Harry pushed through the crowd until he reached the front of the bar. “Vodka and Coke please, make it a double on the vodka,” he said to the bar keeper, shooting the guy his best grin, just in case the barman happened to have a thing for messy-haired guys.
“Excuse me, but I think you’ll find you pushed in.”
Harry’s blood ran cold. Whilst he may not have been able to place Parkinson’s bored drawl straight away, there was no mistaking the plummy voice in his ear now.
“I said excuse me, but I will not be so polite the second time!” Malfoy snapped.
“I didn’t know you knew how to be polite,” Harry shrugged, accepting his drink from the bartender with a smile before turning and smirking as Malfoy’s thin mouth curved into a sneer.
“I suppose I should have known it was you with that bird’s nest on your head that you claim is hair,” Malfoy sniffed, his pale face illuminated in the bright lights.
Harry rolled his eyes at the jibe, “Grow up.”
“Me?” Malfoy said. “You started it!”
“How did I start it?”
“You pushed in!”
“I did not!”
“Sexual tension much,” the bartender snorted, and they both glowered at him before turning back to each other.
Harry took a sip of his drink and took a step closer to Malfoy; Harry’s skin was itching with that adrenaline only Malfoy had ever been able to provoke in him. They were only a couple of centimetres apart in height so Malfoy must have grown post-war as well. Up close, he could see Malfoy’s pale lashes and chapped lips, his razor-sharp cheekbones and pointed chin. His features were just as pointy as they had been at Hogwarts, but there was almost something… Seamus’s words about Malfoy having a thing for Harry echoed in his head.
Harry cut his own thoughts off as Malfoy leaned over and stole his drink, taking a long sip of it.
“The fuck!” Harry spluttered, brow creasing. “That was mine!”
“You pushed in.” Malfoy simply shrugged as he placed the now-empty glass on the side.
“You fucking-” Harry started, fists clenching at his side as he got even closer to Malfoy. It was definitely the alcohol in him, but being this close to Malfoy felt electric.
“Fucking what, Potter?” Malfoy said, his tongue swiping along his bottom lip mockingly. It was hypnotising.
For a flash Harry debated swinging his fist, but instead he settled for something else. Harry knotted his fist into Malfoy’s shirt, his drunken brain not even processing how strange it was to see Draco Malfoy in Muggle clothes, and tugged the other man into a rough and desperate kiss. A spark shot down Harry’s spine as he felt Malfoy’s mouth moving against his. Malfoy’s mouth was wet and greedy, his hands reaching up and tugging almost painfully on Harry’s hair, but Harry didn’t complain. The kiss was electrifying and maddening, and Malfoy’s teeth dug into Harry’s bottom lip, but Harry just opened his mouth up eagerly. He wanted more. He didn’t know what he was doing, but he wanted more of it.
Draco turned at the sound of Greg’s voice and gave him a sleepy smile.
“Sorry about the timing.”
Greg shrugged, “No need to apologise, Draco. You know we love Scorpius.” There was something about Greg’s smile that gave away that something had happened.
Draco groaned, tugging at the collar of his robes. It was far too hot for his official Unspeakable robes with the fire blazing in the corner. Millie and Greg’s house was always like an oven, even in early October.
“What did he do?”
Greg continued to play with the end of his wife’s long dark hair. “He decided he wanted to bake.”
“Please don’t tell me you let him.” Draco groaned again at Goyle’s guilty face. “Then his sugar high was entirely your own fault. I am not taking whatever you made home with me.”
“Well I can hardly use it in the bakery,” Greg deadpanned.
Draco didn’t have the heart to scowl. “Fine, can you pack it up for me whilst I go get him?”
Greg nodded his head towards Millie who was pressed up against him asleep, and Draco rolled his eyes.
“I’ll just do it myself then,” he huffed with no heat in his words as he walked into the kitchen to see whatever monstrosity Greg had let Scorpius create this time. The kitchen was spotless, but on the table was a large platter of biscuits. It was quite easy to tell which ones Greg had made and which ones Scorpius had made. Draco smiled to himself as he picked up what he presumed was meant to resemble a dragon. It was covered in gold glitter, and Draco had no doubt it would taste disgusting even with Greg’s supervision. Scorpius was something of an inventive baker…
Draco slid all the biscuits into a protective bag before dropping them into his briefcase. He was pretty sure Greg would thank him for removing the biscuits.
He shrunk his briefcase down and tucked it inside his pocket before leaning around the door.
“Our room,” Greg said before Draco could ask. Draco shot Greg a grateful smile before disappearing upstairs to find his son. He paused just inside of the door, watching Scorpius’s chest rise and fall as he slept, and his white hair almost glowing from light from the hall.
If anyone asked Draco would put it down to sleep deprivation or the emotional strain of working a missing children’s case, but staring at his son in that moment he felt a lump rise in his throat. Scorpius was Draco’s everything.
“Sorry I’m late,” Draco murmured, reaching over and tracing his fingers across Scorpius’s soft cheek. Scorpius had all of Draco’s pointy features, light hair and grey eyes. Lucius had been delighted.
“No one would think he was anything but a Malfoy,” Lucius had bragged.
Draco didn’t care if anyone knew Scorpius was a Malfoy. All he cared was that they knew he was Draco’s.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised as he pulled Scorpius into his arms. Narcissa said Scorpius was just like Draco at that age. Small and slender. Draco was still slim, but at least he wasn’t short anymore. With Draco and Astoria as his parents, Scorpius had no chance of being anything but tall and slim.
“Daddy,” Scorpius mumbled, wrapping his arms tightly around Draco’s neck. Draco took a moment to get himself comfortable so Scorpius wasn’t cutting off his windpipe.
“Want to go home?” he asked. Scorpius just nodded before burying his head into the crook of Draco’s neck. Draco had only taken a couple of steps before he felt Scorpius’s breathing even out again and his warm breath against Draco’s skin.
“Thank you,” Draco whispered as he stepped into the floor place.
H!d@shi shippers use the "the age of consent in Japan is 13!!!!" card to justify shipping a 14 year old with his college aged brother since they're both half Japanese but like???? They live in California where the age of consent is 18 and the Japanese age of consent is actually 17. Thirteen year olds are only allowed to have sex with each other in Japan, not with adults.
also, like, when will nasties stop arguing legalities? I don’t give a shit if having sex with children is legal or not it’s fucking disgusting. stop!
Young children are going missing at the start of every month and the Ministry are desperate to solve the case. So desperate, that they are putting out a new team Headed by the youngest Junior Auror yet Harry Potter and Head of the Dark Arts department Unspeakable Draco Malfoy in a final bid to solve the case. As Harry and Draco try to deal with their messy past and unknown future, they delve deeper into the case and find out there’s more to the kidnappings than they initially thought. It turns out that the natural order of the wizarding world is at risk.