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themostepotenteThis was the fic I wrote for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hp_sas. I have far too many thoughts on next-gen cross-gen that I won't bore you all with today. Am saving that for a future discussion.
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nuclearsugars for my lovely gift ♥
Title: Three Secrets of the Not-So-Secret Lotus Society
Giftees: The mods,softly_sweetly and marguerite_26
Word Count: 10,000 words or thereabouts
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Draco/Albus Severus, with appearances by Scorpius and Teddy Lupin
Warnings: Rent!boy (well, kinda-sorta :-P), dirty talk, orgasm denial, first kisses, first-time sex, voyeurism, complicated relationships, happy/open ending and yes, even plot *G*
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: In which Albus considers the job market, Scorpius hates baby corn and Draco keeps his boys in check.
Author's Notes: For two of the loveliest, most understanding mods I know. Major props to my betas and helpersmelusinahp, snegurochka_lee, venivincere, sinick and lusiology. Originally posted here.
Three Secrets of the Not-So-Secret Lotus Society
The Cock and Swallow was brimming with activity. It was Friday and the little pub was standing room only.
After the umpteenth request for the other chair at his table, it had been necessary for Albus Severus to occupy the chair with his feet. He could deal with the dirty looks from the Ministry suits or the rowdy dickheads who supported the Bats. What he could not deal with was the lateness of his best friend and flatmate, who was now forty-five minutes overdue. Apparently, time meant nothing to those on holiday.
Frustrated, Albus drained his mug and mentally prepared himself for home and the reality that he'd be spending a lot more time there if he didn't learn to leash his temper. He was just about to leave when the tardy one showed up, an apologetic look on his face. Albus sat down again, slamming his heels on the chair just as one of the Ballycastle wankers made a lunge for it. By now he'd got used to the two-fingered fuckyouverymuch.
"Got here just as soon as I could."
"Not soon enough," Albus said sullenly. "What kept you?"
"Well, um--" A shock of violet hair replaced sandy locks, and Albus instantly knew.
Albus scowled, using his index finger to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Mates before baits, Lupin." Unfortunately for Albus, he hadn't the energy to stay angry, and the scowl was soon replaced with a grin.
"Padraig was not underage, Al," Teddy said, shrugging off his coat.
Albus knew that Teddy had a thing for Irish blokes, so the look in Teddy's eyes may have been shifty.
"Um, you going to finish that?" Or not. Turned out Teddy had just been eyeing Albus's half eaten chip buttie.
Albus nudged his plate forward. "Honestly, Teddy, don't you ever eat?"
"Well," Teddy said between inhales, "I'm taking advantage of my time off. Eating's just not high on my list of priorities. Food anyway."
Albus held up a hand. "Enough. We are here for me, y'know."
Teddy wiped the butter grease from his lips and fingers on Albus's napkin. "Right. Go ahead then. I'm listening."
Albus took a deep breath. "I quit my job today."
"Fuck, Al. End of the month's next week. What was it this time?"
"He was a demanding prick."
Teddy leant forward like he was going to tell Albus a big secret. "He's your boss. 'Course he's demanding."
"Yes, but his demands were unreasonable. And, he made me do all the grunt work."
"He's a fucking portrait, what did you expect? He hasn't exactly the dexterity anymore."
"And that's my problem how?" Albus said, signalling the barmaid for another round.
"Your boss is Severus sodding Snape."
"That doesn't give him the right to whore me out. I did all the work, and he took all the credit. I was having no more of that."
Teddy took a huge pull from his ale, and then another. His hair shifted from flame red to cool blue. "For a swotty bloke, you're sure an insubordinate shit. And now you're a swotty, insubordinate, out-of-work shit."
"Couldn't you get me in at the Registry office?" Albus blew the head off his ale thoughtfully.
Teddy nearly choked on his ale. "Isn't living together enough? What about asking your dad for a loan?"
"I'd never hear the end of it from James. He's alive just to see me fail."
"Al," Teddy said, threading his fingers through the mug handle. This meant his tone was growing serious. "I don't have to tell you that the rent's coming due. We've a nice flat, and I'd prefer to stay somewhere vermin-free."
"Surely, you're not suggesting I grovel to Snape for my old job back?"
Teddy grinned wolfishly, and Albus followed his eyes. Padraig was standing at the bar, and he had a companion. "Lookit, Al. I don't give a rat's arse if you lick Snape's balls or if you shovel hippogriff shit, just find a job, all right?"
Albus slunk down in his seat, depressed all over again. Not only was he jobless, he was sexless, too. "I'll try," he said. For a moment, his face brightened. "Don't suppose I could join you?"
"Not on your life," Teddy said, clapping Al on the shoulder. "Dishes need doing, and Sir Reginald needs feeding."
"Great," Albus said unenthusiastically. "A night at home with my cat."
Teddy was getting antsy to leave. His dick was doing a dance along with his feet. "Don't worry, Al. Something will fall into your lap. It always does."
"Yeah, I suppose. Listen, Teddy, are you going to be home for dinner to--" he sighed. Teddy had already snuck away to the bar.
Albus drained the rest of his mug and contemplated his evening. Maybe he could temporarily escape his problems with a good book? He was just about to wave goodbye to Teddy when a discarded Prophet hit him in the face, obscuring his view.
"Fucking suits," he snarled. The paper was open to the business section. Prices were up. Stocks were down. Alexander's was having a sale on bottomless briefcases. Hmm. Did he dare chance the Want Ads?
Albus gathered up his things and opened up the paper to that section, reading on his way out. The job listings were scant. Either he was underskilled or overqualified. He was just about to give up when a particular ad caught his eye: Potioneer wanted, Apply in person, 547 Sechshu Alley.
He couldn't believe his luck. Albus was so overjoyed at the prospect of a decent paying job that he raised his fist in triumph, unknowingly cheering when the Bats won their match against Wimbourne on the Wireless.
A long-haired bloke wearing a tight Ballycastle t-shirt smiled at him, and for once, Albus did not mind the Quidditch arseholes.
Secret the First
Sechshu Alley, it turned out, was dangerously close to Knockturn. There were no more Death Eaters, at least not in the open, but the Wizarding world would never be free of its unsavoury types. Even the well to do, moralistic dark posed the occasional threat in the new hierarchy.
The address in question belonged to a minimalist two-storey office. On the inside, however, the décor was an exquisite mix of nineteenth century English and twenty-first century Japanese. Was it too much to hope for, Albus thought, that the job be legit?
There was no one present in the waiting room so Albus rang the bell, tidying his appearance. He was going to be knee-deep in kneazle shit if they wanted references. Despite his skill, Albus doubted Snape would sing his praises. When he was turned around examining his fly, someone entered the room.
"Ah, good afternoon, sir. How may we be of service?"
Albus startled. The man's smile was ingratiating, and he was far too pretty to share X and Y chromosomes. "I, uh…er, I'm here about the job." The nervous stutter was, of course, the bane of Potter men.
"Oh yes, Mr M did say we were looking for a Potioneer. I'll just see if he's busy."
The man disappeared through a door and Albus quickly tested his breath. He hadn't remembered to brush his teeth after his lime marmalade and onion bagel. Fumbling around in his dress robe pockets, he found a roll of Experi-mints. George Weasley had dubiously promised their flavour would last up to twelve hours. To be certain, he ate four.
After waiting fifteen minutes in an aesthetically pleasing but uncomfortable chair, Albus was escorted inside the back door. He followed the man down a long hallway until they came to a door with an M nameplate. The man knocked once and bowed his goodbye, leaving a faint scent of something Albus couldn't immediately place behind. He twiddled his thumbs studiously in contemplation.
"Come." A calm but authoritative voice broke Albus's concentration, and he smoothed the front of his robes last minute before entering.
Mr M's high-backed chair was facing the window. Albus couldn't figure out what the man was looking at, though, because his view was nothing more than an adjacent brick wall.
Albus cleared his throat. "Good afternoon, sir. I'm here about the Potioneer's job."
The chair swivelled around and Draco Malfoy smiled impishly, as if he already knew who stood before him. "You're Potter's boy, aren’t you?"
Albus offered his hand. "That's right. And you're Draco Malfoy?"
"Otherwise known as the mysterious Mr M," Draco said, shaking Albus's hand. When their hands dropped, Draco gestured to a chair.
Albus sat and handed Draco his résumé. There were a lot of short stints at prestigious organisations, and Albus was quite certain that looked unfavourable to someone like Draco Malfoy.
"Bit of a mover," Draco said, his eyes roaming down the page.
The bastard must have sensed Albus's apprehension. "Just trying to find my place in this world, sir."
Draco chuckled. "I see that. Not that I don't understand. It took me a while to settle into a career."
Albus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It was taking him forever to settle into anything. "What does the job entail?"
"Well," Draco said, standing. "To better understand what you would be doing here, I must first explain The Lotus Society's purpose. You see, we provide a service to the lonely and uninspired gentleman."
"How so?" Albus asked. He was fairly certain that his father would kill him if he went to work for Draco Malfoy, but Albus was innately intrigued.
Draco walked from behind his desk around to the back of Albus's chair. "Three years ago, I went on holiday to Osaka. It was there that I learned about Host Clubs, and I was instantly intrigued. Mind you now, the practice of men paying for gratification is certainly not a new concept. Why, just two streets over there are individuals willing to pleasure for money. This is different, though. I actually encourage my boys to abstain from sex."
"TO ABSTAIN?" Albus said a lot louder than he'd intended. "FROM SEX? I thought this was a potion's profession!" He squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. Albus was hardly a prude, but he was hardly a hedonist either. Still, he had been the precocious child of clan Potter, part of him needed to know more.
"How do you make any money? What exactly are they paying for?" He jumped a bit when he felt Draco's hand curl around his shoulder.
"My dear boy," Draco intoned, squeezing Albus's shoulder. "Initially, a fantasy. After that, a second opportunity. Followed by a third, then a fourth. My most popular host has had a client chasing after him for months. And he will never relent, not unless he's offered the right price."
Albus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay, let me see if I have this right, then. You know, just so we're on the same page. This is a house of prostitution?" Albus's sharp voice had made his query sound rather accusatory.
Nevertheless, Draco appeared unruffled. "It's a Host Club. And as I said earlier, I actually encourage abstinence. I don't make half as much profit otherwise."
Albus made a face. "I don't think I could uh, entertain someone I thought was hard on the eyes." He laughed secretly at that. His sister would have called him shallow. Teddy, on the other hand, would have thought him practical.
Wait a fucking minute, Albus thought? Was he starting to rationalise all of this? And in record speed, no less. Had Draco been that convincing?
"Everyone has their price, Mr Potter. I have mine, and you have yours. Your father even has his." Draco shook his head. "But enough about that. Time is money, and I have an appointment in fifteen minutes."
Albus watched in horror as Draco fed Albus's résumé through the shredder. Several strips of the charmed parchment he'd used tried to escape through the feeder. "Was that really necessary, sir?"
"You won't be needing it," Draco said, settling back into his chair. "Not when I tell you how much you'll be earning for a few hours of work a day." He wrote a figure down on a piece of parchment and nudged it over to Albus two-fingered.
Albus tried to school his features, but his poker face was pure shit. It was a fuck of a lot more than he was making with Snape. "What's the brew?"
Draco leant forward across his desk, clasping his hands together. There was something small and phial-shaped in the cage of his fingers. "I'm certain you're familiar with the memory potion Amnesidata Perdiem?"
"I could make that in my sleep. But why the erasure of selective short-term memories? And precisely who's being dosed?"
"Our patrons, of course. There are interests to protect. Identities. Reputations. Starting with my own. Look, I won't be paying you to moralise my business decisions. You either want the job or you don't. Do you?"
Albus mulled his reasons over in sixty seconds; Teddy off his back, new glasses, the prospect of a decent summer hol and more expensive kitty kibble. His father needn't know his superior. Besides, it hadn't been his lifelong grudge. "I think so, sir."
Draco stood when Albus did. This time, Draco was the first to offer his hand. "You can start Monday. Enjoy your weekend, young man."
Albus shook Mr Malfoy's hand and inwardly frowned at the slight wetness he found. "Thanks. I think I will." He turned to leave.
"Oh, and Mr Potter?"
Albus casually glanced over his shoulder. "Yes, sir?"
"There's room for advancement."
Albus just smiled and turned the door handle.
He was having a good dream. No, it had been a great dream. That was, until, he was woken from it. The hand that had roused him had also roused Sir Reginald, who took off at breakneck speed after using Albus's stomach as a springboard. Teddy could really be an inconsiderate arsehole at times.
Groggily, Albus rolled over, shielding his eyes from Teddy's wandlight. "What time is it?"
"It's after six," Teddy whispered. The light bounced from one corner of the room to the next. "Did I miss some kind of party?"
"No, not really," Albus said with a yawn and a stretch. He clumsily knocked over a pyramid of Strongwand cans with enough accompanying racket to wake the dead. He grimaced slightly at the noise and pulled the covers up and over his head, exposing clothes-tangled ankles.
"Oh, so it was that kind of night?" Teddy teased. He hooked a finger in the leg of Albus's pants and pulled tight, letting the elastic snap back.
The covers came down long enough for Albus to give Teddy the two-fingered salute and to retort. "Not the kind you're used to. No money changed hands."
"Bill taught you that, didn't he?" Teddy chuckled. "But seriously, though, why the celebration? I mean, I can't tell if you took more pulls off your ale or your prick. It smells like cider ale and dried spunk in here."
Albus sat up with a groan. He wasn't going to get any sleep with Teddy leading the inquisition. "I found a job is all. Got a bit pissed. And it was uncle Charlie who taught me that comeback, not uncle Bill."
Teddy moved Albus's legs aside and sat down on the end of the couch. He shook a few of the Strongwand cans until he found one that was still half-full. "So, what's this new job of yours like?"
"Well," Albus said with another yawn. "It's um…it's uh… Well, it's at this place on a cobbled road. My boss is a tall blond, bloke. I er, brew things. And, yeah."
"Sounds rather boring." Teddy was about to take a swig of ale when Albus's hand flew up to stop him.
"From cider-ale to pale-ale - if you know the sort of thing I mean," Albus said sheepishly.
Teddy Evanesco'd the can with a disgusted flick of his wrist. "Fuck, Al, can't handle your liquor or your dick. We'll talk later when I'm not so tired, and you're not so disgusting." He left with a strong jostle of the cushion.
Albus replied with a drowsy Mmmhmm. He pretended not to hear Teddy's bitching and moaning over the double cheese and sausage pizza spinning on Remus's old phonograph.
Heavy-eyed, he watched as Teddy trudged off to bed. That night, Albus dreamt of calligraphic scrolls and high-backed chairs and, wrapping his hand around his cock, a tall, blond man.
Secret the Second
Albus reported for work on Monday at eight a.m. He was never told what time to be there, but he'd always been an early riser. The building was pin-drop quiet. Apparently, he was one of the first to arrive. As on Saturday, he was escorted to Mr Malfoy's office. Draco was at his desk, reading the Prophet and enjoying a spot of breakfast. When he was news sated, Draco folded his paper neatly and regarded Albus. Draco Summoned a green apple from the fruit bowl across the room and gestured to the chair. Albus sat, feeling his way into the chair almost blindly.
"Good. You're early. I like when my boys are--" Draco chose his next word carefully, punctuating it with a healthy bite of his apple. "--Motivated."
"Mr Malfoy. That's right. You were on the tip of my tongue all weekend."
The perfect line of Draco's mouth twisted. "Was I now?"
"You drugged me."
"I prefer the term 'dosed' and yes, I did. I had to be certain you'd return. Amnesidata Perdiem can be taken orally or administered supercutaneously, as with a handshake. The situation called for the latter."
"Are you going to continue to dose me?" Albus asked. He Summoned the whole fruit bowl, examining each piece. He chose an overripe banana.
"That depends."
Albus skinned his banana in four equal peels. "On what?" The tip was brown, but he bit into it anyway.
"Why, your lovely mouth, of course. I see no reason so long as you keep my secrets."
Albus took a bigger bite of the banana. "Like the dutiful herder tending his flock."
"Precisely," Draco said, Vanishing his core. He stood, smoothing his robes. "Come, let me show you where you'll be brewing."
Albus followed, pocketing an Asian pear for later.
The brewing area, as it turned out, was not in some dank dungeon, but in a clean, quiet room. The Research Room worked much like the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts. When Albus needed to brew, the room appeared to him as requested. The shelves were lined alphabetically from Acacia to Yucca, and the cauldrons were of the highest quality, ranging from iron to orichalcum to hepatizon and pewter.
Best of all, there was no self-righteous bastard barking orders and staring down The Nose at him. Whichever blasphemous tongue had said that all virtuous wizards were eventually imprisoned in wood could not have been speaking about Severus Snape.
"I'll want five one drachma phials a day, as per my instructions," Draco said, handing Albus a roll of parchment. "Since Amnesidata Perdiem is a time-sensitive potion, it'll need to be made fresh daily. I'll require no more than a few hours of your day and then you’ll be free to go."
"Almost sounds too good to be true," Albus said. "I've never had a job this easy or a boss this laid back."
"Your work should be enjoyable. If it's not, then you've sought the wrong career."
"Yes, but if you're having too much fun then it's not really work now, is it?"
Draco's laugh was brittle. "Whom did you say your last supervisor was?"
Albus was tight-lipped. "I didn't." If he could tend to Mr Malfoy's flock of secrets loyally, he saw no reason not to shepherd his own.
Draco appeared oddly satisfied with Albus's answer. "Any questions?"
"Just one. When do I get to meet your star host?"
"Soon," Draco said, swiping his tongue across his bottom lip. "And I suspect you'll get on famously."
It was nearing on eleven a.m., and Albus was almost finished with his first batch of Amnesidata Perdiem. Things were running fairly smoothly, but he allowed himself an extra half hour for trial and error. The potion had perhaps fifteen more minutes to simmer, and then he could phial and stopper his maiden brew. He felt a sort of euphoric pride at his accomplishment. And soon he'd be free to bugger off the rest of the day. The thought had him daydreaming.
"Well, well, Albus sodding Severus. As I live and breathe. Father told me he'd employed a former schoolmate of mine, but I didn't believe it would be you. How the hell are you?"
Scorpius Malfoy clapped him hard on the shoulder, jostling him. Had it not been for his Snape-like agility, his glasses might've taken a tumble and a subsequent swim. Albus growled deep in his throat. "Just fucking fine, Malfoy. What are you doing here?" He wiped his lenses on his work robe and placed his glasses back on his face.
Scorpius held up two take-away containers. "Why, lunching of course! Being a cocktease takes a lot out of a man."
Albus snorted. "You don't say." He peered into the cauldron, quite pleased with the colour and the consistency. Thirteen minutes left.
Scorpius rifled through his take-away containers with his chopsticks. He let out an exasperated sigh, followed by a savage roar. "If I've told them once, I've told them twice. NO. BLOODY. BABY. CORN!" Two gravy-soaked ears flew past Albus.
"Hey! Watch it now!" Albus snarled. "This is supposed to be a sterile environment."
A water chestnut smacked Albus on the cheek. He pinched it between two fingers and vanished it with a swift flick of his wrist. Eleven minutes to go. Eleven minutes and he'd be away from this wanker.
Scorpius made himself at home and plunked down in the nearest chair. He kicked his boots up on the workstation table for effect. A paring knife fell on the floor with a clatter. "Betcha my father didn't tell you he created that potion you're making."
"It might've slipped his mind," Albus said, folding his arms across his chest. He was already fantasising about a peanut butter and lime marmalade sandwich on whole wheat with the crusts cut off. The greasy Chinese take-away made his stomach lurch.
"Ayup. It's totally brilliant. Just like my father. Removes selective short-term memories. Remember a face and not a name. Remember a building's architecture and not its location. Remember a scent and not its wearer. And when a follow-up dose is not administered within twenty-four hours, the relevant memories just fade away."
Albus shoved Scorpius's booted feet off the table. "I read his report. What I don't understand is how they know to return if the memories fade away."
Scorpius fished in his robe pocket for a business card. He flung it rudely at Albus. "Simple, we just slip this in their pocket. Subliminal advertising." The fanciful embossing on the card flashed a series of messages.
The Lotus Society. Have your loins stirred. Discretion assured. Come spend your Galleons on pure-blooded stallions.
Albus winced in disgust at the last catchphrase. "Fuck's sake," he growled, flinging it right back at Scorpius. He quickly checked his watch; three minutes to go. Just one hundred and eighty short seconds to go, and--
A frightening thought occurred to Albus. "Hang on, Malfoy. You're the star host of the Lotus Society?"
Scorpius belched, albeit somewhat charmingly. "In the flesh. Took you long enough to figure that out, nerd-boy. Not long ago, I had your job. Most boring job ever. Now I generate the most revenue here. And I never lift more than five fingers."
Albus snorted. "Your parents must be very proud."
"And who are you to pass judgment, hypocrite? You make an argument for moral high ground when you yourself are standing in mud."
Albus was just about to retort when his thirty-second timer went off. Thank fucking Merlin.
"Well, fuck," Scorpius groaned again. He picked up a baby corn from the bottom of his take-away carton and flung it high and wide. It landed in Albus's cauldron with a wet plop. The potion turned a dismal shade of shit-brown. Scorpius peered over into the cauldron and shrugged his shoulders.
Albus sighed. Well, fuck, indeed.
Albus had been working for the Lotus Society for three weeks, and he had his science down to a science. He was there and breakfasting at eight a.m., brewing by eight fifteen and cleaning up by nine forty-five. By ten, he was Apparating home.
Today, however, had been an aberration. It was nine a.m., and he hadn't started brewing yet. The herbalist was late in delivering Albus's supplies.
When he'd finally arrived at ten a.m., Albus had managed to build a sizable list of anagrams of his name and reconstruct the Taj Mahal out of Chocolate Frog Host cards. A small piece of parchment fluttered into his office announcing the shipment's arrival. Finally, he could get started.
Albus was not ten steps out his door when a commotion broke out in the reception room. Draco was standing with his son, arguing with a man who looked like a cross between Horace Slughorn and Herpo the Foul. It was Albus's every wish to sneak past unnoticed. The three of them had seemed rapt in their discussion, and Albus had no intentions of even looking in their direction. Quietly and unobtrusively, he signed the delivery manifest.
"But you always choose him. You have for months now," Draco said. "He's my most popular host. Does he not take care of you?"
"Of course, I do," Scorpius interjected. "Fa--"
Draco held his hand up, and Scorpius shut his mouth.
The man gave Scorpius's arse a condescending pat. "He does, but I want something different today. Someone different. A dark-haired boy this time."
The look on Scorpius's face was something between a pout and a glare.
"That can be arranged. I'll have Rafael bring the cards, and you can choose a new host."
The man's walrus moustache twitched in anticipation. "That won't be necessary. I'll have him."
"Him who?" Draco asked, whirling around.
Their gazes fell upon Albus, and his cheeks burned with embarrassment. He nearly tripped in his attempt to escape.
"Him? He's part of my administrative staff. Salazar's Scrote, the boy can't even walk. Besides," Draco said, lowering his voice as if the walls might disapprove. "He's only three-quarters pure-blooded."
"He's perfect," the man said with a lecherous grin. "I'll pay for his services. Handsomely." The man shook a satchel of Galleons to emphasise his point.
Draco smiled companionably. "I'm sure he'd be delighted, but I insist on supervising. He's had no formal training."
The man waved Draco off dismissively. "If you must. Have him brought to my favourite room and don't keep me waiting."
"Of course not, sir," Draco said, motioning Rafael over.
Rafael offered the man a glass of Beaujolais, and then escorted him through the door and down the hall.
When the man was out of earshot, Scorpius was free to throw his tantrum. "You can't be serious! Potter will muck things up! That man is my client."
"Oh, relax, Scorpius. There are plenty of other fools to cocktease. You'll find a new client and make him your challenge. Malfoys always bounce back."
"Don't you mean ferrets, father?"
Draco pretended not to hear that, cursing Goyle for sharing that with Scorpius. "And mostly I'd agree with you; Potter is a bumbling philistine. But," Draco said, stroking his pointed chin, "I'd like to see what he's made of."
"You're making a huge mistake."
"Probably so," Draco said.
"What about the brewing? Potter can't very well do two things at once."
"Quite right, son," Draco said with an irritating smile. "Robe up."
Albus paced outside the room's door like a caged beast. Nervous adrenaline coursed through his veins and blood pounded in his ears. A delicious warmth suffused his body. He felt as though he were a teenager again, trying to illegally obtain some Firewhisky.
What had he let himself be talked into?
He shook his head. On second thought… Hadn't he always lived the model, risk-free life? Hadn't James always referred to him as a swotty, goody two-shoes? Hadn't he always played it safe where Teddy had been the rabble-rouser?
There was something missing from his life: excitement.
Determined, he opened the door and stepped inside. He could do this.
The room was nothing like he'd pictured. The walls and furniture were white. Red pillows lined the couches, and there were red vases on either side of the end tables. A bonsai tree decorated the middle of the coffee table, and there were scrolls on each of the four walls symbolising the elements in sharp-stroked Kanji.
Draco was seated in the only piece of mismatched furniture, a Victorian wing chair. He had the Prophet open to page three. He briefly looked up at Albus before returning to his paper. Clearly, Draco was not there to interfere, but Albus still felt a little weird and self-conscious about things.
The man with the walrus moustache patted the couch cushion next to him. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, Albus strode over and sat down. He inadvertently slid down the couch dip the man had created with his backside. Blinking up at the man, Albus was pressed thigh to thigh.
"Comfy?"
Albus nodded, clearing his throat. In the time since he'd sat down, he had prepared several compliments. The job of a proper host was to make his guest feel good.
"Save your breath, boy. Compliments are wasted words," the man said. "Have some wine instead. I much prefer a flush to the skin." He indicated the bottle on the table. "Wet those pretty, pouty lips of yours."
Albus poured himself a glass, stopping when the man nodded. The man refused his own glass. Something about Apparating later with his wits about him. Albus drank deeply, emptying half the glass. He hesitated before swiping an errant drop away with the tip of his tongue.
"Now then, shall we begin?" the man asked.
Draco peered above his paper, shaking the sides to straighten the crease before turning the page.
Albus scooted up the cushion slope, straightening. He had no idea what to do next, so he drank more of his wine. In two gulps it was gone. He poured himself another glass and drank deeper. Feeling a bit of the liquid courage warming him from head to toe, Albus reached over and touched the man's arm. If he couldn't beguile him with words, he'd lure him with actions. Gently, the man nudged Albus's hand away. "I'd rather these old eyes lived vicariously through a young man's body."
Albus shrugged his shoulders in confusion.
The man and Draco shared a laugh. "Are you a whore or a host, boy? I'm told you've quite the intellect. Exercise your greater sex organ."
Greater sex organ? How could he think straight when his brain was swim-- That was it, his brain. His mother, of all people, had taught him that.
Albus smiled through his light-headed haze, reaching for the wine. "Let me tell you a story about an eager host --"
"And the superior he so wanted to please," the man cut in.
Draco appeared intrigued by this, folding his paper neatly and setting it aside. He draped his arms lazily over the sides of his chair.
The stage had been set. This was just a fair bit of acting, Albus told himself. Like they did in the Muggle cinemas. But just to be sure, Albus had some more wine, drinking straight from the bottle. He stood, albeit unsteadily, and swaggered over to Draco, standing behind Draco's chair. Draco looked up, and Albus darted his tongue through the part in his lips nervously.
The first time Albus had participated in aural sex, he'd used his father's Floo to firecall, and it had been a terrible embarrassment. James had inadvertently caught him in the act and, instead of giving Albus his privacy, had listened to Albus's filthy dick-sproinging conversation with Sinjin Smythe. Afterwards, James had hung Albus's sexuality over Albus's head until he'd broken down one night over rare roast beef and mushy peas and blurted 'I'm a shirt-lifting poof, happy all?' at the family dinner table. A full recovery had been too much to hope for. And now?
His mouth was drying up, and he couldn't breathe. This felt exactly like the time he'd stolen Sirius's old Bonny and taken it for a joyride. He knew nothing about the mechanics of charmed motorcycles, and had taken it higher than it was intended to fly. He was so high up that he'd been afraid to take the plunge. What had it taken then to come down?
The room grew deathly silent, and Albus was certain that everyone could hear his heart thumping madly in his chest. C'mon, Albus, he thought. What had it taken? And then he remembered another lesson, this one taught to him by his father; that one way or another, it would all be over very soon.
Setting his hands on Draco's shoulders, air began to fill Albus's lungs again. Enough for him to speak.
"It's late, after close of business, and it's been a long day. I've hustled my arse off, being the best cocktease I know how to be. I've pleasured all day, and now it's my time to be pleasured. I want to come so badly I can taste it, but wanking's a lot like drinking in one respect; it's no fun when you're alone.
"I saunter into your office. You're bent over your desk, sorting through a pile of papers. The business aspect of your job's a bitch, and you'd prefer to be just one of the boys, cockteasing with the best of us. But that's just not possible. Rubbing the fatigue from your eyes, you look up to see me standing there, all wild-eyed, shirt open, tails untucked and trousers undone.
"I fucking want you so badly, it hurts. I have since the day I started. But I knew you were off-limits, forbidden fruit. You’re my boss, for Merlin's sake. And you're more than twice my age. I'm that line you shouldn't cross.
"But do anyway.
"How do you want me, I ask. Broken, you reply.
"My cock hardens instantly at that, and it's almost painful the way it presses across the front of my pants. I slide my hand inside, and I begin to stroke myself. You can't see a damn thing, and I love it this way. But if you asked me, I would show you. I live to do your bidding.
"You beckon me forward, not with a crook of your finger, but with a flash of your eyes. I toe out of my shoes and close the space between us. I shimmy out of my trousers and my pants and step out of them, hopping up on your desk. I turn around and scoot closer, scattering some of your papers. You lean closer and claim my mouth, and when our lips part, mine are red and wet and swollen. My hair is mussed, my collar upturned and you nod approvingly at my state of dishabille.
"I spread my legs and curl my toes around the edges of your desk. I am open and laid out for you. My cock, my balls and my arsehole all on display. You swallow, and the apple in your throat bobs, either in awe or in disbelief. Frankly, I don't fucking care which. I just want your hands on me, your mouth on me. I want your cock inside me, stretching me, filling me. You tell me I'm beautiful when I'm this needy with want. It's the one truth in your bed of lies.
"I move to touch you and you grab my wrist, shaking your head. You're most pleased when I'm pleasing myself, and I'm never one to disappoint, never one to deny. I take my cock in my hand and stroke myself, alternating my rhythms, a slow slide of my fingers here, a quick snap of my wrist there. Fuck, I'm not going to last very long. I pause a moment to thumb the head of my cock, wetting my fingers with pre-come. My stomach tightens at the desire that flits across your face. You own me. You control me.
"I continue to fist my cock, pressing the fingers of my other hand to your lips. You take my fingers into your mouth and suck roughly. I can feel the smooth press of your tongue and the sharp cut of your teeth in kind, and I pull away reluctantly. But the reward I have in mind is far greater. Slowly, I spread my legs further and press the tips of my fingers into my arsehole. I buck at the tightness I find, lifting my hips. I stroke myself faster now, wanting to come so badly. So fucking badly. I close my eyes and imagine I'm straddling your lap, spreading my cheeks and sinking down hard on your cock.
"A half dozen strokes is all it takes, and I lose control, roughly fingerfucking myself. I come hard and fast, riding out my orgasm with the undulation of my hips. When I open my eyes, I grin at the spatters of come I've left behind, most notably on that scarf you wear. And like a spoilt virgin, I slide it from your neck and take it home with me.
"Fuck your file of lucrative connections and your spreadsheet of A-list clientele. I'm the best thing that's come across your desk in a while."
There was an air of unbreakable silence before Albus bowed and retreated from the room. The bow was not out of custom or respect, but because of its embarrassing implications. He'd succeeded all right -- in making himself impossibly hard. He paused in front of the door for a few quick pulls on his prick, overhearing more than he ought.
"He's good, that one," the man said. "Has a talent you can hone. You will teach him some self control, though, I hope?"
Draco gathered his robes. "Of course. I'll have a Chocolate Frog card made for him immediately."
The man smoothed the ends of his moustache. "The boy looks familiar. Is he not one of Harry Potter's spawns?"
"You know," Draco said, standing, "you may very well be right." He shoved a hand in his pocket and smiled knowingly, eyeing the wine bottle.
When Albus heard the doorknob turn, he quickly withdrew his hand. The man walked past him with a dazed expression. Draco remained behind.
"Well played, Mr Potter, well played," Draco said, snatching Albus's hand. Draco pressed it firmly to his crotch. "You had me quite convinced."
Albus held Draco's gaze for a few moments before extricating Draco's hand. "Should I wear dress or work robes tomorrow?"
Draco smiled. "That's entirely up to you."
Albus turned on his heels and left, his features contorted in a half-grin, half-grimace at the ache between his legs. Not more than ten steps down the hall, he thought he'd heard Draco say, 'Just like me.'
Secret the Third
"What in fuck's sake are you doing, Al?"
The question was bad enough without being startling. Albus turned from the mirror, mostly naked and holding Sir Reginald in his arms. "Um, nothing?"
Teddy raised an eyebrow in suspicion. "That sure looked like a lot of nothing. Were you…modelling?"
Albus opened his mouth to protest, but little more than a squeak escaped his lips. He scratched under the cat's chin three times before he found his voice. "Do you… Um, do you think I'm sexy? I mean, would you…you know, ever ask me out, Teddy?"
Teddy's other eyebrow arched way up into his fringe. "Looking like this? Probably not. Besides, you're like a little brother to me, and that's just euw."
Albus's shoulders sagged in disappointment. "Was afraid you’d say that."
"What's this all about anyway?" Teddy asked. "You never much cared about your appearance before."
"Just tired of being a nerd is all." Albus said with a sigh. "I could use your expertise."
"Well, for starters," Teddy chuckled, taking Sir Reginald from Albus, "you should lose the cat. There's nothing wrong with pussy, but it doesn't complement cock well."
Albus pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Fuck's sake, I'm serious about this."
"I am being serious! Next, you should… hang on, are those my pants you're wearing?" Teddy cuffed Albus on the back of his head.
"Ow, and yes! I don't own anything this skimpy, sorry. I needed to see how my bits looked in something other than boxers or y-fronts."
"Then, potionist boy, the next thing you should do is buy your own pants. Your bits tend to shift to one side in those," Teddy said, cupping his crotch. "Looksee, I'll demonstrate a bilateral left nut adjustment."
"I don't really brew anymore. Well, not exactly." Albus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Christ, I know how to adjust. I've had a set all my life."
Teddy bit his lip to keep from laughing. "Have you?"
"Sod you sideways, Teddy!" Albus snarled in frustration. "I'll do this on my own, then."
Teddy grabbed Albus by the waistband of his pants as Albus tried to leave. "Easy, Al. I was just having a bit of fun. I'll help you."
"Fine!" Albus spat. "I'll need to borrow some things from your wardrobe. I can't exactly wear shabby robes anymore."
Teddy sighed. "Have at it, then. Take what you like. It's not like I'll be needing my work clothes anymore."
Albus slid out of Teddy's underwear, slingshotting them one footed into the mile-high laundry pile. "You didn't?" There was a muffled meow from under the sock side.
"I did. I took a page out of your book and quit. That arselicker Peabody got my promotion, and I told McHenry where he could stick his bloody 'next time, Lupin.'"
"That's a bit of bad luck." Albus rummaged the piles for a pair of pyjama bottoms.
"Just a bit," Teddy said. "Oh, and by the way, Al--" This time, Teddy's cuffing was harder.
Albus rubbed the back of his head gingerly. "Now, what was that for?"
"My dad's Victrola. Can't fix Muggle things with magic y'know. Luckily, Arthur knew someone. Had to pay with slave labour, as I'm not working. You owe me."
"All right, all right," Albus said with a rueful grin. "Next big favour's yours."
Teddy collapsed on Al's bed, frowning at the feel of a lump underneath the sheets. "Pity I can't make a living shagging blokes. We'd never have to worry about money again." Unable to get comfortable, Teddy extracted the lump and handed a crumpled pair of bottoms to Albus. "Hey, you never did tell me what your new job entailed."
Albus shoved Teddy over. He absolutely didn't mind sharing his bed with Teddy in a platonic capacity, but Albus always slept on the right. "If I tell you, my father can't hear about this."
"Deal," Teddy grinned sleepily. "Been awhile since I heard a good bedtime story."
Draco hadn't arrived when Albus made his way into work. Albus supposed if he were rich and privileged, that he would skive off his responsibilities once in a while, too. One of these days, though, he would be his own boss.
Albus had tossed and turned well into morning, unable to sleep. He'd thought about his night with Draco and the client and wondered if some things weren't meant for fantasy alone. Surely, Draco hadn't been serious about letting him work as a host? Surely, this whole sordid mess had been for a lark or a gentlemen's wager. No matter, Albus thought, he had a job and a well-paying job at that. He'd just been hopeful to wear two sets of clothing.
Since Albus did not want to go home to a moping Teddy straight away, he lunched in a vacant office. He was just about to bite into his sandwich when Scorpius barged in, a carton from Love Me Tandoor in his hand. Albus could not understand how Scorpius stayed so fit eating so much take-away. If Scorpius didn't watch himself, he'd be a real porker in six months.
Despite the grin on Scorpius's face, he was still his nasty, snobbish self. He sat down uninvited on the opposite side of the desk and helped himself to Albus's juice. The subsequent burp stank of curry and pumpkin spice, but it was still ungodly charming in that Malfoy sort of way. Scorpius was definitely the devil come lately and the angel come never.
"What are you still doing here, Potter? Don't you have a cat to groom?"
"Not that it's any of your business, but I'm waiting on your father. I need to speak with him."
"If this is about the other night, you're deluding yourself. You’re an ugly, four-eyed git." When Albus didn't answer right away, Scorpius fumed. "Well?"
"Well what? I'm not going to dignify your nastiness with a response."
"Oho, how about now?" Scorpius said. He grabbed Albus's sandwich and flung it clear across the room like a Roman discus.
"I was finished anyway."
The pumpkin juice followed a similar trajectory. Albus protectively grabbed for his apple. He was, of course, not quick enough.
Scorpius smiled viciously in triumph. He had a piece of chicken caught between his teeth. Albus said nothing about it. Scorpius needed a flaw.
"Still a great bully, I see."
Scorpius unzipped his trousers and threatened to shove the apple inside, but there was a knock at the door. Rafael poked his head in. "Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy wishes to speak with you. He's in his office."
Albus stood, shaking his head at the mess. When he tried to sidestep Scorpius, Scorpius grabbed his arm. "You'll never sit level with me, Potter."
"You're right, I won't." Albus said. "I'll sit higher."
Scorpius tightened his grip. "You're writing cheques with your mouth your arse can't cash."
"If you think you're the better man, prove it."
"Fine. Me against you, then."
"You're not proposing we have a flutter, are you?"
"That's exactly what I'm proposing."
Albus shrugged from Scorpius's grip. "What's the bet?"
"Whoever scores the most clients by the end of the week wins."
Albus offered his hand. "You're on."
Scorpius took Albus's hand, squeezing Albus's fingers painfully. Their gazes were level and narrowed at one another.
There was another knock at the door. Rafael paused to watch the two of them, finally clearing his throat. "Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy does not like to be kept waiting."
Their hands dropped and Albus turned to leave.
"Oh, and Potter. There's just one hitch. Whoever's first to sleep with a client loses."
Albus nodded then left. Rafael remained.
Scorpius's cunning was absolute. "Tell my father I want to speak with him immediately."
It had been a busy week for both Albus and Scorpius, and they were glad for a bit of a let-up. It had been a competitive run, but business was beginning to slow as the night progressed into morning. Albus glanced at his pocket watch. It was a quarter of twelve, and he could barely stifle his yawn. Another hour or so and someone would be crowned victorious. There was bound to be one last straggler. If nothing else, Albus would at least finish his book. His lips curved into a tired smile as he thought about the client that requested he do nothing more than 'read and look studiously dishevelled.' Scorpius had laughed at him, but it was Albus who'd had the last laugh. Weird fetishes aside, the man had tipped generously.
And speaking of that annoying prat, Scorpius… Albus could not even wager a guess as to why Scorpius chose to be in the same room with him, adorning Albus's office desk like an art deco lamp, all shining brightness and scrutinising light. He'd done nothing but taunt Albus and disturb his reading, but in the end, all it had taken to distract Scorpius was a transfigured puzzle cube. Scorpius had tried to work its secrets determinedly, leaving Albus free to finally finish his book. Unfortunately, though, nothing concerning Scorpius was ever long lived. Least of all his patience.
"Can't believe we're even," Scorpius said, tapping his wand to the puzzle cube. All six sides reverted back to their solid colours. "Ties are for Ministry suits."
Albus's smirk was reminiscent of Snape's. "What has your knickers in a twist, Malfoy? Surely you're not that insecure over losing to a lowly Potter?"
Scorpius snatched the book from Albus's hands, studying the cover. "Entrepreneurship for the Enterprising Wizard? I'd have to be the biggest loser ever to be jealous of someone who consults a self-help book." He made to give the book back to Albus, instead, letting it fall into the rubbish bin. Scorpius wiped his hands clean exaggeratedly, the joy on his face apparent.
"Make fun if you must, Malfoy. We'll see who's laughing last." Albus peered into the rubbish bin after his book. He thought better of its rescue when a rogue stapler threatened him with a paper clip sword.
"Won't be me," Scorpius said, shaking the fringe out of his eyes. He turned and just barely avoided a collision with his father.
"Mr Malfoy."
"Father."
Albus and Scorpius exchanged worried glances. They had been loitering in the boss's office.
"What are you doing here, father? I told you I could handle things while you tended to grandfather."
Draco arched a brow at the clatter in his rubbish bin. "And I told you I trusted you, Scorpius. I'm here off-the-clock."
Albus had thought it. Scorpius had been the one to say it. "What couldn't wait until morning?"
Draco handed Albus a satchel. "His pert little arse bent over my desk."
Scorpius's face reddened with rage. "You can't… Father, how could… I mean, why would…"
"There must be one-hundred Galleons in here," Albus interrupted, carefully weighing the bag in his hands.
"One hundred ten, actually," Draco said. He extracted ten coins from the pouch and handed them to Scorpius. "I believe Thai Me Up is open for another twenty minutes. Make yourself scarce, Scorpius, and fetch me some noodles. There's a good son."
Scorpius bit his lip in frustration. He shot his father and Albus a look that would singe the whiskers off a Chinese Fireball. The door banged shut with an angry Fuck you!
Albus grinned. "Helluva way to start things off."
"It was the only way I could have what I wanted and allow Scorpius to save face," Draco said, sliding out of his robe.
Albus contemplated the bag of coins in his hand. "Don't really think I need this. I'd've done this without the incentive."
"Keep it," Draco said with a sly chuckle. "It's coming out of your paycheque."
"Well, in that case," Albus said, unbuckling his trousers and stepping out of them, "better work extra hard to earn it."
Draco approached Albus. "I'll see to that." Gently, he slipped the glasses from Albus's face, folding the arms and setting them on the desk. "Oh, yes, I'll definitely see to that."
Their mouths crashed in a brutal kiss, lips parting and tongues tangling. When Albus was pulled from the kiss, breathless and beautifully bruised, he stared at Draco's lips, red and wet and swollen, a perfect reflection of his own. Lustdrunk, Albus trailed a line of sharp and fevered kisses along Draco's jugular, pulling Draco's collar aside for more skin, more collarbone, more anything. The initiative was Albus's for the moment, and he enjoyed it in due course. The payment for such would be high, but his hands could not resist the flex of pectoral muscle or the twitch of cock under his eager fingertips.
His clothes came off - in a tug, in a rip, in a shred - and cool air goosepimpled his skin. His nipples stiffened with the pinch and scratch of nail, and his cock throbbed painfully.
A strong hand seized him by the wrist, and Albus fell in line with Draco's pushpullpush demands, stretching over the top of Draco's desk and arching his back with the spread of his thighs. He lay there a moment, needy and high off his own adrenaline, rolling his hips to give his cock whatever friction it could find.
A sweet, acrid scent filled Albus's nostrils, and his stomach tightened in anticipation. His whole body pulled taut at the feel of Draco's fingers slicking the rim of his arsehole with slow, deliberate strokes. The lubricant burned then tingled with the push and stretch of fingers, and Albus raised his backside like a gingered-up horse, spirited and anxious, wordlessly begging to be fucked.
Blood pounded in Albus's ears, and he could just barely make out the clang of belt buckle and the whoosh of trousers as Draco stepped behind him, resting a hand on the small of Albus's back and slicking both their cocks. His voice dry and rough with disuse, Albus forced a husky, discordant fuckyesss as Draco pushed in one agonising inch at a time until he was buried to the root.
His whole body thrumming, Albus pushed back on the cock inside him, his knees threatening to buckle from overstimulation. Draco raised and steadied Albus, wrapping an arm around him to pull at Albus's cock. A languid swipe of thumb massaged the wet slit of Albus's cock before Draco's fingers formed a tight, hot tunnel around Albus's shaft. Albus's head lolled forward as he watched Draco manipulate Albus's cock. Delicious warmth coursed through Albus's veins, and cool prickles travelled the length of his spine. Fuck, Albus was going to come hard and fa--
A sharp press of thumb collided with the underside vein of Albus's cock, and he slammed back hard into Draco's groin. No. Not. Yet. Albus. Nobody punctuated their words quite so perfectly, the sharp arrest of no, the forceful train of just-barely-there coherency. Albus turned his head and claimed Draco's mouth once more, undulating his hips. A soft and pathetic whimper pushed past Albus's lips, and Draco deepened his thrusts.
Albus could feel the tremble of weight over him. Draco was teetering on the edge himself, and Albus could not resist the push. He snaked a hand around and dug his fingers into the flesh of Draco's arse, dragging his nails high and jagged. Draco released his thumb, and Albus came with a soft keening and a harsh cry of fuuuck, coating Draco's fingers. Draco followed, not a half dozen thrusts later, emptying inside Albus with a satisfied hum. Together, they lay boneless until their orgasms receded and their strength returned.
Albus was the first to move, reaching across the desk for his glasses. His hands shook as he replaced them, squinting. The lenses were blurred with prints.
Draco slid his cock out of Albus's arse and performed Cleaning Charms on them both. He dressed and settled in his chair, watching as Albus assembled himself. His manner was brusque like his business savvy. "You don't have to leave."
"It's late," Albus said, huffing hot air on his lenses to clean the smudges. "I should go."
"That's not what I meant."
"I know what you meant," Albus said. He slid his glasses up the bridge of his nose with an index finger. There, now he could see properly. Draco was rather handsome for an older, dishevelled man.
"You'll come back tomorrow, my son will gloat a bit and things will proceed as normal."
A bit, Albus thought? "Lookit, I'm a lousy host. I broke the cardinal rule. And with the boss. Think I'll stick to brewing."
Draco removed a ledger from his desk drawer, inking something in fanciful cursive. He handed it to Albus. "Here. Just like we talked about."
Albus shook his head. "I can't. I shouldn't." He turned to leave.
Draco shook the piece of parchment. "I won't offer again."
"One question," Albus said, whirling around, his finger pointed in contemplation.
Draco smiled. He knew the question already. "Because Scorpius has never asked."
A large part of Albus knew this was just inviting trouble. The smaller part of him didn't give a sodding fuck. Turning abruptly, Albus snatched the parchment from Draco's waiting hand. "I'll be back in a few days. There'll be papers to sign."
Draco nodded and replaced the ledger in his desk. "Of course."
Albus grabbed his robes and left hurriedly, before either of them could change their minds. On the way out, he was sure he'd heard Draco say, 'Just like me.'
Just as he'd promised, Albus returned. He'd brought a stack of papers in need of signatures and his new business partner. Teddy did not look happy to be in the company of Malfoys, but Albus was paying back his favour and then some.
They were ushered in to Draco's office promptly. Draco was just finishing an important Firecall, and Scorpius had taken up residence on the edge of his father's desk, flipping through a Quidditch Quarterly. Scorpius looked none too pleased to see either of them.
"Gentlemen," Draco said standing. He offered his hand to Albus and then to Teddy. Teddy's hair flashed red with anger at Scorpius's scathing looks.
Albus handed Draco the stack of papers. "If you could just sign and initial these where indicated, we'll be out of your hair."
Draco dipped his quill in the inkpot. "Is Mr Lupin your business's muscle?"
Teddy snorted, jabbing Albus in the ribs.
"Um, you could say that."
Draco handed a few of the signed parchments back to Albus. "So, what business am I buying into?"
"A Host Club."
"Really?" Draco said, the corners of his mouth tugging upward. "Far enough away to be independent and close enough to be competitive, I presume?"
"Absolutely."
Scorpius made to protest, but Draco zapped his son with a Silencing Charm. "Until he grows a pair, he has little say in the matter."
Teddy grinned, provoking Scorpius further. Scorpius's stream of silent invectives was comical.
"So, does this business of yours have a name?"
"Yeah," Albus said, trying to think up a clever name. He thought of the one word that accompanied life's simpler pleasures. "Joy."
"Discreet and elegant. I like it. I'll have Sakamoto-san design your logo." Draco was signing the last of the documents when he stopped, his quill poised. "One last query. Will you be dosing your clients?"
"Er, yes and no," Albus answered. "I'm working on some modifications to Amnesidata Perdiem."
"How very interesting," Draco said. He changed the thirty percent to forty percent as Albus watched. "Fair's fair after all." Draco turned the parchment around and passed it to Albus two-fingered.
"Yes," Albus said, taking the quill from the inkwell. The forty percent morphed into thirty-five percent. "You're hardly one to be greedy."
Draco smiled and signed the contract, magically binding their business endeavour. He stood and shook their hands again. "I'll be in touch."
Albus shuffled through his documents, making certain everything was in order. Some of his papers fell to the floor. Teddy bent over to help. Draco peered over his desk to watch.
"Salazar's scrote, Potter, buy yourself a bottomless briefcase. I hear Alexander's is having a sale."
Albus reddened in embarrassment. "Right." He and Teddy turned to leave.
"I enjoyed last night. I wouldn't mind a repeat," Draco called after him.
The grin on Albus's face was huge, but he would not reply. He would not even stop as Teddy tugged at his sleeve. Instead, Albus left Draco's office door open a crack as an invitation.
And Albus was absolutely positive he'd heard Draco say as he returned to his work, 'Just like me. Only better."
-=The End=-
hp_sas. I have far too many thoughts on next-gen cross-gen that I won't bore you all with today. Am saving that for a future discussion.Many thanks to
nuclearsugars for my lovely gift ♥Title: Three Secrets of the Not-So-Secret Lotus Society
Giftees: The mods,
softly_sweetly and marguerite_26Word Count: 10,000 words or thereabouts
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Draco/Albus Severus, with appearances by Scorpius and Teddy Lupin
Warnings: Rent!boy (well, kinda-sorta :-P), dirty talk, orgasm denial, first kisses, first-time sex, voyeurism, complicated relationships, happy/open ending and yes, even plot *G*
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: In which Albus considers the job market, Scorpius hates baby corn and Draco keeps his boys in check.
Author's Notes: For two of the loveliest, most understanding mods I know. Major props to my betas and helpers
melusinahp, snegurochka_lee, venivincere, sinick and lusiology. Originally posted here.The Cock and Swallow was brimming with activity. It was Friday and the little pub was standing room only.
After the umpteenth request for the other chair at his table, it had been necessary for Albus Severus to occupy the chair with his feet. He could deal with the dirty looks from the Ministry suits or the rowdy dickheads who supported the Bats. What he could not deal with was the lateness of his best friend and flatmate, who was now forty-five minutes overdue. Apparently, time meant nothing to those on holiday.
Frustrated, Albus drained his mug and mentally prepared himself for home and the reality that he'd be spending a lot more time there if he didn't learn to leash his temper. He was just about to leave when the tardy one showed up, an apologetic look on his face. Albus sat down again, slamming his heels on the chair just as one of the Ballycastle wankers made a lunge for it. By now he'd got used to the two-fingered fuckyouverymuch.
"Got here just as soon as I could."
"Not soon enough," Albus said sullenly. "What kept you?"
"Well, um--" A shock of violet hair replaced sandy locks, and Albus instantly knew.
Albus scowled, using his index finger to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Mates before baits, Lupin." Unfortunately for Albus, he hadn't the energy to stay angry, and the scowl was soon replaced with a grin.
"Padraig was not underage, Al," Teddy said, shrugging off his coat.
Albus knew that Teddy had a thing for Irish blokes, so the look in Teddy's eyes may have been shifty.
"Um, you going to finish that?" Or not. Turned out Teddy had just been eyeing Albus's half eaten chip buttie.
Albus nudged his plate forward. "Honestly, Teddy, don't you ever eat?"
"Well," Teddy said between inhales, "I'm taking advantage of my time off. Eating's just not high on my list of priorities. Food anyway."
Albus held up a hand. "Enough. We are here for me, y'know."
Teddy wiped the butter grease from his lips and fingers on Albus's napkin. "Right. Go ahead then. I'm listening."
Albus took a deep breath. "I quit my job today."
"Fuck, Al. End of the month's next week. What was it this time?"
"He was a demanding prick."
Teddy leant forward like he was going to tell Albus a big secret. "He's your boss. 'Course he's demanding."
"Yes, but his demands were unreasonable. And, he made me do all the grunt work."
"He's a fucking portrait, what did you expect? He hasn't exactly the dexterity anymore."
"And that's my problem how?" Albus said, signalling the barmaid for another round.
"Your boss is Severus sodding Snape."
"That doesn't give him the right to whore me out. I did all the work, and he took all the credit. I was having no more of that."
Teddy took a huge pull from his ale, and then another. His hair shifted from flame red to cool blue. "For a swotty bloke, you're sure an insubordinate shit. And now you're a swotty, insubordinate, out-of-work shit."
"Couldn't you get me in at the Registry office?" Albus blew the head off his ale thoughtfully.
Teddy nearly choked on his ale. "Isn't living together enough? What about asking your dad for a loan?"
"I'd never hear the end of it from James. He's alive just to see me fail."
"Al," Teddy said, threading his fingers through the mug handle. This meant his tone was growing serious. "I don't have to tell you that the rent's coming due. We've a nice flat, and I'd prefer to stay somewhere vermin-free."
"Surely, you're not suggesting I grovel to Snape for my old job back?"
Teddy grinned wolfishly, and Albus followed his eyes. Padraig was standing at the bar, and he had a companion. "Lookit, Al. I don't give a rat's arse if you lick Snape's balls or if you shovel hippogriff shit, just find a job, all right?"
Albus slunk down in his seat, depressed all over again. Not only was he jobless, he was sexless, too. "I'll try," he said. For a moment, his face brightened. "Don't suppose I could join you?"
"Not on your life," Teddy said, clapping Al on the shoulder. "Dishes need doing, and Sir Reginald needs feeding."
"Great," Albus said unenthusiastically. "A night at home with my cat."
Teddy was getting antsy to leave. His dick was doing a dance along with his feet. "Don't worry, Al. Something will fall into your lap. It always does."
"Yeah, I suppose. Listen, Teddy, are you going to be home for dinner to--" he sighed. Teddy had already snuck away to the bar.
Albus drained the rest of his mug and contemplated his evening. Maybe he could temporarily escape his problems with a good book? He was just about to wave goodbye to Teddy when a discarded Prophet hit him in the face, obscuring his view.
"Fucking suits," he snarled. The paper was open to the business section. Prices were up. Stocks were down. Alexander's was having a sale on bottomless briefcases. Hmm. Did he dare chance the Want Ads?
Albus gathered up his things and opened up the paper to that section, reading on his way out. The job listings were scant. Either he was underskilled or overqualified. He was just about to give up when a particular ad caught his eye: Potioneer wanted, Apply in person, 547 Sechshu Alley.
He couldn't believe his luck. Albus was so overjoyed at the prospect of a decent paying job that he raised his fist in triumph, unknowingly cheering when the Bats won their match against Wimbourne on the Wireless.
A long-haired bloke wearing a tight Ballycastle t-shirt smiled at him, and for once, Albus did not mind the Quidditch arseholes.
Sechshu Alley, it turned out, was dangerously close to Knockturn. There were no more Death Eaters, at least not in the open, but the Wizarding world would never be free of its unsavoury types. Even the well to do, moralistic dark posed the occasional threat in the new hierarchy.
The address in question belonged to a minimalist two-storey office. On the inside, however, the décor was an exquisite mix of nineteenth century English and twenty-first century Japanese. Was it too much to hope for, Albus thought, that the job be legit?
There was no one present in the waiting room so Albus rang the bell, tidying his appearance. He was going to be knee-deep in kneazle shit if they wanted references. Despite his skill, Albus doubted Snape would sing his praises. When he was turned around examining his fly, someone entered the room.
"Ah, good afternoon, sir. How may we be of service?"
Albus startled. The man's smile was ingratiating, and he was far too pretty to share X and Y chromosomes. "I, uh…er, I'm here about the job." The nervous stutter was, of course, the bane of Potter men.
"Oh yes, Mr M did say we were looking for a Potioneer. I'll just see if he's busy."
The man disappeared through a door and Albus quickly tested his breath. He hadn't remembered to brush his teeth after his lime marmalade and onion bagel. Fumbling around in his dress robe pockets, he found a roll of Experi-mints. George Weasley had dubiously promised their flavour would last up to twelve hours. To be certain, he ate four.
After waiting fifteen minutes in an aesthetically pleasing but uncomfortable chair, Albus was escorted inside the back door. He followed the man down a long hallway until they came to a door with an M nameplate. The man knocked once and bowed his goodbye, leaving a faint scent of something Albus couldn't immediately place behind. He twiddled his thumbs studiously in contemplation.
"Come." A calm but authoritative voice broke Albus's concentration, and he smoothed the front of his robes last minute before entering.
Mr M's high-backed chair was facing the window. Albus couldn't figure out what the man was looking at, though, because his view was nothing more than an adjacent brick wall.
Albus cleared his throat. "Good afternoon, sir. I'm here about the Potioneer's job."
The chair swivelled around and Draco Malfoy smiled impishly, as if he already knew who stood before him. "You're Potter's boy, aren’t you?"
Albus offered his hand. "That's right. And you're Draco Malfoy?"
"Otherwise known as the mysterious Mr M," Draco said, shaking Albus's hand. When their hands dropped, Draco gestured to a chair.
Albus sat and handed Draco his résumé. There were a lot of short stints at prestigious organisations, and Albus was quite certain that looked unfavourable to someone like Draco Malfoy.
"Bit of a mover," Draco said, his eyes roaming down the page.
The bastard must have sensed Albus's apprehension. "Just trying to find my place in this world, sir."
Draco chuckled. "I see that. Not that I don't understand. It took me a while to settle into a career."
Albus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It was taking him forever to settle into anything. "What does the job entail?"
"Well," Draco said, standing. "To better understand what you would be doing here, I must first explain The Lotus Society's purpose. You see, we provide a service to the lonely and uninspired gentleman."
"How so?" Albus asked. He was fairly certain that his father would kill him if he went to work for Draco Malfoy, but Albus was innately intrigued.
Draco walked from behind his desk around to the back of Albus's chair. "Three years ago, I went on holiday to Osaka. It was there that I learned about Host Clubs, and I was instantly intrigued. Mind you now, the practice of men paying for gratification is certainly not a new concept. Why, just two streets over there are individuals willing to pleasure for money. This is different, though. I actually encourage my boys to abstain from sex."
"TO ABSTAIN?" Albus said a lot louder than he'd intended. "FROM SEX? I thought this was a potion's profession!" He squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. Albus was hardly a prude, but he was hardly a hedonist either. Still, he had been the precocious child of clan Potter, part of him needed to know more.
"How do you make any money? What exactly are they paying for?" He jumped a bit when he felt Draco's hand curl around his shoulder.
"My dear boy," Draco intoned, squeezing Albus's shoulder. "Initially, a fantasy. After that, a second opportunity. Followed by a third, then a fourth. My most popular host has had a client chasing after him for months. And he will never relent, not unless he's offered the right price."
Albus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay, let me see if I have this right, then. You know, just so we're on the same page. This is a house of prostitution?" Albus's sharp voice had made his query sound rather accusatory.
Nevertheless, Draco appeared unruffled. "It's a Host Club. And as I said earlier, I actually encourage abstinence. I don't make half as much profit otherwise."
Albus made a face. "I don't think I could uh, entertain someone I thought was hard on the eyes." He laughed secretly at that. His sister would have called him shallow. Teddy, on the other hand, would have thought him practical.
Wait a fucking minute, Albus thought? Was he starting to rationalise all of this? And in record speed, no less. Had Draco been that convincing?
"Everyone has their price, Mr Potter. I have mine, and you have yours. Your father even has his." Draco shook his head. "But enough about that. Time is money, and I have an appointment in fifteen minutes."
Albus watched in horror as Draco fed Albus's résumé through the shredder. Several strips of the charmed parchment he'd used tried to escape through the feeder. "Was that really necessary, sir?"
"You won't be needing it," Draco said, settling back into his chair. "Not when I tell you how much you'll be earning for a few hours of work a day." He wrote a figure down on a piece of parchment and nudged it over to Albus two-fingered.
Albus tried to school his features, but his poker face was pure shit. It was a fuck of a lot more than he was making with Snape. "What's the brew?"
Draco leant forward across his desk, clasping his hands together. There was something small and phial-shaped in the cage of his fingers. "I'm certain you're familiar with the memory potion Amnesidata Perdiem?"
"I could make that in my sleep. But why the erasure of selective short-term memories? And precisely who's being dosed?"
"Our patrons, of course. There are interests to protect. Identities. Reputations. Starting with my own. Look, I won't be paying you to moralise my business decisions. You either want the job or you don't. Do you?"
Albus mulled his reasons over in sixty seconds; Teddy off his back, new glasses, the prospect of a decent summer hol and more expensive kitty kibble. His father needn't know his superior. Besides, it hadn't been his lifelong grudge. "I think so, sir."
Draco stood when Albus did. This time, Draco was the first to offer his hand. "You can start Monday. Enjoy your weekend, young man."
Albus shook Mr Malfoy's hand and inwardly frowned at the slight wetness he found. "Thanks. I think I will." He turned to leave.
"Oh, and Mr Potter?"
Albus casually glanced over his shoulder. "Yes, sir?"
"There's room for advancement."
Albus just smiled and turned the door handle.
He was having a good dream. No, it had been a great dream. That was, until, he was woken from it. The hand that had roused him had also roused Sir Reginald, who took off at breakneck speed after using Albus's stomach as a springboard. Teddy could really be an inconsiderate arsehole at times.
Groggily, Albus rolled over, shielding his eyes from Teddy's wandlight. "What time is it?"
"It's after six," Teddy whispered. The light bounced from one corner of the room to the next. "Did I miss some kind of party?"
"No, not really," Albus said with a yawn and a stretch. He clumsily knocked over a pyramid of Strongwand cans with enough accompanying racket to wake the dead. He grimaced slightly at the noise and pulled the covers up and over his head, exposing clothes-tangled ankles.
"Oh, so it was that kind of night?" Teddy teased. He hooked a finger in the leg of Albus's pants and pulled tight, letting the elastic snap back.
The covers came down long enough for Albus to give Teddy the two-fingered salute and to retort. "Not the kind you're used to. No money changed hands."
"Bill taught you that, didn't he?" Teddy chuckled. "But seriously, though, why the celebration? I mean, I can't tell if you took more pulls off your ale or your prick. It smells like cider ale and dried spunk in here."
Albus sat up with a groan. He wasn't going to get any sleep with Teddy leading the inquisition. "I found a job is all. Got a bit pissed. And it was uncle Charlie who taught me that comeback, not uncle Bill."
Teddy moved Albus's legs aside and sat down on the end of the couch. He shook a few of the Strongwand cans until he found one that was still half-full. "So, what's this new job of yours like?"
"Well," Albus said with another yawn. "It's um…it's uh… Well, it's at this place on a cobbled road. My boss is a tall blond, bloke. I er, brew things. And, yeah."
"Sounds rather boring." Teddy was about to take a swig of ale when Albus's hand flew up to stop him.
"From cider-ale to pale-ale - if you know the sort of thing I mean," Albus said sheepishly.
Teddy Evanesco'd the can with a disgusted flick of his wrist. "Fuck, Al, can't handle your liquor or your dick. We'll talk later when I'm not so tired, and you're not so disgusting." He left with a strong jostle of the cushion.
Albus replied with a drowsy Mmmhmm. He pretended not to hear Teddy's bitching and moaning over the double cheese and sausage pizza spinning on Remus's old phonograph.
Heavy-eyed, he watched as Teddy trudged off to bed. That night, Albus dreamt of calligraphic scrolls and high-backed chairs and, wrapping his hand around his cock, a tall, blond man.
Albus reported for work on Monday at eight a.m. He was never told what time to be there, but he'd always been an early riser. The building was pin-drop quiet. Apparently, he was one of the first to arrive. As on Saturday, he was escorted to Mr Malfoy's office. Draco was at his desk, reading the Prophet and enjoying a spot of breakfast. When he was news sated, Draco folded his paper neatly and regarded Albus. Draco Summoned a green apple from the fruit bowl across the room and gestured to the chair. Albus sat, feeling his way into the chair almost blindly.
"Good. You're early. I like when my boys are--" Draco chose his next word carefully, punctuating it with a healthy bite of his apple. "--Motivated."
"Mr Malfoy. That's right. You were on the tip of my tongue all weekend."
The perfect line of Draco's mouth twisted. "Was I now?"
"You drugged me."
"I prefer the term 'dosed' and yes, I did. I had to be certain you'd return. Amnesidata Perdiem can be taken orally or administered supercutaneously, as with a handshake. The situation called for the latter."
"Are you going to continue to dose me?" Albus asked. He Summoned the whole fruit bowl, examining each piece. He chose an overripe banana.
"That depends."
Albus skinned his banana in four equal peels. "On what?" The tip was brown, but he bit into it anyway.
"Why, your lovely mouth, of course. I see no reason so long as you keep my secrets."
Albus took a bigger bite of the banana. "Like the dutiful herder tending his flock."
"Precisely," Draco said, Vanishing his core. He stood, smoothing his robes. "Come, let me show you where you'll be brewing."
Albus followed, pocketing an Asian pear for later.
The brewing area, as it turned out, was not in some dank dungeon, but in a clean, quiet room. The Research Room worked much like the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts. When Albus needed to brew, the room appeared to him as requested. The shelves were lined alphabetically from Acacia to Yucca, and the cauldrons were of the highest quality, ranging from iron to orichalcum to hepatizon and pewter.
Best of all, there was no self-righteous bastard barking orders and staring down The Nose at him. Whichever blasphemous tongue had said that all virtuous wizards were eventually imprisoned in wood could not have been speaking about Severus Snape.
"I'll want five one drachma phials a day, as per my instructions," Draco said, handing Albus a roll of parchment. "Since Amnesidata Perdiem is a time-sensitive potion, it'll need to be made fresh daily. I'll require no more than a few hours of your day and then you’ll be free to go."
"Almost sounds too good to be true," Albus said. "I've never had a job this easy or a boss this laid back."
"Your work should be enjoyable. If it's not, then you've sought the wrong career."
"Yes, but if you're having too much fun then it's not really work now, is it?"
Draco's laugh was brittle. "Whom did you say your last supervisor was?"
Albus was tight-lipped. "I didn't." If he could tend to Mr Malfoy's flock of secrets loyally, he saw no reason not to shepherd his own.
Draco appeared oddly satisfied with Albus's answer. "Any questions?"
"Just one. When do I get to meet your star host?"
"Soon," Draco said, swiping his tongue across his bottom lip. "And I suspect you'll get on famously."
It was nearing on eleven a.m., and Albus was almost finished with his first batch of Amnesidata Perdiem. Things were running fairly smoothly, but he allowed himself an extra half hour for trial and error. The potion had perhaps fifteen more minutes to simmer, and then he could phial and stopper his maiden brew. He felt a sort of euphoric pride at his accomplishment. And soon he'd be free to bugger off the rest of the day. The thought had him daydreaming.
"Well, well, Albus sodding Severus. As I live and breathe. Father told me he'd employed a former schoolmate of mine, but I didn't believe it would be you. How the hell are you?"
Scorpius Malfoy clapped him hard on the shoulder, jostling him. Had it not been for his Snape-like agility, his glasses might've taken a tumble and a subsequent swim. Albus growled deep in his throat. "Just fucking fine, Malfoy. What are you doing here?" He wiped his lenses on his work robe and placed his glasses back on his face.
Scorpius held up two take-away containers. "Why, lunching of course! Being a cocktease takes a lot out of a man."
Albus snorted. "You don't say." He peered into the cauldron, quite pleased with the colour and the consistency. Thirteen minutes left.
Scorpius rifled through his take-away containers with his chopsticks. He let out an exasperated sigh, followed by a savage roar. "If I've told them once, I've told them twice. NO. BLOODY. BABY. CORN!" Two gravy-soaked ears flew past Albus.
"Hey! Watch it now!" Albus snarled. "This is supposed to be a sterile environment."
A water chestnut smacked Albus on the cheek. He pinched it between two fingers and vanished it with a swift flick of his wrist. Eleven minutes to go. Eleven minutes and he'd be away from this wanker.
Scorpius made himself at home and plunked down in the nearest chair. He kicked his boots up on the workstation table for effect. A paring knife fell on the floor with a clatter. "Betcha my father didn't tell you he created that potion you're making."
"It might've slipped his mind," Albus said, folding his arms across his chest. He was already fantasising about a peanut butter and lime marmalade sandwich on whole wheat with the crusts cut off. The greasy Chinese take-away made his stomach lurch.
"Ayup. It's totally brilliant. Just like my father. Removes selective short-term memories. Remember a face and not a name. Remember a building's architecture and not its location. Remember a scent and not its wearer. And when a follow-up dose is not administered within twenty-four hours, the relevant memories just fade away."
Albus shoved Scorpius's booted feet off the table. "I read his report. What I don't understand is how they know to return if the memories fade away."
Scorpius fished in his robe pocket for a business card. He flung it rudely at Albus. "Simple, we just slip this in their pocket. Subliminal advertising." The fanciful embossing on the card flashed a series of messages.
The Lotus Society. Have your loins stirred. Discretion assured. Come spend your Galleons on pure-blooded stallions.
Albus winced in disgust at the last catchphrase. "Fuck's sake," he growled, flinging it right back at Scorpius. He quickly checked his watch; three minutes to go. Just one hundred and eighty short seconds to go, and--
A frightening thought occurred to Albus. "Hang on, Malfoy. You're the star host of the Lotus Society?"
Scorpius belched, albeit somewhat charmingly. "In the flesh. Took you long enough to figure that out, nerd-boy. Not long ago, I had your job. Most boring job ever. Now I generate the most revenue here. And I never lift more than five fingers."
Albus snorted. "Your parents must be very proud."
"And who are you to pass judgment, hypocrite? You make an argument for moral high ground when you yourself are standing in mud."
Albus was just about to retort when his thirty-second timer went off. Thank fucking Merlin.
"Well, fuck," Scorpius groaned again. He picked up a baby corn from the bottom of his take-away carton and flung it high and wide. It landed in Albus's cauldron with a wet plop. The potion turned a dismal shade of shit-brown. Scorpius peered over into the cauldron and shrugged his shoulders.
Albus sighed. Well, fuck, indeed.
Albus had been working for the Lotus Society for three weeks, and he had his science down to a science. He was there and breakfasting at eight a.m., brewing by eight fifteen and cleaning up by nine forty-five. By ten, he was Apparating home.
Today, however, had been an aberration. It was nine a.m., and he hadn't started brewing yet. The herbalist was late in delivering Albus's supplies.
When he'd finally arrived at ten a.m., Albus had managed to build a sizable list of anagrams of his name and reconstruct the Taj Mahal out of Chocolate Frog Host cards. A small piece of parchment fluttered into his office announcing the shipment's arrival. Finally, he could get started.
Albus was not ten steps out his door when a commotion broke out in the reception room. Draco was standing with his son, arguing with a man who looked like a cross between Horace Slughorn and Herpo the Foul. It was Albus's every wish to sneak past unnoticed. The three of them had seemed rapt in their discussion, and Albus had no intentions of even looking in their direction. Quietly and unobtrusively, he signed the delivery manifest.
"But you always choose him. You have for months now," Draco said. "He's my most popular host. Does he not take care of you?"
"Of course, I do," Scorpius interjected. "Fa--"
Draco held his hand up, and Scorpius shut his mouth.
The man gave Scorpius's arse a condescending pat. "He does, but I want something different today. Someone different. A dark-haired boy this time."
The look on Scorpius's face was something between a pout and a glare.
"That can be arranged. I'll have Rafael bring the cards, and you can choose a new host."
The man's walrus moustache twitched in anticipation. "That won't be necessary. I'll have him."
"Him who?" Draco asked, whirling around.
Their gazes fell upon Albus, and his cheeks burned with embarrassment. He nearly tripped in his attempt to escape.
"Him? He's part of my administrative staff. Salazar's Scrote, the boy can't even walk. Besides," Draco said, lowering his voice as if the walls might disapprove. "He's only three-quarters pure-blooded."
"He's perfect," the man said with a lecherous grin. "I'll pay for his services. Handsomely." The man shook a satchel of Galleons to emphasise his point.
Draco smiled companionably. "I'm sure he'd be delighted, but I insist on supervising. He's had no formal training."
The man waved Draco off dismissively. "If you must. Have him brought to my favourite room and don't keep me waiting."
"Of course not, sir," Draco said, motioning Rafael over.
Rafael offered the man a glass of Beaujolais, and then escorted him through the door and down the hall.
When the man was out of earshot, Scorpius was free to throw his tantrum. "You can't be serious! Potter will muck things up! That man is my client."
"Oh, relax, Scorpius. There are plenty of other fools to cocktease. You'll find a new client and make him your challenge. Malfoys always bounce back."
"Don't you mean ferrets, father?"
Draco pretended not to hear that, cursing Goyle for sharing that with Scorpius. "And mostly I'd agree with you; Potter is a bumbling philistine. But," Draco said, stroking his pointed chin, "I'd like to see what he's made of."
"You're making a huge mistake."
"Probably so," Draco said.
"What about the brewing? Potter can't very well do two things at once."
"Quite right, son," Draco said with an irritating smile. "Robe up."
Albus paced outside the room's door like a caged beast. Nervous adrenaline coursed through his veins and blood pounded in his ears. A delicious warmth suffused his body. He felt as though he were a teenager again, trying to illegally obtain some Firewhisky.
What had he let himself be talked into?
He shook his head. On second thought… Hadn't he always lived the model, risk-free life? Hadn't James always referred to him as a swotty, goody two-shoes? Hadn't he always played it safe where Teddy had been the rabble-rouser?
There was something missing from his life: excitement.
Determined, he opened the door and stepped inside. He could do this.
The room was nothing like he'd pictured. The walls and furniture were white. Red pillows lined the couches, and there were red vases on either side of the end tables. A bonsai tree decorated the middle of the coffee table, and there were scrolls on each of the four walls symbolising the elements in sharp-stroked Kanji.
Draco was seated in the only piece of mismatched furniture, a Victorian wing chair. He had the Prophet open to page three. He briefly looked up at Albus before returning to his paper. Clearly, Draco was not there to interfere, but Albus still felt a little weird and self-conscious about things.
The man with the walrus moustache patted the couch cushion next to him. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, Albus strode over and sat down. He inadvertently slid down the couch dip the man had created with his backside. Blinking up at the man, Albus was pressed thigh to thigh.
"Comfy?"
Albus nodded, clearing his throat. In the time since he'd sat down, he had prepared several compliments. The job of a proper host was to make his guest feel good.
"Save your breath, boy. Compliments are wasted words," the man said. "Have some wine instead. I much prefer a flush to the skin." He indicated the bottle on the table. "Wet those pretty, pouty lips of yours."
Albus poured himself a glass, stopping when the man nodded. The man refused his own glass. Something about Apparating later with his wits about him. Albus drank deeply, emptying half the glass. He hesitated before swiping an errant drop away with the tip of his tongue.
"Now then, shall we begin?" the man asked.
Draco peered above his paper, shaking the sides to straighten the crease before turning the page.
Albus scooted up the cushion slope, straightening. He had no idea what to do next, so he drank more of his wine. In two gulps it was gone. He poured himself another glass and drank deeper. Feeling a bit of the liquid courage warming him from head to toe, Albus reached over and touched the man's arm. If he couldn't beguile him with words, he'd lure him with actions. Gently, the man nudged Albus's hand away. "I'd rather these old eyes lived vicariously through a young man's body."
Albus shrugged his shoulders in confusion.
The man and Draco shared a laugh. "Are you a whore or a host, boy? I'm told you've quite the intellect. Exercise your greater sex organ."
Greater sex organ? How could he think straight when his brain was swim-- That was it, his brain. His mother, of all people, had taught him that.
Albus smiled through his light-headed haze, reaching for the wine. "Let me tell you a story about an eager host --"
"And the superior he so wanted to please," the man cut in.
Draco appeared intrigued by this, folding his paper neatly and setting it aside. He draped his arms lazily over the sides of his chair.
The stage had been set. This was just a fair bit of acting, Albus told himself. Like they did in the Muggle cinemas. But just to be sure, Albus had some more wine, drinking straight from the bottle. He stood, albeit unsteadily, and swaggered over to Draco, standing behind Draco's chair. Draco looked up, and Albus darted his tongue through the part in his lips nervously.
The first time Albus had participated in aural sex, he'd used his father's Floo to firecall, and it had been a terrible embarrassment. James had inadvertently caught him in the act and, instead of giving Albus his privacy, had listened to Albus's filthy dick-sproinging conversation with Sinjin Smythe. Afterwards, James had hung Albus's sexuality over Albus's head until he'd broken down one night over rare roast beef and mushy peas and blurted 'I'm a shirt-lifting poof, happy all?' at the family dinner table. A full recovery had been too much to hope for. And now?
His mouth was drying up, and he couldn't breathe. This felt exactly like the time he'd stolen Sirius's old Bonny and taken it for a joyride. He knew nothing about the mechanics of charmed motorcycles, and had taken it higher than it was intended to fly. He was so high up that he'd been afraid to take the plunge. What had it taken then to come down?
The room grew deathly silent, and Albus was certain that everyone could hear his heart thumping madly in his chest. C'mon, Albus, he thought. What had it taken? And then he remembered another lesson, this one taught to him by his father; that one way or another, it would all be over very soon.
Setting his hands on Draco's shoulders, air began to fill Albus's lungs again. Enough for him to speak.
"It's late, after close of business, and it's been a long day. I've hustled my arse off, being the best cocktease I know how to be. I've pleasured all day, and now it's my time to be pleasured. I want to come so badly I can taste it, but wanking's a lot like drinking in one respect; it's no fun when you're alone.
"I saunter into your office. You're bent over your desk, sorting through a pile of papers. The business aspect of your job's a bitch, and you'd prefer to be just one of the boys, cockteasing with the best of us. But that's just not possible. Rubbing the fatigue from your eyes, you look up to see me standing there, all wild-eyed, shirt open, tails untucked and trousers undone.
"I fucking want you so badly, it hurts. I have since the day I started. But I knew you were off-limits, forbidden fruit. You’re my boss, for Merlin's sake. And you're more than twice my age. I'm that line you shouldn't cross.
"But do anyway.
"How do you want me, I ask. Broken, you reply.
"My cock hardens instantly at that, and it's almost painful the way it presses across the front of my pants. I slide my hand inside, and I begin to stroke myself. You can't see a damn thing, and I love it this way. But if you asked me, I would show you. I live to do your bidding.
"You beckon me forward, not with a crook of your finger, but with a flash of your eyes. I toe out of my shoes and close the space between us. I shimmy out of my trousers and my pants and step out of them, hopping up on your desk. I turn around and scoot closer, scattering some of your papers. You lean closer and claim my mouth, and when our lips part, mine are red and wet and swollen. My hair is mussed, my collar upturned and you nod approvingly at my state of dishabille.
"I spread my legs and curl my toes around the edges of your desk. I am open and laid out for you. My cock, my balls and my arsehole all on display. You swallow, and the apple in your throat bobs, either in awe or in disbelief. Frankly, I don't fucking care which. I just want your hands on me, your mouth on me. I want your cock inside me, stretching me, filling me. You tell me I'm beautiful when I'm this needy with want. It's the one truth in your bed of lies.
"I move to touch you and you grab my wrist, shaking your head. You're most pleased when I'm pleasing myself, and I'm never one to disappoint, never one to deny. I take my cock in my hand and stroke myself, alternating my rhythms, a slow slide of my fingers here, a quick snap of my wrist there. Fuck, I'm not going to last very long. I pause a moment to thumb the head of my cock, wetting my fingers with pre-come. My stomach tightens at the desire that flits across your face. You own me. You control me.
"I continue to fist my cock, pressing the fingers of my other hand to your lips. You take my fingers into your mouth and suck roughly. I can feel the smooth press of your tongue and the sharp cut of your teeth in kind, and I pull away reluctantly. But the reward I have in mind is far greater. Slowly, I spread my legs further and press the tips of my fingers into my arsehole. I buck at the tightness I find, lifting my hips. I stroke myself faster now, wanting to come so badly. So fucking badly. I close my eyes and imagine I'm straddling your lap, spreading my cheeks and sinking down hard on your cock.
"A half dozen strokes is all it takes, and I lose control, roughly fingerfucking myself. I come hard and fast, riding out my orgasm with the undulation of my hips. When I open my eyes, I grin at the spatters of come I've left behind, most notably on that scarf you wear. And like a spoilt virgin, I slide it from your neck and take it home with me.
"Fuck your file of lucrative connections and your spreadsheet of A-list clientele. I'm the best thing that's come across your desk in a while."
There was an air of unbreakable silence before Albus bowed and retreated from the room. The bow was not out of custom or respect, but because of its embarrassing implications. He'd succeeded all right -- in making himself impossibly hard. He paused in front of the door for a few quick pulls on his prick, overhearing more than he ought.
"He's good, that one," the man said. "Has a talent you can hone. You will teach him some self control, though, I hope?"
Draco gathered his robes. "Of course. I'll have a Chocolate Frog card made for him immediately."
The man smoothed the ends of his moustache. "The boy looks familiar. Is he not one of Harry Potter's spawns?"
"You know," Draco said, standing, "you may very well be right." He shoved a hand in his pocket and smiled knowingly, eyeing the wine bottle.
When Albus heard the doorknob turn, he quickly withdrew his hand. The man walked past him with a dazed expression. Draco remained behind.
"Well played, Mr Potter, well played," Draco said, snatching Albus's hand. Draco pressed it firmly to his crotch. "You had me quite convinced."
Albus held Draco's gaze for a few moments before extricating Draco's hand. "Should I wear dress or work robes tomorrow?"
Draco smiled. "That's entirely up to you."
Albus turned on his heels and left, his features contorted in a half-grin, half-grimace at the ache between his legs. Not more than ten steps down the hall, he thought he'd heard Draco say, 'Just like me.'
"What in fuck's sake are you doing, Al?"
The question was bad enough without being startling. Albus turned from the mirror, mostly naked and holding Sir Reginald in his arms. "Um, nothing?"
Teddy raised an eyebrow in suspicion. "That sure looked like a lot of nothing. Were you…modelling?"
Albus opened his mouth to protest, but little more than a squeak escaped his lips. He scratched under the cat's chin three times before he found his voice. "Do you… Um, do you think I'm sexy? I mean, would you…you know, ever ask me out, Teddy?"
Teddy's other eyebrow arched way up into his fringe. "Looking like this? Probably not. Besides, you're like a little brother to me, and that's just euw."
Albus's shoulders sagged in disappointment. "Was afraid you’d say that."
"What's this all about anyway?" Teddy asked. "You never much cared about your appearance before."
"Just tired of being a nerd is all." Albus said with a sigh. "I could use your expertise."
"Well, for starters," Teddy chuckled, taking Sir Reginald from Albus, "you should lose the cat. There's nothing wrong with pussy, but it doesn't complement cock well."
Albus pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Fuck's sake, I'm serious about this."
"I am being serious! Next, you should… hang on, are those my pants you're wearing?" Teddy cuffed Albus on the back of his head.
"Ow, and yes! I don't own anything this skimpy, sorry. I needed to see how my bits looked in something other than boxers or y-fronts."
"Then, potionist boy, the next thing you should do is buy your own pants. Your bits tend to shift to one side in those," Teddy said, cupping his crotch. "Looksee, I'll demonstrate a bilateral left nut adjustment."
"I don't really brew anymore. Well, not exactly." Albus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Christ, I know how to adjust. I've had a set all my life."
Teddy bit his lip to keep from laughing. "Have you?"
"Sod you sideways, Teddy!" Albus snarled in frustration. "I'll do this on my own, then."
Teddy grabbed Albus by the waistband of his pants as Albus tried to leave. "Easy, Al. I was just having a bit of fun. I'll help you."
"Fine!" Albus spat. "I'll need to borrow some things from your wardrobe. I can't exactly wear shabby robes anymore."
Teddy sighed. "Have at it, then. Take what you like. It's not like I'll be needing my work clothes anymore."
Albus slid out of Teddy's underwear, slingshotting them one footed into the mile-high laundry pile. "You didn't?" There was a muffled meow from under the sock side.
"I did. I took a page out of your book and quit. That arselicker Peabody got my promotion, and I told McHenry where he could stick his bloody 'next time, Lupin.'"
"That's a bit of bad luck." Albus rummaged the piles for a pair of pyjama bottoms.
"Just a bit," Teddy said. "Oh, and by the way, Al--" This time, Teddy's cuffing was harder.
Albus rubbed the back of his head gingerly. "Now, what was that for?"
"My dad's Victrola. Can't fix Muggle things with magic y'know. Luckily, Arthur knew someone. Had to pay with slave labour, as I'm not working. You owe me."
"All right, all right," Albus said with a rueful grin. "Next big favour's yours."
Teddy collapsed on Al's bed, frowning at the feel of a lump underneath the sheets. "Pity I can't make a living shagging blokes. We'd never have to worry about money again." Unable to get comfortable, Teddy extracted the lump and handed a crumpled pair of bottoms to Albus. "Hey, you never did tell me what your new job entailed."
Albus shoved Teddy over. He absolutely didn't mind sharing his bed with Teddy in a platonic capacity, but Albus always slept on the right. "If I tell you, my father can't hear about this."
"Deal," Teddy grinned sleepily. "Been awhile since I heard a good bedtime story."
Draco hadn't arrived when Albus made his way into work. Albus supposed if he were rich and privileged, that he would skive off his responsibilities once in a while, too. One of these days, though, he would be his own boss.
Albus had tossed and turned well into morning, unable to sleep. He'd thought about his night with Draco and the client and wondered if some things weren't meant for fantasy alone. Surely, Draco hadn't been serious about letting him work as a host? Surely, this whole sordid mess had been for a lark or a gentlemen's wager. No matter, Albus thought, he had a job and a well-paying job at that. He'd just been hopeful to wear two sets of clothing.
Since Albus did not want to go home to a moping Teddy straight away, he lunched in a vacant office. He was just about to bite into his sandwich when Scorpius barged in, a carton from Love Me Tandoor in his hand. Albus could not understand how Scorpius stayed so fit eating so much take-away. If Scorpius didn't watch himself, he'd be a real porker in six months.
Despite the grin on Scorpius's face, he was still his nasty, snobbish self. He sat down uninvited on the opposite side of the desk and helped himself to Albus's juice. The subsequent burp stank of curry and pumpkin spice, but it was still ungodly charming in that Malfoy sort of way. Scorpius was definitely the devil come lately and the angel come never.
"What are you still doing here, Potter? Don't you have a cat to groom?"
"Not that it's any of your business, but I'm waiting on your father. I need to speak with him."
"If this is about the other night, you're deluding yourself. You’re an ugly, four-eyed git." When Albus didn't answer right away, Scorpius fumed. "Well?"
"Well what? I'm not going to dignify your nastiness with a response."
"Oho, how about now?" Scorpius said. He grabbed Albus's sandwich and flung it clear across the room like a Roman discus.
"I was finished anyway."
The pumpkin juice followed a similar trajectory. Albus protectively grabbed for his apple. He was, of course, not quick enough.
Scorpius smiled viciously in triumph. He had a piece of chicken caught between his teeth. Albus said nothing about it. Scorpius needed a flaw.
"Still a great bully, I see."
Scorpius unzipped his trousers and threatened to shove the apple inside, but there was a knock at the door. Rafael poked his head in. "Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy wishes to speak with you. He's in his office."
Albus stood, shaking his head at the mess. When he tried to sidestep Scorpius, Scorpius grabbed his arm. "You'll never sit level with me, Potter."
"You're right, I won't." Albus said. "I'll sit higher."
Scorpius tightened his grip. "You're writing cheques with your mouth your arse can't cash."
"If you think you're the better man, prove it."
"Fine. Me against you, then."
"You're not proposing we have a flutter, are you?"
"That's exactly what I'm proposing."
Albus shrugged from Scorpius's grip. "What's the bet?"
"Whoever scores the most clients by the end of the week wins."
Albus offered his hand. "You're on."
Scorpius took Albus's hand, squeezing Albus's fingers painfully. Their gazes were level and narrowed at one another.
There was another knock at the door. Rafael paused to watch the two of them, finally clearing his throat. "Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy does not like to be kept waiting."
Their hands dropped and Albus turned to leave.
"Oh, and Potter. There's just one hitch. Whoever's first to sleep with a client loses."
Albus nodded then left. Rafael remained.
Scorpius's cunning was absolute. "Tell my father I want to speak with him immediately."
It had been a busy week for both Albus and Scorpius, and they were glad for a bit of a let-up. It had been a competitive run, but business was beginning to slow as the night progressed into morning. Albus glanced at his pocket watch. It was a quarter of twelve, and he could barely stifle his yawn. Another hour or so and someone would be crowned victorious. There was bound to be one last straggler. If nothing else, Albus would at least finish his book. His lips curved into a tired smile as he thought about the client that requested he do nothing more than 'read and look studiously dishevelled.' Scorpius had laughed at him, but it was Albus who'd had the last laugh. Weird fetishes aside, the man had tipped generously.
And speaking of that annoying prat, Scorpius… Albus could not even wager a guess as to why Scorpius chose to be in the same room with him, adorning Albus's office desk like an art deco lamp, all shining brightness and scrutinising light. He'd done nothing but taunt Albus and disturb his reading, but in the end, all it had taken to distract Scorpius was a transfigured puzzle cube. Scorpius had tried to work its secrets determinedly, leaving Albus free to finally finish his book. Unfortunately, though, nothing concerning Scorpius was ever long lived. Least of all his patience.
"Can't believe we're even," Scorpius said, tapping his wand to the puzzle cube. All six sides reverted back to their solid colours. "Ties are for Ministry suits."
Albus's smirk was reminiscent of Snape's. "What has your knickers in a twist, Malfoy? Surely you're not that insecure over losing to a lowly Potter?"
Scorpius snatched the book from Albus's hands, studying the cover. "Entrepreneurship for the Enterprising Wizard? I'd have to be the biggest loser ever to be jealous of someone who consults a self-help book." He made to give the book back to Albus, instead, letting it fall into the rubbish bin. Scorpius wiped his hands clean exaggeratedly, the joy on his face apparent.
"Make fun if you must, Malfoy. We'll see who's laughing last." Albus peered into the rubbish bin after his book. He thought better of its rescue when a rogue stapler threatened him with a paper clip sword.
"Won't be me," Scorpius said, shaking the fringe out of his eyes. He turned and just barely avoided a collision with his father.
"Mr Malfoy."
"Father."
Albus and Scorpius exchanged worried glances. They had been loitering in the boss's office.
"What are you doing here, father? I told you I could handle things while you tended to grandfather."
Draco arched a brow at the clatter in his rubbish bin. "And I told you I trusted you, Scorpius. I'm here off-the-clock."
Albus had thought it. Scorpius had been the one to say it. "What couldn't wait until morning?"
Draco handed Albus a satchel. "His pert little arse bent over my desk."
Scorpius's face reddened with rage. "You can't… Father, how could… I mean, why would…"
"There must be one-hundred Galleons in here," Albus interrupted, carefully weighing the bag in his hands.
"One hundred ten, actually," Draco said. He extracted ten coins from the pouch and handed them to Scorpius. "I believe Thai Me Up is open for another twenty minutes. Make yourself scarce, Scorpius, and fetch me some noodles. There's a good son."
Scorpius bit his lip in frustration. He shot his father and Albus a look that would singe the whiskers off a Chinese Fireball. The door banged shut with an angry Fuck you!
Albus grinned. "Helluva way to start things off."
"It was the only way I could have what I wanted and allow Scorpius to save face," Draco said, sliding out of his robe.
Albus contemplated the bag of coins in his hand. "Don't really think I need this. I'd've done this without the incentive."
"Keep it," Draco said with a sly chuckle. "It's coming out of your paycheque."
"Well, in that case," Albus said, unbuckling his trousers and stepping out of them, "better work extra hard to earn it."
Draco approached Albus. "I'll see to that." Gently, he slipped the glasses from Albus's face, folding the arms and setting them on the desk. "Oh, yes, I'll definitely see to that."
Their mouths crashed in a brutal kiss, lips parting and tongues tangling. When Albus was pulled from the kiss, breathless and beautifully bruised, he stared at Draco's lips, red and wet and swollen, a perfect reflection of his own. Lustdrunk, Albus trailed a line of sharp and fevered kisses along Draco's jugular, pulling Draco's collar aside for more skin, more collarbone, more anything. The initiative was Albus's for the moment, and he enjoyed it in due course. The payment for such would be high, but his hands could not resist the flex of pectoral muscle or the twitch of cock under his eager fingertips.
His clothes came off - in a tug, in a rip, in a shred - and cool air goosepimpled his skin. His nipples stiffened with the pinch and scratch of nail, and his cock throbbed painfully.
A strong hand seized him by the wrist, and Albus fell in line with Draco's pushpullpush demands, stretching over the top of Draco's desk and arching his back with the spread of his thighs. He lay there a moment, needy and high off his own adrenaline, rolling his hips to give his cock whatever friction it could find.
A sweet, acrid scent filled Albus's nostrils, and his stomach tightened in anticipation. His whole body pulled taut at the feel of Draco's fingers slicking the rim of his arsehole with slow, deliberate strokes. The lubricant burned then tingled with the push and stretch of fingers, and Albus raised his backside like a gingered-up horse, spirited and anxious, wordlessly begging to be fucked.
Blood pounded in Albus's ears, and he could just barely make out the clang of belt buckle and the whoosh of trousers as Draco stepped behind him, resting a hand on the small of Albus's back and slicking both their cocks. His voice dry and rough with disuse, Albus forced a husky, discordant fuckyesss as Draco pushed in one agonising inch at a time until he was buried to the root.
His whole body thrumming, Albus pushed back on the cock inside him, his knees threatening to buckle from overstimulation. Draco raised and steadied Albus, wrapping an arm around him to pull at Albus's cock. A languid swipe of thumb massaged the wet slit of Albus's cock before Draco's fingers formed a tight, hot tunnel around Albus's shaft. Albus's head lolled forward as he watched Draco manipulate Albus's cock. Delicious warmth coursed through Albus's veins, and cool prickles travelled the length of his spine. Fuck, Albus was going to come hard and fa--
A sharp press of thumb collided with the underside vein of Albus's cock, and he slammed back hard into Draco's groin. No. Not. Yet. Albus. Nobody punctuated their words quite so perfectly, the sharp arrest of no, the forceful train of just-barely-there coherency. Albus turned his head and claimed Draco's mouth once more, undulating his hips. A soft and pathetic whimper pushed past Albus's lips, and Draco deepened his thrusts.
Albus could feel the tremble of weight over him. Draco was teetering on the edge himself, and Albus could not resist the push. He snaked a hand around and dug his fingers into the flesh of Draco's arse, dragging his nails high and jagged. Draco released his thumb, and Albus came with a soft keening and a harsh cry of fuuuck, coating Draco's fingers. Draco followed, not a half dozen thrusts later, emptying inside Albus with a satisfied hum. Together, they lay boneless until their orgasms receded and their strength returned.
Albus was the first to move, reaching across the desk for his glasses. His hands shook as he replaced them, squinting. The lenses were blurred with prints.
Draco slid his cock out of Albus's arse and performed Cleaning Charms on them both. He dressed and settled in his chair, watching as Albus assembled himself. His manner was brusque like his business savvy. "You don't have to leave."
"It's late," Albus said, huffing hot air on his lenses to clean the smudges. "I should go."
"That's not what I meant."
"I know what you meant," Albus said. He slid his glasses up the bridge of his nose with an index finger. There, now he could see properly. Draco was rather handsome for an older, dishevelled man.
"You'll come back tomorrow, my son will gloat a bit and things will proceed as normal."
A bit, Albus thought? "Lookit, I'm a lousy host. I broke the cardinal rule. And with the boss. Think I'll stick to brewing."
Draco removed a ledger from his desk drawer, inking something in fanciful cursive. He handed it to Albus. "Here. Just like we talked about."
Albus shook his head. "I can't. I shouldn't." He turned to leave.
Draco shook the piece of parchment. "I won't offer again."
"One question," Albus said, whirling around, his finger pointed in contemplation.
Draco smiled. He knew the question already. "Because Scorpius has never asked."
A large part of Albus knew this was just inviting trouble. The smaller part of him didn't give a sodding fuck. Turning abruptly, Albus snatched the parchment from Draco's waiting hand. "I'll be back in a few days. There'll be papers to sign."
Draco nodded and replaced the ledger in his desk. "Of course."
Albus grabbed his robes and left hurriedly, before either of them could change their minds. On the way out, he was sure he'd heard Draco say, 'Just like me.'
Just as he'd promised, Albus returned. He'd brought a stack of papers in need of signatures and his new business partner. Teddy did not look happy to be in the company of Malfoys, but Albus was paying back his favour and then some.
They were ushered in to Draco's office promptly. Draco was just finishing an important Firecall, and Scorpius had taken up residence on the edge of his father's desk, flipping through a Quidditch Quarterly. Scorpius looked none too pleased to see either of them.
"Gentlemen," Draco said standing. He offered his hand to Albus and then to Teddy. Teddy's hair flashed red with anger at Scorpius's scathing looks.
Albus handed Draco the stack of papers. "If you could just sign and initial these where indicated, we'll be out of your hair."
Draco dipped his quill in the inkpot. "Is Mr Lupin your business's muscle?"
Teddy snorted, jabbing Albus in the ribs.
"Um, you could say that."
Draco handed a few of the signed parchments back to Albus. "So, what business am I buying into?"
"A Host Club."
"Really?" Draco said, the corners of his mouth tugging upward. "Far enough away to be independent and close enough to be competitive, I presume?"
"Absolutely."
Scorpius made to protest, but Draco zapped his son with a Silencing Charm. "Until he grows a pair, he has little say in the matter."
Teddy grinned, provoking Scorpius further. Scorpius's stream of silent invectives was comical.
"So, does this business of yours have a name?"
"Yeah," Albus said, trying to think up a clever name. He thought of the one word that accompanied life's simpler pleasures. "Joy."
"Discreet and elegant. I like it. I'll have Sakamoto-san design your logo." Draco was signing the last of the documents when he stopped, his quill poised. "One last query. Will you be dosing your clients?"
"Er, yes and no," Albus answered. "I'm working on some modifications to Amnesidata Perdiem."
"How very interesting," Draco said. He changed the thirty percent to forty percent as Albus watched. "Fair's fair after all." Draco turned the parchment around and passed it to Albus two-fingered.
"Yes," Albus said, taking the quill from the inkwell. The forty percent morphed into thirty-five percent. "You're hardly one to be greedy."
Draco smiled and signed the contract, magically binding their business endeavour. He stood and shook their hands again. "I'll be in touch."
Albus shuffled through his documents, making certain everything was in order. Some of his papers fell to the floor. Teddy bent over to help. Draco peered over his desk to watch.
"Salazar's scrote, Potter, buy yourself a bottomless briefcase. I hear Alexander's is having a sale."
Albus reddened in embarrassment. "Right." He and Teddy turned to leave.
"I enjoyed last night. I wouldn't mind a repeat," Draco called after him.
The grin on Albus's face was huge, but he would not reply. He would not even stop as Teddy tugged at his sleeve. Instead, Albus left Draco's office door open a crack as an invitation.
And Albus was absolutely positive he'd heard Draco say as he returned to his work, 'Just like me. Only better."
-=The End=-
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Date: 2009-09-06 11:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-06 11:16 pm (UTC)♥
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Date: 2009-09-07 02:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-07 03:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-10 08:28 pm (UTC)The whole story flowed so well from beginning to end, it had great pace and it was a real pleasure to read.
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Date: 2009-09-11 11:04 pm (UTC)Three Secrets of the Not-So-Secret Lotus Society
Date: 2009-09-15 01:00 am (UTC)Re: Three Secrets of the Not-So-Secret Lotus Society
Date: 2009-09-16 12:25 am (UTC)<3 <3 <3