Our lives alibis

Chapter35: Everything (Livehouse)

Hogwarts.
25 years ago. Flash back
POV Harry
The crowd is slowly moving towards Hogwarts and my heart is beating. Minerva had to insist for a long time that I agree to say a few words at this inauguration. The building barely emerges from morning mists and Dumbledore's statue can be seen in the distance.
It's cold and snowing on February 11, and I'm amazed at the number of people who braved the elements to pay a last tribute to Albus Dumbledore, 10 years after his death.
The baby starts to moan, in the basket. Ginny absolutely wanted to come with him, despite the cold weather. She gives me a look full of tenderness, and it makes me feel good. She is beautiful, with her cheeks reddened by the cold and her white cap.
Since our wedding, I feel like rebuilding myself. To build a life. A real family life, far from my pseudo-heroic past. A true life of man, among muggles, far from the curious eyes of wizards. I do not blame them for staring at me with curiosity, but I have a feeling of usurped glory.
Victory, I did not win alone, far from it. And they are so much to have not come back alive. I do not feel at all legitimate to honor the memory of a man who sacrificed himself for me. He was so much more than me.
Ron and Hermione give us a little sign, and join us. They are getting married this summer, and their happiness is a pleasure to see.
- How's my nephew? Ron asks, glancing in the pram.
- It exhausts me, breath Ginny. He has incredible health, I feel he never sleeps.
- It reminds me of someone ... It promises, Ron grimaces. When will the little brother?
- Yeah ... not right now! Not until several years! I already need to recover from this one!
Hermione leans on James as well, and she gently caresses his cheek:
- It's going to be cold, right?
- You did not see how it is covered, I answer. He has at least four layers of clothing.
"He had to attend his father's speech," Ginny replies proudly.
- Stop Ginny ... I'm not a politician. You know I did not want to come.
- We can not run away all the time, either ... and who better than you could pay tribute to Albus Dumbledore? Who was closer to him than you?
Severus Snape, maybe. But I do not want to think of him now, because the remorse would be too heavy. Albus and Severus ... they trusted me, they saved my life, they are irreplaceable. That's basically the content of my speech. I want to talk about Severus too, even though he will never have a statue. Precisely because he will never have a statue.
If I have another son, one day I'll call him Albus Severus.
There is a platform where Minerva Mc Gonagall is waiting for me. My heart is accelerating. Going up the steps of the platform I feel like I'm back in the first year, and we're going to put the Sorting Hat on my head. As at the time, I am the object of all the attention, I who am only Harry.
I greet the teachers, including Neville, who has just been appointed. His pride is a pleasure to see. With a trembling hand I take out the speech that I have prepared, and I start.
At the end of the first page I finally dare to look up from my sheet and look at my audience, which seems benevolent. I recognize some faces in the crowd, who smile at me. Former classmates, happy to see each other again. Ginny, Ron and Hermione, in the front row.
And then at the bottom, there is a silhouette ... Who does not smile.
From a distance, the gray eyes reflect only a worried lassitude. He is thin and pale, more than in my memories.
What are you doing here, Malfoy? How dare you participate in this inauguration? How dare you even show yourself here?
You stand aside, a little behind, ready to flee, it seems. A blonde young woman huddles next to you, whose face is vaguely familiar to me. At your attitude, I understand that she forced you to come. You are not happier than me to be here.
Frowning, I go back into my speech. Unpleasant memories resurface. From a distance, I thought I saw your father for a moment. The cold begins to numb my fingers. Why do they all pretend to find that what I'm saying is interesting?
I concentrate on my speech, but sometimes my eyes are attracted by your silhouette in the distance, on the edge of the vanishing line. You do not react to my words. Where others laugh or smile sometimes, you are indifferent. As if you are
I cling to the attentive faces so as not to be distracted, and soon the applause crackles. Phew, it's over. You do not have to look at yourself to know that you do not applaud.
Going back down the stairs I relax and look up one behind the eyes towards you. Your companion smiles at you and she slips her hand into yours, lovingly.
I join my friends while Minerva speaks in turn. I remain motionless, apparently attentive. But I do not listen to him. How to imprison the past in a few sentences? How to summarize the courage of a man, or his cowardice?
My mind wanders, to years of that bassinet and Ginny's warm hand on my arm. I stare at Dumbledore's statue, which will always be much smaller than he was.
I jump when new applause arises at the end of the speech.
Little by little groups are formed and head to the large hall of Hogwarts where a reception is organized for the occasion.
Old friends recognize and apologize happily. The people I meet in the crowd are unmistakably kind, and I am often greeted with deference, as if I were someone important.
At the bar, I pour myself a big glass of whiskey, and I breathe. I want to leave.
I meet your gray eyes again and you look away. Your friend is talking to you. You do not listen to it.
I drink a sip of whiskey while Ron tells me his mishaps at work. I agree to chance. Ginny and Hermione discuss the wedding arrangements, cheerfully. I glance over the heads, distractedly.
Your blond hair catches my attention, despite myself. Your absent air makes me feel uncomfortable. Your mother is dead, there is little. I never thanked her for what she did for me. No time. Not the courage. Say what ?
You do not look up from the floor, as if you expected it to open and swallow you. As if you hoped. Nobody comes to talk with you. Not easy to have chosen the wrong camp, I guess.
The baby starts to cry. If Ginny was not against it, I'd use a spell to silence him. I lean over and take him in my arms to calm him down.
I lull James softly, in my arms, whispering soft words. I like the smell of soap, which consoles me of everything. My heart beats stronger.
I think of your wand, suddenly. The one I stole from you ... the one I do not use anymore, because of all these shivers, when I touch it.
I am looking at you.
A brief nervous tick distorts your mouth, while your companion tenderly passes his hand through your hair. I want to come talk to you. Tell you that I am not a thief, that I am going to give you this wand. That she may have saved my life.
It would have been a good time to return it to you, by the way ... we will probably never see each other again.
People gather around me, question me, rave about the baby. Everyone goes about his story on Hogwarts, everyone congratulates me on my courage at the time. The glasses tinkle and laughter fuse.
Is the pain of living soluble in whiskey?
I take a drink.
When I decide to go near you, your friend grabbed your arm and dragged you to the exit.
We look at each other one last time, and you smile imperceptibly while looking at the baby, before you go away.
With a slight disappointment, I tell myself that we will cross again one day or another, and that I can return your wand.
On a station platform, why not, if by chance we have a day of children of the same age ...
In 10 years, maybe.
On the wharf at the Hogwarts Express.
oooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooo
POV Scorpius
"Come," said you, extending my hand.
I get up and I'm in my child's room, fear in my stomach.
You read all my letters. You have probably seen all my sketches. You know all my pains, all my weaknesses. All my cowardice.
10 years in a few letters. In a few hundred letters. Beautiful journey in amnesia ...
You lay on my bed, without letting go of my hand. Your breathing is deep, your face serene. Your light smile invites me to kiss you. I look at you, worried. The moment has finally arrived, and I am afraid.
10 years of separation, misunderstanding and I'm scared.
I lean over and kiss you gently, the end of the lips. They are sweet and fresh. There is so much love, trust in your look that I smile in my turn. The bluish green of your eyes sparkles between your black eyelashes, and your mouth blushes under my kisses.
Our languages ??are rediscovered, mingle with pleasure and a fire devours my belly. I should shut up, I should make love to you, but I ask:
- Are you sure ?
- Yes
Little by little I reveal your flesh, clothing by garment, sigh by sigh, and your kisses intoxicate me. I want you. More than ever.
Want to belong to you.
Want to own you.
Your amorous eyes reassure and disturb me, as if it were the first time. Our real first time.
You undid me of my clothes and you caresses me. I feel that my heart will explode with happiness. Nothing exists but you.
Only your arms calling me, your mouth that devours me, your skin that belongs to me.
There is only you, my love.
There has never been anything but you, my love.
Your nakedness marvels me and I look at your skin that is barely shining in the darkness. What time is it ?
It does not matter anymore.
It will never matter again.
Finally naked, under a pale moonlight, our bodies shudder and marry. Pamper yourself. Slowly.
I want to taste every inch of your skin, every shiver, every sigh, for hours. Melt in you.
To be no more than you, finally.
Our bodies glide against each other, to infinity, and I am on the lookout for each of your reactions.
Even though I know, I always knew everything about you. What scares you, what makes you want, what will make you cry with pleasure.
I will do everything to you, my angel. I will give you everything.
But I'm in no hurry, my love. Not in a hurry to rob you of your innocence, not in a hurry to finally be your lover.
The first and the last.
Because the gestures will precipitate us to the pleasure, and the pleasure will separate our bodies. Let's prolong the wait between us, my love. Let's enjoy our skins that hug.
The night will be eternal, my love.
So we slowly rub each other to the rhythm of the tide of desire that invades us and covers us, little by little. Our skin is moist, soaked by our desire.
I want to be rocked by you for hours. Burn with desire for hours. You sigh:
- I love you...
- I love you...
- Take me, Scorpius
- Not yet
- Take me. I have been waiting for too long. Take me...
I close my eyes. These words I've been dreaming of for centuries. These words I'm afraid of tonight.
But your look is clear, decided.
I leave your eyes, your skin, with regret, to kneel between your legs apart, and lick you gently, tenderly, your belly throbbing to your erect penis. I taste it with the tip of my tongue. Your first gasp of surprise and pleasure begins the prayer of your moans.
My emboldened tongue discovers you, caresses you, perverts you with fever, gluttony. Your hands in my hair call me, beg me. Your ardor heals all my fears.
Yes, I will come, my love.
I'll deflower you, fill you up, ravage you, kill you with pleasure, my love.
I am going to ignite your life, your body, your flesh, your soul.
I intrude a tender finger in you, watching for your erratic breath. But it is accelerating, and your hips are rising, greedy. I sigh. You're looking at me.
Yes I will come...
I fulfill your desire with the tips of my fingers, gently and precisely, in slow movements, and the flow of your desire threatens to take you away already.
Your lips are red, swollen and you moan, putting my heart bare. You are beautiful, so beautiful that I would cry. I fold your legs slowly, and you smile, with confidence.
Our sexes stretched towards each other, brushing against each other, brushing against each other, sending thousands of chills into our bellies. Our twin rods rub without restraint, but you want more. Much more.
You want to scream. You want to scream.
So I enter you slowly, and I understand, looking at your distraught face, I understand why it took us 10 years to get there. Because at the time, I would have penetrated you fiercely, mechanically, to see. Because you would have been afraid, ashamed.
Too fast, too soon.
While there it is the communion of our bodies and our souls, far beyond mere sexual pleasure. Our gestures that respond to each other, our skins that recognize each other, are discovered again and again.
I am in you, happy for the first time, complete for the first time.
I am your lover, your brother, your father and your child.
I am everything.
Everything you need, everything you've always dreamed about, everything you've been missing, since forever, and you cling to my shoulders, letting you swing with my thrusts.
I wish this moment never ends. I am so good in you, my love, in your velvety intimacy, fragile, narrow. In your wet arms, in your dazzled eyes. This green tinged with blue. A color that does not exist.
The hunger of your skin will never subside.
But you want to enjoy, you want to live, you want to explode, finally.
Your fingers are clenching in my shoulders and the litany of your groans is accelerating.
So I release the fire from my bowels and we take off, finally. For the 7th heaven, higher than the stars.
Higher than taboos.
Higher than anything that has always separated us, always.
Pleasure brings us cries, tears, confessions.
The desire, the need to start again, again and again.
Until drunkenness, up to the pain.
Until our hands, our bodies beg.
Until death, if necessary, since you and I are nothing, one without the other.
Nothing.
That an alibi.
ooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooooo
In the morning the bed is a battlefield and we have hardly slept.
Birds are chirping outside, and the sun is flooding the room.
You open an eye and you smile at me. I put my hand on your belly and we look at each other, serious, stunned with fatigue and love.
We do not want to move. Not want to find the others. Our families.
- We have to get up, right?
- I do not know you, but I will not be able to stand up, I think.
I love you
- So rest, because I'm not finished with you ...
- Hmmm ... I will avenge myself. From this evening...
- I hope so.
Two discreet shots at the door. I get up, curl up in a sheet, and open. It's Lily:
- My things are still in your room, Scorpius, can I come in?
- No. Better not. Wait, I'll bring back your bag ...
- Why do not you want me to come in? She insists. You're not alone ?
- No, I'm not alone anymore. Wait for me there.
And I slam the door in his face. I pick up his things, loose, and stuff them into his bag. You ask :
- Who was it ?
- Your sister. I return his things.
I'll take a look at you. You did not even worry about it. Successive orgasms got the better of your natural anxiety. I reopen the door. She is biting her nails:
- Are you with him?
- Yes. Thanks to you.
- What?
- You had the delightful idea to talk to him about letters ... and I just spent the most wonderful time of my life ... thanks to you. Thank you, Lily.
- Bastard!
She retrieves her belongings and runs off into the hallway. I was brutal, too bad.
Finally, we shower, separately, to avoid temptations-temporarily- and we go down to the breakfast table. The table is beautifully decorated with a bouquet of white flowers, and I have the impression to discover it for the first time. Everything seems to me, new, beautiful.
Lily is livid, James on the phone and our fathers drink their coffee. I do not know what we read on our faces but Harry looks at me with affection, and smiles. James hangs up and Harry speaks in a muffled voice:
- Thank you for being here. I wanted - we wanted you to announce the baby's coming. I should have spoken to you yesterday, but events have ... prevented me. Mom and baby are better this morning. Isadora has regained consciousness and the baby clings. It must be said that the greatest mediocais were called on tonight.
He stops and looks at my father. So much tenderness in their eyes.
- I do not know how to explain that to you. I do not know if there is an age to understand and forgive his parents. I hope so.
Lily twitchs. I put my hand on yours. You do not withdraw it.
- In advance, I ask you to apologize. Because our story has had a lot of impact on your lives, not just good ones, I know it. How to tell your love story to your own children?
Lily is on the verge of nausea. I press my hand on yours, catching your eyes. Draco is pale.
- Where to start ? By Hogwarts, of course. So many years ago ... but it was years of war. Years we met, all ... Draco, Isadora, Ginny and me. Years we hated each other. I told you a long time ago, I loved your mother, really. Long time. But I could never forget Draco ... and neither did he.
They exchange an embarrassed look. Lily looks up at the ceiling. James stares at his cup. I have your hand in mine.
- It all happened so long ago ... 25 years maybe. As you can imagine, the boys, you are not quite born by chance, even if all that was largely unconscious, on our part. Yes, we used you to meet again. Yes, it was bad, I know it. From there, everything went into a spin ... the jealousy of Ginny, our brutal divorce. I do not want to dwell on what happened to your teenage years, all three, but surely we made mistakes.
- Dad ! I beg you ... "moaned Lily.
- Ok ... let's talk about this baby, rather. Scorpius surely suspects it, because he lived in the Manor with us, but we are slowly ... closer, all three.
Lily grimaces, James does not blink, you shudder imperceptibly.
- That's ... I like Draco and Isadora. We live together, all three. This baby is my son, but it's mostly our baby, and it's been designed with a lot of love, believe me.
Lily gets up, disgusted, and leaves the room. James whispers:
- It's a bit hard for her ...
- I know. I do not blame him. I hope she will forgive us, murmurs my father, looking at me.
Harry does not say anything, lost in thought. Is there an age to sacrifice to his children? To give up your own love life?
I force you to get up:
- Come...
- You go ? Harry asks, panicked.
- Yes. Excuse us, but all the weight of our families is ... too much. We must make our life now, far from all that. Because otherwise we will end up leaving our skin there. But we wish you to be happy ... very happy, all three. Send us the pictures of the baby.
- But where are you going?
- In Italy ... come, Albus, come ...
You get up and go to the room with me, laughing. We redid our luggage, in bulk. We call a taxi. We will take the first flight to Venice. And we will make love like crazy, in a hotel along the lagoon.
I will throw our cellphones in the sewer, so that our families do not call us.
To live this love with you, finally.
Not Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy, no.
Just you and me.
END