Rating: (Hard) R
Warning (highlight to view): For cross-gen, underage sex, and this not being orgy!fic.
Word Count: 1022
Summary: It was something of a birthday tradition, fucking a Malfoy.
Disclaimer: This piece is based on characters and situations created by J. K. Rowling, and owned by J. K. Rowling and various publishers, including but not limited to: Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended by the posting of this fic.
Author's Notes: Thank you, leela_cat, for beta'ing. *smooches* Written for severus_shorts' Brief Birthday Celebration. (If you don't count the 23 extra words against me, I won't count at all. :P) Dedicated to the_flic, who's no doubt forgotten why. ;)
Mr Malfoy had come to Hogwarts to discipline his unruly Seventh Year of a son rather than allow him to be expelled from the school—or so Severus had overheard before the shouting had begun. He'd tried to divine what was being said between the Headmaster and Hogwarts' most eminent governor of the Board, but just as suddenly as the shouting had begun, it had ended—and then the door had opened.
"You there," Abraxas had challenged him, catching Severus as he fled down the staircase leading from Dumbledore's office. "Were you eavesdropping on me, boy?"
Not "us," Severus had noted.
Mr Malfoy hadn't waited for an answer; he'd seized the back of Severus' robes and dragged him down the corridor into an empty classroom, the spell he'd used to ward the door sounding arcane and beautiful.
"I know that you were," he'd said, releasing Severus, "and I demand an apology."
Severus had been too frightened to deny the man. "I'm sor—"
"Oh no," Abraxas had interrupted. "You're far too young to know how to give a proper apology, Snape."
"You know my name?"
"Lucius has told me of your sharp tongue and skill in Potions. I find both of those things of interest."
"Y—yes, sir," Severus had replied, his mind spinning to know that Lucius Malfoy, the prince of Slytherin House, had taken notice of him.
"You will apologise in future, boy, after honing your skill. Depend upon it." And with that, Mr Malfoy had left him.
It wasn't until Severus had turned fifteen that he'd learnt what Abraxas liked in a tongue.
Lucius had been eager to employ his own tongue, caressing Severus with it in a way and in a place that he could not have imagined before they'd met during a Hogsmeade weekend at the Hog's Head. The noises he'd made in response to Lucius' ministrations had been embarrassing—until his pleasure had become so intense that his fingers had pierced the cheap bedding upon which he'd been writhing.
"Happy birthday, Snape," Lucius had hissed, close, and it had been something of a disappointment when the scent of sex and alcohol had swept over him.
He'd learnt later, shortly before Abraxas' introduction of him to Lord Voldemort, that Narcissa had fought with Lucius.
This knowledge had only slightly marred the experience of that birthday; he'd got laid, hadn't he?
Draco had always been eager, no matter how hard he'd tried to adopt his father's reserve. That first time, working the boy up into a rage of lust in the wake of one of his fruitless arguments with Potter had been all too easy. It had never been a mystery, what Draco was thinking.
His thoughts had been typical of any sixteen-year-old boy, but they were thoughts that Severus had been only too happy to indulge. Albus hadn't trusted Severus then, but Draco had as he'd spread himself open to be filled.
That had been an excellent birthday—no matter the name on Draco's lips. Its memory was yet a clenching heat that seized Severus' dreams.
Potter had the Weasley girl now, and Draco had long contented himself with Astoria. It was often almost nauseating, the way the two young men would stare longingly at one another at Ministry functions. Severus tried to ignore them as he socialised with the other governors of the Board and their families, but it was irritating to be forever alone. He'd had others after Draco, of course, though never, as it happened, on his birthday—and not one of his lovers had been a woman.
Even now, Severus couldn't bring himself to hold a witch, not when he'd never held Lily. But should a pretty boy with silken hair and a bright smile cross his path, Severus knew enough of discretion to take his temporary pleasure. Unfortunately, Scorpius had yet to learn how to choose his partners, it seemed, if what he was overhearing as he left Headmistress Granger-Weasley's office was any indication.
"—but I want to know why! You made me promise not to tell, and now father will get to hear of it and be furious! Why go and ruin our bit of fun like that?"
"Sorry, Scorp'," Albus Potter murmured, as Severus stepped, unnoticed, into the corridor. "James promised, too. He's just—"
"He's just ashamed of you."
Scorpius' words hung heavily in the air, and Potter, his back to the other boy, seemed crushed by them. He walked away, apparently heedless of Scorpius' soft, "I'm sorry," which he repeated several times before Severus laid a hand upon his shoulder and bent down to whisper in his ear.
"The Potters aren't known for their . . . tact."
Scorpius turned quickly, his eyes wide and fearful. "Mr Snape! How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough to know that you could do better," Severus replied, his voice low and soothing.
There was nothing sharp about Scorpius' tongue as he murmured cheekily, "You're . . . you're always tactful . . . Severus."
Severus snorted, drawing his hand up along the boy's jaw. "Am I," he said rather than asked, pleased to note how Scorpius held his gaze.
"I . . . ."
"Want me. Yes, I know. Rather inappropriate, but I find that I don't care."
"Shouldn't you? I mean, why not?"
In answer, Severus claimed Scorpius' mouth.
The boy groaned into their kiss and embraced Severus, drawing one leg up and around him, and Severus, heedless but not mindless of their near-public display, seized Scorpius and carried him into the most convenient classroom. He warded the door as Scorpius pulled away and gasped for breath.
"Oh, that's lovely. I'd like—"
"A good fucking," Severus told him, undoing his trousers.
"Oh, oh yes," Scorpius whispered hoarsely, before reminding Severus just how talented a Malfoy could be with his tongue.
That greedy, sucking heat—there was nothing like it; having a Malfoy was a tradition worth keeping.
"Merlin, I . . . I wa—oh, fuck!"
Panting and laughing, Scorpius pulled himself up by Severus' trembling legs. "Don't think I . . . won't hold you to that . . . fucking."
"Nothing could . . . possibly . . . keep me from fucking . . . you, Scorpius," Severus whispered.
"You never said why."
Severus, relaxed as he was, permitted himself a fond smirk. "Because it's my birthday."