Chapter Text
The heavy oak door of Grimmauld Place groaned a protest as I pushed it open, the familiar scent of dust and old magic filling my nostrils.The heavy oak door of Grimmauld Place groaned a protest as I pushed it open, the familiar scent of dust and old magic filling my nostrils. Kreacher, already perched on the top step, his ears twitching, gave a low, guttural growl that sounded suspiciously like a greeting. He looked less like a house-elf and more like a disgruntled gargoyle these days, though he’d never admit it.
"Master Albus has arrived. Kreacher has been waiting."
His voice, raspy like dry leaves skittering across pavement, echoed in the dimly lit hall. I merely arched a brow, a slow, deliberate movement that spoke volumes. My silk scarf, a deep emerald green, felt cool against my neck.
"And I assume Master Albus is late, as usual?" My tone was a smooth, low purr, a practiced affectation. I didn't wait for an answer, striding past him, my expensive leather shoes barely whispering against the worn floorboards. The Potter family gathering. A yearly torment I endured with the grace of a seasoned performer.
"The Potters are in the living-room, Master Albus. The old elf has prepared tea. And biscuits. Kreacher made sure they are not the ones Master Albus detests." His eyes, like cloudy marbles, watched me, unblinking.
"Kreacher, your loyalty is as unwavering as it is utterly predictable. Don't forget we're going home after this" A faint smirk touched my lips.
"And for the record, I detest all biscuits."
He merely huffed, a sound that could have been agreement or exasperation. I didn't care which. The familiar cacophony of voices, a chaotic symphony of Potters and Weasleys, spilled from the drawing-room. I paused at the threshold, taking a moment to compose myself, to don the mask I wore so well for them. Narcissism wasn't a flaw; it was a shield, a well-honed weapon.
"Albus! There you are, dear!"
My mother, Ginny, her voice a bright, chirping bird, was the first to spot me. She rose from a plush armchair, her arms outstretched. I braced myself for the inevitable embrace. It was always a little too tight, a little too saccharine.
"Mother." My voice was even, devoid of any genuine warmth. I allowed her to pull me into a brief, perfunctory hug, the scent of her floral perfume cloying.
"You look wonderful, Albus. That scarf is divine. Is it new?" Her eyes, still bright and curious, scanned my ensemble.
"It's vintage, actually. A gift." I glanced around the room, a quick, dismissive sweep. Harry, my father, sat stiffly on a sofa, a forced smile plastered on his face. James, my elder brother, a boisterous presence, was already engaged in a loud discussion with Ron. Lily, my younger sister, was huddled with Hermione, whispering secrets. The usual cast.
"Albus, son." My father's voice, gruff but attempting geniality, cut through the din. He rose, a hand extended. I took it, a firm, brief shake. The tension between us was a palpable, throbbing thing, a constant undercurrent.
"Father." My reply was equally curt.
"Good to see you, mate!" James clapped me on the back, a little too hard.
"Still rocking the designer threads, I see. Where's your bodyguard?" He winked, a crude, knowing gesture. A muscle in my jaw tightened.
"He has other engagements." My voice was flat, betraying nothing. I didn't owe them an explanation for my personal life. Especially not for him.
"Oh, Albus, you must introduce us to this fellow sometime," Ginny interjected, her voice still too bright.
"He sounds quite… intriguing."
"Perhaps another time, Mother." I moved away from James, finding a vacant spot by the mantelpiece, leaning against it with studied nonchalance. My gaze drifted to the window, the grimy London street outside a stark contrast to the opulent, if dusty, interior.
"Albus, still declining Minerva's offers, I presume?" Harry's voice, laced with a familiar disappointment, pulled my attention back.
"Of course." I met his gaze, my eyes cold.
"Hogwarts holds no appeal for me."
"But a professorship, Albus! Head of Slytherin House, no less!" Ginny sounded genuinely bewildered.
"It's a prestigious position."
"Prestige is subjective, Mother." I flicked an imaginary speck of dust from my impeccably tailored sleeve.
"And I prefer not to be constantly reminded of my past."
"Your past? What past?" Ron, always the blunt instrument, blurted out, a half-eaten biscuit crumbling in his hand. Hermione, ever the diplomat, shot him a withering look.
"My time at Hogwarts was hardly idyllic, Ronald." My voice was a silken blade.
"Some memories are best left undisturbed." A shadow, brief and sharp, crossed my features. Scorpius. The name echoed in the silent corners of my mind.
"Well, you always were a bit… different, Albus," James chimed in, oblivious.
"Not like the rest of us."
"Indeed." I savored the word, letting it hang in the air, a subtle insult.
"Albus, I heard about your latest acquisition from a colleague of mine" Harry said, attempting to steer the conversation to safer ground.
"The old Blackwood Manor in Wiltshire. Impressive."
"It has potential." My lips curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smile.
"A rather grand restoration project. My.... friend has been quite helpful with the Muggle contractors."
"This friend again," James muttered under his breath, earning another glare from Hermione.
"He's very astute in such matters," I continued, ignoring James.
"And he has excellent taste in art. We've been acquiring some rather exquisite pieces for the manor."
"Albus, you know, we're always here for you," Ginny said, her voice softening, a rare moment of genuine concern.
"If you ever need anything… to talk."
"I assure you, Mother, my life is perfectly fulfilling." The words were clipped, dismissive. I didn't need their saccharine sympathy. I didn't need anyone.
A sudden, insistent knock echoed through the house, making everyone jump. Kreacher, who had been lurking in the shadows, scurried to the door.
"Who could that be?" Lily wondered aloud. A moment later, Kreacher reappeared, his eyes wide.
"It is the neighbor, Master Potter. Mr. Smith. He wishes to borrow some… sugar."
My jaw tightened. Robin. The man was a persistent nuisance.
"Tell him we're indisposed, Kreacher." my father told him.
"But Master Potter, he is in his wheelchair. He looks… quite distressed." Kreacher’s voice held a rare note of genuine concern.
"Fine. Let him in." I sighed, a long, exasperated sound. Another distraction.
Robin wheeled himself into the living-room, a small, hopeful smile on his face. His eyes, a startling blue, fixed on me with an intensity that bordered on unsettling.
He was thin, almost fragile, his blond hair a little too long, falling into his eyes.
"Albus! Goodness, I didn't realize you are here" His voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it carried a strange resonance.
"I'm so sorry to intrude. My sugar ran out, and I'm baking… a cake." He looked directly at me, as if seeking my approval.
"Robin, this is my family," I said, my voice clipped, introducing him with a wave of my hand.
"You already know my parents, Harry and Ginny. My brother, Auror James Potter. My sister, Magizoologist Lily Luna Potter. And my aunt and uncle, Minister of Magic Hermione Granger - Weasley and Auror Ron Weasley." I made a gesture to each person.
"This is Robin Noah Smith. One of my neighbours." I introduced him next.
Robin offered a small, shy wave, his gaze still returning to me. "It's lovely to meet you all. I'm Robin. I'm working in the Department of Intoxicating Substances."
My parents offered polite greetings, though I could see the curiosity in their eyes. Robin was a peculiar sort, even for a Muggle.
"Well, Robin, I'll have Kreacher fetch you some sugar," I said, already moving towards the door. "If you'll excuse us."
"Oh, no, Albus, please don't trouble yourself," Robin insisted, his eyes still fixed on me.
"I was hoping… perhaps you'd like a slice of cake later? I could bring it over."
"Perhaps." My response was noncommittal, a polite dismissal. I didn’t want his cake. I didn’t want him. I made my escape, Kreacher shuffling behind me.
"Master Albus handled that well."
"He's a pest, Kreacher. A persistent, clingy pest. Didn't he think it would be a bit creepy, coming here THREE streets away from our houses, just to ask for fucking sugar?" I muttered, already halfway up the grand staircase. I need to be more careful with him. He has been my stalker for 2 years now, and at the beginning, i found myself amused from the attention he gave me, flattered even. But now, he was just a creep. Seriously, you have one one-night- stand with someone, and suddenly they think you are destined to each other.
"I'm going to my room. Inform me when Robin has departed."
"Yes, Master Albus." Kreacher bowed low, his ears almost scraping the floor.
My room, a sanctuary of cool blues and silvers, felt like a breath of fresh air after the oppressive warmth of the family gathering. I shed my scarf, tossing it onto a chaise longue, and loosened my tie. I hated these forced family interactions. They always brought back the ghosts.
Scorpius. His quiet laughter, his intelligent eyes, the way he would lean his head on my shoulder, so utterly trusting. He was the only one who truly saw me, truly understood the intricate, fragile layers beneath the carefully constructed facade. The silence of the room was a balm. I walked to the window, gazing out at the familiar, if slightly depressing, cityscape. A sudden, sharp memory, a flash of pain, pierced through me. The last time I saw him. Scorpius, his eyes hollow, a sadness so profound it seemed to consume him. A sudden crash startled me. The sound of glass.
"Albus, darling." A voice, smooth as velvet, purred from behind me. I spun around, a jolt of surprise coursing through me. Martin. He stood in the doorway, a faint smirk playing on his lips, his dark hair slicked back. He looked like a predator, sleek and dangerous. He was shorter than me, but carried an undeniable aura of power.
"Martin! What in Merlins are you doing here and HOW did you get in?" My voice was sharper than I intended.
"Don't worry love, I have my ways." I saw the sadness in his eyes. I hold my breath as I listened to the quiet laughter from downstairs. Good, nobody noticed the break in. Seems like my parents hadn't put the wards back on.
He closed the door behind him, the click echoing in the quiet room. He advanced slowly, his eyes, dark and intense, never leaving mine.
"I thought you might appreciate a distraction from your… charming family."
"You shouldn't be here." I took a step back, a subtle, almost imperceptible movement.
"Oh, but I should." He reached me, his hand, surprisingly gentle, cupping my jaw. His touch sent a shiver down my spine, a complex mix of desire and apprehension. Looks like he wants to be the dominate today.
"I always know when you need me, Albus." His thumb stroked my cheek, a slow, deliberate caress. His scent, a rich blend of expensive cologne and something uniquely his, filled my senses.
"You look troubled, my love."
"It's nothing." I tried to pull away, but his grip, though light, was firm.
"Nothing? Your eyes tell a different story." He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear.
"They speak of old wounds, of ghosts." The word hung in the air, a stark reminder. Scorpius.
"Don't." My voice was a low growl.
"Don't what, darling?" His lips brushed my earlobe, sending a jolt through me.
"Don't acknowledge the truth?"
"You don't understand."
"Perhaps not entirely." He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine.
"But I understand you, Albus. I understand your pain. Your need for control. Your desire to be… adored." His hand slid from my jaw, down my neck, and rested on my chest, directly over my heart. I could feel the heat of his palm through my shirt.
"I have something for you." His voice dropped to a whisper, a seductive murmur. He reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. My eyes narrowed.
"Another gift, Martin?"
"A token of my affection." He opened the box, revealing a magnificent diamond ring, a single, perfectly cut stone sparkling with cold fire.
"For my Albus. To remind you that you are cherished. Desired. Mine."
"Martin…" I stared at the ring, then at him. The possessiveness in his gaze was unsettling, yet undeniably alluring.
"Try it on, please." He took my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine. His skin was surprisingly soft, almost delicate. He slid the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly.
"It's… beautiful." The words escaped me before I could stop them.
"Only the best for you." He brought my hand to his lips, kissing the back of it, his eyes never leaving mine.
"You deserve nothing less." A strange mix of emotions swirled within me. Gratitude, irritation, a flicker of something akin to affection, and a deep-seated unease.
Martin was a dangerous man. I've known him since years. I knew his history. The stories of his ruthlessness, his anger, his capacity for violence. But he was also fiercely loyal to me, almost slavishly devoted. And undeniably, he excited me. Sometimes. I should give him what he wants today. Normally, it's my job, to make him powerless. To make him tremble. To make him forget hks name. Sometimes for hours.
"You really shouldn't have come here," I repeated, my voice softer this time.
"I couldn't stay away." He moved closer, his body brushing against mine. I could feel the hard line of his thigh against my leg.
"I crave you, Albus. Your touch. Your mind. Your… everything." His hands found my waist, pulling me gently, irresistibly closer.
Our bodies met, a soft collision. I could feel the heat radiating from him, the subtle tremor in his hands.
"Martin…" My voice was barely a breath.
"Shh." He silenced me with a finger to my lips, his eyes burning into mine.
"Let me show you how much I adore you."
He leaned in, his lips brushing mine, a feather-light touch that sent a jolt of electricity through me. His breath was warm, tasting faintly of mint and something else, something intoxicatingly masculine.
"You taste… delicious," he whispered, his tongue tracing the curve of my upper lip. I gasped, a small, involuntary sound. His hands tightened on my waist, pulling me even closer until there was no space left between us. His hips pressed against mine, and I felt the undeniable hardness of him.
"Tell me you want me, Albus," he murmured, his voice husky with desire.
"I can feel it." He was right. A primal hunger, long suppressed, was stirring within me. It was a hunger I rarely indulged, a part of myself I kept carefully hidden. But Martin, with his dark intensity and unwavering devotion, had a way of peeling back my layers.
His lips found mine again, this time with more urgency, more demand. His mouth was soft, yet insistent, coaxing a response from me. I found myself responding, my lips parting, allowing his tongue entry. It was a slow, sensual invasion, his tongue exploring the contours of my mouth, tasting, teasing. I moaned, a low sound from deep in my throat, my hands instinctively reaching up to clutch at his shoulders. He pulled back, just slightly, his eyes blazing.
"You have no idea how much I crave you, Albus. Every. Waking. Moment."
"And you, Martin," I whispered, my voice thick with burgeoning desire.
"You are… persistent." He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through me.
"Only for you, my love." He kissed me again, deeper this time, his tongue tangling with mine in a passionate dance. I could feel the rough stubble of his jaw against my skin, the scent of his cologne enveloping me. My fingers dug into the fabric of his suit, pulling him closer still.
He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down my jaw, to my neck, biting gently, sending shivers through my entire body. I arched my head back, giving him full access, a soft gasp escaping my lips.
"You are exquisite, Albus," he murmured against my skin, his words a balm to my ego, a fuel to my desire.
"So utterly captivating." His hands were roaming now, slipping beneath my shirt, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of my back. His touch was electric, sending goosebumps prickling across my skin. I shivered, a pleasurable tremor.
"Martin, we shouldn't, my family is downstairs. " I breathed, even as my body betrayed me, pressing closer to his.
"But we will," he countered, his voice a low growl, his lips finding the sensitive skin behind my ear.
"You want this as much as I do." He was right. I did. The hunger was a gnawing ache in my loins, a desperate need to be touched, to be consumed.
His fingers found the buttons of my shirt, deftly undoing them one by one. The cool air touched my skin as he pushed the fabric aside. His eyes, dark and intense, devoured me.
"Perfect," he whispered, his gaze lingering on my chest. His fingers traced the line of my collarbone, then dipped lower, brushing against my nipples. I gasped, a sharp intake of breath, my body tightening in anticipation. He lowered his head, his tongue flicking out to taste my skin, sending a jolt of pure pleasure through me. His mouth closed around one of my nipples, sucking gently, sending waves of exquisite sensation through my entire being. I groaned, my head falling back against the wall, my fingers tangling in his dark hair, urging him closer. His other hand moved lower, finding the waistband of my trousers, deftly unbuttoning them. The zipper whined as he pulled it down. I felt the cool air, then the warm brush of his fingers against my skin. He pushed my trousers down, along with my boxers, until I stood before him, fully exposed. His eyes, dark and predatory, devoured me.
"Magnificent," he breathed, his voice thick with desire. He knelt before me, a silent act of worship. My breath hitched in my throat as his gaze, intense and unwavering, swept over my erection. I was hard, throbbing, aching for his touch. He reached out, his fingers closing around my shaft, a gentle, reverent touch. I gasped, my body trembling. His thumb stroked the sensitive tip, sending a jolt of pure pleasure through me.
"So beautiful." he murmured, his eyes still locked on mine. He leaned in, his tongue flicking out, tasting the pre-cum that beaded on my tip.
"Delicious." He took me into his mouth, slowly, sensuously, his warm, wet lips closing around me. I cried out, a guttural sound of pure ecstasy. His tongue swirled around the head of my cock, teasing, tantalizing, before he drew me deeper, taking me almost to the base. His head bobbed, a steady, rhythmic motion, his throat working around me. I could feel the soft suction of his mouth, the wet heat of his tongue, teasing and swirling. It was an exquisite torment, a slow build of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm me. My hands gripped his hair, my knuckles white, pulling him closer, deeper.
"Oh, Martin" I moaned, my voice raw with pleasure. He pulled back, just enough to look up at me, his eyes dark with desire.
"You like that, darling?" he whispered, a smirk playing on his lips, his mouth still glistening with my fluids. But also, the hope in his eyes.
"More," I gasped, my hips instinctively thrusting forward. He chuckled, a low, dark sound, and took me back into his mouth, his pace quickening. His tongue swirled, licked, sucked, driving me closer and closer to the edge. I could feel the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter in my loins, a desperate need for release. My knees felt weak, threatening to give out. I leaned against the wall, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Every thrust of his head, every suck of his mouth, sent tremors through my body.
"I'm close," I choked out, my voice barely audible. He intensified his ministrations, his mouth working me with an almost frantic urgency. The pleasure was unbearable, a searing, white-hot sensation that consumed me. With a guttural cry, I climaxed, my body arching, my hips thrusting into his mouth, spilling my seed into his willing throat. He swallowed, a low, satisfied groan escaping his lips, never breaking eye contact.
I sagged against the wall, my body trembling, my breath coming in ragged gasps. He slowly withdrew from my mouth, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, his eyes still burning with a dark, triumphant glow.
"Satisfied?" he purred, a hint of a challenge in his voice. I nodded, unable to speak, my body still reeling from the intensity of the orgasm. He rose, his eyes never leaving mine, and leaned in, kissing me, his tongue tasting of my own essence.
"Good," he whispered, pulling back slightly.
"Now, let's get you dressed before your family comes looking for you." He straightened my clothes with meticulous care, his touch lingering, possessive. A few minutes later, I was presentable again, though my body still thrummed with the aftershocks of our encounter.
Martin, ever the gentleman in public, smoothed down his suit, his expression unreadable.
"I should go," he said, his voice back to its usual smooth cadence, but also a hint of sadness.
"Don't want to overstay my welcome with the Potters." He glanced at the ring on my finger.
"Keep it on, Albus. A reminder."
I merely nodded, my gaze fixed on the sparkling diamond. He leaned in, kissing my cheek, a chaste, almost innocent gesture.
"Until next time, my love." With a final, lingering look, he was gone, slipping out of the room as silently as he had arrived. I stood there for a moment, the scent of him still clinging to the air, the memory of his touch burning on my skin. Martin. He was a dangerous game, one I seemed incapable of resisting.
A few minutes later, a soft knock on the door broke my reverie. Kreacher's voice, muffled, followed.
"Master Albus, your Neightbor has left."
"Thank you, Kreacher." My voice was even, betraying none of the turmoil within me.
I glanced at the ring on my finger, the diamond glittering with cold fire. A reminder, indeed. I went out into the hallway and saw the broken glass of the window. Martin must have broken through here. With a quick flick of my wrist, I repaired it and looked out the window. Robin had just arrived in the middle of the park. I could feel Kreacher's gaze on me. We exchanged a brief, knowing look. I descended the stairs, finding my family gathered in the drawing-room, a strained silence having fallen.
"Albus, dear, are you alright?" Ginny asked, her eyes searching mine.
"You look a little… flushed."
"I'm perfectly fine, Mother." I offered a small, dismissive smile.
"Just a little tired of the incessant chatter." I walked to the window, gazing out at the darkening sky. The familiar sense of detachment washed over me, a comfortable shield.
"Albus, we were just talking about your plans for the holidays." Harry said, attempting to bridge the gap between us.
"I have no plans." My voice was flat.
"I'll likely be at the manor. My friend, is overseeing some renovations."
"HIM again," James muttered, a hint of annoyance in his voice.
"He's very efficient," I said, a faint smirk touching my lips.
"And he has excellent taste in champagne."
"Albus, don't you ever think about… settling down?" Ginny asked, her voice laced with concern.
"A family? Children?"
I turned to face them, my gaze sweeping over their expectant faces.
"My life is quite fulfilling as it is, Mother. I have my work, my investments, my… companionship." I paused, letting the word hang in the air, a subtle challenge.
"And what about Scorpius?" Harry's voice was quiet, almost a whisper, but it cut through the air like a knife.
The name hit me like a physical blow. The carefully constructed facade threatened to crack. My jaw tightened, my hands clenching into fists at my sides.
"Scorpius is gone," I said, my voice dangerously low, each word a shard of ice.
"And he is not a topic for polite conversation."
A tense silence descended upon the room, thick and heavy. No one dared to speak. I felt their eyes on me, a mixture of pity and discomfort. I hated both.
"If you'll excuse me," I said, my voice regaining its composure, though a tremor ran through me.
"I have a rather important meeting early tomorrow, so please tell me the topic of this gathering."
____
An hour has passed now.
The Macusa. The Magical Congress of the United States of America, the government center of the magical population of the USA. My father, was asked to come to America because there had been a breakout from the New York Witches' Penitentiary. And James wanted to come with him as does my Mother and Uncle. The reason they summoned me, are to ask if i could take care of Mary, James Wife, and their five month-olds twins Aiden and Emma, while they are away. I'm thinking of saying no. Because if I say yes once, they'll think I'm going to do them another favor at a later time. But then again, Aiden is my godson. And Mary is really friendly and understanding. Maybe it would be good to be alone with her again for a change, without my parents and James around.
"I do it. When are you going?" I finally decided. James looks genuine happy, as does my Father.
"In three weeks. We're hoping to be back as soon as possible" My Mother said.
"Alright. I just have one condition. Mary and the twins stay at my place. I have a spare bedroom that she can use and I will buy enough equipment for the twins so they have everything they need. Deal?" My tone held no objection.
"Deal." I turned around to the speaker of the voice.
Mary was standing in the doorway leading to the kitchen. I walked slowly over to her, my left arm behind my back. Like a gentleman, I took her left hand, bent down slightly, and kissed the back of it. I heard her giggle a little. I knew James didn't like it when I did that. In my sixth year at Hogwarts, I'd had a bit of a crush on her, and ever since, James had always been jealous. Especially because Mary didn't do anything about it. She knew I only did it for fun, and she was amused by her husband's reactions, too. She and I had always gotten along well, like a good female friend. I spun her around one time, so that her back is against my chest.
"Looking beautiful, my dear. Parenthood treats you well." I said this on purpose, and i felt myself grinning from ear to ear. I could see James, still sitting on the Couch. He clenched his hands into fists. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that he was trembling slightly and was about to stand up.
I quickly let go of her, sensing the growing tension. She drew me one last look before walking up to James and went to sit down next to him. I could feel my phone vibrating in my trousers. That must be Charles.
"Well if thats all, i'll be on my way." Without waiting for an answer, i turned swiftly and walked back to the hallway.
"KREACHER!" I screamed.
"We're leaving!" I could feel him popping up beside me.
Finally outside, Londons cold night air got through my hair. Materializing my walking stick, full black wood and a silver snake on top, only for show, not because i need it, ready to head home.