Fertilizer
You’re grateful the rain let up today, finally granting an opportunity to go outside. From beneath an oak tree, you watch Scorpius and Albus toss a rugby ball back and forth. It's comfortably warm this afternoon, with a soft breeze carrying the smell of dry leaves and grass through the courtyard. You eat another grape and laugh when the two boys begin to wrestle playfully, garnering a yell from Lily.
“Oh can’t you two stop acting like heathens for one day?!” She shrieks and throws a book at her brother, who groans in pain.
You lie down on the spread blanket and reopen your book, trying to block out the commotion. You’re worn out from last night’s game, a bad loss to Gryffindor, which then turned into an hour’s worth of gloating from Lily that royally pissed off Scorpius and Albus. It took all of your willpower to convince them to be civil with her today. Since its the weekend, you dressed casually in a pair of running shorts and Scorpius's hoodie that came down to your thighs.
One plus to dating him, oversized clothes. For sixteen, he was pretty massive, standing at about 5’11 and thick with muscle.
Scorpius abandons his game of catch when Lily and Albus start to argue. So much for your peace talk. He huffs and drops himself next to you on the blanket, waiting for your attention. When he doesn’t get it, he pouts and snatches the book from your hand. You glare at him and reach for it. He only holds it higher.
“Scorpius, you are such a brat,” you say with an eye roll.
“Your brat,” he challenges.
You lunge again for the book, but instead fall into his lap and knock him back into the tree. He drops the book in favor of grabbing your waist for support. It's a compromising position, and you enjoy the way his pale cheeks grow pink.
“Glad to see this is how my students spend their weekends.” A voice interrupts from behind you, and Scorpius all but throws you off his lap.
“Good afternoon, father.” Scorpius rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, unable to meet Draco's gaze.
“Nice to see you, sir.” You add with a nervous smile.
Draco doesn’t look angry, but you can’t quite place what seems off about him. Besides class, you hadn’t seen him in a while. Scorpius has been clingy lately, unable to part with you for more than an hour. Consequently, you missed your weekly rendevous in his father’s study.
You wonder how Draco feels about it.
“Enjoying the weather?” Draco hums, dodging the awkward situation. “Such a lovely day to be outside.” You both nod in agreement.
A group of boys had formed in the clearing now, a few beckoning Scorpius over so they can start a pickup game of rugby. He stands up and dusts himself off, nodding to his father and jogging over to the crowd. You swallow hard, just the two of you now. Oddly enough, Draco sits next to you on the blanket, propping up against the tree and crossing his legs out infront of him. You pull your knees to your chest and rest your chin on them, unsure of what to say. He watches the boys start the game for a few minutes, until you feel his eyes on you, seemingly on your bare legs. When he realizes you’ve noticed, he quickly averts his gaze.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he starts, looking forward. “The first loss is always the worst.”
You agree quietly and pick a fuzz off of the blanket, still not knowing how to approach him. He sighs and looks at you again, waiting for you to meet his gaze.
“Are you upset with me?” You finally ask, scared of the answer. A puzzled expression crosses his face before he laughs, leaning forward a bit to remove his cloak and fold it next to him. “I’m being serious.” This time you frown.
He almost seems offended. “Of course I’m not upset with you, silly girl. Why would I be?”
He’s right, why would he be upset about a girl not bothering him in his study? You feel stupid for asking and decide to drop it, turning away from him. A part of you wishes he had said yes, that he missed you terribly Friday night. But you push the thought down, immediately probed by guilt.
“If you’re referring to Friday night, it’s truly no issue. I’m sure you had your reasons. I took to bed early anyways,” he adds when you don’t respond.
You can’t face him when you speak up. “It’s just…Scorpius has been wanting me close lately. It’s hard to make time for anything else.” When you realize the implication of your words you rush to correct it. “Not that I don’t like! I enjoy his company. That’s why- it’s my excuse. I mean it’s the reason, not an excuse.” You begin to ramble, anxiety getting the best of you.
His gaze burns into the side of your head. A beat passes and you’re afraid you’ve insulted him by accidentally insinuating that Scorpius has been bothering you.
“My son is nothing if not needy.” You breathe a sigh of relief. “If you ever want to…stop by, not just on Fridays, you’re more than welcome to.” This catches you off guard and you turn your cheek toward him. He’s almost rigid when he meets your gaze.
A deeper part of you wishes it was a loaded offer, than there’s a hidden innuendo that only you two could understand. You can’t deny that you and he have this sort of…undeniable connection. Partly because, as his son’s girlfriend, you try your best to be in his favor. At least that’s what you thought in the beginning. But as your relationship with Draco grows, you’ve come to realize that its not restricted to that. Whenever you’re around him, you feel safe, an overwhelming sense of security. It’s fun together, you sometimes forget that he’s your professor, as well as the head of your house. Not to mention your attraction to him. How couldn’t someone be attracted to the Draco Malfoy? He’s a running joke amongst the Slytherin girls, a few of them had even made offhand comments to you when you started dating Scorpius.
“Oh please.” Ophelia whispers and giggles to you in the back of the class when Draco is turned around to write on the board. “Have you seen his yearbook portraits?”
“I want him to slither-in me,” a Hufflepuff girl interjects and your friend erupts in laughter, leaving you flushed with embarrassment.
The worst part is that you can’t disagree with them. Scorpius definitely got the majority of his looks from his father, but not all. Draco is taller, about 6’3, and more lean than muscular. He’s pale in comparison to Scorpius’s slight tan. He also has let his hair grow out a bit since his younger years, with longer pieces in the back and sides that brush the tips of his ears. He’s a straight back with long limbs and large hands, adorning a ring with the Malfoy crest on his right pinky. The most enticing part of him is simply his attitude. You had heard jokes and stories from the Potters and Weasleys about how insufferable Draco used to be, most of which he laughs off or actually agrees. But you can still see some of his high and mightiness peaking through, not that it bothers you. He carries himself with such poise, it’s hard to not be intimidated. He speaks clearly and precisely, is quick-witted, and short-tempered with annoyances.
You return to reality and nod your head with a smile. “I might just take you up on that, sir.”
“Heads up!” Someone from the game shouts and before Draco can answer you, he’s pulling you into him. You watch stupidly as the rugby ball flies past your head and smashes into the tree with such force, the bark comes crumbling off. All you can focus on is the feeling of Draco’s arms wrapped tightly around you, your bare thighs halfway in his lap. You feel his hands squeeze your back softly as he looks down at you.
“Are you okay?” His eyes scan your face, looking for any injuries and you can’t find your voice. You jerkily nod and look for the source of the throw. A guilty-looking Scorpius comes hustling over to kneel infront of you. Draco lets one of his hands fall away, his other staying pressed against the small of your back, rubbing his thumb in a circle.
“Shit, I'm so sorry. I charmed it so it’d hit harder, I aimed at Albus I swear! Are you okay, did you get hurt?” Scorpius’s frown is so deep that your stomach twists. He grabs your arms and pulls you forward, away from his father so he can get a better look at you.
“You oughta watch where you throw when there is a lady around.” Draco's arm leaves your back as he pushes himself up to stand, dusting off his cloak and looking down at you two.
“Sorry, father.” Scorpius bows his head in shame. All you can do is stare at Draco, still feeling the weight of his arms around you like a phantom. You feel Scorpius press a few chaste pecks to your cheek in apology as he helps you stand up. He keeps an arm around your waist, tucking you into his side. “No more rugby for today it seems,” he jokes.
Draco swallows hard and nods curtly. “I will see you both in class tomorrow.” He turns and walks away quietly, making for the west entrance. Odd, you think to yourself.
Scorpius calls out to the rest of the boys, telling them to get lost. They groan but comply and slowly disperse from the clearing. You let Scorpius pull you back down onto the blanket and accept a few more pecks to the side of your head.
“What was the old man bothering you about?” He chides and leans into you. In the beginning, you appreciated his touchiness, it made you feel wanted. But now it feels excessive, like you can't breathe without Scorpius stealing the air in from you.
“Oh, nothing in particular. We were just chatting about yesterday’s game.” At least it wasn’t a complete lie.
He nods and turns his attention playing with a piece of your hair. Scorpius is very sweet, you'd give him that. And you are happy with him, truly. He never insults or pushes you away. You can count on him for anything, anytime. He’s like a puppy, always at your beck and call. You lean against his shoulder with a yawn and close your eyes, shivering in the breeze.
Scorpius hums and nuzzles into your hair. “It's getting late, do you want to go inside? You should probably eat too, you missed lunch.” Ever attentive, this one.
You shake your head, keeping your eyes closed. You don’t feel like getting up, afraid your strained legs will give out.
“C’mon love, I'll take you inside and get you a snack. Don’t want you to fall asleep out here.” Scorpius chuckles and you groan as he lifts you to your feet. You send him a glare, to which he responds by leaning down to kiss you. His lips are soft and warm, arms pulling you tight to his chest. He’s firm against you, surrounding you. It feels good so you indulge in the embarrassing display. When he pulls off, he’s grinning from ear to ear, positively enthralled by your participation.
“Why don’t you start up another game with the boys? I’m just going to go inside and nap, I'd hate for you to waste the nice day.” You cock your head and splay your fingers on his chest, rubbing softly. You can tell he wants to argue, but when you give him the puppy eyes, he folds under the pressure.
“Fine,” he huffs and kisses the tip of your nose. “Just one game and I’ll be back inside. We can watch a movie or something if you’re awake by then,” he wagers and you agree.
You mumble a quiet goodbye and collect your things, journeying back into the castle. Not maybe people are inside, most lounge by the lake or in the pavilions. Part of you wants to feel sad about leaving the nice weather, but you’re bone tired. Every muscle is tight and sore, and your head has begun to ache from all of the noise.
Once back in the Slytherin dorms, you load off your bag and slump onto your bed. You’re alone, the girl’s wing eerily quiet. It’s nice to finally relax by yourself, without Scorpius or one of the Potters breathing down your neck. You could use a shower, some hot water to loosen you up. But that’s down the hall, and your bed is right here. With a groan, you shimmy off your skirt and are left in panties and Scorpius’s hoodie. The blankets are warm and inviting, the dorm bed threatening to swallow you whole. And oddly enough, you are no longer tired.
Burying your face in the pillows does little to quell your racing mind. Thoughts of the game, of Scorpius, of your grades, and reluctantly of Draco. Guilt turns your stomach into knots. He shouldn’t live in your thoughts like this, even you have started to acknowledge the inappropriateness. Everything about him is enticing. You try to justify these thoughts with affirmations. Of course you like him so much, he and Scorpius are very similar, and you love Scorpius.
Wait, love?
Definitely not that. Not yet at least.
And no, they aren’t similar. They share genetics and that’s about it. Scorpius is warm and playful, every bit of a schoolboy as he possibly can be. His charm lies in his naivety and childishness. Draco could not be further from that. He’s sharp and brutal. His very aura is chilling, he rarely expresses any visual emotion past satisfaction. They’re like night and day. Even physically.
Your mind wanders to the scene under the tree. How strong his grip was around your waist, the long fingers brushing your lower back. He was so close, you could smell the wood in his cologne, the coffee on his breath. It was more intimate than you could even process at the moment. You enjoyed every second and felt utter disdain when Scorpius separated the two of you.
You shouldn’t feel that way. And you sure as hell shouldn’t be squirming in bed at the thought of his touch. The blankets are suffocating, restricting in the worst way. You kick off the first two layers and settle with the thin sheet. Next to come off is Scorpius’s hoodie, suddenly the spicy scent of his cologne making you nauseous. Everything feels wrong.
The empty dorm is a blessing, you can’t remember the last time you had this much personal space. Laying in bed in your underwear is a luxury you miss. From the headboard, you look up and across to your wardrobe, a little messy with an unshut door and some loose articles laying around. Your jersey hangs on the rack, stiff from airdrying after the match. The number seven peaks from between your sweaters, and unfortunately your thoughts drift back to Draco.
You wonder where is he right now, and why he went in through the west wing. Maybe he had to meet with one of the other professors, or maybe he just wanted to take the scenic route back to the Slytherin wing. Either way, you’re itching to go visit him. So you pull your skirt and a crumpled sweater back on then make your way to his office.
The Slytherin corridors are empty, save for a few of the older students who mill about getting their final preparations done for winter exams. It feels weird to walk alone, usually you’re accompanied by Scorpius or Albus, but it's a nice break from their commotion. The walk to Draco’s study is short, and soon enough you find yourself in front of the dark oak door. You can tell by the little green ribbon tied to the handle that he’s not there, which confuses you. Maybe he had business in the west wing after all. You sigh in annoyance of the long walk ahead of you.
Taking the fastest route is smart but forces you to join the now large crowds of students beginning to heard in for dinner. You smile and make polite small talk with a few other Syltherins who stop and invite you to grab a seat with them. It's fairly easy to slip between everyone without trouble, and you had breach the west wing in no time. The setting sun casts orange and yellow beams through the tall glass windows, dancing around your feet. Truly, you love coming over to the west wing, but you never have much reason to. It's quiet on this side, only a couple stray students who keep their heads down and don't acknowledge you. You do your best to peak into the classrooms and check the study handles to get an idea of where Draco could possibly be. But as you turn the last corner in the corridor, you pause.
You don’t remember there being a door on the far wall, you definitely would have noticed it before. It's nothing special, a black door sunken into the masonry with a pointed dome top. You stop and stare at it for a minute, probing your memory for any recollection of what classroom or storage office this could be. Curiosity gets the best of you, and you step forward to knock a few times. After a few seconds, you’re still greeted with silence. Since nobody is around to see you possibly trespassing, you push the handle and shove the door open slowly.
Inside the room is dimly lit by what seems to be a fireplace on the opposite wall. For the most part, all you see are piles of old books, antique furniture, and boxes of trinkets. It's largely uncluttered and you move forward quietly. The space is vast with high ceilings, and you can't imagine why you’ve never heard of it before. As you turn the corner of junk towards the fireplace, you notice that the floor is covered by a large mattress pad with countless pillows and blankets. It looked like someone had been sleeping there.
“Oh hell.” A whimper sounds from the makeshift bed and your heart leaps into your throat.
You silently dart behind the tall stacks of books and tables, weaving between them until you are a little closer to the fireplace. From this spot, you can finally see two people on the makeshift mattress. Although it's difficult to make out their features, since the fire behind them casts too many shadows.
They’re having sex, that much is obvious. And you’re the creep that's standing and watching.
The woman continues to pant and sigh underneath the man, who is hunched over with his head buried in her neck. Even in the shadows, you can see the muscles rippling in his back, thighs flexing everytime he thrusts into her. You want to leave but you can't, the erotic sight fixing you in place.
The man stops his movement and seemingly whispers something to his lady, who nods her head with a small laugh. He sits up and manhandles her onto her hands and knees in front of him. You freeze in terror, realizing that she now faces you in this new position. But she doesn't notice you at all, only buries her face into the blankets and arches her back for the man.
He takes his time behind her, kissing down her spine and kneading his hands into the flesh of her ass. It's easier to make out some of his features now, like the blonde hair which catches the flame’s light. When he finally uncurls his body, you flush with heat. His chest and abdomen is very toned, muscles flexing and shining even in the dimness. You watch with clenched thighs as his touches himself behind her, before spitting onto her pussy and rubbing it in. From what you can see, he’s well endowed, and you can’t help the odd jealousy biting at your stomach. She moans and pushes herself back, trying to entice him. His shoulders shake with a quiet laugh and he lines himself up, finding his way back inside of her.
The new angle changes everything. The woman can’t contain herself, letting out sinfully loud moans into the bedspread. Wet slaps fill the air as he pounds into her, hands gripping her hips tightly.
He fucks her, hard.
You know you need to leave, that this is beyond wrong and you’re invading their privacy exponentially. But you can’t move an inch from your hiding spot. This was nothing like the porn you’ve seen, nothing even like what you conjured up in your imagination. This is real, and your virgin mind (and body) is already addicted. Your attraction to the alluring man and his actions has you clenching your thighs, trying not to let your thoughts wander too much. But it’s impossible. You want nothing more than to be in that woman’s spot, you need to know what it’s like. For a brief second you consider sex with Scorpius, but you know he can’t give you what you need. You need someone with experience, not another like-minded virgin who probably wouldn’t be able to get it up in his nervousness.
A deep groan shakes you from your thoughts and you choke back a whimper. It's the first time you've heard his voice and it makes your toes curl.
“Fuck.” He grits and throws his head back, slowing his assault on the poor woman. You stagger in place, fighting to breathe when the light finally shines on the man's face. The rational part of your brain tries to deny what you’re seeing, and in that split second, you convince yourself that it is indeed a trick of the poor lighting.
“You feel so fucking good for me,” the man adds, delievering a loud slap to the woman’s ass and she positively keens into the touch.
There’s no more denying it. You are watching Scorpius’s parents have sex.
You know Draco’s voice too well, and now that you’ve looked harder at the woman, it's undoubtedly Astoria and her curly brown hair. You’re at a loss, feeling so dizzy that you might fall over that instant. But like the sick bastard you apparently are, you cannot look away.
His arms that held you earlier, trying to protect you from harm, now hold his wife still as he fucks into her with no mercy. His voice that always comforts you, now spews dirty praise to his wife. His cock that you always imagine when you touch yourself at night, now pleasures his wife.
And you’re disgustingly jealous.
The thrusts get rougher, you watch his jaw clench and eyes light up with intensity. “I’m gonna cum- gonna cum inside you.” His tone is taunting and Astoria wails underneath him, pleasantly overwhelmed by his treatment. His moans get louder, ringing in your ears so you’ll never forget them. Until a few thrusts later, when he stills against her with a slew of breathy curses. Astoria is shaking and whining, but he shushes her and gently rocks his hips, basking in the post-orgasm glow.
He leans down to kiss her, to comfort her, and you think you might throw up. You watch with a frown as he slowly pulls out, hissing at the friction, then muttering a cleaning spell before any of his cum can leak out.
You watch them with bitter distaste, how he cleans her up, cuddles her, kisses her, puts her clothes back on, plays with her hair. It's too much to handle and you turn on your feet, siltenly moving out of the door and back into the empty corridor.
It's late now, you guess maybe close to nine o'clock. You don’t remember anything from the walk back to the common rooms, your head is too congested. Scorpius doesn't even cross your mind as you crawl into bed, even though he was surely worried sick about you. You cast a privacy spell that pulls the black curtains tight around your bed and soundproofs them.
Now alone, you try to digest everything you had witnessed. But you can’t bring yourself to care that you watched them, you’re not sorry about it.
All you can think about is Draco, now with endless possibilities for your fantasies. It's sick, but your aroused brain can’t find a reason to care. In the moment, you want nothing more than Draco. Need him to touch, kiss, and fuck you until he claims you as his, until he cums inside you.
Shamelessly, you let your hand wander under your skirt and into your soaked panties.