Author: Times of Bliss

Story: The Potter Family

A/N: My first attempt at Pottercest. Featuring Harry James Potter and Albus Severus Potter. Father and son. Inspired by a very beautiful piece of art by Flayu, of Harry and Albus looking very pretty. Sadly, I don't know the official link to it and hence, can't share the link. If you've seen it, you'll know what I mean. If you haven't, never mind.

9 Oct: To see the pic, follow the detailed instructions in KisaraP's Chap 1 review. Thank you, Kisara!

Updates: About three weeks to a month.

Warnings: Chan, slash and incest. Turn away NOW if you are underage, if you dislike chan, slash, incest or any combination of the three. Or if you like them, but cannot differentiate between what is fan fiction and what is real life. Warnings clear enough? OK. For the rest of you, proceed :)

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does. I'm sure you knew that.

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It was the first Saturday of the school holidays. The three Potter children were back at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place for the summer. James had completed his fourth year at Hogwarts; Albus, his third and Lily, her first.

After breakfast, Ginny got ready to spend the day at Diagon Alley, since the summer sale had just started. She would take James with her and drop Lily off at Ron and Hermione's, to spend the day with her cousins.

"We won't be back 'til five, OK?" Ginny said. "James also needs a new coat."

Harry looked up from the Prophet spread on the kitchen table and smiled at her.

"That's fine, Gin," he said. "Take your time."

Ginny nodded and tugged James closer to the enormous fireplace, Lily's hand in hers. She turned to Albus, also sitting at the kitchen table and as usual, immersed in his sketchbook.

"You sure you don't need anything, Al?"

Albus looked up with the same eyes as Harry, the same sweet smile.

"I don't need a new coat, mum. James is the one always tearing his. Have a good time and don't hurry back. Dad will cook spaghetti for our lunch."

"Dinner too?" Ginny smiled hopefully at Harry who chuckled.

"Can I say no?" he asked wryly and Ginny beamed at him while James and Lily cheered. No one cooked better than their dad.

"OK, want to beat the crowds. Bye, love you both!"

Ginny blew Harry and Albus a kiss as James tossed Floo power into the fireplace. With a final wave, she, James and Lily disappeared in a whoosh of emerald flames.

Harry and Albus continued sitting at the table, father going through his newspaper and son working on his latest sketch of Lily.

Some fifteen minutes later, Harry closed the newspaper and folded it, glancing at Albus as he did so.

Albus looked up as if he had felt his father's eyes on him. He closed his sketchbook without a word, his charcoal pencils going back inside their case.

"Let me wash my hands first, dad," he said.

"OK, I'll be upstairs," Harry smiled at his second son. He stood up and stretched his arms high above his head, fingers linked and shirt riding above his flat stomach before going out of the kitchen.

Albus listened for the familiar, light tread going up the stairs. He smiled and went to wash his hands thoroughly at the kitchen sink. He loved spending time with his father and they now had at least five glorious hours to themselves.

Thank Merlin for summer sales!

Albus did find it a bit odd that James enjoyed them as much as their mother did, but he wasn't about to complain. He dried his hands and went up the stairs to the top floor where his parents' room was.

Harry was waiting for him outside the door, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

"Hands clean?" he asked.

"Yup!" Albus held them out for inspection.

Harry bent down, making sure the small hands were free from charcoal smudges.

"Good boy," he said, ruffling his son's hair. Unlike his untameable mane, Albus had glossy fine hair that curled around his elfin face.

Harry let go of Albus' hands and picked him up.

"Oof, you're getting heavy, son. I won't be able to do this anymore soon."

Albus just laughed, arms around his father's neck and legs around the still trim waist. Burying his face inside the collar of Harry's shirt, he took a deep breath. His father always smelledsooo good.

Harry carried Albus inside his bedroom, nudging the door shut with his foot. Placing the boy down on the edge of the bed, he turned and pointed his wand at the door, uttering a locking charm and a silencing one. Tossing his wand onto the nightstand, he knelt down in front of Albus, hands steady on the skinny shoulders.

Albus returned his almost stern gaze with a solemn look. Green eyes stared into green, one pair shielded by wire rimmed glasses, the other pair open and vulnerable.

"I know the drill, dad," Albus said softly, his hands coming up to cover his father's.

"I know you do, Al," Harry returned. "I still want you to promise."

Albus nodded. He knew the importance of these promises and the hurt and damage they could cause if ever they were broken.

"Promise me you will never tell or show anyone what we do in here," Harry started, looking into the mirror image of his eyes.

"I will never tell or show anyone what we do in here," Albus said.

"Not even if your mum or James or Lily tells you to. Or Uncle Ron or Aunt Hermione. Or grandma or grandpa Weasley."

"Not even if mum or James or Lily tells me to. Or Uncle Ron or Aunt Hermione. Or grandma or grandpa Weasley."

"Promise me you will never regret what we do in here," Harry continued, his voice quiet and determined, his fingers tightening their hold slightly.

"I will never regret what we do in here," Albus said, his heart giving a pang.

"Not even if you fall in love with someone someday."

"Not even if I fall in love with someone someday."

"Promise me you will never hate me for what we do in here," Harry went on, his low voice holding a faint tremor.

"I will never hate you for what we do in here," Albus promised, his heart now aching.

"Even if everyone says it's wrong."

"Even if everyone says it's wrong."

Harry nodded. He and Albus stared at each other. It didn't matter how often they went through this, the promises felt like a ritual each time.

A ceremony just for the two of them as the words entwined around them like the silken bonds of a shared secret, hiding the delicious, forbidden pleasure of a father laying claim to his son's body.

"I will never, ever hate you, dad," Albus whispered. "Please... make love to me."

To be continued.