InsaneJournal

One Dark and Stormy Evening

“One dark and stormy evening…Are you scared, yet?”

“Shut up. I’m not doing it.” 

“…a mad but utterly brilliant potion maker brewed a cauldron of Polyjuice…”

“I’m not listening.”

“…and drank it with his twit boyfriend, whereupon…”

“I’m trying to study here, all right? Christ.”

Al frowns, takes my astronomy book out of my hand, and sets it on my bedside table.

“Nobody studies on Halloween, you git. Not when there’s so much fun to be had.” He nods at the two phials on top of the dressing table, smirking. “Just admit you’re curious.”

I sigh. “Just because I said I was curious doesn’t mean we have to find out.”

“Don’t be stupid. We finally have everything we need; you can’t back out now.” His green eyes dance with mischief. “We’re supposed to wear costumes, anyway. What could be better than...”

“It’s mental,” I interrupt. “Besides, it’s a Gryffindor party – we’re not even invited.”

“Rose invited us. And she’s got booze.”

I consider this for a long moment.

“All right. But if this thing goes pear-shaped, you’re sleeping on the floor the rest of term.”

Al grins and slips off the bed. I walk over to the dressing table and rummage through the top drawer; Al rifles through the piles on his desk. “So how did you get your dad’s hair, anyway?”

I shrug. “Made our house-elf steal Father’s comb for me. You?”

“Nicked some off Dad’s cloak last time he was here.” He turns to face me, clutching several strands of unruly-looking black hair. “Oh, wait! We have to get our kits off first – our clothes won’t fit.”

 “Our dads aren’t that fat,” I protest, but I know it’s useless; when Al gets a wild idea like this, he wants to go the whole hog. I doff my shirt, then shove off my jeans and pants; Al does likewise. We pick up our phials.

“Ready?” Al drops the black hair into his phial; the liquid churns and bubbles and turns bright gold. “Okay, your turn.”

 “This is a very bad idea.” I drop Father’s blond strands into mine; the concoction gurgles, hisses, and darkens to a murky green. Al slips an arm around my waist, clinks our phials together, and entwines his drinking arm with mine. 

“Cheers.” He slugs the mixture down in one long swallow; I sigh, chug my own, and promptly gag. I stagger away from him, clutching a bedpost.

 “Fuck! That was vile.”

“Really? It tasted pretty good to me.” 

I look up and behold the strangest sight I’ve ever seen; before my eyes, Al rapidly morphs into…an older version of himself. Only slightly shorter, famously scarred, and, apparently, blind.

“Shit – I can’t see a sodding thing!” He lurches toward me, arms flailing, and knocks a small hand mirror off the dressing table; it curses at him fluently.

“Calm down,” I snap. I grab his father’s glasses off his bedside table, raise them to his face, and slip them on. “Better?”

“Yeah. Loads.” He blinks and looks around. “Good thing Dad binned these when he got his new ones.” He takes two steps backward, looks me up and down, and laughs.

“You’re cut.”

“Where?” I ask, alarmed.

“No, you twat,” he chuckles. “You’re cut. Or, at least, your dad is.” He points to my cock.

I look down; sure enough, he’s right. “Wow – I never knew.”

“How could you not know? Christ, you’ve never seen your dad’s tool before?”

“No, I haven’t,” I reply defensively. “Malfoys don’t exactly walk around the manor with their dicks hanging out.”

“Well, my dad didn’t either, but someone had to teach me and James how to piss in a toilet.”

“Oh…right. Well, we had servants for that.” I pause, letting my eyes roam over his body, then snicker.

 “You’re really hairy.”

Al rolls his eyes. “Yes, that was the whole point of the Polyjuice, wasn’t it?”

“Not Harry, hairy. As in hirsute.” I grin. “You look like you’re wearing a fucking jumper.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’d forgotten about that.” He looks down and raises his fingers to his chest, grimacing. “Ugh – what if I’m as furry as my dad someday?”

I shrug. “I suppose you could have it hexed off every few weeks; loads of wizards do.” I pause. “Well, loads of gay wizards, anyway,” I correct myself.

His mouth twists with worry. “I hear it’s really painful.”

“Can’t be worse than getting a tattoo.” I walk over to him, raise my fingers to his chest. “But maybe you could just shave it instead.”

“Dad said his enchanted razor nearly took his ear off once. I’d rather not lose my nipples.”

I laugh. “I’d rather you didn’t, either. I do so enjoy sucking them.” 

The worry lines on his forehead soften; he smiles, pulling me close. “I enjoy you sucking them, too.  And other things as well.” He takes my hand and runs it over his stomach, down to his groin. My hand closes on his thick cock; I grin.

“Like father, like son, eh? No wonder your parents are so happily married.”   

 “Ugh! That’s disgusting,” Al protests. His eyes drop to his crotch; he blushes. “But… probably true.” He curls his fingers around my cock, caressing me; my breath quickens.

“So…do we really have to go to the party?”

“I think Rose would forgive us if we skived off,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. “You know, this is sort of hot.”

 “It’s beyond perverted…” I mutter. 

Al shuts me up with a kiss; I groan into his mouth, trying to ignore the strange sensation of his father’s glasses pressing into my cheek. Both our cocks are already rock-hard. I pull away, smiling.

“Wow – for a couple of old blokes, we can still get it up fast.”

“Bodes well for us, doesn’t it?” He grins, nudging me backward. My calves hit the bed, and then he pushes me down on the mattress, crawling on top of me. I raise my head, capture a nipple in my mouth; he moans, reaches between us, and resumes stroking my cock, already wet with pre-come. I shouldn’t be this turned on so quickly – hell, I shouldn’t be turned on by this at all – but the excitement of touching and tasting a different body, one that’s both Al’s and not Al’s, already has me a lot closer to blowing my load than any forty-three year-old man ought to be. My lips leave his nipple; I inch lower beneath him, kissing my way down his abdomen, while he shivers with anticipation. I reach his groin, and then I’m tonguing the length of his shaft, taking him in my mouth…

“God, yes…”

 He grips my hair – or what Father has left of it – gasping with pleasure while I fellate him; the smell and taste of him, strange and yet familiar somehow, drives me mad. I can’t wait any longer; I need him to fuck me right through the mattress, right now. He must be thinking the same thing, because he pulls away, panting, and reaches for the lube in the bedside table drawer.   He sits up and coats his cock with it; I roll over, onto my hands and knees. Wet fingers press into my arse, stretching me; I grunt with discomfort.

“Jesus…does your dad have bangers for fingers?”

“Huh?” He asks, puzzled. “No, not really…”

“Whatever.” I shrug. “Just fuck me already.”

“So impatient,” he teases, but I know he’s more than willing to oblige. I feel his cock nudge my opening; he grasps my hips, pushes forward, and…everything comes to a grinding halt.

“Ow!” I shriek.

He freezes. “What’s wrong?”

“It hurts!” I retort shrilly. “I thought you and your dad were the same size!”

“Uh, yeah, I thought so too.” He pauses for a moment, then laughs.

“I know what the problem is. Your father’s even more of a tight-arse than we thought.”

“Shut up! It’s not funny,” I whimper.

“Er…no, I guess not,” he murmurs, sounding contrite. He starts to pull out of me. “You were right; this was a bad idea…”

“Wait,” I interrupt. “Don’t stop, just…take it easy, all right?”

He mulls this over, then kisses the back of my neck. “All right.”

He curls himself over my back, wraps his hand around my cock. I close my eyes and breathe through the pain; after a few minutes of him stroking me, the pleasure takes over. He starts to move again, my dick slipping through his fingers in time with his slow thrusts; he breathes hard against my neck, filthy utterances falling from his lips.

“Fuck, yes,” he gasps. “So brilliant…so fucking amazing…”

I raise my head, catch a glimpse of ourselves in the wardrobe mirror; Christ, I’ve never seen two stranger bedfellows in my life. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, Al’s dad and mine, are actually shagging.

“Al,” I pant. “Look up…”

Our eyes meet in the reflection; his mouth falls open in some combination of incredulity and ecstasy.

“God, that’s fucked up,” he mutters, but if anything, the bizarre sight inflames his lust; he starts to move faster, urged on by my grunts and moans. A cry escapes his throat, and then he grabs my hips, pulling me hard against him; he shuts his eyes tight, pleasure etched into every line of his middle-aged face. My cock throbs, my balls ache for release; I’m nearly there myself, just need him to finish me off…

“Al,” I gasp. “Please…”

He pulls out of me, still hard, and flips me over; a second later, I’m balls-deep in his mouth. I grab an eerily-familiar handful of black hair, and in three strokes of his tongue I’m coming. His lips slide up and down my shaft a few more times as he milks the last of my release; he takes a long swallow, then immediately pulls away, looking revolted.

“Blech! Your dad tastes disgusting.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, frowning. “I didn’t know.”

He lays down next to me, pulls me into the crook of his arm. “That’s okay,” he replies, grimacing. “I should have guessed he would.”

“Do I taste bad, too?” I ask him, worried.

He shakes his head, gives me a reassuring smile. “No, babes. You taste heavenly.”

I relax into his embrace, immensely relieved; we lay in silence for several minutes as our breathing returns to normal.

 “That was fun,” he finally murmurs, “but…let’s not do it again. ‘Kay?”

I nod. “Yeah. It was a bit weird.”

“Or a lot weird.” He pauses. “Although, I must say…I never imagined sex would still be that hot at their age.”

I snicker. “Hopefully it’s in the genes.”

He laughs. “Yeah.” We fall silent again.

“So, what if I am as furry as my dad someday?” Al mutters, sounding worried again.

I smile. “I suppose I could learn to love a gorilla.”

He grins. “And I suppose I could learn to love your receding hairline.”

“You get that from your mother’s side,” I remind him. A second later, my eyes widen in horror.

“Bugger! I think my mother's father lost his hair, too!”

Al chuckles. “It’s all right. I’ll just put a paper sack over your head when I’m shagging you.”

“Arsehole.” I mock-punch him in the gut; he grabs my wrists, laughing, and pins them above my head. He slides on top of me, and we kiss, long and slow.

After a few minutes, I pull away. “Al?”

“Mmm?”

“Do you really think we’ll still be together at their age?”

The corners of his mouth turn upward. “I reckon so.”

“What about when we’re older, like fifty? Sixty?”

He sighs. “Scorpius, I plan on shagging you in your rocking chair when we’re both two hundred.”

“Idiot,” I murmur. “We won’t live that long.”

“You never know. I could invent the Potion of Eternal Youth someday.” He rolls off me and pulls me close against him.

“One dark and stormy evening…Are you scared, yet?”

“Not again,” I groan.

…a mad but utterly brilliant potion maker brewed a cauldron of Eternal Youth…”

“I’m not listening.”

“…and drank it with his twit boyfriend, whereupon…”

I smirk. “Whereupon, they lived happily ever after, forever and ever.”

He grins, kisses my forehead.

“Yeah. Something like that.”