair. He raised wide, mercurial eyes to James’ hazel ones, then licked his
lower lip. He could feel it swelling on the right side; the same side where his
cheek was throbbing. His throat worked as he swallowed hard against the dark
pleasure on James’ handsome face.
 
James’ tightened his grip on Scorpius’ hair, yanking the smaller boy closer and
hissing. “You think you’re so special, don’t you? Poor little baby Malfoy,
can’t talk...needs everyone to coddle him.”
 
Scorpius shook his head almost desperately, but James just wrapped his other
hand around Scorpius’ throat and gave a threatening squeeze. Scorpius stilled
and James snarled. “You won’t get special treatment from me, Malfoy. You want
me to hurt you? Fine. I think I’d like to hear you scream.”He brought his face
closer to Scorpius’ and whispered threateningly. “What do you think it’ll take
to force a scream out of you, Malfoy? Do you have any idea? Because I can’t
wait to find out.”
 
Scorpius bit his lip, but otherwise didn’t respond. Whatever James was going to
do, Scorpius would bear it with grace. James seemed to study him for a moment,
then he used both hands to shove the smaller teen away from himself. Scorpius
hit the ground hard, cringing as his tailbone bruised itself against the stone
floor. His throat ached from where the heel of James’ hand had momentarily dug
into it mid-shove.
 
Scorpius didn’t bother trying to get to his feet. He stayed where he’d landed,
legs sprawled wide and his hands behind him keeping him upright. His heart
thudded in his chest as James walked over and sneered down at him. Scorpius
just blinked up at him, his whole face open. He knew his emotions were written
across his face: his desire for the Gryffindor, the pain from his fall,
curiosity and anticipation for what James would do next. All of these mingled
with a naive sort of trust; a faith that James wouldn’t hurt him beyond what he
could take; a firm belief that James’ was in control.
 
James stared into Scorpius’ eyes. They were huge; they seemed to swallow the
Slytherin’s delicate face. The trust and desire shining in that silver gaze
unnerved James. He had done nothing to merit those emotions; nothing to feed or
enforce them. There was no reason for them at all. Scorpius should be glaring
at him. Or better yet, cowering. There should be fear and hatred and disgust
stamped across that pretty face. It would make this so much easier if there
was...
 
But easy or not, James wasn’t backing down. Not now; not when he was so close
to giving Scorpius exactly what he deserved that he could practically taste it.
He wanted to make Scorpius scream.
 
The first kick was so much of a surprise it barely hurt. Scorpius felt the
pressure of it, then the throbbing ache. He stared in disbelief at his right
thigh, where James’ foot had connected. The next kick hit nearly the same spot
and the pain was instantaneous; it shot through his leg and had Scorpius
cringing away before he’d even realized what he was doing. Because he moved,
the next time James’ trainer connected it was with the back of his thigh rather
than the side; just below his ass.
 
As pain blossomed and spread down his leg, Scorpius curled his body and
squeezed his eyes shut. He began to pant, tears filling his eyes, but he still
did nothing to defend himself. The next blow landed on his hip and sent pain
shooting up his spine, as though it were traveling along the path of Scorpius’
bones. Scorpius wanted to cry out; his throat ached with the need to scream and
plead. But no sound beyond breath left his lips and James didn’t seem to be
giving up. A solid hit to his side had Scorpius’ back arching as tears ran down
his cheeks and his mouth opened on a silent, agonized cry.
 
Suddenly James’ hands were on him, rolling him over. Once he was on his back
again, Scorpius opened his eyes to stare up at the Gryffindor kneeling beside
him. His whole body was trembling and the fury on James’ face did nothing to
ease it. James’ hands curled into fists, then one slammed into Scorpius’ ribs.
It was followed seconds later by another hit, then another. When he tried to
curl into the pain that was making it hard to breath, James’ fists flew faster.
 
They pounded into Scorpius’ ribs, the soft, subtle curve of his belly, and the
arms he was instinctively trying to protect himself with. James seemed almost
mindless with rage; there was no rhyme or reason to the blows; no pattern.
There wasn’t even consistent force. Some glanced off; others brought fresh
tears to Scorpius’ eyes. He knew he’d be black-and-blue all over, but he
couldn’t bring himself to fight James. He just wanted this poison - whatever it
was - out of James’ system. Otherwise, there was no hope.
 
And then James was shoving Scorpius’ arms out of the way and straddling the
Slytherin’s aching stomach, a snarl twisting his handsome face into something
dangerous and cruel. Hands clenched in the fabric of Scorpius’ white uniform
shirt and yanked him upright. With only a few inches between their faces,
James’ spit hit Scorpius’ face as he snarled.
 
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He shook Scorpius hard for a moment, looking
baffled and angry at the same time.
 
When Scorpius didn’t respond, simply staring at James, the older boy’s anger
grew. He let go of Scorpius shirt with one hand, letting the boy slump
backwards slightly, and used his free hand to backhand Scorpius again. The
blonde’s head snapped to the side, his eyes fluttering shut momentarily. Then
he glanced back over at James, eyes shining behind damp, sooty lashes. His full
lower lip trembled, but there was still no anger or fear on his face; just the
same openness and trust as before.
 
James backhanded Scorpius again. “Fight me, Malfoy! Defend yourself! Do
something!”
 
Another backhand had Scorpius’ lip splitting against his teeth. He looked up
from under the white-blonde fringe of his hair, his tongue coming out to soothe
his lip. The coppery tang exploded over his tongue and his eyes darkened.
Scorpius’ breath hitched in his chest and he licked his abused lip again. But
he didn’t fight back; he didn’t defend himself. His arms remained at his sides
and he stayed passive beneath James.
 
“You’re sick.” James managed, his voice coming out hoarse and desperate now. He
shook the smaller teen, tears prickling his eyes, and nearly-pleaded with him.
“Dammit, Malfoy, tell me to stop!”
 
Scorpius shook his head and James growled. “Why not? Why won’t you stop me? Do
you really want me to hurt you?” When Scorpius just blinked up at him, his
tongue darting out to slick over his abused mouth once more, James hissed in
sudden understanding. “You just want me to make you scream. And you don’t care
how I do it, do you?”
 
Scorpius dropped his eyes, his cheeks flushing pink. Then his whole body jolted
when James leaned in and crushed their mouths together. His lip throbbed
painfully as the break in the skin opened again. James’ tongue pushed into his
mouth, bringing it with it another taste of Scorpius’ blood, as well as the
taste of green tea and honey. As James’ tongue stroked against the roof of his
mouth, Scorpius’ whole body sparked to life. His aching ribs, the throbbing of
his mouth and cheek, the bruising of his leg and hip...none of it mattered any
longer. James Sirius Potter was kissing him; that was the only thing he cared
about.
 
James was on fire. His whole body burned as he devoured Scorpius’ mouth. He
traced the straight line of Scorpius’ teeth, then curled his tongue to lick at
the ridges on the roof of Scorpius’ mouth. The slim body beneath him arched as
his hands streaked down Scorpius’ back. James’ hands tugged at Scorpius’ shirt,
rucking it up and letting his fingers dance over pale, soft skin. Scorpius
moaned into the kiss. The raspy, ragged sound was swallowed by James’ mouth,
but Scorpius could feel the way it vibrated up from his throat and he knew it
would have been audible if not for the lips covering his own.
 
James pulled back, panting heavily, and immediately busied his lips at
Scorpius’ ear. His tongue traced the curve of it,  then he whispered heatedly.
“I still want to make you scream...think I can?”
 
Scorpius shivered at the burst of hot breath over saliva-dampened skin, then
nodded frantically. If he had to guess, then he’d say this was, in fact, James’
best shot at it. And he wanted James to succeed. He wanted James to wring more
sounds from him, regardless of how broken they were. Scorpius had given up on
making sounds and he’d locked away the few he had left, keeping them hidden. He
hadn’t even kept them for himself; he’d just tucked them away completely. And
now, he wanted to give them - every last one he had - to James.
 
Maybe those sounds weren’t much; maybe they wouldn’t mean much of anything to
most people. But Scorpius had a feeling he could trust James with them. That
was why he was willing to risk this; to risk everything on the chance that he
could be with James. Because if anyone could understand the value of what he
was offering - the last vestiges of his voice, such as it was - then it was
James. James, who had never wanted anything from him but this...the sounds he
could still make. So he would give them to him, and he would do so willingly;
happily; eagerly.
 
James laughed, a soft and nearly-breathless sound, as Scorpius nodded. He
flicked his tongue against Scorpius’ earlobe, then dragged his teeth along the
edge of the boy’s jaw. “You can’t be comfortable on the floor...not with as
bruised as you must be. Want to move?”
 
Scorpius nodded again, wishing he could communicate better; wishing he had his
slate and chalk in-hand to scrawl ‘Bed! Now! Please!’ and about a million other
things for James to read. But James seemed to understand him well-enough
anyway, because he got up and crossed his arms over his chest, quirking an
eyebrow and waiting. Scorpius’ lips twitched upwards just slightly; of course
James wasn’t going to help him up. James was capable of gallantry – what
Gryffindor worthy of the name wasn’t, after all – but this was too new for
that; too raw. Scorpius accepted that.
 
Scorpius pushed himself to his feet, wincing and cringing as his movements made
everything ache again. His right leg would barely hold any weight; it throbbed
and pulsed with heated agony. His hip felt the same and his ribs screamed in
protest every time he turned or bent; he had a feeling several of them might
actually be broken. Gritting his teeth, Scorpius limped towards the bed; if he
could just go back to lying down, the pain would be bearable again. He hadn’t
made it more than two steps when the pain licking its way up and down his spine
got to be too much.
 
His knee gave out as his thigh muscles spasmed and he closed his eyes, knowing
he was about to hit the floor. Instead, James caught him, an arm around the
blonde’s back keeping him upright. Scorpius’ eyes opened in surprise and he
stared at James in shock as the Gryffindor slid one arm under his knees and
scooped him up easily. James carried Scorpius over to the bed; he hardly
weighed anything, after all. As he set Scorpius on the mattress, James noticed
the gobsmacked expression on Scorpius’ face and blushed slightly.
 
A little defensively, James said. “What? I can’t be nice?”
 
Again Scorpius longed for his slate, which he’d left on the sofa across the
room. Since he didn’t have it, he struggled to explain his surprise without
words or voice. Scorpius shook his head, then tapped his chest, hoping James
would understand what he meant.
 
The Gryffindor cringed, then muttered. “Not to you. Right. Never bothered
before.” James blew out a breath, then said softly. “I’d apologize, but it got
us here and I’m quite pleased with here, so...”
 
Scorpius’ lips twitched upwards again and he rolled his eyes. He hadn’t asked
for an apology and he certainly hadn’t expected one. He didn’t even want one.
James wasn’t an entirely nice person. That was part of what Scorpius liked
about him. He’d gotten nothing but saccharine-sweetness and pity since his
accident; he was more than happy with James’ acerbic personality. Scorpius
dropped his eyes slightly, still smiling, and tentatively patted the mattress
beside him.
 
James grinned and growled softly. “Strip.”
 
Scorpius looked up, eyes wide once more. His breath caught as he realized James
was following his own order. His shoes were kicked off and he was now working
on his shirt. Scorpius swallowed hard, then immediately set his fingers to the
buttons on his own shirt even as he toed off his trainers and socks. In a
matter of moments, both boys were naked and Scorpius was panting heavily. He
had never been naked with another person before...not in a sexual way. Communal
showers didn’t really count; it wasn’t like this.There was that whole unspoken
rule about not looking that didn’t apply here; now. Scorpius wasn’t just
allowed to look, he was expected to look.
 
So, eagerly, Scorpius let his eyes wander over James, taking in the tanned skin
stretched taut over Quidditch-honed muscles. Shoulders that were broader than
most sixteen year old’s, lickable abs, narrow hips, strong arms, and toned
thighs...Scorpius wanted to lick every inch of James’ delectable body. James
was completely unabashed in his nudity. He smirked and quirked an eyebrow as
Scorpius’ gaze moved over him and Scorpius couldn’t blame him for his
confidence; it was well-deserved. Silver eyes followed the small trail of dark
hair beneath James’ navel down to where it grew thicker; denser.
 
Nestled there - and currently standing proudly at attention - was the part of
James that Scorpius currently wanted the most. James’ cock was as gorgeous as
the rest of him. Long, thick, and with a slight curve to the right, it made
Scorpius’ mouth water. The engorged flesh twitched slightly under his intense
gaze and Scorpius licked his lips, wishing his mouth wasn’t so tender...he
wanted to taste James. He flicked his eyes up to meet James’ gaze and froze.
 
James was still smirking, but now his eyes were moving over Scorpius. Scorpius’
skin prickled under the intensity of that stare. James had never given much
thought to what Scorpius would look like without clothes on prior to the
incident in the library a few weeks early. And what he’d decided during that
time didn’t even come close. He had, of course, expected that pale, creamy
skin. But he hadn’t imagined that the rosy flush suffusing Scorpius cheeks
would creep down his jaw and neck, spreading  across his shoulders and down his
chest.
 
James had also begun to imagine Scorpius as looking similar to his cousin
Hugo...long-limbed and bony and sharp; rather like his pointed, haughty face.
Instead, Scorpius was soft. The Slytherin didn’t play Quidditch, or apparently
exercise much, because despite being slender he had no muscle-tone. But he
wasn’t skin-and-bones, either. He was sleek and smooth; alabaster skin over
subtle-softness. Scorpius’ stomach had a gentle curve to it, from his groin to
his slightly-prominent rib cage...it made James want to touch. His slender
chest had just enough flesh that his ribs weren’t sticking out and his arms and
legs were the same way; no bony elbows or knobbly knees on Scorpius Malfoy.
Just long, graceful limbs.
 
James knelt on the bed, then nudged his way between those creamy thighs.
Scorpius’ full mouth was slack and still-swollen; James felt a twinge of guilt
at that. That twinge grew stronger as his palms moved from Scorpius’ knees up
over his thighs and the right one flinched and spasmed under his hand. James’
eyes dropped to the skin beneath his hand; it was mottling with deep purple and
dark blue, swelling faintly. The splotchy color under the skin spread up,
blossoming across Scorpius’ hip. The same dark colors seeped into the skin over
Scorpius’ ribs. All-in-all, it looked like a child had splattered paint across
the alabaster canvas of Scorpius’ skin.
 
James kept his palm on the clenching muscles of Scorpius’ right thigh, using
his other hand to trace lightly over the damage to Scorpius’ torso. His fingers
pressed, questing, and Scorpius hissed and writhed under him as he found the
damaged places. James’ brow furrowed as he considered. He adored the color
splashed across the Slytherin’s skin, but he also wanted Scorpius to enjoy this
next bit. Scorpius was eager, true, despite the pain, but that would most-
likely change in an instant if James tried to hitch his leg up or put any
pressure on the boy’s ribs. And he liked Scorpius eager.
 
James left off exploring Scorpius’ chest and held his hand out behind him,
snapping. “Accio wand!” When the yew and dragon heartstring wand hit his palm,
James instantly curled his fingers around it and brought it up to Scorpius’
face.
 
He aimed it at Scorpius’ mouth, then paused for a moment, still considering.
Scorpius’ eyes crossed slightly as he looked at the piece of pale, slim wood
aimed at his lips, then he brought his gaze to James’ and waited. James rolled
his eyes and said softly. “Episkey.”
 
Scorpius’ mouth went hot for a moment, then ice-cold. When the sensation faded,
Scorpius licked his lips and smiled, grateful when the movement no longer hurt.
James’ wand danced along the edge of Scorpius’ jaw, then as Scorpius tipped his
head back James dragged it lightly down the soft, vulnerable flesh of his
exposed throat. When the wand reached Scorpius’ chest, James considered the
wounds for a moment, trying to decide what to fix and what to leave.
 
Dragging the tip of his wand along the bruising on Scorpius’ ribs, James
murmured softly. “Costarum sanentur.” He was pleased when the bruising didn’t
fade, though from the look on Scorpius’ face, the spell had worked. “Better?”
 
Scorpius nodded; the pain in his ribs was gone, though he could still feel the
dull ache that came from the bruising to his skin.
 
“One last thing...” James said, bringing his wand down to touch Scorpius’ right
thigh where the damage was the worst. “Glacies tumentes.”
 
Again, the bruising remained. But the swelling disappeared and the muscles
stopped spasming under the color-splashed skin. James’ lips curved upwards as
he dropped his wand on the bed beside Scorpius’ head and ran his hand down the
mottled flesh of Scorpius’  thigh. When he reached the younger boy’s knee,
James pressed behind it, bending Scorpius’ leg until it was pressed against
Scorpius’ chest. His smile morphed into a smirk as he studied the way it bared
Scorpius to his view.
 
Scorpius’ felt his face flush as James’ stared down at a portion of his body no
one had ever seen before. It was thrilling, if a bit embarrassing. Especially
when he saw the lust darkening James’ eyes. James flicked the wrist of his free
hand, murmuring a spell softly. It was a spell Scorpius - and probably every
other boy over the age of fourteen - knew well and suddenly James’ fingers were
glistening in the weak sunlight, coated in oil. His breath hitched as James
wrapped that strong hand around his own cock, stroking swiftly.
 
James was panting, his eyes glued to the firm curve of Scorpius’ ass as he
slicked himself. He considered prepping Scorpius, but he was feeling impatient.
Still, James flicked his eyes to the Slytherin and demanded harshly. “Have you
ever done this?”
 
Scorpius shook his head and James felt something dark and twisted loosen in his
chest; he didn’t like the idea of someone else touching Scorpius. His voice
lowering to a sultry purr, he asked. “Have you touched yourself?” He let go of
his cock and pressed the tip of one finger against Scorpius’ entrance. “Have
you slicked your fingers and slipped them in, imagining it was someone else?
Pretending some guy was fuckingyou?”
 
A soft whine left Scorpius’ mouth, high and cracked and thready. He nodded, his
cheeks so hot they felt like they were on fire, them daringly mouthed a single
word, slowly and clearly so James would be sure to understand it. ‘You.’
 
James laughed and the sound was a little-bit cruel; it made Scorpius’ pulse
jump. “You little slut! I was slamming you into walls, hitting you, choking
you...and you were imagining me fucking you?” He backhanded Scorpius abruptly,
making the blonde’s head snap sharply to the side. “You like me hurting you,
don’t you, you filthy little whore?”
 
Scorpius turned his head back, his grey eyes damp and shining once more. But
his cock was still hard and leaking, resting against his belly while his full
lips parted, glistening damply when he ran his tongue over them. He locked
gazes with James and nodded slowly. Then he arched his hips, pushing up against
the slick digit still resting lightly against his entrance. He wanted James
inside him more than anything. And he didn’t care if James hurt him; not with
fucking, not with slaps and kicks, not with words. That just made it hotter,
somehow; that dark, dangerous edge to James’ personality just made Scorpius
want him more.
 
“Godric, you’re gagging for it...” James hissed, desire thickening his words.
 
Scorpius felt James’ hand retreat, then something hot and thick brushed against
his ass. It slid along the crack, then settled against his entrance. Scorpius
had to remind himself to relax and breath as James began to push. The pressure
was nearly unbearable and, for a terrible moment, Scorpius didn’t think it
would fit at all. Then James’ lips came down on his, devouring his mouth. And
then the hand James’ still had gripping behind Scorpius’ knee stroked up the
back of his thigh, gently encouraging Scorpius to spread his trembling thighs
wider.
 
Seconds after he complied, Scorpius’ body gave way to the insistent prodding of
James’ cock. Scorpius let out a ragged moan as the head of James’ cock slipped
through the tight ring of muscle, stretching him open further than his own
fingers had ever managed to do. There was a faint burn, but mostly there was
just pressure and stretching and the feeling of being full, and it was perfect.
James didn’t stop; didn’t pause to give Scorpius time to adjust. He just kept
pushing forward, sinking into the tight, grasping heat of Scorpius’ body.
Scorpius’ body didn’t just let James in; it seemed to pull him in. It was as
though the smaller boy’s body was designed to take his cock. In a matter of
moments, he was balls-deep inside Scorpius.
 
“Fuck, Scorpius...” James set his teeth to Scorpius’ pale shoulder, right where
it met his neck, his hips jerking as Scorpius’ body rippled and spasmed around
his cock. “Fuck, you’re sotight...”
 
Scorpius’ spine bowed upwards, his hips rising to meet the shallow thrusts. The
needle-sharp points of pain from James’ teeth blurred together with the
sparking pleasure caused by the spot inside of him that James’ cock was just-
barely brushing. His mouth opened and a strange, disjointed, staccato series of
sounds began to spill out.
 
James released the skin he’d bit down on and laughed; the sound tickled
Scorpius’ ears. “Merlin, I love when you make sounds...I love making you make
sounds.”
 
Determined to wring more of the delightful, shattered sounds from Scorpius,
James pulled slowly out of the clinging heat of the teen’s body then thrust
quickly back in. He was rewarded with a sound he thought would have been a
keen, had it not shivered in and out of existence. But his goal was still a
scream and, with that in mind, James continued thrusting into the pliant heat
of Scorpius’ body.
 
Scorpius couldn’t keep still. As James repeatedly filled him, his cock was
bumping the spot inside him that made his blood heat and spark. Everything in
him shimmered brightly and his head thrashed from side-to-side. His left leg
curled around James’ waist and his nails scraped down the sweat-slicked skin of
James’ back. And then it got better, as James’ strong, calloused fingers curled
around his prick and began to stroke.
 
“Do you like that, pet?” James crooned, his tongue tracing the shell of
Scorpius ear as he braced his weight on one arm and kept pounding into the boy
beneath him. “Let me hear how much...”
 
Scorpius’ whole body tensed; he felt like a spring, being wound tighter and
tighter. And any second, he was going to snap, shattering into a million
bright, glittering points of pleasure. He could feel it; feel the way he seemed
to be cracking under the pressure, little fissures spreading through him. And
he knew - he just knew - that it wouldn’t take much to push him that last
little bit into oblivion. It was so close Scorpius could practically taste it.
And he wanted it; more than he’d ever wanted anything. He strained towards it,
his nails biting into James’ shoulders, his hips arching up faster, his leaking
prick twitching as James’ slick hand slid over him.
 
James could tell how close Scorpius was and he lifted his head, watching the
younger boy’s face eagerly; he couldn’t wait to see ecstasy splashed across
that haughty face. Heat was pooling low in James’ belly and he was determined
to make Scorpius come first. With that goal in mind, James began to hiss. It
wasn’t a skill he used often, unlike his brother who showed it off whenever
possible, but he had it all the same. And the sibilance of Parseltongue had
been known to have a specific sort of effect on people. James was hoping it
would work on Scorpius.
 
It did. The dark, sensual hissing curled around Scorpius’ mind. His body
jerked, and then he was spilling - hot and sticky and wet - over James’ fist
and his own stomach. His body rippled and clenched around James’ cock, his back
arched sharply, his nails bit deeper into James’ shoulders, and his head fell
back. As his eyes went wide and dark, then rolled back in his head, his throat
worked. Scorpius’ mouth was open, his face twisted as pleasure so intense it
bordered on pain ripped through him, and James eagerly watched as Scorpius’
throat muscles rippled under the skin.
 
The sound Scorpius made wasn’t one most people could have put a name to. It was
a bit like broken glass being dragged across a chalkboard; it didn’t even sound
human. It was a shattered, shrill sound and it faded in and out. But James
loved it, because it was one no one else had ever made Scorpius make; it was
his. His hips slamming faster and harder into the boy beneath him, James buried
his face in Scorpius’ throat and groaned as he spilled himself inside of the
smaller teen.
 
For several moments Scorpius clung to James, then his whole body went limp, his
arms and legs falling away from James to thump softly against the mattress.
James lifted his head slightly, blinking sleepily down at Scorpius. “You okay?”
He murmured, feeling ridiculously soft towards the boy.
 
Scorpius smiled sleepily, his dark eyes half-closed, and yawned. Then he nodded
sluggishly even as his eyes closed the rest of the way and his breathing became
deep and even. James laughed softly, shaking his head, then rolled to the side.
Scorpius followed him, curling around James’ warmth, and the Gryffindor smiled
as he wrapped an arm around the tiny Slytherin’s waist. He yawned, feeling
pretty worn out himself, and let himself drift off to sleep, feeling content
and at peace for the first time in as long as he could remember.
 
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 
Albus Severus Potter’s POV:
 
I don’t know that I understand Scorpius at all. Maybe it’s the fact that he
can’t speak. Or maybe it’s just that he keeps so much of himself guarded
because of it. Or maybe it’s just a Malfoy thing; I don’t really know. I do
know that James wasn’t who I ever imagined him with. James hates him. Or, you
know, hated, I guess. It’s sort of hard to say what he feels now. My brother is
strange and hard to figure out at the best of times. And I really don’t know
what to think about James and Scorpius.
 
Because here we sit, in my grandmother’s living room, and Scorpius is perched
next to James and practically glowing as he scribbles away on his slate to
Teddy. It’s Christmas day and he and James have been dating for a week now,
though Scorpius has hinted that there was some sort of build-up to it that the
rest of just missed out on. I don’t know if I believe him, and James doesn’t
say one-way or the other whether it’s true or not, so it’s sort of like
guessing no matter what. But it is what it is, I suppose. Anyway, they’re
clearly together now and how fast it happened isn’t really the point.
 
But I don’t know how to feel about it. Not because I care who Scorpius dates;
that’s his business. But I don’t like the bruises on his ribs and over his
right hip, spreading down his thigh. He tried to keep them hidden, of course,
but we share a dorm and a bathroom. And I know James has a temper; I know how
violent he can become in a heartbeat’s time. He is my brother, after all. I’ve
been on the receiving end of that violence from time-to-time. But when I asked,
Scorpius brushed my concerns off and now the bruises are nearly-gone; faded to
a greenish-yellow. Of course, there’s sometimes a new one – on his thigh, on
his cheek, on his upper arm – or other marks, like redness around his wrists or
welts on his arse. But if I question him, he just smiles and waves me off. And
I’ve got no proof they’re from James at all, really, just a feeling. A strong
one…but still.
 
So while I think it’s great that Scorpius seems happy - and while I love my
brother - I find myself watching them with suspicion. Because if James is
hurting Scorpius – I mean really hurting him – I’ll never forgive him. My best
friend has been hurt enough in his life. I won’t stand for him being hurt
again; not by anyone. Scorpius has noticed me watching, of course. And he just
smiles softly and rolls his eyes, letting me know he understands my concern but
that I shouldn’t worry.
 
I worry anyway.
 
James hasn’t noticed yet, but then, his eyes are always on Scorpius. Sometimes
he stares at him so intently it’s like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. Other
times, he watches him with a sort of tenderness that I don’t think I ever
believed James was capable of. Those warm, soft looks always startle me a
little. And other times, he watches Scorpius with a sort of dark, heated look
in his eyes. I’d call it lust, but it isn’t. Or it isn’t just,which is part of
what worries me. After those looks, the two of them usually disappear for a
while. I try not to think about where to, or why; thinking about James shagging
my best friend makes me feel a little ill. And that’s without factoring in the
bruises and their possible causes.
 
And now I’m watching them from where I’m supposed to be hanging out with Roxy
and Lucy and their boyfriends. My girlfriend - Araminta Zabini - is around here
somewhere as well; I think she may have wandered off with Lily to discuss make-
up or something. I really don’t care right this second; I’m busy watching for
any sign that I need to kill my brother.
 
My entire mind is so focused on James that I almost miss it. I’m watching as he
leans around Scorpius, towards Teddy, and says something with a smirk. Teddy’s
eyes widen and his mouth falls open in shock, then he breaks into a wide grin
and chuckles, his eyes crinkling up, while James keeps smirking. And that’s
when it happens. Something I couldn’t have imagined; not in a million years.
 
The sound is what catches my attention. It has me frowning, because I don’t
recognize it. It’s a rusty, sharp, broken sort of sound. It reminds me a bit of
a tin can being dragged across asphalt, in fact. It’s a stuttering sound as
well; one that stops and starts sporadically. And it brings my eyes from James
to Scorpius. His eyes are sparkling, his mouth is open, and it’s a moment later
that I realize the sound is coming from him.
 
Teddy is staring at Scorpius in amazement and Scorpius’ mouth snaps shut, his
cheeks burning as his eyes drop to his lap. James’ face softens and he tips
Scorpius’ face up, pressing a light kiss to Scorpius’ trembling mouth. Then,
loudly enough for everyone to hear – which isn’t all that loud, as the room has
fallen silent – James declares. “Don’t be embarrassed. I love your laugh.”
 
And Scorpius flushes a little darker, but breaks into a huge grin. And, in that
moment, something that’s been wound tight in my chest since I first saw
Scorpius’ bruises loosens. Because no matter what weirdness is going on in
their relationship – and, really, it’s none of my business what that might be –
it’s clear that Scorpius is happy, and that James loves him.
 
James made my best friend laugh. Out loud.
 
There’s not much I could ask for, for him, beyond that. Not much at all.
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