one shots 18+

Red - scorpius x oc

SMUT

Being a Gryffindor meant you had to be brave. Had to be courageous. You had to love. So how do you love when conceived under a love potion?

Many conceived under the love potion never believe they will ever love. But when you find a redhead who is just as messed up as you are, no one can deny that a love potion will allow just a little love.

Her name was Ophelia, a daughter to the great Ronald Weasley and slightly infatuated Lavender Brown.

She never saw her mother, never knew her mother to be of great power, great responsibility. Her step-mother never allowed her to meet as she called such a 'barbaric woman'. Ophelian only knew her mother had put her father under the love potion—only great love can conquer a potion that strong.

So as Ophelia headed down to the Great Hall, her Gryffindor robes swaying behind her, she was met with her boyfriend, an infamous man. His father had partially agreed to this ordeal, understanding the consequences of maybe having to be related by law to Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley.

"Hey babe." He drawled, his arm circling around her waist.

"Hey Scorpius." Ophelia smiled as she peered up at her boyfriend beside her.

"Fancy some fun before the lesson?" His mouth was so close to her ear she could feel his hot breath fan across her neck as goosebumps erupted across her body.

"I don't know, I have to meet up with Albus." She smirked at him, knowing every way to get under his skin. To get him pissed to the point of insanity. He was no sane wolf in the bedroom.

Scorpius didn't even react with words as he grabbed her wrist and dragged her up to his dorm room. The perks of being a prefect—your own room.

"Slow down babe." Ophelia complained as her feet ran to keep up with his long strides. But all she was met with was a grunt in return as he carried on ascending the staircase to the Slytherin common room.

The common room was eerily quiet, only the crackling of wood from the fireplace when they entered. There were books thrown over the tables, students' homework spilled over the desks, some covered in ink as the aftermath of them all rushing to dinner. Blankets and pillows were messy over the green leather sofas, the perfect place for sex with Scorpius. But that man had different plans. He didn't want this to be rushed, he wanted it to be slow—painfully slow. Watching as Ophelia squirmed underneath him, her eyes breaking into tears, her body slick in sweat as he tormented her to the edge of hell.

All his life he had been shown morals, his late mother passed just that year, her morals were to treat a woman with respect, let her know the love you show is extraordinary—one his mother never had. But his fathers morals were to show a woman her place, in the bedroom, she was yours to handle in any way you want, but consent; he ensured his son knew consent.

"My dorm." His voice was hoarse as he concentrated on getting his girlfriend to the room where she would be taught how to love. He could hear her thoughts as they climbed the stairs, meandering through the rocks and dust belonging to the walls.

Scorpius' dorm was designed for him, down to the most intricate of details like the small initials of SM engraved into the stone of the wall by the door and on the foot of the bed. His sheets were a stain deep green, the theme of a Slytherin coursing throughout. A desk was sat opposite, a deep oak colour, saturated by the sun, was accompanied by a pot of ink and a feather. The start of a letter was screwed on the table, splotches of ink painted across. A plain canvas by the window had paint pots of all shades a paintbrush dipped into the red one.

"I was going to paint you." He murmured into her ear, his hand gently pushing her robe off of her shoulder. "With blood dripping from your lip as you lay there nude." He nibbled gently at her ear, "Would you like that Ophelia." Never had he called her by her first name, the word tumbling from his lips caused a shiver to run freely down her spine, her back colliding with his front as he tugged her closer to him.