Title: Something in the Air
Author: mindabbles
Characters/Pairings: Harry/Scorpius, Charlie/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: Unfortunate incidents
Other kinks:rimming, frotting
Word Count: 6,400
Summary/Description: There's something awry in the forest—again. But this time, it's messing with his sex life and Scorpius is having none of it.
Author's Notes: First, thank you to the lovely mods who have been so patient with me. lyras, this is for you! This is the fic that I have owed you for like thirty years. Here is your coda to There’s Something About a Malfoy. I have written 4 possible versions and none of them worked. This theme here gave me the first idea that I hope works with the original and felt like something I wanted to give you. It’s still just a silly little thing and I hope you enjoy it. ♥♥♥ Thanks to gryffindorj for the help with sorting out earlier versions of this.



Harry's arm is heavy across Scorpius' waist. His skin is warm against Scorpius from knee to hip, and Scorpius presses his lips to the curve of Harry's shoulder.

Scorpius wants to touch him everywhere, kiss him from head to toe, but he doesn't want this quiet to end. The sunlight streams through the window of the guest room at Charlie's cottage and shines on Harry's dark head. Scorpius brushes his fingers over Harry's hair, only just touching the dishevelled ends. The scent of apple blossom infuses the air with sweetness.

Harry shifts, moving his body against the warm sheets. He turns and his face is next to Scorpius’. Scorpius kisses him on the cheek and when he sighs, Scorpius feels something bloom inside his chest.

Harry blinks heavy eyelids open, eyes out of focus. Scorpius combs his fingers through thick, soft hair and Harry seems to let his efforts to see anything fall by the wayside in favour of closing his eyes and, with a small, contented smile on his face, leaning into Scorpius’ touch.

Harry’s hand moves up Scorpius’ body, warm and firm, still heavy with sleep. Scorpius’ heart races at the promise of Harry’s touch. All these months, and he still can’t believe his luck.

Harry sighs again, and turns on his back, pulling Scorpius’ arm across his body. Scorpius’ hand settles on Harry’s chest. He lies quietly for a moment.

"Harry," he whispers, closing his eyes at the feel of Harry’s name soft on his lips.

"C’mere," Harry sighs, pulling on Scorpius’ arm.

Scorpius moves and he's on top of Harry. When Harry bends his knees, Scorpius settles between them, rocking against him until they’re both hard, sliding together. He moans, loud and low, and Harry responds, just like he always does, moving faster and driving Scorpius mad with perfect, practiced touches. Scorpius presses back, sliding his body along Harry’s, and letting all the doubts and worries that make him feel like a needy kid be pushed from his mind by Harry’s lips and tongue and fingers.

"God, Scorpius, oh god," Harry groans as he shudders and holds Scorpius impossibly tight.

Scorpius doesn’t look away from the intense, green eyes as everything else melts into sharp bliss.

"Morning," Harry murmurs, kissing him slowly and sweetly and Scorpius thinks that you just couldn’t kiss someone like that unless there is something that will last between you.

"Mmm," hums Scorpius.

"You’re thinking about something other than my prowess in bed," Harry says. He nuzzles Scorpius’ neck, lips tickling the most sensitive spots.

"Happy six month anniversary," Scorpius says. He moves so his cheek is on Harry’s chest, rising and falling with his gentle breaths.

Harry lifts his head and looks down at Scorpius. "Is it?" He asks, and Scorpius could kick himself because no one but a love sick kid counts anniversaries by the month.

"I—"

"Is that the first time we kissed or the first time we—"

"Never mind," Scorpius says, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. "It’s stupid."

Harry touches his cheek and urges Scorpius look at him. "Hey," he says softly. "It’s not. I ask because I always count it from when I stopped being an idiot and asked you back. By that, it’s not for two weeks."

"The first time we kissed," Scorpius says, exhaling slowly.

"I like that better," Harry says. "Let's count it from then."

Scorpius kisses Harry again. He could spend his life happily lost in Harry's kisses. Harry's fingers trail up and down his back, lingering over the tender place where his thighs meet his arse.

"You're hard again, aren't you?" Harry asks, his tone teasing and delighted.

"Why don't you find out?"

Harry's hand circles his cock and strokes. He's always nearly on the edge with Harry, always needing to come.

Scorpius nearly jumps out of his skin when someone bangs at the door.

"Up, you layabouts," Charlie shouts through the door. "We've work to do. We're meeting Neville in fifteen minutes."

That's the thing about this holiday. It's not. Harry convinced Scorpius to agree to this by calling it that, but their quiet time away is shaping up to be much more like a case. Never trust a workaholic when he says the word 'holiday.'

It seems that one evening a couple of weeks ago, over a couple of pints, Charlie told Harry that there was something off at the school. For the past several weeks, he said, it’s as if half the school is under the Imperius curse, forced to be arses. He'd asked around and while others noticed a certain discord in the air, no one thought it was anything to worry about. Perris, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, said he hadn't detected any dark magic, either. Draco, however, swears he can feel it. So, Charlie told Harry that there might be a case and suddenly Harry and Scorpius are spending what was supposed to be their first proper holiday together in Charlie's conjured guest room, just through the wall from where the man is shagging his father.

"Bloody hell," groans Harry.

"At least it wasn't my father."

******

"Well, that was a useless day," says Scorpius.

Draco watches his son flop onto the chair nearest the hearth in Charlie's little house. Hearing Scorpius say that a day with Draco was useless rubs his already raw nerves the wrong way, but then everything seems to rub him the wrong way lately.

Neville hadn't noticed anything but the scent of apple blossoms—a smell that permeates everything lately. It had been nice at first. Now, it just gives Draco a headache, especially when tromping through the forest all day with nothing to show for it. The one time they'd all thought they'd heard a sound in the forest that they couldn't identify, Charlie had tripped over a tree root and whatever it was had disappeared.

"I wouldn't call it useless," Charlie grumbles.

"If you weren't clumsier than a Hippogriff in heat—" Draco snaps.

"You used to like it when I was in heat." Charlie glares at him.

"So," Harry nearly shouts, "what makes you think it originates on the forest?"

"And what is it?" Scorpius asks.

"Almost the moment that spring arrived, things just began to go wrong," Charlie says.

"Or maybe we all just noticed because our brains thawed in this forsaken arctic circle," Draco says. He doesn't want to argue with Charlie. He doesn't. He can’t seem to help it lately.

"No one said you had to stay through the winter," grumbles Charlie under his breath.

He doesn't want to argue with Charlie and point out that Charlie had insisted he stay through the winter, plying him with promises of keeping him warm at night in very creative ways.

"So," Scorpius says, clearing his throat. "Was it the students? I mean where you noticed something was wrong?"

"There's always one thing or another wrong with the students. I've come to realize that I don't actually like children," Draco says.

Charlie glares at him. "It was more that some of the older students and some of the staff just seemed off. Irritable, like. They could start an argument in an empty room."

"You mean like what's wrong with the two of you?" Harry asks.

"Erm, yeah," says Charlie. "I suppose so. We've split up more spontaneous duels this term than I ever remember."

"Who's split up the duels between the two of you?" Scorpius asks.

Draco bites his bottom lip. It has been a difficult month and, while he's not especially keen on apologising, particularly when all the disagreements have been Charlie's fault, he can admit that he might not have been the easiest person to live with of late.

"Listen," Harry says, before either of them can answer. "Why don’t we take a break? I’ll be up for a meal in a bit and we can pick this up again at the Three Broomsticks."

Draco keeps his comments to himself, for the sake of his son.

Harry and Scorpius smile at each other in the way that people who genuinely like each other do, and make their way around the cottage to the guest room that he and Charlie erected a few weeks ago. Thinking back, that had been the last day that he and Charlie had gone without bickering every other moment.

Draco looks out of the window. The deep green of the forest used to seem so calming. Now it makes him feel jittery and on edge.

He hears Charlie approach him from behind and struggles not to get annoyed at the fact that the man sounds like an Erumpent crossing the room. He struggles to remember that there was a time when Charlie approaching him from behind would have had him hard in an instant.

"I'm sorry I've been such an arse lately," Charlie says, laying his hand in the middle of Draco's back.

"So am I," says Draco, but without any bite and he knows that Charlie can hear that he doesn't want a fight, if he can still read him at all.

"That you've been or that I've been?"

"Both?"

Draco turns and smiles. He meant the latter. He's tired of bickering and it's been two weeks since he felt like touching Charlie. A little massaging of his message is a small price to pay to keep the warmth he sees in Charlie's eyes.

"I don't want to argue anymore," says Charlie. His hand is warm as it moves down Draco's back.

"I was just thinking the same thing."

"Come to bed?"

"Bed?" Draco bites back his comment that there was a time that Charlie wouldn't have waited to get him to bed—and when did they become a clichéd middle aged couple who pauses to clean their teeth? But that wouldn't likely get him what he's hoping for tonight. "You don't want to go and clean your teeth first?"

Bugger. It came out anyway, he thinks. He grabs Charlie's hand and pulls him close. He pulls too hard and Charlie's forehead knocks into his nose painfully.

"Ouch," he says. He thinks, but doesn’t say, oaf.

"Easy there," Charlie says.

Draco pulls back to look, to remind himself that what now seems rough and clumsy used to make his heart pound with desire. Charlie’s strong jaw is shaded with ginger stubble. He touches Charlie’s arm and focuses on how his broad shoulders feel under his hands when Charlie thrusts against him.

They make it to the bed, Charlie falling first and Draco tumbles after him. Charlie fumbles with Draco’s robe. His thick fingers pull roughly at the intricate fastenings. It’s Italian.

"Let me," Draco says, struggling to maintain the mood. He slips off his robe and then his shirt. He sits, straddling Charlie. He reaches for his trousers.

"Now, let me," Charlie says. One broad hand curves around Draco’s waist. He flicks open Draco’s trousers, pulling the button loose until it's hanging from threads.

"Have you always been this clumsy?" Draco asks. He thinks he would have noticed. Charlie's no mincing flower, sure enough. He's strong and broad and he does have thick fingers, but he was a seeker and he's a light touch with young animals.

"Shut up and let me fuck you."

"All right, then," says Draco. "Just—" Draco wants to ask him not to say anything stupid, to just find a way to be the man he fell for all those months ago and not the pillock he's been the last few weeks. Then Charlie's hands smooth over Draco's abdomen and brush his cock and Draco forgets, for a moment, that he was ever annoyed.

"Turn over," Charlie says. "I want to taste you."

Draco's cock swells. Charlie hasn't done this for weeks. "In a minute," he says. Draco runs his hands over Charlie's broad, hard chest. He loves the feel, and the look, of the coarse red hair over the pale, muscular body. Charlie's nipples are wide and flat and copper-brown. Draco rubs his thumb over one, watching the nub rise to a point. His heart rate quickens at that. He pinches the other and Charlie's hips jerk up, thrusting his hard cock against Draco. Draco grips the copper nipple between his fingers and squeezes, pinching hard.

"Ouch, fuck," yelps Charlie, pulling back as much as he can.

Draco sighs. He was starting to get into the spirit of things and now Charlie's gone and annoyed him again. "Sorry," he grumbles.

"Just, just turn over and let me—" Charlie says through gritted teeth and Draco has the feeling that Charlie's having as much trouble maintaining the mood as he is.

Draco turns at the same time as Charlie moves and Charlie's elbow connects painfully with his nose.

"Bloody ouch."

"Fuck." Charlie winces. "I'm sorry, Draco."

His nose smarts, his eyes water, and his cock is hard. He doesn't answer. He turns onto his stomach and buries his head in the pillow, trying to ignore how bloody uncomfortable he is.

Charlie's hands smooth down his back.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. His voice is kind and deep and Draco loved—loves—the way his voice can be both tender and full of desire in bed.

A finger traces the curve and then the cleft of Draco's arse. He sighs and concentrates more on those sensations than the ones in his nose. Charlie cups Draco's cheeks and spreads them. He feels Draco's warm breath on his skin, the tips of his tongue following his fingers.

Usually Draco loves this. Usually it makes him squirm and mewl in ways that a Malfoy would never admit to under the threat of Cruciatus. Charlie flattens his tongue and laves over Draco's entrance. It just feels wet. Charlie licks again and Draco shifts his hips, trying to get the angle right, trying to get Charlie's tongue just there. Charlie points his tongue and it feels like he's wriggling it around the rim. Draco jerks away involuntarily.

Charlie huffs and pulls back. "What is wrong?"

"It feels like Flobberworms invading my arse."

"Fucking hell, Draco," Charlie grinds out. "Stay still, then. You're jumping about like a madman."

Draco takes a breath and tries again. Charlie licks him. He presses a finger against Draco's entrance. It feels big and uncomfortable and Draco squirms away.

"What's wrong with your fingers?" Draco asks. He turns so he's not as exposed and to stop Charlie from invading him with his meaty great butcher's boy fingers.

"Forget it," Charlie says. His robe is around his shoulders before Draco realises he's picked it up. "I'm sleeping at The Burrow. I'll be back in the morning for work."

"Don't rush," says Draco. It is not what he wanted to say. He hates this mad, out of control feeling, like some deranged pixie is invading his head and making his tongue form words he has no desire to say. He grabs his cock and settles for an irritated, unsatisfying wank.

*****
From behind the curtain, if he holds it just to the side with one finger, he can see them. Harry and Charlie stand at the edge of Charlie's garden. They lean close. Charlie drops a broad hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry laughs.

Scorpius' heart races and his face heats despite the cool, apple-blossom-scented breeze that wafts in through the open window. Anger wells up inside him.

Harry laughs again and tosses a careless look over his shoulder, back in the direction of the guest room and the window in which Scorpius is standing. Scorpius tells himself that they are not laughing at him. Harry is not cheating on him. Harry touches Charlie's arm and Scorpius grips the window ledge to stop himself from running out of the door to confront them.

Harry has always fancied Charlie. He knew it. Charlie is everything Scorpius isn't—burly and older and someone Harry's counted upon for years. He should have known it would come to this. He would swear he can hear the sound of Harry's hand stroking the material of Charlie's shirt. Harry hasn't touched him since that first morning when Charlie interrupted them. He hits the wall with his fist and both Harry and Charlie turn to look.

Scorpius steps away from the window.

"Harry is not cheating on me," Scorpius says to the potted plant on the table. It doesn't agree, but it doesn't disagree either.

Scorpius crosses the room to the range and the kettle and he pours a cup of tea. Harry wouldn't. Cheating is not in his nature. Scorpius would be able to tell because Harry would have torn out clumps of his own hair and would be flogging himself with the guilt. No, Harry wasn't cheating on him. Unless it had just started now, this moment in the garden.

Scorpius leaps up and strides to the window. He's half certain he's going to see Charlie and Harry entangled in a heated embrace. He's also filled with a deep sense of disquiet that something is wrong here that has nothing to do with Harry and him. Harry doesn't have his tongue down Charlie's throat. He is coming up the path, steps from the door.

Harry yanks open the door and Scorpius stares, not sure what to say.

"What?" Harry asks.

The churlish tone is so out of character that it surprises more than hurts Scorpius.

"Something is wrong," says Scorpius.

"Yeah, that's why we're here, remember?"

"Harry, stop. You don't talk to me like this. We don't snipe at each other. Something is wrong with this place. I just had myself convinced you were cheating on me. You're not, right?"

Harry's eyes blaze with anger and Scorpius braces himself for whatever he's about to shout. "I can't take this sickly sweet smell anymore," Harry says, instead.

Harry slams the window shut, rattling its frames. He flicks his wand at the lantern, filled with sandalwood oil and the musky, woodsy scent takes the edge off the sweet one.

An idea starts to form in Scorpius' head, but it's forgotten because he's suddenly in Harry's arms, Harry kissing him hard. Harry's hands are all over him, pulling off his clothes. His teeth nip Scorpius' neck.

"This isn't the best holiday, is it?" Harry asks between kisses. "I'm sorry."

"It's improving," Scorpius murmurs. He slides his hand between them and runs it down Harry's body, palming his cock.

Scorpius presses his face to Harry's neck and inhales. His familiar, clean scent is all Scorpius can smell now. Harry's hard body against his, hands stripping him of his clothes, and the feeling of skin against skin each improve his mood in turn.

Harry tightens his arms around Scorpius' body and Scorpius feels his feet leave the ground. Harry keeps kissing him, holding him up and walking him. He tosses Scorpius to the bed and, for a moment, he's breathless with the feeling of falling. Harry is on him in an instant. His lips press to Harry's skin. Scorpius can't catch his breath. Harry isn't giving him a second, an inch, pinning him to the bed. He pulls a nipple into his mouth and Scorpius arches up to him. Harry's mouth opens against his skin, his chest, his ribs, as his hand curl around him, thumbs stroking sensitive skin at his waist.

"Harry," Scorpius moans. He's dizzy and he twists the sheets in his fist.

"Hm," Harry hums, dipping his tongue into Scorpius' navel.

Scorpius twines one hand in Harry's hair. "Please," he begs.

"Over," Harry growls.

Scorpius turns and pushes himself up on his elbows. Harry's hands grip his hips and he feels Harry's breath on his lower back. His body twitches with anticipation. He loves this. Every moment, every touch of Harry's tongue on him. This intimacy brings him back to their first time and how he felt completely taken by Harry's power and charisma, how when he lets himself, he still does. The heat from Harry's mouth rolls in waves through Scorpius' body. His tongue flattens against Scorpius' hole and he can feel it ripple up his spine. His cock is harder than stone and Scorpius reaches to stroke himself.

Scorpius works his hand slowly on his cock and Harry licks and kisses. Scorpius waits for it, half hopes and half dreads that Harry will pull back, slick his cock, and fuck him. Scorpius bites back the words, please, god, please fuck me, words that run around in his mind. He wants that, but he'll die if Harry stops licking him.

"Fuck," Scorpius gasps, stroking faster and he can't help it. He has to come, he can't stop. Harry presses his tongue inside and grips Scorpius' hips, holding him and staying with him through every wave of pleasure.

Scorpius presses his cheek to the bed, panting. Harry kisses him one last time and finally pulls back. He splays his hand on Scorpius' his arse, fingers digging in. Scorpius can feel Harry's movements, hear the sounds as Harry strokes his own cock, looking down at Scorpius.

"So beautiful," Harry says. His fingers grip Scorpius harder and his breath comes faster, harsh. Scorpius holds his breath and he feels Harry come, warm streaks over his arse and thighs. Harry curls over his body, chest to back, arm wrapping around his waist. He holds him and his weight presses Scorpius into the bed.

After a moment, Harry traces his hand down Scorpius' back, a caress and a spell to leave him clean. He turns on his back and wraps an arm around him, pulling him close until Scorpius' head rests on his chest.

"Earlier, you never answered me," Scorpius hears himself say, wondering what has possessed him. "You and Charlie."

"I don't cheat and I don't want anyone but you," Harry says. His voice is even and gentle.

"We still have to figure out what's going on here."

"Mm-hm," Harry mumbles sleepily.

Scorpius can feel Harry's cheek on his hair. The woodsy scent of the lantern, the warm air in the room, and the sweet, luscious feeling of Harry's sated body under his, lull him. Sleep pulls at his eyelids.


*****


Scorpius has had enough. He had awakened this morning to Harry' elbow in his face, a bruise on his cheek from where it must have prodded him all night, and a desire to shove Harry out of the bed—not a reasonable reaction by any stretch of the imagination. To top it off, the window had blown open in the night and he had a stiff neck from the draught and a headache from the heavy scent of past-their-best apple blossoms.

He stamps into Charlie's kitchen. Charlie and his dad are sitting at opposite ends of the table, looking in different directions. The cheerful blue checked table cloth is missing and eggs on the platter look congealed.

"This isn't a bloody holiday," he snaps, and while that's not what he intended to say, the way that both Charlie and Dad start is incredibly satisfying. "What the hell is going on? Why is everyone in the world such a prick all of a sudden?"

"They've always been pricks. You're just now noticing?" says Dad.

A breeze ruffles the curtains, which look dingier than Scorpius has ever seen them. The smell of the apple blossoms that seems to permeate everything wafts in through the window and Scorpius sneezes.

"I think he means," Harry says slowly. He sounds as if he's trying to control his temper. "What is going on that you're not telling us about why you asked me to come here for the holiday."

"It's probably nothing dangerous," Charlie says, glancing sideways at Dad.

"It's enough that I can't stand the sight of you," Dad says.

"It's becoming mutual," Charlie grumbles.

"Stop it," Scorpius snaps. His dad was happy with Charlie. Honestly, consistently happy. He was, that is, and no one particularly wants to deal with his dad when he's honestly, consistently unhappy. "So it's not just the students. You asked two Aurors to come for a holiday for a reason. Tell us."

Harry shoots him a small smile and Scorpius feels a knot of tension release in his chest. He'd been promoted to Auror—no trainee or apprentice or assistant attached to his name—just last month and it still feels new.

"He did. He asked two Aurors here because there is something awry in the forest. I'm beginning to think we should torch the place," Draco says.

"It would probably fight that," Charlie adds. Draco glares at Charlie. "Right. That aside, you know your dad's here to fill in for the Potions teacher. Well, she was having a really off term. I mean really off, like the school couldn't afford any more exploded cauldrons or students sent to hospital off. The thing is, she wanted to get fit and she started walking in the forest early every morning. Just about when spring hit, she started having accidents and snapping at people and she even hexed Neville."

"I assume you've had Neville and the Defence teacher out?"

"No," Draco says, rolling his eyes. "We asked over at Madam Puddifoots instead."

"So, I presume that Neville found nothing," Harry said, pointedly ignoring Dad's barb. "What did Professor Perris say?"

It was no secret among the four of them that Harry didn't like the man either, but Harry was there to do a job, and very little would stop him from pursuing any source of information. That was one of the many, many things Scoprius had learned from Harry over the past few months—not how to drop a grudge, because Harry could hold one of those with the same tenacity he went after a dark wizard, but how to put it on hold for the greater good.

"Hang on," Scorpius says. Something else Harry has taught him just clicked into place—when you're stuck on the case, always look for the one thing that doesn't fit because it's always there. "Since when are there apple trees in the forest?"

Harry looks at him and grins. "That's the something new. Well done, Auror Malfoy. Time for a walk in the woods."

Charlie leads the way. He takes them on a different path than Scorpius has ever taken before.

"I thought you'd searched the place," Draco grumbles. "You told me nothing was here."

"It's bloody huge, I can't search every inch and it's not as if you were any help," Charlie snaps back.

"Why don't we keep conversation to a minimum for now," Harry says.

"Well put," says Scorpius.

The scent of apple blossoms grows stronger as they work their way down the path. It's over grown with nettles that seem to leap out to sting any exposed skin. Scorpius slides his hands up into his robe sleeves. None of them say a word, following Charlie along the path.

"I think we're on the right track," whispers Harry. He points up, toward the branches of a tree. Scorpius looks just as he hears a furious squawking. A pair of robins sits on either side of a nest, screeching at each other. One gives a final screech and flies off.

"Follow her, mate," Charlie says and it's a moment before Scorpius realises he's talking to the robin.

Scorpius covers his nose. The sweet smell of apple blossoms is so strong he can hardly stand it.

They round a corner and in a clearing is a beautiful little apple tree covered with pale pink flowers. They are beautiful, but the cloyingly sweet smell makes Scorpius bring his hand to cover his mouth and nose as well.

Harry raises one hand and they all freeze. A man moves from the back of the tree. He touches his wand to a half wilted flower and it blossoms as if from a bud. A fresh wave of its scent hits Scorpius. He feels as if his skin is too tight and he has the urge to shove his father, the only person standing within arm's reach. The man turns and it's someone Scorpius has never seen.

"Perris," Charlie shouts. "What the hell are you doing?"

"The Defence teacher," Scorpius murmurs, placing the name.

"Brilliant deduction," his father says, glaring at him. Scorpius has another urge to shove him.

Perris lifts his wand and he looks for a second as if he's going to try and make a stand.

"I wouldn't give it a go," Harry says. "Aurors won't harm you, but I've a feeling you've really hacked off Mr. Malfoy."

"So, you found it," Perris says. He eyes the four of them and then drops his wand. "You found it and now you're going to destroy all the lovely discord."

"What the hell is it?" Scorpius asks.

"It's a tree," Draco says. He points his wand at Perris' chest. "What have you done, you foul little worm?"

"Watch it," Perris says, turning to glare at Draco. "You shouldn't call me names. You have everything. It's all easy for rich, pretty little princes like you."

"Not well versed on recent history, this one," Draco mutters.

Harry and Charlie and Scorpius use the distraction to step in closer.

"Why should you be happy? Why should anyone," Perris continues to rave. "Happiness makes you weak. Margaery learned the hard way. She did me a favour, reminding me that this way is better."

"You've ruined my spring because my predecessor had the good sense to turn you down? Potter, let me," Draco says, lifting his wand again.

"What charm did you put on tree?" Scorpius asks.

"Dim witted boy. None of your weak charms could create such beautiful havoc."

"This is old magic," says Charlie, his wand still trained of Perris.

Another thing Harry had taught Scorpius was that if you give most criminals, especially the egomaniacs, enough rope, they will invariably hang themselves.

"You're not as stupid as you look. You all think you're so brilliant, but you're infants compared to wizards in Greece. Now there's real magic. There's real power. You've never felt anything like the temples."

"Eris," Scorpius says.

"What do you know about it?" Perris snaps. "His temple is still strong. This tree comes from seeds he himself harvested. You've never imagined such power."

"But you have, apparently," Draco says. He moves nearer to Perris. His wand is at his side, but Scorpius sees his dad's fingers flex around it. He trains his own wand on Perris' chest. "She was lovely wasn't she? And now she's gone. I should thank you really, for my current teaching post. Some people, given my history, might even think we planned this together."

Scorpius wants to object, shut his dad up, and Stun this man before one of them gets hurt.

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" Perris growls. He lifts his wand and Scorpius glances at Harry and Charlie to make sure they've done the same. "I planted this tree in remembrance. She walked here every day. I thought to make her strolls more beautiful."

"You couldn't have her. She didn't want you," Draco says. "So you planted this tree to make her and anyone else who comes near the forest miserable.

Perris' fingers twitch almost imperceptibly on his wand. Harry shouts, "Expelliarmus at the same time as Charlie steps bodily in front of Draco.

"You would have ruined her career because she'd never want you," Charlie says. "This tree will be gone by morning."

"Eris is here, in this forest, for good. You simpletons are no match for his power."

Perris reaches and grabs an apple off the tree. Scorpius doesn't have a clear shot. His father is blocking his path to Perris. Perris raises his arm to throw the apple. Scorpius has no clue what it might do, but he's certain it's not good. Charlie's arm goes around his father's waist and they're falling to the ground. Scorpius shouts the first spell that comes to mind the moment he has a clear shot and he hears Harry's voice at the same time. Harry's and Scorpius' stunning spells combine and hit Perris full in the chest. He crumples to the ground.

Harry waves his wand and several of the blossoms leave the tree. Harry waves it again and they are encased in a glass sphere, along with the apple Perris had in his hand. "Deliver these to our friends at the Department of Mysteries. Don't touch the tree until we hear back from them."


*****

Draco hesitates at the door. He takes a deep breath and the clean, bright scent of spring in the forest is like a tonic. Harry and Scorpius have gone home, after helping staff from the Department of Mysteries seal off the area around the tree. The tree will be gone by morning. Draco wonders if balance will be as easily restored to Charlie and him as it seems to have been to the forest.

Draco takes another breath and opens the door.

Charlie is in the kitchen, facing the other way. He's in trousers and a neat-fitting jumper. Draco wants to go straight to him and put his arms around that thick torso, bury his face in his hair.

"Happy Anniversary," Draco says.

Charlie turns and one corner of his mouth curls up in an almost-smile. "What anniversary is this, then?"

"The fifth minute in a row that you haven't been a git."

"I haven't seen you for at least fifteen."

"You're supposed to be the sentimental Gryffindor. You tell me," Draco says. He takes the final steps into the cottage and to the kitchen. The place smells right again. It looks right. The simple furniture and decor that irritated him yesterday feel comfortable and warm now. Charlie crosses his arms and a shiver runs through Draco as he imagines the feel of those strong arms around him and those broad hands on his body.

Charlie reaches and grabs his wrist. He pulls Draco to him and his arms circle Draco's waist. "It's six months since you agreed to stay with me." He kisses Draco softly on the lips, and it's almost a revelation to remember that he is capable of such tenderness.

"And here I thought I'd annoyed you so much the past few weeks that you'd be counting the days until I left."

Charlie gives him a quizzical look and kisses him again. They haven't discussed it. Draco can't stay here at Hogwarts forever. There are only so many temporary posts and he will have to have work at some point. Charlie's life is here and while they can certainly see each other often, Draco feels a little pang of regret that it won't be quite the same.

Charlie presses against him and Draco parts his lips to welcome Charlie's tongue.

"Merlin, I've missed you," Charlie gasps when he pulls back from the kiss. He rocks against Draco, to make his point, and Draco feels himself grow hard.

"Show me how much," Draco says, his mouth open against Charlie's neck.

Charlie fumbles with Draco's robe and he finds he doesn't mind at all when Charlie's fingers catch on the fastenings. Draco shrugs out of his shirt and Charlie leans to kiss his bare chest. His hands slide around Draco's waist and one covers the entire small of his back while the other slips inside his trousers. Draco nearly sobs with how good it is, and how he missed this. He works his fingers into Charlie's waistband and undoes the buttons.

Charlie's cock is thick and hard. Draco grabs his arse and holds Charlie to him. He wants to feel every inch of Charlie against him. Charlie's cock slips between Draco's thighs and Charlie groans and rolls his hips.

"Ah, I'll come like that," Charlie moans. He pulls back and gropes for Draco. It's just this side of clumsy and the angle is almost awkward. He doesn't care. Charlie's strong hand and thick, blunt fingers feel perfect on him.

"Like this," Draco says. He bends his knees and leans against the table. The shift in his height brings their cocks into alignment and Charlie opens his fingers to take both into his hand. Charlie thrusts hard and their cocks slip against each other.

Draco looks down and watches his cock slide back and forth along Charlie's. Charlie squeezes the heads together and they both moan.

Charlie's watching as well. "Every inch of you is so fucking beautiful," he says.

Charlie holds nothing back. He says what he feels and he dives in feet-first. He's blunt and strong and imperfect. Draco's never felt so thoroughly taken by anyone, and never wanted to make someone else feel that same way, so desperately. He adds his hand to Charlie's and Charlie's breath becomes loud and ragged. Draco strokes faster and Charlie's hand drops away, letting Draco set the pace. He holds onto Draco's shoulders and presses his forehead to Draco's, looking down at Draco's hand on their cocks and murmuring pleas.

"Yes," groans Charlie and he comes as Draco strokes harder. He wants this moment with Charlie, wants to come while Charlie is still shuddering from the waves of his orgasm and panting to get back his breath. His hand moves on them, slippery and hot. Charlie shivers and gasps, but Draco doesn't let up. He keeps pressing their cocks together.

"Fuck, Draco," Charlie moans. He leans forward, slumping against Draco. His cock softens and it must be tingling with too much sensation. The soft, slick flesh pressed to Draco contrasted with the hard, relentless pace of his hand sends him tumbling over the edge. Draco cries out as he comes and Charlie wraps his arms around him, nearly pushing him onto the table.

Charlie's mouth is on his and they trade luscious, sloppy kisses until Draco comes back to himself enough to realise that the edge of the table is digging painfully into his back.

"Now bed," he says, taking Charlie's hand and walking to the bed.

"Have we redeemed ourselves—not the boring middle aged couple who cleans their teeth before shagging?" Charlie asks as they slide into the bed together.

"It's a start," Draco says. "We'll see if we can rise to the challenge as long as I'm here."

"You going somewhere?" Charlie turns on his side to look at Draco and frowns.

"Well, I gather I'll be made redundant by our latest success. No reason for the Margaery not to resume her post. I can't remain your concubine forever."

"My concubine? That's an image I won't hurry to forget," Charlie says, teasing. When Draco doesn't quip back, Charlie says, "Draco, Neville mentioned something this morning."

"Why are you talking about Longbottom when I'm naked in your bed?"

"Well, it seems he's suddenly in need of a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and I rather think of it as our bed."

Draco smiles and settles against Charlie. He rather likes the sound of that.