Characters: Draco/Albus Severus (background Albus/Scorpius and past Draco/Harry)
Rating/Warning(s): NC-17. Dub-con that borders on non-con (quid pro quo style coercion), dark!fic, rimming, mild biting, restraints.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I'm not making any money off of them, I don't intend to claim ownership of them or make any money, please refrain from suing me!
Summary: Albus Potter needs a job, and Draco Malfoy has one to offer. Really, it's just a matter of what the kid will do to get it.
Author's Note: Hey there, thilia. I, um. This is darker than I've gone in a long time, and I hope I did an okay job! I tried to hit on as many of your kinks as I could, though since you said the provided prompts were optional, I ended up going an unexpected direction with the plot. Enjoy?
From the Desk of D. Malfoy
12 August, 2026
To The Esteemed Mr. Potter;
I write to you today concerning a position I am currently looking to fill. I have kept myself apprised of your activities over the last few years--your involvement with my son, of course, prompting these inquiries--and I must say, I am impressed. You have received glowing reviews from all of your past employers, despite the admittedly unusual circumstances through which you have taken leave from each organization.
It is through this little interest of mine that I discovered your current predicament, and began considering you for the position in question. Though I cannot detail the requirements here (secrets being of the essence in my line of work), suffice to say it is well suited to your abilities, and decidedly more lucrative than any other employment you are likely to find. I would be much obliged if you would meet me at my office to interview for this position tomorrow at 9 AM sharp.
Now, Mr. Potter, some caveats--I have informed you of this interview at so late a date because of the secrecy that will be required of you. I cannot impress upon you seriously enough the need for you to remain close-lipped on the subject of this meeting; the reason for this will become clear enough tomorrow morning, should you decide to meet me. I must ask that you do not mention this appointment to anyone, least of all my son and your father. It would complicate matters greatly, it would annihilate your chances of getting this position, and I would remind you at this time that I am, as an Unspeakable, authorized to Obliviate at my discretion. This is not a threat, you understand--merely a statement of fact.
I do look forward to seeing you. Details and an application are enclosed.
Yours most sincerely,
Draco tidied his desk one last time. Then he sighed and checked his watch; 8:52. Potter would be prompt--that was the curse of those children, arriving exactly on time, as though their father had beat into their malleable little brains the idea that they might miss something.
Not that he had much experience with the rest of the brats, but if you were going to make a generalization--
Sure enough, at nine sharp the door opened, and Albus Potter stepped through it. Despite himself, Draco drew in a sharp breath; he really did look remarkably like Harry. He even wore his hair the way Harry had, when he'd been 19 and cocksure and unafraid--when he'd been, on all the levels that had turned out not to matter, Draco's.
"Mr. Potter," Draco said, smoothly covering the pang of nostalgia. Albus swallowed hard as the door swung shut, leaving them alone; Draco and his son's boyfriend, Draco and his boyfriend's son.
Well, ex-boyfriend, Draco supposed. If you were the kind of person who cared about that sort of thing.
"Uh, hi, Mr. Malfoy," Albus said. "I got your owl, and I really could use a job, but I'd like to know--"
"Have a seat," Draco said sternly, "and you may call me Malfoy or Draco, but if you put a 'Mr.' in front of my name again I'm going to hex you."
"Er," Albus said, "okay?" He sat, glancing warily at the chair as he did so, like it might swallow him whole.
Draco moved to his own chair and settled into it, taking his time about it. Then steepled his fingers and peered at Albus over them.
"Now," he said, "I have it on good intel that you are between jobs."
"Er," Albus said, "about that. I know you said I was here for an interview and everything, but if this is going to be another lecture about how I'm not good enough for Scorpius, I'd just as soon--"
"No," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "If I wanted to lecture you I'd come to your home on my own time. I am a busy man, you know. No need to interrupt my workday."
"Great," Albus muttered. "That's something to look forward to, then."
"You are here," Draco continued smoothly, pretending not to have heard that last, "because I believe you would be well suited to a position I am looking to fill. You trained as an Auror, correct?"
"Yeah," Albus said, "but I got chucked from the program--"
"For drugs found on your person," Draco said. "Yes, I recall."
"They weren't mine!" Albus bristled, clearly used to having this conversation. "I don't even use steroids, I wouldn't even know how--"
"You are not on trial here, Mr. Potter," Draco said. He made a checkmark in his notebook--there was nothing else written on the paper, but there was no sense in making the boy feel comfortable. "And, let's see--"
"Don't," Albus said, dropping his head into his hands. "Just don't. I know you know how many jobs I've had and you know I have a complex about it and for Merlin's sake, Mr.--Draco, if we're going to have to go through all of that again like you weren't at my apartment last month bitching to Score about it--"
"Calm yourself," Draco said disdainfully. "You employment history is not in question. I was merely going to explain the position, assuming you do not have any melodramatic objections to make."
Albus eyed him. Then he sighed and waved a hand (and that was Harry's gesture, that exasperated little go-ahead--Draco felt something stir in his stomach, and quietly tamped it down).
"Fine," Albus said. "What is it?"
"You'd be working under me," Draco said. Albus snorted and rolled his eyes, but Draco continued. "As a trainee, at first, and then, assuming all went well, as an Unspeakable. You wouldn't be able to tell anyone but your next-of-kin and my son for three years, as per the rules of the organization--you'd need to make an Unbreakable Vow to that effect. But we are incredibly selective about who we recruit, Mr. Potter. You should be grateful."
Albus goggled at him, and Draco smirked. "Thirty galleons an hour," he added, glancing down and flicking a speck of dirt from his nails, "to start."
"You want to let me train as an Unspeakable?"
"Yes," Draco said, "I do."
"Why?" Albus looked incredulous and pleased and suspicious at once. "Is this a pity thing? Did Scorpius put you up to this?"
"What makes you think my son holds any sway over my professional life?" Draco snapped, turning away and standing. "You are mistaken, if that's the conclusion you've drawn."
He walked around to the front of the desk, leaning against it, and surveyed Albus Potter with a careful eye. To his private delight, Albus scrutinized him right back, reminding him of no one so much as--
"You really are," he murmured, putting two fingers under Albus's chin and tilting his face up, "so like your father."
Albus jerked away, surprised. "I don't know what you think you're playing at--" he started, and Draco laughed softly.
"Come now," he said, "surely you're not so naive. I'm offering you the opportunity of a lifetime. All I want in exchange..." He trailed off, letting the concept speak for himself.
"I am dating your son," Albus said, horrified.
"That's true," Draco returned. He inclined his head, and when he spoke again, it was in a thoughtful, considering tone. "I suppose you enjoy living off of his inheritance, not contributing anything to--"
"We're not like that!" Albus snapped, coloring. "I--fuck, Scorpius would never--"
"Ah," Draco said, quietly. "But just because he isn't saying doesn't mean you aren't thinking it. How many nights has it kept you up, Mr. Potter? How many hours have you spent in the darkness, wondering when he's going to chuck you, when he'll get sick of carrying you around like dead weight, you and your criminal record and your unemployable--"
"Fine!" Albus yelled.
Draco quirked an eyebrow in triumph; he'd known that would work.
"Fine," Albus repeated, softer. "A blowjob, then. And Scorpius never knows."
Draco narrowed his eyes. "Just a blowjob? Really? For an opportunity like this?"
"I'll sue you," Albus whispered, but the bulge in his pants betrayed his thoughts. Draco smirked.
"Then sue me," he said. "But if you want the job, I expect you to be prepared to do what I ask."
They locked eyes, and really it was a damn shame that Albus hadn't inherited his father's looks in this regard--there was only so smoldering a look could be in any color other than green. Still, when Draco moved forward and grabbed Albus by the collar, hauling him up for a rough kiss, he tasted more like Harry than any other substitute Draco had come across.
"Potter," he hissed in Albus's mouth, and if he meant a different one than that which he currently had in his grasp, none but him would be the wiser.
Albus shuddered and ran his tongue along Draco's lower lip, probing, testing. Draco had him by the hips, by the hair, as Albus ran his hands down Draco's back. The he stilled and pulled away, his eyes narrowed.
"You are a bastard," he snapped, a growl underscoring his tone. "If we're going to do this, there's not going to be any--any fucking foreplay, alright? I don't like you. We're not...this isn't like that. Don't kiss me."
"I was of the distinct impression," Draco said, trailing his fingers along Albus's collarbone, "that I was setting the terms."
"I will walk out right now--"
"As it happens," Draco murmured, already moving to undo Albus's trousers, "that works for me. But do try to remember the power balance here, hmmm?"
"Fuck you, Malfoy," Harry--Albus--snapped, and Draco's hair stood on end. He ripped at Albus's trousers, and then his pants, until he was naked from the waist down.
"On your knees, Mr. Potter."
Albus growled low in his throat but complied. Draco undid his own flies and Albus grabbed his cock roughly, pulling it into his mouth with abandon. He didn't bother to be gentle and it hurt, the scrape of teeth against the sensitive skin, the stunning amount of pressure a pair of pursed lips could exert upon the organ. Draco threw his head back, remembering--
--the first night he'd spent in this office, brand new and caught on the cusp of possibilities, Harry sucking him desperately and checking the door as though his wife might walk in at any second, and oh, he'd done--
--that, with his tongue. Draco gripped Albus's hair and wondered if even technique was genetic as he arched and keened, pushing his cock too far into Albus's throat. To his credit, Albus took it, and Draco looked down at him--shirt already rumpled, dark hair everywhere, cock erect and pulsing as he sucked at Draco's dick. Even the color of his lips was familiar.
It was too much; he was going to come if he wasn't careful. He yanked himself back brutally and Albus fell foward, catching himself just before his face hit the floor.
"Good reflexes," Draco said approvingly. "An excellent skill for a lad interested in Unspeakable work."
"And I suppose this is just a practical for that, is it?" Albus said, laughing humorlessly. He hauled himself to his feet, and Draco gave his erect cock a speaking look.
"You don't look like you're minding it," he said.
"Don't," Albus snapped. "Just--don't. I love your son, and I don't want to fucking talk about how hot it is that you turn me on or whatever is going on in your head. I just want to get this over with.
"That can be arranged," Draco purred, stepping close. "I'll just need you to take off that shirt and put your hands on the desk."
"You are one sick fuck, Draco Malfoy," Albus said, but he was already undoing his buttons.
Stripped down to nothing but his undershirt, he turned and put his hands down on the surface of the mahogany desk. He jerked in surprise when Draco flicked his wand and thin, vine-like restraints appeared, twisting their way out of the wood to wrap around Albus's arms.
"You have no idea," Draco hissed in his ear; Albus shivered, and Draco grinned dangerously against his neck.
He ran a hand down Albus's spine, resting his hand between the curves of the other man's arse. Then he bit, hard, into his shoulder. Albus let out a long, low moan and arched his back, pulling at the restraints, knocking against Draco's arms, and oh, Harry had been like this, back when--
"Fuck," Albus whimpered. Draco bit him again.
"You said no foreplay," he murmured, as Albus twisted, trying to impale himself on Draco's fingers. "Do that mean you don't want me to prepare you?"
"No," Albus said, his voice going taut. "No, please, I've--before I started up with Scorpius I tried that and it--please don't--"
"Be careful what you ask for, Mr. Potter," Draco cooed, and his voice was so much lighter than what he was saying--it was really a skill. Harry had commented on it, once.
He dropped to his knees and licked a long, slow stripe up the inside of Albus's arse. "You dirty motherfuck--"
"Shhh," Draco said. Albus stilled, and Draco traced up the same path with his tongue a second time. Albus's cock twitched.
"My, my," Draco muttered, "we are a bad boy. I suppose my son doesn't like to fufill this little fantasy?"
Albus thrashed against his bindings. "Don't you dare fucking talk about him, you pervert," he hissed. "This has nothing to with Scorpius, alright?"
"It was merely an inquiry," Draco returned mildly. "Here's another--how's this?"
He slid two saliva-slicked fingers into Albus's arse, and the other man let out a long, low gasp.
"Fuck, Malfoy," Albus said. "That feels--"
"Say it again," Draco snapped.
"Not that, you idiot Gryffindor!" Draco yelled, twisting his fingers. Albus yelped at the sharp sensation. "The first thing."
"I was in Raven--"
"Say my name, you irritating little shit!"
"Malfoy," Albus said, slowly. Draco let out a hiss of pleasure and scissored him frantically. Albus clenched and bucked against him, responding with moans and gasps in the same tenor as his father's had been, until Draco thought he was ready. Then he slid his tongue in one more time, licking his way around his own handiwork.
"Potter," Draco hissed, standing and impaling him in one smooth movement, "you'd better be as tight as you look."
"I'm tighter," Albus gasped, apparently too lost in the moment to consider what he was saying. He clenched hard, and Draco dropped his head to Albus's forehead, breathing through gritted teeth.
He wanted to come, but he moved instead, slamming himself in and out of Albus with abandon. When Draco hit his prostate for the fifth time, Albus gasped and lost control, emptying himself onto the wooden surface, but Draco kept going. He was thinking of Harry, Harry splayed across the kitchen table in the Manor, Harry the night before Albus was born, saying they should have stopped after James, that Draco had Scorpius to think of--
"Do you like having me inside of you?" Draco choked out, because it wasn't enough, it wasn't enough to remember. "Do I remind you of my son, you little whore, you little--"
"Fuck you," Albus cried, clenching so hard it burned, and Draco saw stars and explosions and green, green eyes as he came.
When he was finished he stepped away from Albus. He flicked the wand at the restraints, hopeful, but Albus didn't take a swing as Harry would have--as Harry had, the first time Draco had shown him how the charm worked.
He'd built the restraints into the desk for the elder Potter, after all.
Albus was breathing heavily, but he didn't lash out. He just stood there, panting, as Draco looked him up and down. He flinched when Draco took out his wand, relaxing when he cast only minor healing spells, removing the bruises and bite marks he'd left.
"I didn't know you cared," Albus said dryly.
"You think I want my son to know about this any more than you do?" Draco snapped back, arching an eyebrow. "Don't be stupid. Clean yourself up and for Merlin's sake, put some clothes on."
"You make absolutely no sense," Albus muttered, but he pulled on his pants and trousers and shirt, buttoning them hastily. His hair, like his father's, was always a mess, but he ran a hand through it anyway and straightened his glasses.
"So," he said, quietly. "When do I start?"
Draco smirked at him. "Uppity little shit," he said, "what makes you think I'm giving you the job?"
Albus gaped at him. "You--you bastard," he stuttered finally, "I can't believe you--"
"Oh, calm down," Draco sighed, returning to the chair behind his desk and collapsing into it. "You really aren't any fun, are you? You start on Monday."
Albus blinked. "You are easily," he said, after a long moment, "the most twisted person I've ever met."
Draco smiled bitterly. "Yes, well," he said, "we've all got our faults."
Albus shook his head and headed for the door. "Monday?"
"Monday. Oh, and Albus?"
Albus turned; his cheekbone caught a hint of the morning sunlight and Draco felt his breath catch on the weight of everything that brought back. (I have to go, Harry said, and the light of the early dawn caught on his cheek and Draco was going to die, he was going to die here in his stupid massive house, amidst all his expensive things that didn't add up to what he wanted. I have to go, I have to get Ginny to the hospital, I have to get James to Molly's, the baby--, and Draco hated Harry's unborn second son with a passion he'd never known, with a vitriol he'd always been too much a coward to possess).
Draco stared, mesmerized.
"What?" Albus snapped. "You want me for another go, is that it?"
And Draco remembered a conversation from a lifetime ago and let all that passion flow through him anew. He didn't even feel guilty when he growled, "Obliviate."
Draco stared at the paper and sighed.
On the one hand--well, there were the obvious downsides to doing it. It was a ridiculous risk to his job, of course, not to mention to his relationship with his son. He faced more than just losing employment and status if anyone found out how many laws he'd broken to frame Albus Potter for steroid use, to fake the incidents that had created his criminal record, to make him unemployable. He was going to do the boy some serious mental damage one of these days with all the memory charms. And, well...
Draco knew, had known for some time, that he was a sociopath. There was something wrong about fucking a lover's son, let alone a son's lover. To do it once was reprehensible, but to do it so often as this--it confirmed Draco's self-diagnosis beyond a shadow of a doubt, and that made something squirm uncomfortably in his stomach.
But then, of course, always, there was the positive angle. Albus did look remarkably like his father--not like the other Potter brat, who'd inherited that disgusting Weasley hair--and he sounded like Harry when they fucked. It was the closest Draco had come to the real thing in years, despite all the look-alike Muggles he'd taken, despite all the Wizarding whores he'd paid to glamour.
And then there was the final angle, the one that was neither positive nor negative but more tempting than either. The was the fact that Harry, eventually, would figure it out. He had once already, when Draco had pushed the meetings too close together like this, when Albus had slipped up and mentioned a job interview he hadn't remembered after the fact. Harry had put it together and come to Draco furious and screaming, throwing art around the office, beating Draco into the wall...
Harry didn't remember it, of course. But Draco did. Oh, how Draco did.
So that was settled. Draco would do it a few times more, just until Harry became suspicious, just until Harry showed up. He'd be able to stop after that. Of course he would.
Draco smiled to himself as he put the pen to the paper. Really, he mused, it wasn't even his fault.
After all, Harry had started it.
From the Desk of D. Malfoy
19 August, 2026
To The Esteemed Mr. Potter;
I write to you today concerning a position I am currently looking to fill....