Kristmas Wish Fulfilled for: thiliaFrom: entrenous88Title:
Accidents Will HappenCharacters/Pairings:
James Sirius Potter/Albus Severus PotterRating:
First time, bottom!Albus, dirty talkOther Warnings/Content:
Incest, angst, underage sex (James is 17, Albus 16).Word Count:
As the evening of the annual Potter-Weasley Christmas party approaches, James finds himself frustrated with anyone who thinks he could ever harm his younger brother (on purpose). Author's Notes:
Title from Elvis Costello's "Accidents Will Happen," which also provides the source for the song lyrics quoted at the outset. Many thanks to the fantastic mods for their patience, and for making this Kinky Kristmas merry and deviant and bright. To my prompter, I really hope you enjoy this. It's the damage that we do
And never know
It's the words that we don't say
That scare me so
James had thought the train ride home for Christmas hols bad enough.
First two Hufflepuff firsties had sought him out, hemming and hawing before finally telling him he ought to check on his sister because they'd seen her crying. He'd waved them off; he knew he was the last person she'd want to see just then.
Then Scorpius Malfoy had stuck his head in James's compartment to sneer, "I thought Potters always put family first. I suppose winning is more important to a git like you." He'd hurried away before James or his mates could hex him properly.
By the time the witch with the tea trolley came round, James pretended sleep. His stomach had clenched tight for days now and he had no interest in food. Besides, feigning helped put off his friends, who when they thought him awake kept up a steady stream of random topics to skirt more uncomfortable conversations.
Two days later on the afternoon of the annual Weasley-Potter holiday party, however, James realized he could feel far more wretched than he had on the Hogwarts Express.
The morning was quiet enough, with their Dad out on some errand and Lily helping their mum with the tree. James slipped outside to ride his broom, feeling some relief from his worries in the chill of the air as he practiced various maneuvers.
By the time he'd looked in on the scene of ornaments and faerie lights in their front room, the finished tree sparkled. Their mum had set out gingerbread, and Lily even gave him a mug of hot chocolate with a small smile.
Then their dad returned, bursting in with a cheery, "Look who's well enough to join us!"
James's heart jumped to see Albus looking so pale and tired as he leaned against their father. Their dad clutched tight at his shoulder, keeping him upright as though shielding him from harm.
Lily squealed and flew to throw her arms around Albus, starting to weep all over again. And their mum exclaimed over her younger son, holding his face gently with both hands as if she'd found him after a long search.
"He's really all right?" Mum asked when their boisterous greetings calmed to more coherent conversation. She and Dad and Lily formed a cozy clutch around Albus as they fussed. "Truly? Madam Pomfrey said he didn't need to go to St. Mungo's after all?"
"He's fine here with us, I promise. He just needs more rest, of course, and has to take things easy," their father reassured her.
James continued to hang back, chest tight, while his parents debated briefly whether or not they ought to reschedule their party on account of Albus's recovery. He stayed silent, gritting his teeth, even as Lily made a big show of fetching the Bruise Removal Paste for the fading purple mark on Albus's forehead.
At last the other three had bustled and maneuvered Albus until he was sat in the squashy chair their father typically claimed as his own.
"All right?" James asked at last. He'd waited for a pause, but hadn't anticipated how quiet it had grown when he spoke. His words sounded strained in the hush.
"Yeah," Albus said, straightening a bit. "I'm all right."
"Well, you're not actually, though you're much better," their dad said, ruffling Albus's hair. He didn't as much as glance at James; really, he'd looked everywhere but at James since he'd walked in the door with Albus. "Remember, Al, no chores for you this holiday; your brother and sister will do --"
"Why should I have to do any of Albus's chores?" Lily whinged, interrupting. "James is the one who Bludgered him in the head!"
As soon as the words were out, she clapped her hand over her mouth.
Their father's lips parted as though he meant to reply but no words came out. He glanced at their mum, who cleared her throat.
"James," she began, "Of course you know we don't --"
"I'll be in my room," James mumbled, taking the stairs two at a time to escape his family all the faster.
He woke when the sky outside had gone grey and soft in the twilight, hearing sounds that could only be the last-minute party preparations taking place below.
As he raised himself on his elbows, there was a quick knock at the door. "Al?" he asked quietly.
After a pause, his Mum came in.
"Party's on after all. Ready to join us?" she asked briskly. She didn't seem upset that he'd fallen asleep rather than helping, even though he knew in years past she wouldn't have missed a chance to scold him.
"Depends," he said gruffly, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. "Is everyone going to glare at me all night?"
She snorted and sat next to him on the mattress. "I think that would get a bit tiring, glaring at you all
night." When he grimaced, she brushed his fringe out of his eyes with a light stroke and added softly, "No one blames you, you know, except maybe you yourself."
He frowned, but didn't move away from her touch. "Then how come Dad's barely said ten words to me since I've come home?"
She tugged him closer, and he grumbled but went, letting her wrap her arms around him.
"Jamie, listen," she said when she pulled back. "I know what you're feeling. When I played for the Harpies, I can't tell you how many of my friends I saw injured in matches or practice. There were times I blamed myself just for doing my part in the match because someone got hurt. But it wasn't my fault then any more than it is yours now. You couldn't have guessed Albus would get so hurt when that Bludger made contact."
James shrugged, his shoulders tense.
"Well, your father and I both understand you were only trying your hardest for your house."
"Dad doesn't act like he understands."
His mother made a clucking sound much like the one his grandmother often made describing family troubles. "It's hard for your father, not having grown up with brothers or sisters. He understands some of what it's like from having very close friends, of course, how you might have rows and words but love one another all the same.
"Even so, I think he imagined having a sibling growing up would mean an ally for all time. Remember how proud he was when you were small, how you were always looking out for Albus when bigger boys gave him trouble? Even when you two argued and tussled, you always took care of him when he needed help. But now, watching you and Albus play Quidditch against one another -- watching Albus clouted with a Bludger you hit and lying unconscious for days after -- I don't think he reckoned seeing his sons in that sort of situation back when Albus sorted into Slytherin."
James looked away. "He always assumes I'm the one to blame. If Al had been Beater and I was Seeker for the opposing team--"
At that she laughed aloud. "Albus's nothing but a Seeker, of course; he would have been in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw or wherever he was sorted. And you, love, are a born Beater." She squeezed his shoulder fondly. "And you know I'd never say that's a bad thing. You're fierce, but you protect those around you as well."
"Thanks," he muttered, feeling his cheeks burn red.
She stood and surveyed the messy surroundings. "All right. Party starts in an hour. You'll make sure everyone's got something to drink, like always. And clean up after yourself tomorrow, Jamie; this room's a tip."
The knocking at their front door kept up a steady tempo for nearly an hour as streams of Weasleys and friends arrived for the party.
James handed round cups of punch and mulled wine, glad of a task which gave him something to do. He'd worried about lectures on actions and consequences from his grandparents or raucous jokes from some of his uncles about what he'd done. But though everyone fussed over Albus where he sat surrounded by a few of their cousins, no one appeared to want to raise the subject to James, at least to his face.
Usually at family celebrations James held court with his cousins, organizing them in games and pranks or shocking them all into laughter with filthy jokes and hair-raising stories of the havoc he'd wrecked that term at Hogwarts. Tonight, however, he served the drinks and kept out of the way. It wasn't as if anyone really noticed. As far as the adults went, everyone seemed too busy making toasts, surprising one another with gaudily wrapped packages or getting into heated discussions over England's chance in the next Quidditch World Cup.
He had caught some of his younger cousins pointing and whispering at him. Some likely hadn't heard much of the situation until their older siblings or cousins had arrived from Hogwarts, and were filling each other in on the no doubt increasingly outrageous details. And though Teddy Lupin had greeted him boisterously at the start of his visit, he then avoided James the rest of the night instead of seeking him out for a laugh like usual. James could only imagine Teddy took Dad's view of things, blaming James entirely for what happened.
Maybe nearly everyone blamed him for what happened; aside from Mum, no one had told James differently.
Gradually some of the guests began to depart, Flooing from the small sitting room off the kitchen or Apparating from the chilly back porch -- off to their homes or other holiday gatherings. Uncle Percy and Aunt Audrey left first with their children, setting off a small exodus of acquaintances and distant cousins who exclaimed over the time, shook their dad's hand and kissed his mum on the cheek before bustling off.
But others, like Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione, settled in for a longer evening. A few stretched out in the chairs in front of the fire to tell stories they'd told a dozen times before, while others cleared away platters of party offerings and lent a hand with the simple dinner Mum always served after so they could gossip in the kitchen.
As the number of visitors dwindled and those remaining took up various stations around the house, James leaned back against the wall next to the stair and took in the scene.
During the party, each time James had spotted Albus he'd been surrounded by people bringing him cups of punch and trays of treats; at times James couldn't see more than an ear or an elbow as party-goers surrounded him thickly with solicitous advice and nosy questions. But now, as James took a quick look across the room, he saw Albus reclined back in one of the large chairs. Left alone at last, his eyes were half-lidded as though he were nearly asleep.
He caught himself staring just at the moment when he realized that Albus wasn't napping after all. Before James could look away, he found those bright green eyes meeting his gaze and then widening. Albus's lips parted, as though he was about to say something. Then he looked away, cheeks flushed.
It felt like a blow to the gut for James. He didn't bother making excuses before heading upstairs. He felt sure his father wouldn't care where he'd went right now, and his mother most likely would leave him be for the rest of the night. Besides, there would be enough company distracting his parents that no one would take note enough of his absence to entreat him to join them all for dinner or late games of Exploding Snap.
He hadn't been in his room for fifteen minutes, however, when someone knocked.
"Mum, I'm fine," he said in exasperation.
The door opened slightly, and Albus peered in. "I brought you --" he began, thrusting out a plate of food.
"Thanks," James muttered. "You can leave it," he added tightly, turning away to pretend interest in the window's frost-framed view of the snowy garden below.
Behind him, he could hear the clunk of the plate placed on the table in the corner, and the soft click of the door closing.
"Jamie, I don't blame you for any of it," Albus said softly after a few moments passed.
James felt his shoulders tense, not only because he hadn't realized his brother was still in his room. Albus always sounded uncertain and gentle after they had a row and he wanted to make amends; it made James's muscles clench and his skin flare with heat.
"Mum talked to me," Albus went on. "But even before she did, I knew it was just -- we all know how the matches can go. Anyway, I know you never mean to hurt anyone badly, least of all me."
"Sure about that?" James said in a low voice, still keeping his back to his brother.
"No one's asked me that, you know," James said conversationally. He pushed aside the curtain, watching the snow that had begun to fall. "Either everyone's treated me like I meant to do it, assuming I'm the kind of rotter who does that to his brother for no reason, or they've told me again and again how of course I didn't mean it. But no one's bothered to ask if there might
have been a reason."
"What were you -- did you --?" Albus's voice sounded choked.
James pivoted to face him, hands shoved in his pockets. Albus's face was clouded with anxiety. "I saw you, you know. Before the match. You were at the side of the pitch, under the spectator stands."
At first Albus's face betrayed only confusion. But then his mouth fell open slightly, and color rose high in his cheeks.
"He had you pressed up against -- his hand was under your shirt, touching your chest," James went on. "That seventh-year Slytherin Chaser, Gavin Dexter, wasn't it? Your head was tilted back, Albus, and you were panting. His other hand tangled in your hair, and his mouth slid up your throat like he was devouring you. You made this breathy sound, like a little whine --"
"Stop it," Albus shouted hoarsely.
James had done his best to keep his temper in check, but now he heard himself breathing hard. Albus matched his brother's harsh breaths with his own quickened inhalations, and his green eyes flashed with indignation.
"You've no right to -- to spy on me --"
"How far's it gone?" James asked sharply.
"What?" Albus asked in confusion.
"What have you let him do to you?" James took a step closer to Albus, then another.
"That was the first time," Albus shot back, his jaw thrust out slightly in defiance. "We haven't, anything more than what you -- not
that it should make any difference to you."
"First time with him, or with anyone?"
"What the fucking hell is your problem?" Albus exclaimed, running a hand through his unruly hair. "The one and only time I -- it's not my problem if you think it's wrong for two boys --"
"Don't be stupid. I don't give a fuck about that."
Albus's fingers curled and released as he glared. "What the bloody hell are you on about then?"
"I don't want him near you ever again."
Albus shook his head, incredulity clear on his face. "That's not up to you."
"The fuck it's not --" In two more steps James had reached him, and he slid his hands to cradle Albus's face, much as their mother had done earlier that day. But his fingers gripped far harder, and he didn't let another moment pass before he crushed his mouth to Albus's soft parted lips.
At first Albus froze. Something in James expected Albus to struggle any moment, so he clutched him even tighter. He had to tilt Albus's face, thumb guiding his chin up, and draw his body closer, pressing against the small of his back to get the angle he wanted.
Even as his mind registered Albus had barely moved in response James couldn't stop. Not now, now that he had Albus this close, his heart beating a rapid tattoo against James's chest, the scent of his skin and the taste of his soft lips and the heat of his mouth urging James on. He slid the hand cupping Albus's jaw back, fingers combing through Albus's hair and clutching tight.
"Jamie," Albus managed to gasp out as James's thigh thrust in between his legs, as his back hit the door James had guided him against.
"Don't say no," James muttered. For the first time since he had started, he pulled back slightly, eyes searching Albus's face.
"I'm not," Albus whispered. "I wouldn't." As soon as the words had left his mouth, he swallowed nervously, an uncertain look on his face. Then he lifted his arms and crossed his wrists behind James's neck, pulling James forward to kiss him back.
The soft sounds of their mouths slipping and sliding together combined with the feel of Albus pressing closer almost blocked out any thought James might have about the party still going on below. But the distant murmur of conversation from the foot of the stairs finally made James remember to fumble out his wand, locking the door fast and casting a Muffliato over them so no one would hear.
James dropped his wand on the corner table next to the forgotten plate of food and caressed Albus's hard prick through the fabric of his jeans. "Fuck, you feel so good," he whispered, squeezing just under the swollen head.
"Jamie, wait, just -- uhh," Albus gasped. He shivered as James mouthed along the firm line of his jaw. "Jamie, just -- oh -- but why did you -- during the match --"
It took a moment for his overheated body and brain to process the words, but when James did, he took Albus's mouth in a rough kiss. "It was never meant for you, never," James muttered against Albus's lips. "Just couldn't stand to see him touching you, see him thinking he could have you." He grasped Albus's slim hips and stroked one hand over the curve of his arse. "So when Dexter seized the Quaffle in my line of sight, I knew I had only a moment's excuse to hit the Bludger as hard as I could before --"
"You were aiming at --" Albus looked stunned for a moment, and then let out a shocked laugh. "It wasn't a mistake or a maneuver or -- you were trying to strike Gavin?"
"He can't fucking have you," James returned fiercely. "If the bastard hadn't moved at the last second -- Christ, Al, when I saw you reel back and start to fall --" The vision of Albus spiraling down on his broom, already unconscious as he crumpled to the ground, flashed in James's mind like a lightening bolt. "They wouldn't let me into the Infirmary, made me board the train for home a day later with everyone else instead of staying after with you --" He choked down the sob rising in his throat.
Albus, his eyes soft, drew him back again saying, "Shh, Jamie, please --"
They untangled only briefly from a series of deep kisses when James yanked twice at Albus's jumper, so they could together tug the garment over Albus's head along with his t-shirt. When James threw the clothes aside and moved against Albus once more, he bent his knees slightly so their hard cocks would line up, slide forcefully together. While Albus gasped at the touch, James mapped Albus's toned chest with a proprietary touch, fingers trailing over the muscles and sinews.
"Oh, Jamie," Albus breathed when James drew the pad of his thumbs roughly over Albus's nipples. "I -- oh --" He swayed where he stood.
James righted him, holding his shoulders steady even as he took a moment to lick and bite the pink shell of Albus's ear. "On the bed with you," he said briskly after a pause.
"I don't -- I'm all right," Albus answered with irritation. "Everyone keeps treating me like I'm some stupid fragile --"
"Not because you're weak or anything, Albie," James murmured tenderly. "Because I want to touch you everywhere. Let me --"
"Yeah," Albus agreed softly, allowing his brother to maneuver them both to the bed.
They shed their clothes along the way, struggling out of the last items as they shifted into position facing each other. James found he couldn't get his fill of Albus's soft cries and softer sighs, the way his body bowed up when James dragged his tongue over the hard nubs of Albus's dusky pink nipples, or the way he shuddered against James when James kissed the breath out of him.
Albus seemed overwhelmed, undone, touching wherever he could but mainly holding on tight as James pulled them flush together and stroked along the valley of Albus's firm backside.
"Not this time, not yet," James muttered as he drove his body against Albus, their cocks bumping and thrusting together. "But next time, Al," and he squeezed one tight cheek hard then stroked along that small opening, pressing just the very tip of his finger inside.
"Jamie, Jamie," Albus called helplessly, and his bright green eyes flew open as he came with a surprised little sound.
James rolled them over so he could strain and propel himself harder atop Albus, saying, "No one else, all right? Nobody else." He grunted as he felt his balls tighten even further, sensed his eyes rolling back as everything rushed and compressed to the points where their bodies touched.
"No one, James, no one but -- oh," Albus murmured when James stiffened, digging his toes against the mattress to press harder through the jerks working their way through his body.
James's arms collapsed with the last of the tremors. He slumped forward against Albus's slimmer body, panting as he shifted to lay his head against Albus's chest.
For a few moments they only kissed and murmured and caught their breath. Albus threaded his fingertips through James's hair, stroking.
"Everything all right in there?" their father's voice called suddenly from the corridor outside James's room.
James cursed as Albus began to pull away. He didn't go far, though, only groping for his jeans wadded up on the floor so he might retrieve his wand. "We're all right, Dad," Albus called as soon as he ended the Muffliato with a whispered Finite. "Just working things out," he added while James tugged him back into his arms.
"Yeah, okay. Okay, good," their father answered. He lingered for a moment before they heard his footsteps sounding and fading as he left them alone together.