Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/227477.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage, Major_Character_Death
  Category:
      Gen, M/M, F/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling, The_Lord_of_the_Rings_-_J._R._R._Tolkien
  Relationship:
      Draco_Malfoy/Harry_Potter, Sirius_Black/Remus_Lupin, Harry_Potter/Ginny
      Weasley, Sirius_Black/Harry_Potter, Hermione_Granger/Harry_Potter, Harry
      Potter/Percy_Weasley, Harry_Potter/Severus_Snape, Harry_Potter/Ron
      Weasley, Draco_Malfoy/Harry_Potter/Severus_Snape, Harry_Potter/Nymphadora
      Tonks, Hermione_Granger/Harry_Potter/Ron_Weasley, Neville_Longbottom/
      Harry_Potter, Lucius_Malfoy/Harry_Potter, Harry_Potter/Charlie_Weasley,
      Viktor_Krum/Harry_Potter, Harry_Potter/George_Weasley, Cedric_Diggory/
      Harry_Potter, Harry_Potter/Kingsley_Shacklebolt, Dennis_Creevey/Harry
      Potter, Angelina_Johnson/Harry_Potter, Cormac_McLaggen/Harry_Potter
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Neville_Longbottom, Draco_Malfoy, Remus_Lupin, Sirius
      Black, Ginny_Weasley, Hermione_Granger, Percy_Weasley, Molly_Weasley,
      Severus_Snape, Ron_Weasley, Nymphadora_Tonks, Lucius_Malfoy, Dudley
      Dursley, Petunia_Evans, Charlie_Weasley, George_Weasley, Viktor_Krum,
      Moaning_Myrtle, Voldemort, Cedric_Diggory, Kingsley_Shacklebolt, Tom
      Riddle, Dennis_Creevey, Angelina_Johnson, Cormac_McLaggen, Millicent
      Bulstrode, Frodo_Baggins
  Additional Tags:
      Drabble_Collection, Drabble, Ficlet, Ficlet_Collection, Community:
      quill_it, Drama, Romance, Angst, Smut, Rimming, Character_Death,
      Crossdressing, Paddling, Bondage, Threesome_-_M/M/M, Masturbation,
      Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, First_Time, Threesome_-_F/M/M, Oral_Sex,
      Family, Friendship, Friends_to_Lovers, Holidays, Pre-Slash, Ice_Play, Wax
      Play, Ethics, Birthday, Infidelity, Cock_Rings, Dom/sub, Watersports,
      Crossover
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-07-23 Completed: 2015-06-17 Chapters: 101/101 Words:
      46296
****** Quill-It ******
by Celandine
Summary
     Drabbles, ficlets, and fics written for the quill-it community on LJ.
     Harry was my subject and I worked from a prompt table of 100 words to
     write these. Pairing (if any) is noted in the notes for each chapter.
     Most chapters are general in rating, but a few are adult and are so
     noted in the notes. Likewise the warnings apply only to a handful of
     chapters.
***** The Greenhouse *****
Chapter Summary
     After the war, Harry finds Neville's suggestion to be a relief.
Chapter Notes
     Harry gen, although you could read it as Harry/Neville preslash if
     you squint. Prompt 69, "quiet".
Harry clenches a fistful of dirt and lets it crumble back, rich and dark and
ever so slightly pungent with dragon dung.
"I think it's ready."
Neville nods. "Yes."
The greenhouse is quiet except for the faint sounds of their trowels make and
the rustling of a Venomous Tentacula in the corner. Harry lets out a deep
contented sigh. After seven years of Voldemort, this is what he needs. He's
grateful to Neville for the suggestion.
When they have finished planting the bed, Neville runs his hand lightly over
it. "Good job, Harry."
They look at each other, and smile.
***** Turn On *****
Chapter Summary
     Just looking at Draco's hands invariably turns Harry on.
Chapter Notes
     Draco/Harry. Prompt 16, "hands".
Just looking at Draco's hands invariably turns Harry on.
Not that Draco doesn't have plenty of other physical charms, but seeing him
flourish a wand or scribble a note or even simply turn the page of the
newspaper makes Harry want to have those hands touching him instead.
The long-fingered elegance of their appearance is nothing beside the skillful
way Draco uses them in bed, however. Draco adores teasing and caressing Harry,
leading him to the heights of passion, making him beg for more, soothing him in
the languid aftermath.
Harry takes Draco's hand and sucks one fingertip in invitation.
***** Crush *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry watches Remus and Sirius together.
Chapter Notes
     Remus/Sirius, unrequited Harry/Sirius. Prompt 50, "possessive".
When he saw Sirius again, Harry intended to rush over and hug him. He was
stopped not so much by Molly Weasley's restraining hand as by the sight of
Remus standing behind Sirius. Something about the angle of Remus's body, the
tilt of Sirius's head, made Harry feel as though he had taken a Bludger to the
stomach.
Surreptitiously he watched them over the following days. Ron might not have
believed it, but Harry was certain: Sirius and Remus were lovers. And, he
concluded gloomily, they probably had been since many years back, long before
Sirius had been incarcerated. They acted too much like an old married couple
for their relationship to be new.
His initial shock wore off, but it took a while to figure out how he felt. He
had hoped that if he ever had the chance to stay with Sirius, his godfather
would give him some of the attention and affection that he'd never had from the
Dursleys, but between Order business and Remus, that wasn't happening. On the
other hand, he had some idea of how awful Sirius's life had been for the past
fourteen years. Harry felt obliged to be glad for Sirius's sake that he had
someone to turn to now; Harry just wished that he could be the one to give that
support.
Seeing Sirius and Remus together, Harry finally realized that he fancied his
godfather. He tried to feel guilty about it -- Sirius was old enough to be his
father, after all -- but he hadn't even met the man until a little over a year
ago. "Godfather" was just a word, not a real relationship. He couldn't really
feel like a godson. Harry did feel guilty for wishing that Remus were somehow
out of the way, because he liked Remus as well. He just wished it wasn't Sirius
who put the smile on Remus's face.
All things considered, Harry was glad when summer ended and he could go back to
school. At Hogwarts he wouldn't have to hide his jealousy each time that Sirius
touched Remus instead of him.
***** Breaking Up *****
Chapter Summary
     It may be friendship, but it's not love.
Chapter Notes
     Ginny/Harry. Prompt 83, "simple".
"I'm not simple, Harry. You don't really love me."
"Of course I do," Harry protested.
Ginny shook her head. "You love the idea of me, I think; of being part of my
family, of having a girlfriend, I don't know. But not me, Ginny, this girl in
front of you."
"Maybe you're right." Harry looked down. "I'm sorry."
"Better to be honest about it now than later," she said, biting her lip. "Maybe
I love you more for what you are than who you are, too."
Harry held out his hand to her, and they met in an awkward embrace.
***** Memorial Ceremony *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry speaks at the ceremony unveiling the memorial to the fallen.
Chapter Notes
     Harry. Prompt 72, "waste".
Harry had been dreading this day. Not the fact of it so much -- he'd come to
terms with the necessity for some kind of a memorial -- but that he would have
to give a speech. He had worked on it for weeks, and now held the parchment on
which it was written, but he wasn't satisfied with what he planned to say.
He drifted along with the crowd walking through the Hogwarts grounds toward the
site of the memorial stone. Ahead of him he overheard a pair of middle-aged
witches bemoaning the waste of the battle, the damage to the castle, and most
of all the deaths of its defenders.
The parchment in Harry's hand crackled as he gripped it more tightly.
"Where have you been, Potter?" demanded Professor McGonagall in a loud whisper
as he arrived at the wooden stand that had been erected for the occasion. She
reached as if she were going to straighten his robes or perhaps even smooth
down his hair, but Harry stepped back.
"Just looking around a bit. You've done wonders in repairing everything," he
said.
Her face softened fractionally. "Thank you. Now, take your seat. It's nearly
time to start."
Harry was scheduled to be the third speaker. He gazed out over the crowd as
first Minister Shacklebolt and then Headmistress McGonagall spoke. He saw Ron
and Hermione near the front, smiling at him sympathetically. They knew how much
he disliked the idea of giving a speech.
Scattered around were other faces Harry recognised, mostly former classmates,
with a few professors and other older wizards.
At the conclusion of the applause for McGonagall, Harry rose and stepped to the
lectern, smoothing out the crumpled piece parchment on its surface. He glanced
down at it and shook his head. Looking up again he saw Hermione pointing at her
throat and mouthing something. Oh yes. He hastily took his wand and cast the
Sonorous charm.
" I had a speech prepared for you today," he said, slightly astonished by the
volume of his voice and the way the crowd quieted to hear him, "but I don't
think I want to read it to you now. As I was coming in, I heard someone say
what a shame it was that there was any need to put up this memorial, what a
waste of lives the battle had been. I don't believe the lives of any of those
we are honouring today were wasted. Everyone who resisted Voldemort and his
Death Eaters, to any extent, risked death. We all knew it, and we went ahead
anyhow, because even death was better than the prospect of life in a world
ruled by that foul madman.
"It is tragic that those who died fighting had no chance to enjoy what they
fought to preserve, but their sacrifice was not a waste. I thank you all for
coming today to show the honour and respect we all feel for them. "
Harry stopped. He was beginning to turn to look at McGonagall and see if he
should sit down, or what, when the applause crashed over him. Half the audience
was already on their feet, and the rest were rising as he watched. Hermione and
Ron clapped frantically, and tears were running down Hermione's cheeks. Harry
ended the Sonorous charm and bowed a little awkwardly to the crowd.
Sitting back down, he waited without paying much attention to the remainder of
the ceremony, until with a flourish Hagrid removed the cloth that had been
draped over the polished stone, letting the names carved on it be seen. All too
many of them were familiar. Harry had meant every word he said earlier, yet
grief lashed him again as if it were new.
***** Waking Dream *****
Chapter Summary
     Sirius's nightmares confuse him, but Harry doesn't mind.
Chapter Notes
     Chan (Harry is 15) but there is no more than an embrace. Prompt 35,
     "sleep".
"I suppose the poor man didn't get much real sleep all those years in Azkaban,
but goodness." Mrs. Weasley shook her head. "Harry, dear, would you take Sirius
this cup of tea and wake him up?"
"Sure." Harry shoved the last bite of bacon in his mouth and picked up the tray
Mrs. Weasley had laid out.
"We'll be clearing out in the library this morning," she called after him.
"I'll find you," shouted Harry back as he started up the stairs.
As he neared Sirius's room, he heard a voice speaking, as though Sirius might
already be awake and talking with someone. Harry tapped at the door. "Sirius?"
There was no answer, but the mumbling continued even after Harry knocked a
second time. He turned the knob cautiously and stepped inside, pushing the door
closed behind him.
In the dim light that filtered through the curtains he could see Sirius
thrashing restlessly. The sheets were tangled around him. It was quite evident
that he was suffering through a nightmare. Harry found a place on a chest of
drawers to set down the tray, and crossed to the bed.
"Sirius?" He bent to touch Sirius's shoulder. He could see a scattering of
coarse black hairs on the sheets, and wondered if Sirius often slept as
Padfoot. Had he shifted form overnight without intending to? "Sirius, are you
all right?"
Suddenly Harry's wrist was seized. "Prongs? Fuck, such a horrible nightmare.
Come here."
Before Harry quite knew what was happening Sirius had pulled him down into a
tight embrace. He could feel Sirius shaking as their bodies pressed together.
"Erm, Sirius? It's Harry, not James," Harry managed to say. Sirius's closeness
had sent a thrill through him, but he wasn't sure Sirius knew what he was
doing.
"Harry?" Sirius's eyes opened properly, and he nearly fell off the far side of
the bed moving away. "Merlin's teeth, Harry. I thought you were your dad. I'm
sorry, I didn't mean..."
"It's all right," Harry interrupted. "You were asleep. Mrs. Weasley sent me up
with tea."
He got up and fetched the tray to Sirius, who was now sitting against the
pillows, the covers pulled up around him.
"I guess you and my dad were really close friends, weren't you?"
"Yes, Harry, we were." Sirius took a drink of his tea, his eyes intent on Harry
over the rim of the cup.
Harry felt compelled to add, "More than just friends?"
Sirius blinked at that, but lowered the cup to answer steadily, "At one time,
yes. Then he fell in love with your mother. He and I remained friends though."
"I see." Slowly, keeping his gaze on Sirius, Harry sat on the bed again and
scooted closer. "I guess I'm even more like my dad than I thought... or maybe
more like you."
He leaned against Sirius's shoulder and pressed his face to the bare skin of
Sirius's neck. After a moment, he felt Sirius's arm go around him.
"Perhaps so," Sirius said.
***** Old Friends, New Beginnings *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry and Hermione have a standing date, as friends, for Sunday
     dinner.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Hermione. Prompt 88, "lonely".
"Seven months," said Harry thoughtfully as he watched Hermione turn over a chop
in the pan.
It was her week to cook. They had a standing date for Sunday dinner, and
alternated whose flat they used. Whoever hosted cooked; the other brought a
bottle of wine.
"Eight months," Hermione shot back. A spatter of fat caught her wrist and she
winced.
"Turn the heat down and put the lid on," Harry suggested.
That was the nice thing about Hermione. Harry didn't have to explain that he
was thinking about how long it had been since he and Ginny had split up; she
understood, and reminded him that Ron had left her before that.
"Good idea."
With the chops in their skillet and saucepans of potatoes and sprouts bubbling
away, Hermione came and sat with Harry at the kitchen table. He passed her a
glass of wine, watching as she sipped from it and caught a stray drop with her
tongue.
"Ron must've been mental," Harry said.
"For leaving?" Hermione gave a one-shouldered shrug. "I don't know if I'd say
that. It just wasn't working between us. At least I was able to keep the flat."
She checked on the food and served them each a plate. They exchanged Ministry
gossip during dinner. Harry was in the final stages of Auror training, which
took him away from the Ministry proper most of the time, but Hermione usually
knew what was going on. She was in a good mood that week since there seemed to
have been real progress made on the issue of house-elf rights. Harry didn't
care quite as deeply as she did, but he was pleased both for her sake and in
memory of Dobby.
When they had finished he helped to clear up. They refilled their wineglasses
and took them into Hermione's living room. She kicked off her shoes and curled
up at one end of the sofa; Harry sat in the middle and drank a large gulp of
his wine, for courage.
He had thought a lot about what wanted to say tonight. In fact, he had planned
out an entire short speech, but when he'd read it over, it sounded horrible and
stilted. Now that it came down to it, a speech didn't seem like the right
approach at all.
"Hermione..." Harry held out his hand.
She sat down her glass to take it. "What is it, Harry?"
He pulled her gently toward him and leaned forward into a kiss.
When they broke apart, Hermione looked at him, her eyes wide and uncertain.
"Harry..."
Harry touched his fingertips to her lips. He had considered this for a long
time. It wasn't because he was lonely for Ginny, but because he had realised
that Hermione meant more to him than anyone else. She had been his staunch
friend since their first year together at school. He had always been
comfortable with her, and at last he finally recognised that it was more than
friendship he felt. He only hoped that her feelings were similar.
He didn't need to rush matters; knowing Hermione, she would want to talk
through every possible angle before things went any further. For now Harry was
content just to feel her arms around him.
***** Taking a Chance *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry intrudes on Percy's lunch to ask a question.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Percy preslash. Prompt 60, "blue".
"Do you mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full," said Harry, remembering
how all those years ago Ron had asked him the same question.
Blue eyes met green, and blinked.
"If you like," said Percy.
It wasn't quite true that the only empty seat in the canteen was at Percy's
table, but near enough. The rest were at tables occupied by wizards and witches
Harry didn't know. Besides, he had reasons to want to talk with Percy.
Percy, however, appeared to be intent on the report he was reading, and Harry
didn't like to interrupt him. He bit into a sausage roll and chewed, hoping
that Percy would put down the parchment eventually.
At last he did, but only to fork up a final bite of salad and gulp the last of
his water.
"Good to see you, Harry," he said, beginning to rise.
"Er, Percy?" This was Harry's chance. He just hoped that George hadn't been
having him on about Percy's proclivities. It would embarrass them both.
"Yes?"
"Would you like to go out with me this weekend?"
Percy turned pink. "I... well... all right, yes."
Harry smiled, relieved. "I'll pick you up at seven on Friday."
***** Taking Flight *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry flies.
Chapter Notes
     Harry, Molly. Prompt 66, "clouds".
Harry soared.
There was nothing to touch this, nothing. The wind rushed past, tangling his
hair beyond its usual messiness. Harry gripped the broom handle and shouted
aloud with sheer exhilaration.
He tried to fly each weekend; it was what allowed him to endure the pressures
of Auror training. Harry squinted against the sun, swooping and diving and
rolling, joy thrilling through him.
The Weasleys had invited him to dinner that day. When he arrived, damp and a
little late, Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, "Goodness, Harry, where have you been?"
Harry smiled at her. "I had my head in the clouds."
***** No More Lies *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry's tired of living with the lies.
Chapter Notes
     Draco/Harry. Prompt 18, "lies".
"I'm tired of the lies, Draco." Harry bowed his head. "Usually only by
omission, but they're still lies."
With a pang Draco saw silver strands among the dark, more of them than he
remembered.
"I thought you didn't want to hurt your family?"
"I've begun to think that telling the truth would hurt everyone less than all
the evasion. I'm sure Ginny suspects; it she ever asks outright she'll be hurt
as much by the fact that I've been lying to her, by omission if nothing else,
as by my being unfaithful. As for the kids, well, I don't want them to think
that it's okay to cheat on a partner. When I thought that this between you and
me was just an affair, that it wouldn't last long -- that was one thing. But
we've agreed we both want to be together in a way that isn't possible under the
present circumstances. Asteria may not care that you live apart from her, but
that isn't an option for me."
Draco winced. He had seen this moment coming, but that didn't make it any
easier. While it was true that he had long since agreed with Asteria that they
would be happier leading separate lives, they had both always been very
discreet about it. If Harry left Ginny, the relationship between Harry and
Draco was bound to become public, and very likely a scandal. Rita Skeeter would
see to that.
On the other hand, Draco couldn't imagine a life without Harry any longer.
"Come here." He held Harry tightly. "I can see that letting things go on as
they have been isn't an option for you anymore. When did you want to tell
Ginny?"
"I don't know. It isn't as though there will ever be a good time to explain
that I'm in love with someone else and want a divorce, so I suppose sooner
rather than later. The summer holidays are less than a month away; maybe I'll
see if the kids can go to their Weasley grandparents for a fortnight and tell
her then. No, that's silly. I can just as well talk to Ginny before they're out
of school. If she's really upset, she can go to stay with her parents, and if
need be the kids could join her there."
"Would you keep the house, then?" asked Draco.
"I don't know. Sirius left it to me, but..." Harry shook his head. "I suppose
that will be something else we'll have to talk about. Damn. It's going to be
awfully difficult, isn't it?"
"I suspect so. You don't have to go through with telling her, you know. I'm
content to carry on as we've been doing. Perhaps you should think about it a
little longer before you make up your mind," Draco said, stroking Harry's back.
"If you decide this is the right thing to do, I'll support you, but once you've
told Ginny about us, there'll be no going back."
"I know." Harry sighed. "Take me to bed, Draco. Remind me why I love you so
much that I'm destroying my family for you."
"And here I thought you loved me for my mind," Draco said.
"I do. Bad joke, sorry. Sex with you is fantastic, but if it were just about
the sex, this affair wouldn't have lasted more than three months." Harry kissed
him.
He was right; the conversations they were able to have together were more
seductive, and more long-lasting, than sex could ever be. Draco kissed Harry
back.
"Agreed. But I'm going to take you to bed and wear you out anyhow."
***** Fresh Start *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry has promised to return Draco's wand.
Chapter Notes
     Draco/Harry preslash. Prompt 93, "borrow".
Draco looked around nervously. This was Muggle territory, and it made him
uncomfortable, but he had had no choice -- he had been told where to go. He
fingered the parchment in his pocket. There was no need to pull it out. He had
reread it so many times in the past week that he had memorized every word.
Draco,
I "borrowed" something of yours some time ago. I know you want it back, and I'm
willing to return it to you. Meet me by the statue of Peter Pan in Kensington
Gardens, London, at 4.30 in the afternoon next Saturday.
Harry
Shifting position on the bench, Draco felt for the wand in his other pocket. It
was his mother's. His own, to Draco's relief, Harry evidently planned to
return. He had considered purchasing a new one, but Ollivander had not yet
reopened his shop -- if he ever would was an open question still -- and Draco
really preferred to get back his own familiar one, if he could.
"Draco."
Distracted by his thoughts, Draco hadn't seen Harry arrive.
"Harry." Draco nodded toward the bronze statue. "Some Muggle hero?"
Chuckling, Harry shook his head. "No, he's a boy in a Muggle story for
children; 'the boy who wouldn't grow up'. He's magical in a way, although not
our kind of magic. It seemed appropriate."
Draco nodded, trying not to look too eager as he changed the subject to what
they were really there for. "You were going to return my wand? I need to be
going; I have other plans this evening."
"I doubt it." Harry gave him a considering look. "Don't worry, I'll give it
back, but I wanted to talk with you first. Can I buy you a coffee or an ice
cream or something?"
Draco didn't much like the idea of being under obligation to Harry for even so
much as an ice cream. On the other hand, Harry had saved his life in the Room
of Requirement, and that was a considerably greater debt.
"All right."
"There's a café that way." Harry pointed west.
Their sweets secured, they wandered until they found a shady spot with an
unoccupied bench. Draco took a bite of his ice cream. It wasn't bad.
"You wanted to talk with me about something? What?"
Harry squinted at him. "What do you think?"
"I have no idea."
"You never answered when I asked in the Room of Requirement why you didn't
identify me to Bellatrix. You must have known it was me; the jinx that Hermione
cast on my face didn't alter my appearance so much that someone who already
knew me wouldn't recognize me. Both your aunt and your father were urging you
to say that it was me, and they were quite right that Voldemort would have been
delighted to get his hands on me so easily. So why did you hold back?"
"I... I don't know," said Draco.
Harry raised his eyebrows.
"I don't," Draco protested.
"I don't believe you," said Harry flatly. "You had every reason to tell them
who I was, and yet you didn't, so you must have had a reason not to. What was
it?"
Draco chewed his lower lip. He could see the outline of his wand in Harry's
pocket. "I didn't want you to die," he muttered at last.
"So that's it." Harry's voice was soft, understanding, not sneering at all. "I
saw how after you'd disarmed Dumbledore, you were lowering your wand. You
didn't want to kill him either."
"You saw that?" Draco was amazed. "How?"
"He had taken me off the grounds that night, and we had just Apparated back. He
knew you were coming, I guess, and he made me promise to stay out of sight and
do nothing, no matter what happened."
Harry's eyes looked greener than ever, and Draco realized he was on the verge
of tears.
"It was the hardest thing I've ever done, to just stand there and watch and do
nothing. Far harder than fighting Voldemort was."
Draco nodded. "It wasn't quite the same with Dumbledore as with you, though.
With him, I was supposed to kill him myself. With you, I wouldn't have been
directly responsible. But..." He gnawed his lip again. "This isn't going to
make any sense."
"What?"
"I just couldn't say anything about who you were. Even thinking about it made
my throat seize up. It was almost as if there were some protective charm at
work, but I don't see how there could have been."
"No, you're right, it doesn't make any sense," agreed Harry. He rested his hand
on his leg, where the outline of Draco's wand showed. "Thank you for
explaining, though. If you had identified me, and Voldemort had been summoned
and arrived right away… well, I wouldn't be here now. I felt badly, taking your
wand after you'd done that, but I had no choice. I would just give it back to
you, but since I originally took it by disarming you, I'm not sure it will be
properly yours again if you don't take it from me the same way. We can't do
that here, though."
"No, certainly not." Draco looked around at the hundreds of Muggles strolling
through the park. "Where?"
"We'll find a spot. Come with me."
They walked for a quarter of an hour, not saying much, until Harry ducked down
a tiny alleyway.
"Here." Harry pulled out Draco's wand. "Come on, take it. If you use
Expelliarmus I'm sure that will make it yours again."
Draco took out his mother's wand. He hesitated. "Do you have another wand you
can use? The Elder wand, maybe?"
"I don't use that." Harry's expression became closed off.
"That sounds like a no to me." Draco hesitated a moment longer, and with some
regret, shook his head. "I'll wait until it won't leave you wandless, too."
"That could be months," Harry reminded him. "There's no saying when Ollivander
might be back in business."
"I know." Draco took a deep breath. "You'd do the same for me, though."
"I suppose I would." Harry tilted his head and looked at Draco consideringly.
"But you needn't. I mended mine -- I wouldn't be wandless. So go on, take
yours."
"Really?" Quicker than thought, Draco cried, "Expelliarmus!"
The hawthorn and unicorn hair wand had never felt so right in his hand. Draco
found himself smiling at Harry, a genuine smile. "Thank you, Harry. I'll tell
you what. How about if we pretend that we never spent all those years hating
each other, and start fresh today?"
He tucked both his own wand and his mother's away and put out his hand. Harry
took it.
"All right."
Together they walked out of the alley and into the sunlit street.
***** Dance Away *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry wants to relieve Hermione's sadness.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Hermione. Prompt 87, "rhythm". Filmverse; title taken from the
     Roxy Music song of the same name.
Harry wasn't sure what to do now. Hermione was obviously miserable, which he
understood because he missed Ron too, but he was terrified that she might also
leave.
Harry didn't know the song on the wizarding wireless -- he never knew any of
them -- but it had an infectious rhythm. On impulse he held out his hands.
Hermione was reluctant, but Harry persisted until the sheer delight of a
diversion elicited her smile.
The cheerfulness didn't last long, but Harry was relieved to have found
something that could make her feel better, even if only for a little time.
***** Seven Year Itch *****
Chapter Summary
     Severus is scratching Harry's seven year itch.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Severus, rimming. Prompt 54, "strain".
Harry moaned.
Seven years they had been together now, the last four married, and the sex was
even better than it had been when they were first discovering each other. Less
frequent, perhaps, but other things more than made up for that.
Severus's mouth withdrew from Harry's bollocks. His lips traveled upward
slowly, teasingly. Harry buried his face deeper in the pillow and quivered. His
arse was already as high in the air as it could go; he could only wait until
Severus reached...
There. Severus's tongue breached him. Harry whimpered, the sound muffled by
feathers, as his arsehole was coaxed open a loving mouth.
He had been horrified when Severus first introduced him to the idea of rimming,
even knowing that there were charms to ensure cleanliness. It had taken Harry
quite some time to agree to try it, but now it was among his favorite
activities in bed, both receiving and giving. Now he tilted his hips, straining
upward to encourage Severus to press his tongue as deeply as he could. He
groped to fondle his throbbing cock, not to come yet, just to enhance the
stimulation.
With a final slurp, Severus withdrew, but only for the few seconds before his
cock head rested at the loosened entrance. He murmured a lubricating charm and
slid smoothly inside until his bollocks pressed against Harry's perineum.
Severus began to move in long smooth strokes, not hurrying, letting passion
take its own time to reach white heat.
When Severus penetrated him, Harry had released his prick and braced himself on
both elbows. He loved it when Severus fucked him, feeling that having Severus
find the height of pleasure in Harry's body in some small way compensated for
everything Severus had endured. While he enjoyed topping as well, having
Severus inside him was even better, in Harry's opinion.
Severus's fingers gripped Harry's hips. He was close to coming now, Harry could
tell, even though the speed of his strokes hadn't changed. Harry began to make
little wordless murmurs of encouragement, urging Severus on. They rarely spoke
in bed, except on the rare occasions that Harry was able to persuade Severus
into an evening of role-play.
Severus's breathing was quicker now, harsher, and on a keening grunt his hips
stilled as he quivered in orgasm. Harry smiled into his pillow and tightened
his arsehole to milk out the last of Severus's spunk. Severus's wiry arms
wrapped around Harry's chest and rolled them over, still spooned together.
"Now, Severus, please," Harry whispered. Severus's mouth found the juncture
between Harry's neck and shoulder and he bit gently even as his cauldron-
calloused hands found Harry's prick and caressed it. Harry had been so ready
for so long tonight that although he would have liked to prolong the pleasure,
within moments he was shuddering in Severus's embrace, his prick spurting
pearly white come through Severus's fingers.
"I love you," he murmured sleepily, snuggling against Severus's bony frame.
Severus kissed Harry's neck again. "I love you too, Harry."
***** Hopeless Search *****
Chapter Summary
     The Horcrux search is tearing Harry and Ron apart.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Ron. Prompt 24, "frustrated".
This was worse than their fourth year, when Ron hadn't believed Harry when he
said he hadn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire, and they didn't speak for
weeks.
Harry knew that Ron was frustrated by their lack of progress in finding
Horcruxes. Harry was, too, and so was Hermione. Even being able to destroy the
one they had found would have been a help, since its very presence made them
all more hopeless and angry with one another.
He couldn't even console Ron effectively. The three of them had agreed that
whoever was on guard duty ought not to have to wear the locket. That meant that
if Hermione was out of the tent, either Harry or Ron had the locket around his
neck, and it didn't exactly put either of them in the mood for so much as a
snog, far less anything more. Harry missed the sex. It was small consolation
that Ron was in the same boat with Hermione. He wasn't exactly jealous that Ron
fancied Hermione too, but it would have been difficult to cope with Ron's
emotional upset and distance if Harry had known Ron was acting differently with
Hermione.
But it was Ron's friendship that Harry missed most. More than that, he worried
that in his frustration, Ron might decide to give the whole search up as a bad
job. Hermione's parents were safely out of the way, whereas Harry understood
that Ron was afraid for his family, and hated not having reliable information
about what might be happening to them.
All Harry could do now was to hope that somehow one of them would come up with
a new idea for where to search, what exactly to look for. He couldn't think
beyond that, not really, but he held on to the slim hope that someday they
would succeed, and then perhaps he and Ron could again be to each other what
they had been before.
***** Losses *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry only cries at one funeral.
Chapter Notes
     Prompt 79, "funeral".
Harry attended all of the endless funerals that he could, but only cried at
one.
Andromeda and Ted Tonks, understandably, had chosen to make it a double
funeral. Remus had had no close family living, and he had been the father of
their grandson. It was odd to see Tonks with plain brown hair, and nearly as
odd to see Remus with the lines of care and worry smoothed away.
Harry regretted Tonks's death, but it was Remus's that truly grieved him. No
one still alive had known his parents so well. Losing Remus was almost like
losing them again.
***** In the Meantime *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry finds waiting for Draco to show up to the restaurant more
     enjoyable than he'd anticipated.
Chapter Notes
     Draco/Harry. Adult; public sex, blow job. Prompt 1, "wicked".
Five minutes after the time when Draco was supposed to meet Harry for dinner,
the restaurant's host hurried over to the table.
"Mr. Harry Potter?"
"That's me."
"I have a message for you from your dining companion. He says he will be
sitting at the table within half an hour, and until then you should have a
drink and try to enjoy yourself in the meantime."
Harry rolled his eyes. Draco wasn't always late, but often enough that Harry
had learned to go ahead and let himself be seated without him. Otherwise he
would be stuck waiting at the front of the restaurant without even a chance to
have a drink or a starter in the interim. "Thank you. I'd like a pint of
Stella, if you have any, or whatever is most similar if you don't, please."
Sipping his beer a few minutes later, Harry wondered just how Draco thought
Harry was going to enjoy himself on his own. This was a bit of a special night,
too, marking three months exactly since they had first gone out. Harry had
planned to make it extra-special, back in his flat after dinner; he intended to
go along with a couple of the kinkier suggestions Draco had made recently, such
as letting Draco blindfold him and tie him up.
Just thinking about what might happen later on was making his trousers
uncomfortably tight, and he shifted in his seat, reaching down to adjust them
discreetly.
"I'll take care of that," came a whisper from under the table, and Harry felt
fingers fumbling at the zip of his fly, freeing his cock. A warm wet mouth
enveloped it and began to suck.
"Draco?" said Harry in a strangled voice. He looked around quickly, and
realized with relief that the tablecloths in this restaurant all hung to the
floor; no one could see what was happening. "What the hell are you doing?" he
added in an outraged whisper.
"Making sure that you enjoy yourself," said Draco, releasing Harry's cock
momentarily.
Harry could just see the wicked smile Draco gave him before resuming his self-
appointed task.
There was no way to stop him, not without creating a very public scene, and
besides, there was something immensely erotic about the idea that he was
getting a blow job here in this public place without anyone knowing about it.
Draco was better at sucking cock than anyone else Harry had ever been with -
- not that there had been that many, but still -- and his lips and tongue soon
had Harry on the brink of orgasm.
"May I bring you something to start with while you're waiting?"
Harry looked up to see the waiter hovering. "Not just yet," he managed to say,
his fingers curling around the edge of the table. Draco's tongue traced the
pulsing vein along the underside of Harry's cock, and Harry almost screamed.
"I'll return in a few minutes, then."
"Yes... thank you." The waiter turned to go.
Draco sucked hard, and Harry spasmed, his spunk shooting uncontrollably into
Draco's mouth.
"You are mad, you know that?" Harry said quietly to Draco a few minutes later.
Draco had slipped out from under the table and quite casually seated himself in
the chair opposite. Harry was fairly certain that no one else in the restaurant
had seen a thing.
"I know." Draco gave him a lascivious smile. His lips were still reddened from
his recent activities. "But you enjoyed that, admit it, even though if I'd
asked you'd have said no."
"True enough," Harry had to agree. "I had something special planned for you
later, but nothing like this."
"Whatever it is, I'm sure I'll enjoy it." Draco winked. "Now, let's order. I'm
starving."
***** Named *****
Chapter Summary
     Ginny has just given birth.
Chapter Notes
     Ginny/Harry. Prompt 63, "melt".
Harry's heart nearly melted as he looked at the two of them.
Ginny lay propped up on pillows, her face white and exhausted, her usually
bright red hair darkened with sweat. She made a tired gesture with her free
hand at the bundle cuddled against her side in her other arm.
"A girl," she said, her voice suffused with joy. "And we were so sure, we'd
only chosen boys' names. What shall we call her?"
Harry stroked the tiny fuzzy red head gently. "How do you feel about Lily?"
"Perhaps Lily Luna?" Ginny suggested.
Harry nodded, and kissed them both.
***** A Little Discipline *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry and Draco dress up for an appointment with Snape, but when
     they're late, he decides they need some reminders of proper
     behaviour.
Chapter Notes
     Draco/Harry/Severus. Cross-dressing, bondage, paddling, rimming.
     Prompt 91, "discipline".
"How do I look?" asked Draco, turning around slowly so that Harry could see
him.
He was wearing a neatly pressed white shirt, a Slytherin tie, and a grey
pleated skirt that ended just above his knees. Harry had helped him find a good
depilation charm for his bare legs, and he wore white ankle socks and thin
black leather shoes.
Harry grinned. "Far better than Pansy Parkinson ever did." Harry was likewise
in student uniform, though with trousers instead of a skirt, and a Gryffindor
tie.
"But you think Severus will like it?" asked Draco in a worried voice.
"I expect he will. If he doesn't, I certainly do." Harry pulled Draco into a
close embrace, letting Draco feel just how much the sight of him had excited
Harry already. "Come on. We don't want to be late."
They were, however. As they entered Snape's room, he gave a pointed glance at
the clock and snapped, "I said eight o'clock precisely. It is now two minutes
past the hour." Then he looked at them properly, and his eyes widened. "May I
ask why you are wearing those clothes?"
Draco moved forward first and perched on the edge of Snape's desk, crossing his
legs at the knee so that his already-short skirt hiked up even higher. "We
thought you might enjoy the chance to give a different sort of detention than
you ever could have when you were really a professor."
"I'm sure you remember some of the things you saw in my memory when you were
trying to teach me Occlumency," Harry added, moving forward in turn and
kneeling beside Snape's chair.
Snape wet his lips. "Yes, I remember. I was more curious why Malfoy chose to
don a skirt for the occasion. Not that I'm objecting," he added hastily.
Draco gave him a saucy grin. "Don't I make a good-looking girl? Harry thought
so. But I have toys no girl has." He reached for Snape's hand and guided it
slowly up his leg. Harry watched and felt a surge of excitement as Draco's back
arched, his hips thrusting forward into Snape's hand under his skirt.
"So you do." Snape's rich dark voice turned a shade colder as he said, "A
student ought not to be so forward, however."
"No, sir," said Draco, Harry echoing him a second later.
"I believe you two require greater discipline. First late for our scheduled
engagement, now taking it upon yourselves to make choices for me." Snape tapped
the fingers of his free hand thoughtfully on the arm of his chair. " Malfoy,
against the wall. Potter, fetch the paddle from my chest. Since it seems this
was equally your idea, you can then join Malfoy."
Draco went and took hold of one of the two pairs of rings that were embedded in
the wall, spreading his feet apart so that his ankles were next to a pair of
rings at the floor. Once he had brought the paddle to Snape, Harry joined
Draco, at the other double set of rings. They shared a tiny smile.
"Incarcerous!"
Cords appeared out of nowhere, twining around their ankles and wrists, securing
them to the rings. Snape stepped close behind them.
"Count."
He began to wield the paddle, following no particular pattern as he struck
their still fully clothed buttocks and thighs. He might give Harry several
blows in a row, then switch to alternating between them, then concentrate on
Draco for a time. The unpredictability of it made it all the more stimulating.
Somewhere around stroke thirty Snape Vanished Harry's trousers and pants;
glancing sideways, Harry saw that Draco's arse was bare now, too.
Paddling warmed Harry's arse delightfully. Now that he was half-naked, each
stroke felt sharper, more precise. The blood pounded in his cock, but Harry
knew better than to try to rub it on the wall in front of him. Snape would
never let them get away with that. When they played games of this sort, neither
Harry nor Draco was allowed to come until Snape gave permission.
Beside him, Draco was flushed and panting, his shirt beginning to cling damply
to his chest. Harry was sure he looked much the same.
"Fifty," said Draco with a gasp.
Harry had only reached forty-five, and he expected to receive more strokes, but
instead Snape said, "Finite incantatem," to release their bonds.
"I'm not certain you have learned your lesson," he murmured, fondling their
rigid cocks simultaneously. "What do you suppose we should do about that?"
"Whatever you think suitable, sir," said Harry.
Snape arched an eyebrow. "Have you any ideas, Mr Malfoy?"
"You could fuck me, sir, while Harry fucks you," suggested Draco.
Snape considered it, still idly stroking their pricks. His own was a visible
bulge in his trousers. "Not a bad idea, but I believe we will do it the other
way around."
Draco looked a little disappointed -- given a choice, he preferred to bottom -
- but at Snape's command he obediently conjured a mattress to cushion the floor
for them all.
"On your knees, Potter," ordered Snape, "and don't touch yourself. Perhaps Mr
Malfoy will suck you off afterward."
Harry knelt. He expected Snape to use a lubrication spell, but instead felt the
tingle of a cleaning charm, followed by the unmistakable feel of Snape's hands
parting his cheeks and Snape's tongue wriggling into his arsehole. Harry
groaned, digging his fingernails into the mattress, as Snape licked and sucked.
A long blissful time later, he felt Snape's cock pushing into him, and then the
increased pressure that said Draco had entered Snape's arse as well.
"Oh sir, oh sir," said Draco, setting the pace of thrusting. "Your arse is so
hot, so tight, I'm not going to last long, sir, I'm sorry, you're just too
fucking hot..."
He continued babbling in a similar vein, and Harry grinned to himself. Draco
was always ridiculously vocal when having sex, but since both Harry and Snape
enjoyed it, Snape usually let him speak. Harry's own arse felt filled almost to
bursting as Snape thrust in and out, following Draco's rhythm.
"Oh please, please sir," cried out Draco, his voice rising in pitch. "I'm
begging you, sir, please!"
Snape gave one quick caressing stroke to Harry's cock. "You may come, Malfoy."
Harry was tilted forward with the force of Draco's final thrusts, transmitted
and amplified through Snape's body, before Draco came with a throaty groan.
"Thank you, sir," murmured Draco after a momentary pause.
"Get under Potter and suck him off," Snape told Draco.
Harry looked down his torso to see Draco's head appear under his belly. Draco
gave him a sleepy satiated smile before his warm wet mouth closed over the tip
of Harry's cock, his tongue probing the slit. Harry shuddered and clenched his
arse in reaction.
"That's right, Potter," murmured Snape, beginning to thrust again. "Malfoy is
going to get you nice and ready, but mind you don't come until I do."
"Yes, sir," said Harry, and groaned as the sensations threatened to overwhelm
him.
Little sparkles of light went off behind his closed eyelids with every thrust
into his arse by Snape, every deep suck on his prick by Draco. He whimpered and
tightened his arse muscles again, trying to hold back the orgasm that
threatened to explode through him despite Snape's stricture.
Snape was moving faster now, deeper, soft grunts coming from his throat as he
moved. Drops of his sweat had begun to fall onto Harry's back.
"Harry..." Snape groaned out, and gave a final plunging thrust, shuddering and
half collapsing over Harry's back.
"Please sir, now?" begged Harry. Draco's lips and tongue were working him to
the point of no return.
"Yes, come," Snape murmured. His arms wrapped tight around Harry, holding him
through the shuddering orgasm.
Draco licked Harry clean of both Harry's spunk and Snape's before slithering
out from underneath and giving them each a long slow kiss. "I'm rather sorry
you didn't leave my skirt on, though, Severus," he said as if picking up the
thread of a conversation. "I had hoped you might dandle me on your knee and
comfort me after my punishment."
Snape snorted. "You don't feel you've had adequate comfort?"
Draco shrugged, threading his fingers into the hair on Harry's chest. "No, only
that I went to some trouble over that outfit and you didn't seem to care about
it much."
Harry took Draco's hand and squeezed it. "I liked it, I told you so."
"Another time, Draco. You can't always have everything your way." Snape yawned.
"I'm sure that you'll need disciplining again soon; perhaps I'll send you out
to do errands dressed in your little schoolgirl skirt, and keep count of how
many men try to flirt with you. Your punishment will be adjusted accordingly."
"Mm." Draco wriggled closer. "What will Harry get to do, then? Does he go with
me?"
"Perhaps. Perhaps I'll have him wear nipple clamps all day." Snape stroked
Harry's chest too, his fingers twining with Draco's. "You'd like that, wouldn't
you, Potter?"
"Oh yeah," breathed Harry, turned on by the thought even though his cock was
too spent to respond just yet.
"The very next paddling, though, one of you will give me." Snape's lips curled
up in a hungry smile. "I need a little discipline myself, you know."
***** Overheard *****
Chapter Summary
     Ron's been listening to Harry at night. Harry decides to do something
     about it.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Ron. Chan (they are both 15), voyeurism, exhibitionism,
     masturbation, first time. Prompt 5, "exposed".
When he first realized that Ron listened to him wank at night, Harry felt
embarrassed about it, even exposed, as if he had been caught doing something he
oughtn't.
Which was ridiculous, really; it wasn't as if Ron didn't wank too, and for that
matter Seamus and Dean and Neville. Dean usually remembered to use a Silencing
charm, but Neville had never really mastered it, and the rest of them mostly
forgot. Harry was sure it was only himself that Ron paid attention to, not the
others. Any time Harry wanked, all sounds from Ron's bed stopped, and then once
Harry had finished, he could hear Ron moving again. The same didn't happen if
it was anyone else.
Harry started listening for Ron in return, waiting to see if he could hear
Ron's bed creaking rhythmically, and then fisting his own prick in time with
Ron's movements. He had to remember to use Silencio, though, or Ron would stop
wanking and listen to Harry instead.
It was an odd situation altogether, each of them getting off while listening to
the other. Harry wasn't sure if Ron had realized that Harry knew what he was
doing, or that Harry had started listening in return. Matters finally came to a
head over the Christmas holidays, when they were sharing the room in Grimmauld
Place again.
Christmas night Harry didn't even pretend to wait until Ron might be asleep
before starting to wank. He skinned out of his pyjamas altogether, licked his
palm, took hold of his cock, and began a steady stroke that made his bed creak
slightly. He even allowed himself to make little sounds of pleasure as his cock
slid through his fist. All the while, he was straining to hear any sounds from
Ron's bed. There was nothing. He imagined Ron lying there, his eyes wide open
as he listened to Harry's movements, perhaps with his own hand wrapped around
his prick to both arouse and control himself until Harry had finished. The
thought of Ron so focused on him excited Harry tremendously.
Just before he came, Harry stopped and held still. He could hear Ron breathing
heavily from the other bed. Harry gathered up his courage and said aloud,
"Ron?"
There was a pause. Then --
"Yeah?"
"Are you listening to me?"
An even longer pause before Ron admitted, "Yeah, I was. Sorry, mate."
"It's all right if you do, but I was thinking that maybe you might want to do
more than just listen." Harry swallowed. "I'd like to do more than listen to
you."
"You would?" Ron sounded incredulous.
"Yeah, I would."
He waited. A minute dragged by, then another, but at last he heard Ron's
mattress creak as he stood up, and Ron's steps coming toward him. In the dim
moonlight that filtered through the curtained window Harry saw that Ron was
naked, too, his prick standing stiffly against his stomach.
"Come on," said Harry, lifting up the bedclothes for Ron to get in.
Ron's skin was cool and warm at once, and his cock was hot and heavy in Harry's
hand. He groaned when Harry touched him and his hips jolted forward. Harry
wriggled closer until he could move his face a last half-inch and press his
lips to Ron's. Ron's mouth opened to him and Harry felt the tip of his tongue
against his own. A shudder ran through him and he stroked Ron's cock faster.
Now Ron's hand found his prick, Ron's touch like and yet unlike what he was
used to in wanking, far more exciting because he didn't know just what Ron
might do next.
He had already been so close that it was hardly any time before orgasm overtook
him, and Ron came too just seconds later, their spunk mingling messily on their
hands and stomach.
"Wow, Ron," murmured Harry, just as Ron said, "Fucking brilliant, that was."
Harry could feel that Ron's grin was as wide as his.
"Loads better than wanking, I think."
"Hell, yeah," Ron agreed. Harry grabbed the face cloth he'd tucked under his
pillow to clean them up -- his cleaning charms weren't very reliable, and he
knew Ron was even worse at them.
"You can sleep here with me if you'd like," he offered.
"I think I would," said Ron, and snuggled close.
***** Exchange of Presents *****
Chapter Summary
     Tonks has a rather different kind of gift for Harry.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Tonks, adult. Chan (Harry is 15). For ragdoll, who asked for
     this pairing, with smut if possible. Prompt 22, "explosion".
"Wotcher, Harry."
Harry started and nearly dropped the tin of ginger biscuits he had come to the
pantry of Grimmauld Place to find. "Er, hi, Tonks."
He couldn't quite bring himself to meet her eyes, not after he'd been wanking
to thoughts of her through the Christmas holidays.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." Tonks took a couple of steps toward him.
She was close enough now that he could sense the warmth of her, smell the faint
sweet scent of her hair and skin. He swallowed and turned a little sideways,
hoping Tonks would not notice his body's reaction.
"That's okay," he said, striving to be casual.
Tonks took the biscuit tin from his hands and set it aside. She pushed the
pantry door closed behind her.
"I didn't give you a Christmas present."
"I didn't give you one, either."
"Maybe we could give each other one now," Tonks murmured, and before Harry
quite realized what was happening, Tonks was kissing him, her tongue darting
into his mouth.
He was too surprised to think of resisting, even if it hadn't felt so good, and
after his fantasies of the past few nights there was a certain dreamlike
quality to it all. Tonks took his hand and pulled it to her breast; before he
had gotten over the thrill of feeling her there, though, she had guided it down
between her legs, murmuring, "Touch me, Harry."
His breath caught as he fingered her slick folds edged in crinkled hair. Tonks
pushed herself against him, undulating her hips in tiny circles, panting. She
clutched at the back of his jumper and drove herself down onto his fingers,
shuddering, her mouth opening in a throaty groan.
Harry thought there might be an explosion in his trousers as he watched Tonks
come, he was so aroused. He didn't have time to do anything about it before
Tonks had slid down his body, unzipping his trousers, the cool air on his cock
making him shiver for an instant before she took him in her mouth.
Her bubblegum pink head bobbed up and down; Harry felt the delicious tugs her
lips and tongue were giving to his cock, and couldn't believe this was really
happening. Tonks's fingers stroked his bollocks and the base of his prick, the
tip of her tongue flickered against his slit, and Harry came in her mouth.
Tonks drew back a little, swallowing, and licked him clean. She stood up and
gave him a swift peck on the cheek, saying, "Happy Christmas, Harry. Better
straighten up... and wash your hands before you take those biscuits out to the
other room." She winked, tidied up her own clothes, and ducked out of the
pantry.
Harry blinked. He sniffed his fingers; they smelled like Tonks. He probably had
better wash them.
When he finally carried the tin out to the living room to share with Hermione
and Ron and the rest of the Weasley family, he knew he had a silly grin on his
face, but he figured it would be chalked up to it being the holidays, not to
having had the best surprise present he could have imagined.
***** The Row *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry wants Ron to tell Hermione the truth about them.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Ron; references to Hermione/Ron. Prompt 73, "nowhere".
"It's nothing to do with you. Honestly, it isn't," said Ron in an angry
whisper.
"What? We've been mates for six years, rather more than that for two, and
you're trying to tell me that you wanting to shag Hermione has nothing to do
with me?" Harry glared back at Ron and scratched at his neck where the locket
chain rubbed.
"I didn't say I wanted to shag her, I said I fancy her. I mean, I do want to
shag her, but that's not what I said, and that's not the point."
"That's exactly the point. Or were you planning to be involved with both of us
at the same time?"
"Well, yeah." Ron looked bewildered. "That's why I told you, Harry. I figured
you should know that I feel more for Hermione than just friendship, and I think
she feels the same about me."
"No kidding," Harry muttered. Anyone with half an eye could see how Hermione
felt. "Look, I was okay with you going out with Lavender last year, when you
told me you just wanted to see what it was like to be with a girl."
"I know. I still can't figure out what she saw in me." Ron shook his head
reminiscently. "Crazy, that was."
"And I appreciate that you didn't make a fuss either when I went out with Cho
those few times," continued Harry doggedly. "But Hermione... Hermione's
different. She's our friend, Ron. Don't you think that if the two of you become
involved, it'll mess up the friendship between the three of us?"
"I don't see why." Ron shrugged. "You and me being together hasn't messed
things up with Hermione."
It wasn't the same, though. Harry was sure of that even if he couldn't explain
why.
"Will you tell her about us?" he pressed.
Ron looked wary. "I hadn't planned to. I never told Lavender, and you never
told Cho."
"Those relationships weren't serious."
"But they could have been. Neither of us knew at the time, did we?" Ron pointed
out. "I reckon Hermione doesn't need to know."
"Well, that leaves me nowhere, doesn't it?" said Harry bitterly, fingering the
Horcrux around his throat. "You'll be all romantic and kissy with Hermione, and
I'll be begging you to spare me a minute and let me suck your cock."
"Bollocks." Ron stood up and glared at Harry, his fists clenched. "After all
these years, Harry, you're mental if you don't realize I love you. But I love
Hermione too, can't you understand that? It's like I need both of you to be
complete."
"You don't love and need her enough to tell her the truth," Harry shot back.
"Come on. Turn it around. How would you feel if I came to you and said I'd been
secretly seeing, I don't know, Neville, for the past two years, but I wanted to
go out with you too? That's how it would be for Hermione if I told her."
Harry scowled. Put that way, it did sound ridiculous, and yet it seemed wrong
for Ron not to tell Hermione the whole truth. It was almost as if he were
ashamed of being in love with Harry, of their relationship... but could Harry
really blame him? He had never wanted to be public about it either, if only to
avoid awkwardness with their roommates at Hogwarts.
He sighed and repeated, "It just doesn't seem right that Hermione shouldn't
know. She was upset about you going out with Lavender, but she never much liked
her anyway. I think it would be different with me."
"Maybe." Ron shook his head. "Maybe not. I could tell her later on, perhaps,
kind of lead up to it gradually."
"Never mind. Never mind. Just... go out with her if you want, but unless you
tell her about you and me, there won't be a you and me anymore." He pulled the
chain of the Horcrux over his head and tossed it to Ron. "Here. It's your turn
to wear this. I'm going to sleep."
He lay down on the bed with his back to the room and held himself stiff until
he heard Ron go to bed too. Even then he didn't dare give in to the pain in his
heart. He wouldn't let Ron see how badly their quarrel hurt him.
***** The Rewards of Hero-dom *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry believes Severus is just as much a hero as he is.
Chapter Notes
     Adult: legilimency!sex. For Alisanne who requested smutty Snarry for
     this prompt. Prompt 37, "heroes".
"I think you're just as much of a hero as I am," argued Harry stubbornly. "We
were both willing to give up our lives. Most of the wizarding world believes
you did give up your life."
"A hero? Hardly." Severus's eyes were half shut as he guided Harry's prick into
his arse, sinking down until his arsecheeks touched Harry's thighs. "I never
intended to be a hero, only to do what Dumbledore persuaded me had to be done."
"That -- oh fuck, Severus -- that's the point. Neither of us did what we did to
be a hero, but to do the right thing, regardless of any risk or cost to
ourselves."
Harry gasped. Severus was riding him, his arse clenching and loosening
rhythmically around Harry's cock. Harry wished he were flexible enough to suck
Severus's prick at the same time, but contented himself with reaching instead
to fondle it, scarlet in its nest of dark curls.
"Perhaps you're right." Severus's eyes were intent on Harry's, his eyebrows
arching in query.
"Do it," whispered Harry, deliberately opening his mind to Severus. No longer
did he try to barricade his thoughts against Severus; they had found that
Legilimency made sex even better between them, and Harry was trying to learn
the skill himself.
He groaned as the images of desire built between them, scarcely able now to
distinguish between his own rising toward his climax deep in Severus's body,
and the delight Severus felt in Harry's touch. Their mutual orgasm overwhelmed
him.
As Severus slumped forward, spent, Harry put his arms around the older man and
whispered against the lank dark hair, "You're more than enough hero for me, and
all I could ever want."
***** The Downsides of Hero-dom *****
Chapter Summary
     Ron is dismayed by what happens after he is described as a hero in
     the Prophet.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Hermione/Ron suggested. For Ancarett who requested Harry & Ron.
     I didn't manage gen, but the threesome is only by implication. *g*
     Prompt 37, "heroes".
"Merlin's saggy tits!" A pair of lacy pink knickers fell onto the table. Ron
drew back from them as if they might be hiding a baby Acromantula in their
folds. "Another one. These girls are mental, Harry. There's no other way to
describe them."
"Did this one include a picture of herself?" Harry asked with interest.
"I think so." Ron poked at the lace and pulled out a photograph, passing it to
Harry.
The witch in it was wearing those same pink lace knickers and quite obviously
nothing else, tossing her hair and smiling flirtatiously from the picture.
"She does have nice tits," said Hermione in a composed voice, plucking the
photograph from Harry's fingers and glancing at it.
"Not nicer than yours," said Ron.
"Why, thank you, Ron."
"But I mean, what sort of crazy person thinks that sending something like that
will attract me?" Ron wondered aloud.
"It did get your attention," Harry said. "Not in a good way, but they can't
have any idea of what you're really like."
"No," Ron sighed. "That stupid bloody article in the Prophet, setting us all up
as heroes. I wonder if Neville gets knickers in his morning post?"
Hermione giggled. "And what his Gran has to say about it if he does."
Harry and Ron both laughed at that.
"Seriously, though, Ron, remember all those letters I got after Rita Skeeter
wrote those articles about me for the Triwizard Tournament? Mostly from women
old enough to be my mum, but if I had been a few years older, I bet I'd have
been getting things like that." He nodded at the photograph and knickers. "Some
people just don't have any sense of what's appropriate, I guess."
"Clearly not." Ron picked up the offending items with a look of distaste. "So
do I send them back, or throw them out, or what?"
"Throw them out," said Hermione. "If you answer at all, it will just encourage
more of the same; people talk. If you respond in any way to one witch, a half-
dozen of her friends will write you next, and it will never end."
"I think she's right," said Harry.
"Wouldn't it be simpler if we just made our situation public?" asked Ron
plaintively. "If people knew the three of us were involved, don't you think
they'd quit sending such rubbish?"
"Probably they'd send more," said Harry. "They'd be likely to figure that if
you were already involved with two people at once, you might be keen to make it
three, or four, or..."
"Not to mention that Skeeter would have a field day," added Hermione. "Can't
you just see the headlines? Hogwarts Heroes in Love Triangle, or something of
the sort."
"I expect you're right." Ron used a levitation charm to float photograph and
knickers over to the rubbish bin "You know, if I'd known this would be the
result of being called a hero, I might've had second thoughts."
"You learn to live with it," Harry assured him.
***** The Sword of Gryffindor *****
Chapter Summary
     Neville is worried about the effects of the sword of Gryffindor, and
     asks Harry's advice.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Neville. For coffee_n_cocoa who wanted Harry/Neville and
     welcomed smut. There's kissing, but no real smut here. Prompt 77,
     "sword".
A month after the Battle of Hogwarts, Neville turned up one morning at the
Burrow while Harry was helping clear up from breakfast.
"Good morning, Mrs. Weasley. Can I talk to Harry for a few minutes?"
"Of course. We're finished here anyhow." Mrs. Weasley smiled at Neville. "Have
you had breakfast, dear?"
"Oh yes, thank you."
Harry wiped his hands on the dishtowel and said, "Shall we go to the living
room?"
Neville looked nervous. "Maybe outside instead?"
"Sure."
Harry led the way down to the bottom of the garden, where they would be
private. Well, private except for the gnomes, but Harry didn't imagine that
they counted for much. "What is it, Neville?"
"I wanted to ask you something about the sword of Gryffindor. You're the only
other person I know for whom the Sorting Hat produced it."
Harry nodded. "What about the sword?"
Neville chewed at his lip. "Did you feel anything... funny... when you held
it?"
"Funny like how?"
"Like..." Neville's face went pink. "Like excited. You know what I mean. I
hardly noticed it at the time; it seemed natural somehow and everything was
happening so quickly, but when I thought about it afterward I realized what had
happened. I wondered if it was some effect of the sword, or if there was
something wrong mentally with me for that to happen."
"There's nothing wrong with you." Harry took a deep breath and confessed, "That
happened to me, too. So maybe it is the sword, although I have no idea why it
should do that and for once I don't think I'll ask Hermione to research it for
me."
Neville gave a feeble chuckle. "No, I shouldn't think so. Er. There was one
other thing."
"Something else about the sword?"
"N-not exactly." If Neville's face was flushed before, now it was nearly
scarlet. "Whenever I think about holding the sword, the same thing happens
again... and I think about you, too."
Harry stared at him in surprise.
Neville said in an apologetic voice, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It
doesn't matter."
"Wait." Harry put a hand on Neville's arm to stop him from getting up to leave.
"You imagine me holding the sword too?"
"I imagine me holding it, then you holding it, then... us touching each other,"
finished Neville in a whisper. "Look, I know it's Ginny you fancy, so just
forget about it."
"No." Harry's head was whirling as his thoughts rearranged themselves into a
whole new pattern. "I did fancy her, you're right, but somehow things haven't
been the same since the battle. We're not going out anymore, and I don't think
we're likely to ever again. I thought you liked girls, though; you took Ginny
to the Yule Ball yourself."
"Didn't have much of a choice, did I?" said Neville with the faintest hint of
scorn. "It was all boy-girl couples. No chance I was going to have myself made
fun of more than usual by asking another bloke, any more than Alicia and Katie
were going to go together."
"Alicia and Katie?" Harry blinked. "What... oh. No, I can understand that."
The notion that Neville fancied him had been gradually sinking into Harry's
brain as they talked. It was strange, but not something that actually bothered
him, rather to his own astonishment. He said as much, and added, "I've never
really thought about being attracted to another boy before. Maybe I should
think about it. Can't be a proper Gryffindor without the courage to try
something new, right?"
Neville's incredulous smile lit up his face. "Really, Harry?"
In answer, Harry leaned over and kissed him, a kiss that began as a chaste
peck, but quickly evolved into something more passionate than he had ever
imagined, certainly more than he had ever experienced with Ginny.
When they finally broke off kissing, Neville chuckled. "I don't need the sword
of Gryffindor now. I have a 'sword' of my own, and I bet you do too."
"Yeah," Harry admitted, adjusting his trousers. "I don't think now is the time
to do anything about it, but I'd say we definitely need to make some
arrangements for the future."
"I'll figure out something and let you know," said Neville firmly. "Look for an
owl from me in a day or two."
Harry nodded as they both stood up. He rather liked the idea of Neville taking
charge of things. "I will. Do you want to come and say hello to Ron, or goodbye
to Mrs. Weasley?"
"No, that's all right. Just tell them I had to get back to Gran. She thinks
she's fine but she's not entirely recovered yet. Thanks, Harry."
Almost shyly, Neville gave Harry a quick buss on the cheek, and Disapparated.
Harry stood looking at the spot where Neville had been for a few moments more.
In less than half an hour, many of his ideas about himself had been turned
upside down, but he found that he wasn't troubled by that at all. Instead he
felt strangely light, and happier than he could remember being in a long time.
He smiled to himself and walked back to the Burrow.
***** Repayment *****
Chapter Summary
     Lucius owes Harry for saving Draco's life.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Lucius, adult. For felaine who wanted this pairing. Prompt 17,
     "not enough".
When Draco told his father how Harry Potter had rescued him from Fiendfyre in
the Room of Requirement, Lucius's heart twisted. His son had come so near to
dying, and yet been saved, saved by the boy whom Lucius had always considered
an enemy. Anything he could do for Potter, anything he could offer was not
enough to repay such a gift, and yet -- what else could Lucius do? He had to
show that a Malfoy would not remiss in honouring such a debt.
A few discreet inquiries here and there informed Lucius that Potter was staying
on his own in the old Black residence on Grimmauld Place. As the enchantments
that had once protected it were no longer in force, Lucius was able to ring its
doorbell one evening when he was reasonably certain Potter had no other
visitors.
Recalling Potter's odd penchant for house-elves, he spoke politely to the one
that answered, inquiring whether his master was home and would see Lucius on a
personal visit. He even offered the elf the wand he had recently acquired to
replace the one destroyed by the Dark Lord months ago. Such a gesture should
demonstrate to Potter that Lucius both meant him no harm and sincerely wished
to speak with him.
The house-elf returned and led Lucius to the library, where Potter sat in a
worn red velvet chair, Lucius's wand on the mahogany table beside him. He was
twirling his own wand idly between his fingers. Rather to Lucius's surprise, he
gestured to the chair opposite.
"Sit down."
Green eyes followed Lucius as he crossed the faded carpet and sat.
"Why have you come?"
Lucius cleared his throat, carefully keeping his eyes on Potter's face, not
permitting himself to glance at his wand.
"I came to thank you, Mr Potter."
"What for?" Potter sounded genuinely curious.
"For saving my son." Lucius swallowed hard, forcing himself to continue. "That
is a debt I can never repay, but I offer you anything that I have that you may
value, as a token of my gratitude."
"Anything?" Potter's eyebrows went up. "If I asked you for your estate and all
the wealth you possess, you would give me those, for instance?"
"Yes," said Lucius simply.
"I don't think I can put a monetary value on Draco's life," said Harry softly.
"I'm sure you don't."
Lucius shook his head, waiting for Potter to continue.
"But if I don't accept your offer in some fashion, you'll continue to feel
indebted to me, won't you? The fact that I don't consider it a debt is
irrelevant, I think." Potter cocked his head, and Lucius nodded.
"So... what can I demand of you? Perhaps a service, rather than something more
tangible. There are certain skills I would like to learn... and I believe you
could teach me. Would you consider that an acceptable payment?"
"I cannot teach you anything related to the Dark Arts, if that's what you're
thinking," said Lucius. "Not even to let you hone your abilities against them."
"I know. I read about it in the Daily Prophet; the Wizengamot made it a
condition for all former Death Eaters' release that they take an Unbreakable
Vow never again to practice any of the Dark Arts, or use any Unforgivable
curses. No, what I have in mind is quite different."
Was that a flush on Potter's face?
"I want to be tutored in the erotic arts between men. Can you teach those?"
Lucius felt his own cheeks grow warm, more from surprise than embarrassment. He
had no qualms at admitting that he preferred his own sex, but how had Potter
known?
"Yes," he said, wondering on whose behalf it was that Potter wished to learn.
"Yes, I have a certain amount of... experience... in those arts."
"Excellent." Potter's smile was wolfish. "You may begin tonight. Demonstrate
how to suck another man's prick."
Lucius left his seat and knelt before Potter. Unfastening his trousers and
taking that firm young flesh into his mouth, he thought that this payment on
his debt was but a token. He hoped that Potter would want instruction in many
more such skills in the days and weeks to come.
***** Loyalty Beyond Hope *****
Chapter Summary
     Rather against his wish, Severus will keep his word.
Chapter Notes
     For telperion1 who asked for Harry and Severus. Prompt 98, "yield".
He had yielded to emotion in begging Dumbledore to save Lily. Emotion failed
him: Lily died. Yet somehow the Headmaster convinced him her son was the only
hope against Voldemort.
Severus watched the boy during his Sorting, nursing a faint hope that young
Harry might become Slytherin. Again, his hope was denied.
He resembled his father too closely for Severus to care for him. He had James's
appearance, ability at Quidditch, contempt for rules. Only the occasional hints
of Lily -- in Harry's eyes, in his loyalty to unpopular friends -- kept Severus
from declaring to Dumbledore that he abjured their bargain.
***** Forgiveness *****
Chapter Summary
     It's what Lily would have wanted, Harry thinks.
Chapter Notes
     Harry, Dudley, Petunia. For accioslash who requested Harry and
     Petunia. Prompt 86, "pride".
The Christmas following the defeat of Voldemort, Harry was astonished to
receive a Christmas card from Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. Opening it, he saw
that Dudley had signed his name first. Perhaps it had been his cousin's idea to
send the card?
They were the only family he had. Harry supposed it wouldn't hurt anything to
send a card in return, so he did, inaugurating a regular annual exchange and
even a tentative détente. Harry received an invitation to Dudley's wedding, and
went. None of the Dursleys came to Harry's, but their absence was explained
when they sent an announcement of the birth of Dudley's daughter, who arrived
that same day.
Still, Harry was unprepared for the black-edged card that arrived a few years
later. Uncle Vernon had died: a heart attack while he was on the telephone at
work, probably shouting at someone over an order of drills. He couldn't
honestly say that he would miss Uncle Vernon, but he went to the funeral
anyway.
Despite his size, Dudley looked like a bewildered little boy as he hugged Harry
and thanked him for being there.
Aunt Petunia looked at him, sniffed, and asked, "Why did you come?"
Pride kept Harry from making a tart retort. Instead he said gently, "I came for
you and Dudley, Aunt Petunia, to see if there was anything I might do to help."
It was what he thought his mum would have wanted, even though Petunia had never
forgiven her sister for having the talent she so envied.
***** Dumbledore's Army Redux *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry and Neville think Hermione's idea is a good one.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Neville. For angela_snape who suggested this pairing. Prompt
     48, "reunion".
"Oh, Hermione." Harry chuckled and shook his head over the note he had received
in that morning's post.
"What is she up to now?" asked Neville, pouring himself another cup of tea and
passing Harry the marmalade.
"She wants to arrange a reunion of the D.A.," said Harry, passing Neville the
piece of parchment. "It's been seventy-five years now since the war, hard as
that is to believe."
"I think it would be rather nice if she organized one," said Neville, scanning
the notes. "We only seem to keep in touch with a handful of the D.A. members
anymore. It would be nice to see everyone again while we're all still in good
health."
Harry nodded. By Muggle standards, being ninety-something was quite old, but he
had grown used to the greater lifespan that magical ability conferred. "It
would be nice to catch up," he agreed. "When did she say she was thinking of
having it?"
"The weekend after the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts," said Neville.
"There are bound to be special celebrations on the anniversary itself, so that
makes sense."
"Yes. All right, I'll drop her a reply later today to say that we think it
sounds like a grand scheme and we both look forward to being there," he said.
Picking up Neville's hand and squeezing it, he added, "Of course, the member of
the D.A. that I most want to see, I get to see every day of my life."
Neville wrinkled his nose at Harry and grinned. "I would think you were trying
to flatter me if I didn't feel the same."
***** Reunion *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry finds saying no to Ron almost impossible.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Ron, adult. Prompt 30, "stop".
"Stop."
It was one of the hardest things Harry had done his life, saying that to Ron,
especially given that Ron had just that night rescued him from drowning and
destroyed the locket Horcrux to boot.
"Harry?" Ron held still, his arms spread in an uncompleted embrace.
Swallowing painfully, Harry said, "Nothing's changed, Ron. After what that
locket showed you tonight, I know that you love both of us, and I still can't
feel that it's right if you don't tell Hermione the truth about you and me. God
knows I've missed you more than you can probably believe, but I just can't go
along with this, however glad I am that you've come back."
Ron let his arms fall to his sides, his eyes intent on Harry's face. "Just
tonight, Harry, I swear it. Only let me love you tonight, to celebrate, and
then I won't push you. I still don't agree with you that it's necessary to tell
Hermione, but..." he bit his lip. "I'll think about that, I promise."
Harry closed his eyes. He could smell the damp leaf-mould scent that clung to
them both from the pond, and faintly below that, the smell of Ron's skin, warm
and familiar and arousing. He couldn't resist, not after so many lonely nights.
"All right. Just tonight, then," he said, looking at Ron again.
"Thank you, Harry." Ron sounded subdued.
Harry hoped that he really would think hard, and eventually decide to explain
to Hermione that the two of them had been lovers for two years. Harry was
willing to accept that Ron loved Hermione as well as Harry -- he had even had
thoughts that way once or twice himself, while Ron was gone -- but deep down he
was certain that a relationship between any of them could only work out if they
were all honest with each other.
He put those thoughts aside as Ron kissed him, pushing him back onto the bed.
It was like coming home to have Ron there again, loving him, Ron's lips on his
skin sending sparks down his spine, Ron's prick throbbing warm against his own
as they fumbled their clothes off. Harry could have wept when Ron entered him,
not from pain but with joy from being so connected once more.
Ron's absence had been like having part of himself missing; he wondered
fleetingly if there was any similarity to the ripping of the soul to make a
Horcrux. Then Ron began to move, murmuring Harry's name, and Harry's thoughts
returned to the moment and the ecstasy of their reunion. Whatever happened
next, he could rejoice in having this.
***** Laughing at Danger *****
Chapter Summary
     "Harry had fallen in love with Charlie for his sense of humour..."
Chapter Notes
     Charlie/Harry. For secretsolitaire who requested this pairing. Prompt
     2, "laughter".
Harry had fallen in love with Charlie for his sense of humour: playful, easy-
going, never malicious, always infectious.
The first time he visited Charlie in Romania he was astonished to discover that
virtually all of the other dragon handlers shared that quality. The refectory
where they took their meals rang to the rafters with laughter every night, and
Harry hadn't been there for two days before he was the recipient of good-
natured practical jokes just like everyone else.
He commented on it that night, after they had made love and lay sweaty and
content in each other's arms.
"I think you pretty much have to be easy-going to do well working with
dragons," said Charlie, scratching thoughtfully at the ginger stubble on his
chin. "For one thing, dragons can sense if you're nervous, and they don't like
it. For another, well, it is dangerous, and laughter is a pretty effective way
to cope with stress. I mean, there are other abilities that are necessary for
the job, but they're not enough.
"There was a bloke here several years back who came with the best
recommendation from his Care of Magical Creatures instructor I've ever seen. He
was from East Africa and had practically cut his teeth working to subdue nundus
that attacked local villages. His spell work was just amazing. But he was also
the most sullen, humourless bastard I ever met -- worse than Snape and Binns
put together -- and he didn't even last three months here."
Harry nodded thoughtfully. "That makes sense." He tightened his embrace.
"Charlie?"
"What?" Charlie kissed Harry's shoulder.
"Do you think I could get a job here at the reserve?"
"Probably, but don't think it's all fun and games. I wasn't kidding when I said
it was dangerous."
"I fought Voldemort," Harry reminded him. "I can probably handle the risk."
"True, and you did do brilliantly with that Horntail when you were just a
little titch yourself. Yeah, I think if you're serious, Leopold would take you
on."
"Great. I'll talk to him tomorrow," said Harry with a grin, thinking that then
he could stay with Charlie all the time. He had never expected the dragon
reserve to be such a congenial place.
***** Dilemma *****
Chapter Summary
     Neville has a problem and needs advice.
Chapter Notes
     Neville, Harry/Hermione/Ron. For Ancarett who wanted to see what
     Neville would do if he received knickers in the post. Prompt 34,
     "present".
Neville was so wild-eyed when he Apparated into the back garden at Grimmauld
Place that Harry thought for a moment he must have splinched himself.
"Harry. Thank goodness you're here."
"What is it, Neville? Is there something wrong?"
"It's horrible, Harry. I don't know what to do. Gran's threatening to throw me
out of her house."
"What?" That seemed highly unlikely to Harry. Old Mrs. Longbottom had strong
opinions, but Harry was sure that she loved her grandson more than nearly
anything else. "Why on earth would she do that?"
"It's that wretched article in the Prophet." Neville's fists were clenching and
unclenching as Harry watched.
"Come on into the kitchen. Kreacher will make you a cup of tea, and Hermione
and Ron are there too, if you don't mind them hearing about whatever this is,"
said Harry.
"All right."
When Neville's cup of tea was steaming in front of him, he took a deep breath
and explained.
"I don't know if any of you have had this happen, but ever since Rita Skeeter
published that piece talking about how I had killed Nagini, with a photograph
showing me holding the Sword of Gryffindor, I've been getting... presents." He
shifted uncomfortably.
"I think I understand already," muttered Ron, but Harry held up a hand to quiet
him.
"What exactly do you mean, 'presents'?"
Neville's face was flushed and miserable. "Things like, well, suggestive
photographs and so forth. Some of them are really indecent."
"Anything else?" Harry asked.
Neville turned even redder. "Yes. The black leather collar and paddle really
sent Gran over the edge."
Ron whistled. "A leather collar? Wicked."
"The most he's gotten is lace knickers," Harry explained.
"So you've had the same problem?" Neville sounded a little relieved by that
knowledge. "That's something. At least I can tell Gran that I didn't do
anything special to cause this, not if you're getting stuff too."
"All three of us have," said Hermione. "For some reason it's the boys who seem
to receive the most offensive things; the worst I've had were some naughty
photographs."
"It does start to get old, though," said Harry, "especially since none of us
particularly wants that kind of solicitation. Well, certainly we don't, and I
presume you don't either."
"No." Neville shook his head violently. "Even if it didn't upset Gran. Luna's
the girl for me."
"We need to come up with a strategy to help Neville, though, so his Gran
doesn't keep being bothered by this," said Hermione.
"Couldn't you just save opening any letters and packages you get until you're
alone?" asked Ron.
Neville shook his head dolefully. "I don't know. Gran always wants to hear what
the letters say, when they're not over familiar, that is. She likes knowing
that I'm a hero to so many people."
"So open them alone, but read her the ones that are safe afterward," suggested
Harry.
"And perhaps if you have us over for tea, and we talk about how we're all
getting such unwanted and questionable 'presents' too, she'll understand
better," said Hermione.
"That might work," Neville looked considerably calmer now. "At least, then she
wouldn't think I had somehow provoked all this."
"Of course not. Probably half of her upset is just that she isn't yet used to
thinking of you as grown up," said Harry.
"Yeah." Neville finished his tea. "Thanks, all of you, for the good advice.
Perhaps if you come to tea tomorrow? I like to give Gran a day's warning if we
have guests; she thinks it's rude otherwise. I'll manage tomorrow morning
somehow."
Harry spoke for all of them. "We'll be there. Good luck, Neville. See you
tomorrow."
***** A Rather Unusual Proposition *****
Chapter Summary
     After Hermione makes a suggestion, Ron comes to talk to Harry.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Ron. Prompt 44, "hope".
"So you're saying that Hermione knew all along?"
"Not all along, no." Ron took Harry's hand and stroked his fingers over Harry's
palm and wrist. "Not until after you and I had that huge row last winter and I
left. She said she heard you talking about me in your sleep, and guessed from
that."
"So it didn't bother her that you and I were together." Harry felt vindicated
by that, and a part of him was glad to see Ron flush.
"If it ever did, it doesn't now," said Ron. "You were right, I admit it. I
should have told her the truth to begin with. It would have saved a lot of
time. Plus..."
"What?" Harry prompted after a moment.
"Well, she had an idea that I hope you'll listen to, because she really means
it. She thought that perhaps the three of us together, er, well, that it might
work better for all of us to be together than for me to be sort of split
between the two of you, if that makes sense?"
Harry blinked, digesting what Ron had said. "I guess it makes sense... The
thing is, though, I really do mostly think of Hermione as being like a sister.
Once or twice maybe I've wondered what it might be like to kiss her or
something, is all, never anything very serious in that way." Harry bit his lip,
twining his fingers with Ron's.
"Do you think you could try? At least consider it?" Ron's eyes were hopeful.
"One thing for sure, you know she doesn't love you for being a hero. That must
count for something."
"It does," Harry assured him.
That was true; both Hermione and Ron had been through far too much with him for
Harry to think that they cared at all about his public reputation. They had
risked nearly as much as he, after all, and likewise been labelled as heroes.
"Give me a little while to think about it. This is a rather unusual
proposition, you know. And why didn't Hermione come with you today to suggest
this, anyhow?" Harry asked.
"She thought that it might be easier for you if she weren't here. If you were
totally against the idea, you could say so to me and not have to worry that you
might hurt her feelings."
"I see." Harry pulled gently on Ron's hand, tugging him forward. "Look. You
don't have to go back to her right away, do you?"
"No." Ron kissed Harry deeply.
"Good." Harry slid his hands up under Ron's shirt. "Because until just know I
didn't know if I would ever get the chance to do this again, and whatever
decisions we may make, I want you all to myself one last time for sure."
"I'm not going to say no to that." Ron bit Harry's ear. "You know I'll give you
anything you want... because I love you."
***** Apprentice *****
Chapter Summary
     Lucius teaches Harry a new skill.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Lucius, adult; rimming. A sequel to "Repayment". Prompt 100,
     "shameless".
Before the past month, Harry would never have imagined that the proud Lucius
Malfoy would be quite so shameless when it came to sex. Harry understood the
sense of honour that had caused Lucius to agree to teach Harry anything he
wanted to know about sex between men, in repayment for Harry having saved
Draco's life, but the enthusiasm with which Lucius carried out their bargain
was all but unbelievable.
Now and then Harry wondered whether Lucius had guessed just why Harry was so
anxious to learn everything he could. Lucius resembled his son so closely that
at times it was all Harry could do to keep from crying out Draco's name in
moments of passion. Not that Harry even knew whether Draco returned his desires
-- he was still working up the courage to ask Draco out -- though he had
several reasons to suspect that might be the case. As long as Draco never found
out about Harry's involvement with his father...
Tonight Lucius had suggested that it was time for Harry to learn about rimming.
It hadn't taken long to master the cleaning charm that Lucius recommended, and
now Harry knelt, waiting for Lucius to demonstrate. After that he would
practice on Lucius.
"Lovely," Lucius murmured from behind Harry, his fingertips stroking Harry's
arsecheeks, gently parting them. Harry felt the warmth of Lucius's breath on
his skin, and then the even warmer wetness of Lucius's tongue tracing along his
crack.
With conscious effort he relaxed. Lucius had sworn that the charm would take
care of any unpleasant taste or odour, and said that Harry must simply
concentrate on the sensation.
It did feel amazingly good as Lucius's tongue teased at his puckered opening,
slowly working its way inside. Harry pushed back against him a bit, wanting
more, and Lucius responded by wriggling his tongue and suckling the ring of
muscle. His fingers stroked Harry's perineum and the backs of his bollocks.
Harry groaned.
"Oh, yeah, I don't see how anyone could dislike this."
He turned his head sideways so that he could see the two of them in the mirror,
Lucius's face pressed against Harry's arse, his hair falling in a pale curtain
against Harry's thighs. The sight aroused him even more: the realization that
this man, who had once upon a time made his contempt for and hatred of Harry
clear, now had his tongue deep in Harry's arsehole, and gave every evidence of
enjoying it, if his erection was any indication.
Harry's own cock was only half hard at the moment. Lucius's lessons had allowed
Harry to discover that although he enjoyed very much having both fingers and
cock inside him, he didn't generally stay hard during such arseplay, though he
could reach the brink of orgasm quite quickly afterward.
Lucius had changed what he was doing, and was now flickering his tongue just
around the rim of Harry's arsehole, no longer delving inside. That felt good as
well, but Harry decided that he preferred it when Lucius's tongue penetrated
more deeply. He paid close attention, however, to all the different types of
movements that Lucius was demonstrating, trying to figure out exactly what
Lucius was doing with his lips and tongue to make Harry experience the
sensations he did. Even with the mirror, he couldn't really see any specifics,
so he had to guess.
Eventually Lucius pulled away. "I'm afraid that's all I can manage for now," he
said, his voice matter-of-fact enough to be not quite apologizing. "My jaw has
grown tired. I doubt I could do a good job if I continue."
Harry nodded, accepting the explanation. "My turn, then, and be sure that you
talk to me through it of that I don't miss any techniques."
One good thing about Lucius was that, unlike Harry, he could maintain an
erection and even come with Harry's fingers or cock in his arse. Harry assumed
it would be the same with rimming. That meant that Harry could be sure that
Lucius was teaching him with integrity, not deceiving him for some purpose of
his own.
The cleaning spell had worked. Harry could taste nothing offensive, just the
same faint muskiness that he always smelled on Lucius. He ran his tongue in
circles around the tiny hole, noting the difference in texture from the rest of
Lucius's skin. Under his enthusiastic licking and suckling, Lucius's sphincter
relaxed until Harry was able to curl his tongue and use it like a miniature
prick, fucking Lucius open. He planned to put his actual prick there soon; if
he made Lucius wet and open enough, perhaps he would see what it was like
without lube.
"Try wriggling your tongue now," said Lucius, and inhaled sharply when Harry
obliged. "Oh yes, like that. Remember, not all men enjoy exactly the same
things, but I've never done it to someone who hasn't liked it."
Harry could not reply, his mouth being rather busy at the moment, but he filed
that and Lucius's subsequent comments and suggestions away. He began to
understand why Lucius had complained about his jaw becoming tired, too, and
when the ache became too much, he pulled back, wiping his mouth.
"Stay there," he told Lucius.
He gave his cock a few quick tugs to bring it back to full hardness, checked to
see that Lucius was also still aroused, and put the head against Lucius's
loosened opening.
It felt rather different with no lube, tighter, more like jerking himself off
with just spit in his palm. He decided he preferred a bit more slickness, and
murmured the lubrication charm even as he kept thrusting. Lucius sighed in
evident pleasure.
"Thank you."
Harry shrugged. "I like this better."
He was so excited from all they had done that it was very little time before he
came deep in the heat of Lucius's body, reaching around to stroke Lucius's cock
and ensure that he came, too. Not that Harry thought Lucius would renege on
their agreement if he didn't reach orgasm each time, but it seemed only fair.
Besides, if he ensured that Lucius enjoyed the experience, he would have more
potential leverage over him in the future. Whatever else, he didn't want Lucius
telling Draco about this.
***** Fanning a Spark *****
Chapter Summary
     Hermione wants to find out if Harry feels any attraction toward her.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Hermione. Prompt 29, "weakness".
"What about Ginny?" Hermione asked after a while.
"What about her?" Harry squirmed a little. The thought of Ginny still prickled,
even though he was sure breaking up had been the right thing for them both.
"You seemed to be serious about her, but all that time you were with Ron too,
right?" There was no judgment in Hermione's voice, but Harry felt uncomfortable
nevertheless.
"She wanted it so much," said Harry, as if that were any explanation, "and Ron
and Lavender..." He trailed off, not wanting to discuss Lavender with Hermione.
That was Ron's problem to deal with, if it was even still a problem.
"I wasn't trying to retaliate at Ron for going out with Lavender or anything
like that; I guess it was just my weakness to be susceptible to someone who
admired me so much. And Ginny's a lot like Ron in many ways. Well, she would
be, wouldn't she? But that made it all so much easier, more comfortable, if
that makes sense."
"It does," agreed Hermione, taking Harry's hand. "What I was trying to get at,
though, was how much she attracted you physically. I mean, I saw the two of you
snogging all over, but did things go further than that? Did you want them to go
further? Because if you and I and Ron are going to try to make something work
between the three of us, that means there has to be something more than just
friendship between you and me."
"Ginny and I didn't, er, go all the way." Harry licked his lips nervously. "But
there was more than kissing. It's not as though girls can't turn me on, if
that's what you want to know. Once or twice last winter I was even thinking of
you that way, I admit, although I tried not to because it seemed maybe it was
because there was no one else around, and that seemed not right somehow, like
it would muck up what we were trying to do."
Hermione nodded. "I felt the same way about you, Harry, and I couldn't figure
out if it was real or if it was because Ron was gone and there was no one
else."
"I assume that by now you and Ron have..." Harry couldn't quite finish the
sentence.
Flushing, Hermione nodded. "Just like you and Ron. Well, not just like I
suppose, but yes. So." Harry could see her throat move as she swallowed.
"That's why I wanted to spend today with you, to see whether we might have that
kind of attraction between us. Not that we have to, you know, but just see if
there's enough of a spark to go on with."
"I know." Harry took a deep breath. "It's more difficult when it feels planned
like this, but I suppose that can't be helped."
"Not really," Hermione agreed. She moved closer so that her leg pressed against
Harry's, and put her hand up to his cheek, turning his head toward her as she
tilted her face up to kiss him.
It was a friendly kiss, gentle and undemanding. Harry relaxed a bit, and when
that first kiss was over, he initiated another, this time letting his lips part
and their tongues touch. Hermione made a soft murmuring noise and her arm
tightened around Harry's shoulder.
This just might work, Harry decided. There was a spark there; if not the flame
of desire that he felt for Ron, still, there was something, and things hadn't
been immediate with Ron either. Yes, this did seem as though it just might turn
out better than he could ever have expected.
***** Together At Last *****
Chapter Summary
     Their first time together was unlike anything Harry had expected.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Hermione/Ron, adult. Prompt 96, "unity".
The first time that they made love, all three of them together, was totally
unlike anything that Harry had expected.
At Hermione's insistence they had discussed it thoroughly ahead of time, to
make sure that they all knew what the others liked at least in a general sort
of way, so that there would be no unfortunate surprises or disappointments.
Both Harry and Ron had protested, saying that talking would take all the
spontaneity and excitement out of it, but Hermione stood her ground.
It didn't turn out to be as difficult to talk about as Harry had feared, and
Ron had had the brilliant idea of acquiring a bottle of firewhisky to share to
smooth the edges off before they got down to business, so to speak.
Even with the liquor and the discussion, the physical reality was still
awkward. They tried several different positions before finding one that they
were all willing to go along with. Even then it didn't feel quite right for any
of them, having a third person there when they were just used to having two of
them, whichever two it might be.
Nevertheless, despite the fumbling and nervous giggles and general strangeness
of it all, when Harry looked over Ron's shoulder to meet Hermione's eyes, felt
how her movements transmitted through Ron's body to enhance Harry's own
pleasure, he knew that this unity had transmuted the friendship they had shared
for so many years.
The only word Harry could use for what he felt was "love", and yet it was not
quite what he had always thought love must be like. It wasn't the stomach-
churning feeling he had had when he had kissed Cho, or the first time he and
Ron had sex. It was a sense almost of expansion, of completion, of wanting the
other two to feel the same delight as he, and knowing that they did.
The orgasm he experienced was almost incidental to the joy he felt that the
three of them were truly together at last.
***** Special Client *****
Chapter Summary
     "He comes to me every week, about half past five on Wednesday, give
     or take a few minutes."
Chapter Notes
     Draco/Harry, adult. Infidelity, rentboy!Draco. Prompt 99, "sordid".
He comes to me every week, about half past five on Wednesday, give or take a
few minutes. He always wants the same thing: first to be fucked hard in the
arse, with me muttering lewdly at him all the while; then to be sucked off
slowly, him standing against the wall, me kneeling in front of him.
Why he first picked me of the dozen man-whores on Carn Alley I don't know. He
knew who I was, of course, just as I had no doubt of his identity. Maybe he
figured that I wouldn't sell him out to the Prophet because I'd have to admit
my role, even more shameful than his. He didn't understand that I'd given up
any pride years ago. Nevertheless he was right in part, because I haven't ever
exposed his dirty little secret.
He's one of the few clients I actually enjoy fucking. Some of it is because he
is who he is, some because he's just a good fuck. His arse is tight and hot and
slick around my cock as I slam into him, and he bucks up against me, grunting
as I talk to him, call him filthy names, tell him how good it is to have the
Saviour of the Wizarding World writhing under me like a cat in heat.
I take my time in coming -- the fee I charge is based partly on the duration of
the encounter, and he likes it slow, so I'm happy to oblige him in that -- but
eventually my thick cream spills into his arse, and I pull out, smacking his
taut skin as I do so.
"Up against the wall," I order him, and he nods and scrambles to his feet to
lean against the wall, my spunk oozing down the back of his thigh, his prick
jutting out, the tip of it already weeping pre-come. I grab a pillow to put
under my knees as I position myself in front of him, one hand on his hip, the
other fondling his bollocks.
Tonight I tease him. I lick a single wet stripe from the base of his cock to
the head and blow on it, then repeat the process over and over until he is
whimpering, begging me to suck him. For all his apparent desperation I know he
loves this, loves that I fuck him hard and then make him wait for his own
orgasm.
I don't know, and don't really care, whether he can't ask for these things at
home, or whether his wife won't go along with these desires. It's enough that
he comes to me for them, needs me to get him through the week. If it ever came
down to it, I might even do it for free, for him.
At last I close my lips around his prick and begin to fellate him in earnest,
my tongue rubbing over the head, my fingers adding their massage to the base as
I suck him. He is wound so tight that he actually has to relax a little in
order to come, his bitter jets pulsing into my throat. I swallow it all and
lick him clean as he slumps bonelessly to the ground, his legs splayed out.
I stand up and glance at the clock. "Ten Galleons," I say, and he nods.
"You know where it is."
I take the money from the pocket of his robe: ten Galleons exactly. I never
steal from clients; that way leads ruin, whereas honesty brings repeat custom.
He is only my third client today, so I put my working clothes back on and
prepare to go out to Carn Alley again. He is dressed by the time I am ready and
we leave my flat together.
"Next week, usual time?" he says as we reach the street.
"I'll be here," I say. He Disapparates and I position myself to wait for the
next likely client.
***** Invention *****
Chapter Summary
     George has asked Harry to come see him in the shop.
Chapter Notes
     Prompt 32, "one".
The bell on the door jingled as Harry went into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. He
was surprised at how few customers were there, but then, early afternoon on a
weekday in March probably was not prime time for selling gag gifts.
"Is George here?" he asked the young witch behind the counter. "He asked me to
meet him at one o'clock."
She nodded and said breathlessly, pointing, "Through that door and upstairs, in
the workshop."
Harry climbed the creaking stairs with caution. He could hear a crackling sound
and a few purple sparks raced past him. As he reached the large open room that
served as George's laboratory and test space, George looked up and grinned.
"Glad you could make it, Harry."
Even after so many years it was still strange to see just one twin, not two.
Harry wondered if he would ever get used to it, though he knew it must feel
infinitely stranger and more distressing for George to be without Fred.
"So, what's this new product you wanted to talk to me about? You said it's
practical, not for jokes?" Harry asked, leaning on the workbench and watching
curiously as George made minute adjustments to the shapeless bundle of tweed
fabric that sat there. Over in another corner a cauldron bubbled quietly to
itself, occasionally emitting coloured sparks.
"Watch." George whistled, and his pet Crup leaped from its bed near the
fireplace and raced up to him, its two tails wagging. "Good boy, Dodger."
George fitted what Harry could now see was a tweed dog coat onto the animal.
"All right, Harry, hex him. Anything you like."
"I don't want to hurt Dodger," Harry protested, scratching the Crup under its
chin and eliciting a pleased wriggle and a swipe of a pink tongue.
"You won't. That's the point. The coat is spelled so that any magic will bounce
right off. Good, bad, or indifferent magic, Dodger won't be affected. Go on,
try something."
"If you're quite sure," said Harry doubtfully. He pulled out his wand and cast
the Jelly Legs Jinx, which wouldn't do much harm, only disconcert the Crup a
bit. Dodger remained unaffected, standing on his hind legs and nosing at
George's pocket, which probably held some of his most recently developed joke
sweets. A Crup would eat almost anything.
"The fabric is waterproof, too," George added. "I thought it would make
excellent capes for the Aurors. I'm even prepared to cut a special deal with
the Ministry, and agree not to make the material available to the general
public, only to Magical Law Enforcement and their equivalents in other
countries. Then you wouldn't have to worry about having it used against you."
Harry's eyebrows went up. "And what would induce you to make this generous
offer?"
George looked slightly embarrassed. "I think perhaps you'll want to bring the
Minister in for the price negotiations. I asked you here first so that you
could decide whether you, as head Auror, would be interested or not. No point
in talking with Kingsley if you didn't want the stuff."
"We'll want it," said Harry positively. "One thing, though. Can the person
wearing it still do magic himself?"
"Yes. It's a one-way block," George said. "Protects the wearer from any magic,
but doesn't prevent him from using his own spells or charms or whatever."
"That's all right then," said Harry. "Defence is all very well, but an Auror
needs to be able to attack, too."
"Absolutely." George nodded.
"How did you come up with this, anyhow?" Harry asked.
George touched the spot on his head where the dark hole still gaped. "This. If
I'd been wearing something like this material, I wouldn't have lost my ear.
Fred was the one who first came up with the notion, back when we were
developing the Shield Hats, but we never had time to work on it together. This
is much more effective. It protects even against the Unforgivables, and all of
your body is protected, not just the part the fabric covers, as long as it does
cover at least three-quarters of you. It wasn't an easy thing to develop; there
is a combination of three potions and five spells on this material." He stroked
the tweed covering Dodger's back fondly, and began to unbutton the coat to free
the Crup.
"Well, it's a brilliant idea," said Harry sincerely. "Thanks, George."
"Any time." George clapped him on the shoulder. "See you at Mum's for Sunday
dinner?"
"Of course," Harry promised, and watched for a moment as George turned back to
his work.
***** First Night *****
Chapter Summary
     Neither of them has done this before.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Percy, adult. Frottage. Prompt 19, "new".
"This is all new to me," confessed Harry, shaking back his fringe to look deep
into Percy's blue eyes.
"Me, too," said Percy, and hissed, arching his back as Harry's thumb stroked
across his chest. "Even though I went out with Penny for a long time, we never
did all that much."
Harry just nodded. He wasn't sure if Percy even knew that Harry had gone out
with Ginny. If not, he didn't feel like this was the time to bring it up; not
that there was anything wrong with doing so, but it seemed somehow awkward. He
stroked Percy's chest again, delighting in the way that Percy's breath hitched
each time he touched a sensitive nipple.
"Merlin -- Harry --"
Harry leaned forward to capture Percy's lips with his own, glad that they had
both already removed their glasses so there was no concern about bumping or
breaking them. This quality of kissing, too, was new. Not that Ginny's kisses
had not been ardent in their way, but Percy's mouth was somehow stronger, more
passionate, even as Percy yielded to him.
His cock throbbed and he twisted his hips to press against Percy's thigh.
Percy's hands clutched Harry's arse, pulling him closer, and they rocked
together, still desperately kissing, pricks sliding on sweat-damp skin. Percy
came first, hot wetness spurting onto Harry's stomach, and Harry groaned and
rubbed himself faster until the friction of Percy's skin pushed him over into
orgasm too.
They rested, panting, each still touching and exploring the other's body, more
with wonder than urgency now. Harry closed his eyes and buried his face against
Percy's neck, inhaling the scent of Percy's skin, happier than he had been in a
very long time.
***** The Wager *****
Chapter Summary
     At the Quidditch World Cup, only Harry and Viktor know there's more
     at stake.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Viktor; kink references. For leela_cat who asked for Viktor.
     Prompt 81, "shiver".
A shiver went through Harry as he met Viktor's gaze across the clear air. It
was Viktor's second time to represent Bulgaria in the World Cup, and Harry's
first for England. The entire wizarding world saw this match as a contest more
between the two Seekers than the two teams, but only Harry and Viktor knew that
there was something even greater at stake.
Viktor had suggested it. Their intermittent affair had necessarily been secret,
lest anyone make accusations of collusion and conduct unbecoming to
professional Quidditch players. They had encountered each other at a club in
Berlin that catered to very specialized tastes, and at the last meeting they
had dared to have, back in April, Viktor had proposed that they lay a private
wager: whoever caught the Snitch in the World Cup match would have total power
over the other for a month. After the game they would go on overlapping long
holidays, and rendezvous in secret to carry out the terms of their bet. Harry
had agreed to the proposal without hesitation.
Now he sat on his broomstick, waiting for the referee to release the Snitch,
and let the doubled need to win fill him with purpose.
***** Some Like Them Wet *****
Chapter Summary
     Myrtle hadn't expected to see Harry Potter here, but she has no
     objections.
Chapter Notes
     Adult; voyeurism, wanking, chan (Harry is 14). For curtana who wanted
     Myrtle. Prompt 4, "wet".
Myrtle leaned forward eagerly as Harry entered the prefects' bathroom. She
remembered him well from two years before when he and his friends had used her
toilet to mix their Polyjuice Potion, but she hadn't expected to get a chance
to see him here unless he became a prefect, and he was still a year too young
for that.
The Golden Egg gave it away; Cedric Diggory must have told Harry the password
to get in here. Myrtle wriggled with pleasure. Cedric was one of her favourites
to watch; he nearly always gave her a good show, although of course he didn't
know that she was there to see him. She wondered if Harry would take advantage
of the privacy too.
At first she thought she might be disappointed. He put so much foam in the tub
that she could see hardly anything except for his wet chest, which was
attractive enough and all, but she hoped for more. Perhaps she should get into
the tub herself. It was large enough that if she stayed at the far end, he
wouldn't feel the chill of her presence. Myrtle didn't especially like watching
the prefects from underwater, as the ripples distorted everything, but she
might never have another chance to see Harry and she didn't want to miss it.
Sure enough, he was playing with himself, as she had thought he might be from
the arm motions she had seen through the bubbles. Young though he was, he
really had a lovely prick. Myrtle was a bit of a connoisseur, having had the
opportunity to see and compare so many over the years, and Harry's was of a
good size and nicely proportioned. She watched, enthralled, as it turned a
deeper red under Harry's stroking fingers, and soon pulsed out its pearly load
into the water, the viscous blobs dissolving as they drifted down toward
Myrtle's end of the tub.
There would be nothing else to see, now. Myrtle slipped back out through the
pipes to find out if Harry would now guess what he needed to do with the Golden
Egg. If he didn't, she thought, she would give him a hint. He deserved a reward
for entertaining her so well.
***** Saturday Afternoon Tea *****
Chapter Summary
     Percy wants this to be an extra-special tea for Harry.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Percy; schmoop. For swtalmnd who wanted Percy with this prompt.
Percy always made a ritual out of Saturday afternoon tea. This week he had
prepared two kinds of sandwiches: cucumber, with its crisp salted pale green
rounds on triangles of white bread; and tangy watercress on buttered fingers of
wholemeal bread. There were crisp wedges of buttery shortbread, and tiny round
spice cakes plump with sultanas and cinnamon under their domed sugar-iced tops.
He rinsed out a teapot with boiling water, measured in the tea carefully, and
filled the pot with hot water to steep. He repeated the process with a second
teapot and a different tin of tea. While Percy preferred Earl Grey, Harry
didn't care for it. He glanced over the tray, nodded to himself, and deftly
carried it out to the other room where Harry waited.
"Everything looks marvellous, Percy," said Harry, looking first at the tray and
then at Percy, and smiling. "You needn't have gone to so much trouble."
"You know I like to have a proper tea," said Percy, "and I wanted this one to
be special."
"Oh? Why?" Harry raised his eyebrows.
"After tea I'll explain," said Percy, flushing slightly.
When only crumbs remained on the plates and dregs in the pots, Harry tipped his
tea cup over to let the last drops drain, looked at the leaves in the bottom,
and grinned at Percy. "Too bad I don't remember anything much from that part of
Divination class, or perhaps I could find out why you wanted this tea to be
special."
Percy's heart was beating so loudly that he thought Harry must be able to hear
it too. He reached into the pocket of his robes and closed his hand around a
tiny box, withdrawing it slowly. The words he had practiced sounded limp and
foolish in his ears as he spoke them.
"Would you like to have tea with me like this every week for the rest of our
lives?"
He held out the box to Harry, who took it and opened it to see, nestled inside,
the plain platinum band Percy had chosen.
Harry cleared his throat, but his voice still cracked as he said, "I can't
think of anyone I'd rather have tea with, forever."
Percy held Harry tight and kissed him. Now he could feel Harry's heart pounding
just as hard as his own.
***** Instruction *****
Chapter Summary
     Lucius enjoys teaching Harry... perhaps a little too much.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Lucius, adult; various kink references. For felaine who
     requested Lucius. Prompt 36, "mine".
Harry is the most willing pupil I have ever had, eager to drink in every drop
of sexual knowledge I share with him -- quite literally, at times. More eager
than Dexter Avery, or Evan Rosier, or even Severus Snape, and I never thought I
would find anyone with the same bright thirst for knowledge as Severus. Of
course, his interests were perhaps more wide-ranging... but no matter.
I am instructing Harry as slowly as I dare, reminding him again and again that
it is not enough to be shown a technique, or even try it once or twice.
Practice is what truly develops one's skills. He has long since grasped this
when it comes to magic, but for some reason thinks that sex should be easier.
It is not, not even when more tender emotions are involved.
No such emotion exists between us... not yet. To my dismay, I am finding that
each time I make Harry mine in body, I desire more and more that he might be
mine in heart as well. It is an absurd desire, and well do I know that. Harry
is the same age as my own son Draco, after all, and whatever his reasons for
choosing to ask me to be his teacher in these matters, I very much doubt that
it was with the intention of giving himself to me in more than body, and that
only of necessity.
Still, from time to time I think I see something in his eyes when he looks at
me, something that is more than a respect for my teaching, more than a
challenge to instruct him in increasingly diverse means of sexual
gratification. When he impales himself on me, riding me to his own pleasure;
when I initiate him to the pleasure/pain of hot wax fallen drop by drop on
sensitive skin; when he learns how to bind me and the bliss true submission can
bring -- with every new piece of knowledge transmitted there is a moment when
the hunger in his eyes seems to be a hunger for me, for Lucius Malfoy, not
merely for the body that shares pleasure with him or the mind that teaches him.
It is a foolish hope, no doubt. Yet I cling to it, foolishly, and dole out my
instruction bit by bit in the hope that the more time we spend together, the
more likely it is he will develop a true attachment.
My own feelings for him are complex. I remain grateful that he saved Draco, the
reason for our bargain in the first place. I resent that his triumph shamed me
and mine. I envy his youth and success. Above all I desire him physically, more
than I would care to admit to anyone, even to him. In a way I am grateful for
the difference in our ages. Were I my son's age, I doubt I could control my
reactions enough to teach Harry as I agreed.
I am no Seer to tell the future. Neither tea leaves nor crystal balls nor the
movement of the stars has ever told me what would come to pass, nor do I put
any faith in others' predictions on my behalf. I can only follow the course I
have chosen, and see what may transpire.
My immediate future, however, I know well. Harry and I have our next lesson in
half an hour. I have already selected the items I will teach him to use on this
occasion; he will learn the delights of paddle, cane, and whip. It is a lesson
I greatly anticipate, whether or not it ends by serving my larger purpose with
him.
***** Forsaken *****
Chapter Summary
     Even Harry's penchant for saving others has limits.
Chapter Notes
     Harry, Voldemort. For stasia, who asked for Voldemort's bit of soul.
     Prompt 10, "precious".
When Harry saw the huddled snivelling shape lying there under the bench, he had
a moment's impulse to cross over to it. The thing was an infant, naked and
blood-spattered, in worse condition than Harry had doubtless been when he was
left at the Dursleys'. Surely there was someone, somewhere, who thought it
precious, who would give anything to help it, to save it.
Yet some doubt held him back, some unconscious recognition that if he touched
the crying infant, soothed it, he would regret that choice. Instead he turned
away and walked off along the bleached-looking, strangely clean platform.
***** Strike a New Path *****
Chapter Summary
     Severus's decision to return to teaching does not make Harry happy.
Chapter Notes
     AU; canon-compliant only through Half-Blood Prince. Harry/Severus.
     For cruisedirector who wanted Snape. My muse decided to go way, way
     back and produce a new instalment in a very old unfinished fic, "He
     Plays at Hazard," and take it in a wholly unexpected direction, but I
     tried hard to make this piece stand alone. Prompt 85, "wash".
"I must go to Diagon Alley today," said Snape over toast the next morning. His
expression suggested anything but pleasure at the idea.
"Why? What do you need there? Perhaps I could get it for you," suggested Harry.
He poured himself a second cup of tea and added milk and three generous spoons
of sugar, ignoring Snape's grimace.
"I require new robes. Not something that you can do for me, Harry."
"Probably not, no. But what do you need new robes for? Those you have seem
plenty good enough for me," Harry said. "It isn't as though we go out to the
opera, or fancy restaurants, or anything."
"Hogwarts expects a certain level of respectability," said Snape. "My present
attire is becoming threadbare, and unlike certain former professors, I still
have sufficient gold in Gringotts to purchase replacements when necessary."
Harry scowled at the tacit criticism of Lupin, but let it pass. Far more
important was the fact that Severus had just implicitly stated that he was
going to accept Headmistress McGonagall's invitation to return to Hogwarts.
"I thought you didn't like teaching," he said bluntly.
Snape shrugged. "It is employment, in a relatively congenial environment. I
cannot hide here in the old Black house forever." He fiddled with the crust of
his toast and would not meet Harry's eyes.
"So you're leaving me?" Harry swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.
Not that he'd thought things would last forever between himself and Snape...
but it had only been a few weeks. Had he done something to make Snape's
feelings change? Had he pushed too hard? "What if I promise not to pester you
about wanting to sleep alone?"
"It has nothing to do with that," Snape dismissed the question. "I cannot live
on your charity, Harry. Sooner or later I will need to work again, and
Minerva's offer is a good one. I can teach Defence Against the Dark Arts."
"The first person to do so for more than a single year since before my parents
were in school." Harry swallowed again. "I... congratulations, I suppose,
Severus. I suppose you can't miss this opportunity."
"You could come back with me and finish out your seventh year." Now Snape
looked at him.
Harry raised his eyebrows. "Back to school, after everything that's happened?
Be there with you as my professor again, after what we've been to each other...
what I thought we've been, anyhow? I don't think I could stand that."
"You have endured greater trials," said Snape, his voice soft.
"Only because I had no choice." Harry swept his hand sideways in a gesture of
negation, and knocked over his teacup. Tea washed across the table, staining
the cloth. "Fuck. Kreacher!"
The house-elf appeared and quickly cleaned up the spill as Harry apologized,
then vanished with a pop. The accident had made Harry pause to consider,
however.
"I just think it would be incredibly hard to go back and be a student again
now, and having you around, but without being able to be together the way we
are now... it would be horrible."
"It will only be more difficult to go back later on, and you might well regret
not finishing. There are jobs you can get with only O.W.L. exams, but they're
not the sort of thing you would enjoy for very long. I seem to recall Minerva
mentioning once that you wanted to become an Auror, and believe me, that will
not be possible if you don't sit your N.E.W.T.s," said Snape.
Stubbornly Harry shook his head. "If they won't make an exception in my case,
I'll find something else to do with myself. I could look into professional
Quidditch, maybe."
"Harry... I understand that you're angry with me for making the decision to
return to Hogwarts to teach, but don't let that push you into refusing to do so
yourself." Snape sighed. "I knew you would feel this way."
"But it matters more that you do what you want."
Snape's patience visibly snapped. "Not just what I want, Harry. What would be
best for both of us. If you refuse to return to school, that is your decision.
You're of age and no one can compel you to go. In that case, though, it is also
best that you and I part now, before... well. No matter."
"Before what?" Harry demanded.
"I have said over and over again that I am too old for you," said Snape, "and I
daresay this proves it."
"You're saying I'm being childish?"
"Aren't you?"
Harry glared at him. "Do you want to be sitting in the Great Hall at Hogwarts,
seeing me, thinking of going to bed together and knowing that we can't, for a
whole year?"
"Ten months or so," Snape corrected, "and no, I don't especially want that, but
I can live with it if it means that you'll be able to pursue your dream of
being an Auror." His hand trembled, only slightly but Harry saw it, as he
reached for his teacup and raised it to his lips. "There are always compromises
in life... but throwing away a dream needlessly is not one I will permit you to
make, not if there is any way I can prevent it."
"Oh," said Harry in a small voice. "I didn't understand."
"It might not be quite as bad as you think, Harry. You'll be busy with all your
classes, as I will be with mine. I believe that both Miss Granger and Mister
Weasley are strongly considering returning. I would be surprised if Miss
Granger decided otherwise, and if you are there, I should think they both will
return as well. You won't be the only one beyond your year. I am certain
Minerva will find some way to accommodate you in the dormitory."
"It'll still be rotten to see you, but not see you," Harry muttered, but Snape
was beginning to persuade him.
"As to that... given that Minerva is already aware of our relationship, I might
be able to convince her that we should be permitted to spend a night together
each week, as long as we are extremely discreet. I could not, of course, be
your professor for Defence, but that would be true in any event. If I provide
her with my lesson plans, she can instruct you individually as much as
necessary, and you can practise with the other students in the class," said
Snape.
"Once a week?" Harry focussed on what was most important to him just now.
"I hope that often." Snape's mouth quirked. "You can tell your friends you have
detention, as long as you return to the Gryffindor tower before they wake the
next morning."
"Hermione will figure it out, but I'll convince her to keep quiet about it, her
and Ron both," said Harry absently. "Yeah. This might work out after all."
"Good," said Snape quietly. Under his breath, so that Harry guessed he was not
supposed to hear, he added, "I promised I'd look after you and yours, Lily.
See? I do keep my word."
***** All Unexpected *****
Chapter Summary
     If Harry had had to guess with whom this might happen, it wouldn't
     have been Neville. But it was.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Neville. For angela_snape. Prompt 68, "come what may".
Neither of them had meant for it to happen, Harry was sure of that. He'd never
considered that he might find another man attractive, not in any serious way,
and if anyone had asked him to speculate about the possibility, it wouldn't
have been Neville who would have come to his mind.
And yet it had happened. They had had their usual weekly pub night, and gone
back to Harry's flat where they talked and played a few desultory hands of
Exploding Snap, and then somehow they had both realized their mutual
attraction, and things had progressed naturally from there.
Naturally. That was the key. Harry hadn't felt shy or awkward or embarrassed
with Neville, even though neither of them really knew what he was doing.
Neville had seemed to feel the same; Harry had never seen him so relaxed and
confident in himself.
Resolutely, Harry found a quill and a piece of parchment and sat down to write
to Ginny. It might be cowardly to do it that way instead of speaking directly,
but Harry dreaded the confrontation they might have if Ginny's temper got the
better of her, and come what might, he could not give Neville up.
***** On Impulse *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry has invited George to spend a holiday in Cornwall with him...
     without quite knowing why.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/George. For secretsolitaire, who wanted George. Prompt 97,
     "shelter".
Harry couldn't identify the impulse that had led him to ask George if he'd like
to go on holiday together to Cornwall. Perhaps it was simply the sense that
someone who had always been as fun-loving as George would enjoy doing all the
traditional, even childish, Muggle holiday activities; as had indeed been the
case.
They had gone to Land's End and Penzance and Truro, visited a fun fair and
eaten spun sugar and ice creams and gone on rides that spun them about until
they were both nearly sick, and generally had a roaring good time doing all the
sorts of things that neither of them had really had a chance to do as children.
After nearly a week of that, today they had decided to take a break from being
tourists and spend the day flying. The weather had been beautiful when they
began in the morning, and still fine when they had stopped to devour sandwiches
at midday, but now a sudden squall had sprung up, drenching them.
George flew close in to Harry and gestured toward a large copse of trees ahead
and to the left on the hillside. He shouted, but Harry could only dimly make
out,"... shelter there...," over the rain pounding his skull.
He swooped down behind George to the edge of the evergreens. They were thickly
planted, and it was still more or less dry under their spreading branches.
Harry couldn't keep his eyes off the way George's wet shirt clung to him,
outlining every muscle on his chest. When he saw that George had noticed his
stare, he flushed and looked away.
"Harry?" George sounded almost as nervous as Harry felt.
That gave him courage enough to meet George's eyes, and take a step that put
them into each other's arms.
***** Cheat *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry doesn't know why Cedric wants to talk to him, in private.
Chapter Notes
     Cedric/Harry preslash. For elfflame, who wanted Cedric. Prompt 33,
     "false".
"Harry, wait up, do you have a minute?"
"Er... not really. I have to be at Herbology in about four minutes," said
Harry.
"Oh, right. Could you meet me after dinner tonight then, in the Charms
classroom? By yourself," Cedric asked.
"I suppose so. Look, I'm going to be late. I'll see you then."
Harry hurried out to the greenhouses, puzzled as to why Cedric wanted to meet
with him in private.
After dinner he waited as promised in Professor Flitwick's classroom. The
moments ticked past and he was just beginning to wonder if Cedric had played
him false, or if he had somehow misunderstood, when Cedric finally arrived.
"Sorry, Harry. Professor Sprout wanted to talk to me and I couldn't get away. I
hope you haven't been waiting too long."
"That's okay." Harry shrugged. "Why did you want to talk to me?"
"I wanted to thank you again for warning me that the first task was dragons,"
said Cedric. "If I hadn't known ahead of time... well, let's just say that I'm
not sure I would have made it through alive, all right? I was really impressed
with how you handled yours, by the way."
"Thanks," said Harry. He was still confused as to why Cedric had felt the need
to be so secretive about this. Perhaps it was because knowing about the dragons
ahead of time had technically been cheating; even though all of the competitors
knew about it, the rest of the school hadn't, and still didn't. "Um. Have you
started trying to figure out the egg clue yet?"
Cedric shook his head. "I thought I'd take a little break, maybe begin trying
over the holidays or at the beginning of next term. You?"
"Same here. My egg made a horrible noise when I opened it, so I thought maybe
when fewer people were around would be good plan."
"Yeah." Cedric stepped a little nearer. "Although with the Yule Ball this year
I don't know that there will be a lot fewer people around over the holiday."
"That's true." Harry made a face. "The Yule Ball. I still have to find someone
to go with."
"Me, too." Cedric was very close to Harry now. "Harry..."
Harry had to tilt his head back to meet Cedric's eyes. "What?"
"I wish I could go with you," said Cedric softly, and kissed him.
Harry was too surprised to do anything for a moment, but then he found himself
kissing Cedric back.
Cedric's arms around him were warm and strong and somehow reassuring, telling
Harry that it was not wrong to be kissing Cedric here in the deserted Charms
classroom. When the kiss ended, Harry gave Cedric a somewhat shaky smile.
"I wish I could go with you to the Ball, too."
Cedric smiled back. "Let's just see what happens at the Ball, then, whoever we
each officially take as a date."
"One thing," said Harry. He felt awkward bringing it up, but it mattered a lot
that Cedric not think him a liar. "I really didn't put my name in the Goblet.
Do you believe me?"
"Yeah, I do. I know what happened to the Weasley twins, those beards sprouting.
I don't see how you could have done it... and you'd have had to be crazy to
want to, anyhow. I have three years of school on you and I don't think I know
enough to make it through all the tasks, not if the next two are anything like
the first. So yes, I believe you."
"All right then," said Harry, and shyly kissed Cedric once more. "I'd better go
now or my friends will wonder where I am. I'll see you."
"I'll see you too, Harry. Very soon."
***** Make It Better *****
Chapter Summary
     When Neville comes home in a fury, Harry tries to make it better.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Neville, adult. For coffee_n_cocoa, who wanted Neville. Prompt
     82, "fury".
In all the years Harry had known Neville, he had never seen him in such a fury.
Neville's eyes were flashing with so much rage that Harry would not have been
surprised if actual sparks had shot from them and set the kitchen cupboards on
fire. Clearly more was called for then their usual quiet evening Butterbeer.
"Come here," Harry said, and put a large glass of firewhisky into Neville's
hand before leading him into the living room and settling them both down on the
sofa. "What on earth has happened?"
Neville took a gulp of firewhisky and coughed. "That -- that -- that cow, Rita
Skeeter. You know she's published a book to mark the tenth anniversary of the
Battle of Hogwarts and the fall of Voldemort? And in it are lots of short
chapters, little biographies of everyone who did something especially
important."
"What, you didn't get a chapter to yourself?" Harry tried to joke.
"Oh, I got one," said Neville grimly, taking another gulp. "She starts mine off
by implying that my parents were too weak to withstand the Cruciatus curse,
next dredges up all the difficulties I had at school but doesn't mention my
Outstanding N.E.W.T. in Herbology, and finishes by suggesting that I only
killed Nagini through sheer dumb luck. I suppose the only thing she didn't say
was that I'm a home wrecker for taking you away from Ginny... unless she put
that in your chapter or Ginny's. I don't know."
"She couldn't call you a home wrecker; Ginny and I were never married," Harry
pointed out seriously. "I'm sorry, Neville. Rita is a horrible person and
almost as bad of a writer."
He thought about it for a moment. "Didn't Padma Patil go into journalism? I
seem to remember seeing her by-line occasionally in the Prophet. Maybe we could
get her to do an interview with you for Witch Weekly or something, and set the
record straight."
"That's an idea," Neville agreed, although he still sounded extremely grumpy
about the whole thing. He leaned back against Harry's chest. "It helps just to
tell you how angry I am, though; you always make me feel better."
Harry kissed Neville's cheek and took the nearly empty glass from his
unresisting fingers. "I know something that will make you feel better still."
He unfastened Neville's trousers and extracted his cock.
"Mmm, that's lovely," Neville murmured as Harry began to stroke and fondle him.
"Maybe a little lube, though?"
"Accio lube." The bottle zipped in from their bedroom and Harry poured a dollop
onto his palm.
"Perfect." Neville settled himself more comfortably between Harry's legs. His
cock was almost at full stand now. Over Neville's shoulder, Harry could see the
scarlet head appearing and disappearing between his fingers as he moved them up
and down. His own prick was pulsing but he ignored it to focus on Neville. He
increased the tempo of his strokes and nipped at Neville's ear. Neville's hips
tilted, pressing his arse harder against Harry's groin.
"Yeah, Harry, yeah, fuck that's good..." Neville's words trailed off into the
heavy sharp pants that signalled he was close to orgasm.
Harry redoubled his efforts and pulled Neville more tightly to him with his
free arm. They rocked together, the sofa springs squeaking, until with a
muffled groan Neville came into Harry's hand. Harry was on the brink himself;
he worked his other hand between them, sliding it down into the waistband of
his trousers to grapple with his cock. It took only a moment before Harry was
as relaxed with pleasure as Neville.
"That was fantastic," murmured Neville. He twisted around to give Harry a long
kiss. "Different from usual; I loved it."
Harry kissed him back again. "And do you feel better now?"
"Much better," agreed Neville. "If this is what I get for it, Rita can write
trash about me every week."
"Not really," said Harry.
"No, not really," said Neville. "It is a bit tempting, though."
***** Facing the Inevitable *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry realises he is a lamb for the slaughter.
Chapter Notes
     Prompt 12, "courage".
The knowledge that in the end he would have to kill Voldemort or Voldemort
would kill him had been bad enough, but when he grasped that the only way to
destroy Voldemort was through his own death, Harry felt sick and cold all over.
He had been led like a lamb to the slaughter; worse, because he could
comprehend his own fate. Death was inevitable. He could run and die a coward,
or face his enemy and hope to save at least some of those he loved. Harry took
a deep breath and went out to do what he must.
***** Together *****
Chapter Summary
     Hermione wonders if Ron saw something she didn't.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Hermione. Prompt 78, "spin".
Even as Harry held me in his arms and we went spinning around the tent, Ron's
words echoed in my head.
I saw the two of you together yesterday.
Together. Well, yes, we had been together, the same way as always -- walking
and talking, as friends.
I tried to think that it was the Horcrux that had made Ron misunderstand, made
him angry. The same reactions happened to Harry and to me... maybe a little
less to me than either of them. I wasn't sure why unless it was that because
Voldemort was male, his Horcrux affected the boys more than it did me, a girl.
The locket only twisted things, though, it didn't seem to invent them
altogether, which suggested that maybe Ron did see something between Harry and
me that was more than the friendship we'd shared for years.
Harry's hands were warm on mine as we danced together, and when he smiled at me
I smiled back.
I loved him. There was no question of that. I was risking my own life to be
here helping him, and I'd even been willing to give up my family for what we
were doing together now. It wasn't for Harry himself, though. It was for the
purpose he served, to destroy someone whose goals endangered nearly everything
that I thought good. If it had been Neville or anyone else instead of Harry, I
would have still been there.
I think Harry understood how I felt. He had urged me to dance to cheer me up,
if only for a few moments, and held me close for an instant when the music
stopped, but then he let me go. I had never really thought of him before as
perhaps being more than just a friend, but now... now I wondered.
***** Slow Heat *****
Chapter Summary
     Severus repressed his yearnings for a very long time.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Severus. For Alisanne who wanted Severus/Harry with prompt 11,
     "slow".
Slow heat crept along his veins every time he looked at Harry. It had done for
years, since Harry had been far too young. The eyes he had loved from his own
boyhood, set in the face and body of one whom he had desired, would have been
willing to do anything for, but who had spurned and mocked him until they
became bitter enemies -- the combination was irresistible.
He managed to keep his yearning from Albus, he thought, and if the Dark Lord
sensed some fragment of it? Well, lust and power and hate were things that he
understood well.
Severus would never have acted on his desire. Repressing it took him to the
opposite extreme, making him cold and harsh towards Harry from the first time
he saw the boy. He resigned himself to Harry's dislike -- hatred might not have
been too strong a word -- and later, to his own death. The miracle was not his
survival, but rather that Harry had compassion enough for him to seek him when
all hope should have been lost, and find him in time to be saved.
Now when Severus watched Harry and felt the familiar slow heat rising, he knew
it to be matched by a like heat in return.
***** Alive? *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry is certain that Snape must have survived.
Chapter Notes
     Could be preslash Harry/Severus if you squint hard. Prompt 20,
     "belief".
He'd seen Snape die, watched his eyes glaze over, caught the last strands of
memory that Snape had to give. Surely no one could survive Nagini's bite;
certainly Voldemort thought not, or he would have taken further measures.
And yet belief was strong in Harry that somehow, however improbably, Snape must
be alive. When he went to speak with Professor McGonagall in the rooms that had
always been reserved for the Head of Hogwarts, no portrait of Snape scowled
from the walls. When they lined up the bodies of the fallen in long rows on the
grounds, Snape appeared with neither the attackers nor the defenders. True, he
had been stricken in the Shrieking Shack, not on the Hogwarts grounds proper,
but when Harry looked the Shack was empty, and no one he could find admitted to
having moved Snape's body.
Snape must be alive. That was the only explanation that made sense. It wasn't
as though Harry was unfamiliar with the idea of death and couldn't accept it,
after all. His parents, Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore... now Lupin and Colin and
Tonks and more others than he wanted to remember.
It wasn't denial or wishful thinking, as Hermione had so delicately hinted,
that made Harry certain that Snape must somehow have survived and escaped;
whether on his own or with help was beside the point.
Harry didn't hate Snape any longer; he hoped that someday Snape would turn up
again so that he could say so, tell him that now that Harry understood what
Snape had been doing all along and why, he asked for forgiveness.
***** Two Roads *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry's grand plans seem to be coming to fruition a little faster
     than he had expected.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Lucius, future Harry/Draco. For Felaine, who actually requested
     Harry/Draco for this... it ended up more Harry/Lucius, but with
     implied future Harry/Draco at least! Prompt 71, "collide".
Harry bounded down the steps inside the Leaky Cauldron. He and Lucius had just
had an excellent shag, and Harry had come to fetch them up a couple of drinks
before they had another go.
It was rare that they met here for their trysts; there was too great a chance
of discovery, and neither of them cared to have their involvement known. Today,
however, the Leaky had been the most convenient location for them both, and
they had taken separate rooms as an extra precaution.
Not Lucius, but Harry had instigated the affair, when Lucius had offered Harry
anything in repayment for saving Draco's life. Harry had seized on the
opportunity to learn a great deal more about sex. He had an ulterior motive for
the request: his ultimate intention was to use his newly-acquired skills with
Lucius's son. Harry had had a secret crush on Draco since their fourth year at
Hogwarts.
Lucius's lessons were enlightening, and Harry enjoyed them for their own sake.
At times he was almost tempted to continue the liaison indefinitely, whether or
not he was successful with Draco. He had surprised an occasional look in
Lucius's eye that suggested Lucius would not be averse to continuing either,
although Harry had never told him that it was Draco with whom Harry planned to
use his new knowledge. He had no idea how Lucius might react.
Humming, he went up to the bar and asked Tom for a bottle of Old Ogden's. "Only
hold it for a few minutes; I need to use the loo. I'll be right back," he said.
He had nearly finished when the lavatory door opened.
"Hello, Harry."
Harry's heart and his prick pounded in rapid time as he turned his head toward
Draco Malfoy.
Oh, fuck.
"Draco. Hello." Harry swallowed, willing his cock to remain quiescent. Was he
mistaken, or had Draco flicked a glance at his bared flesh? Without apparent
hesitation, Draco stepped up beside Harry and began to urinate. Harry tucked
himself away and zipped up his trousers.
While he was washing his hands, just as Harry was drying his own and about to
leave, Draco said, "Want to have a drink with me?"
Harry's desires collided. On the one hand, Lucius was upstairs waiting no doubt
impatiently for Harry to return. On the other, the whole point of being with
Lucius was to prepare for trying to get together with Draco, and here Draco was
suggesting it. Well, suggesting a drink, not a shag, but it was a promising
first step.
"Er," said Harry, thinking fast. "I'm actually staying here tonight. Let me
just pop up to my room and I'll meet you in the bar in a few minutes."
He wondered if Draco might suggest going up with him, but thankfully Draco only
nodded.
"I'll find us a table."
Mouth dry, Harry headed upstairs.
"There you are." Lucius was lounging naked on the bed, looking delightfully
dishevelled and satiated from their earlier exertions. He frowned and said,
"Didn't Tom have any whisky?"
Harry had completely forgotten to pick up the bottle. "Yes. I mean no. I'm sure
he has, but I was interrupted, and I came to see if you'd mind if I stayed down
there for an hour or two. I'll get Tom to send the bottle up if you'd like."
"An hour or two?" Lucius's eyebrows went up. "Harry, what's going on?"
He would have to say that Draco had asked him to have a drink. If he lied and
said it was someone else, Lucius might well come downstairs and see Draco for
himself anyway.
"Draco. I ran into him down there and he suggested having a drink together. I
was so surprised I couldn't think of a way out of it," Harry explained.
Lucius eyed him narrowly. "I see. Very well. You won't mind if I happen to come
in and join the two of you in perhaps twenty minutes, will you?"
Mutely Harry shook his head. How could he say no? Lucius wouldn't accept a
refusal anyway.
Chuckling, Lucius drew his finger along the line of Harry's jaw. "Don't worry.
I shall be very discreet; Draco won't guess a thing."
Harry only hoped that Lucius would not, either.
***** And in the End *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry remembers.
Chapter Notes
     For coffee_n_cocoa, who wanted Harry/Neville for this prompt. Title
     borrowed from the Beatles song "The End": "And in the end, the love
     you take is equal to the love you make." Prompt 42, "memory".
Waves broke upon the rocks below, their gentle roar more soothing than pure
quiet would have been.
"I wish I had that Remembrall your Gran sent you once at school," said Harry.
"So many years... it's hard to keep all the memories straight."
There had been Hogwarts, of course, where they had met: Harry small and scrawny
with his glasses perched unsteadily, awed to be a wizard and determined to
succeed; Neville plump and fearful, equally astonished to be there, convinced
he was nearly a Squib but trying desperately to do his best. Unprepossessing,
both of them, at eleven, but heroes less than seven years later. By then Harry
was already tired of fame, and Neville quickly learned to be.
They had become close friends after the war, though it took a few more years
before they realized that they loved each other and wanted to share their lives
together.
A good life it had been, especially after they had adopted Damon and Calista.
Their children were long grown now too, and their grandchildren, and a great-
grandchild was expected next month.
Harry didn't try to stop the tears that trickled down his wrinkled cheeks at
that thought.
"I wish you could have been here to see Juniper's child born. You were so happy
to hear the news." He looked at the chair beside him, covered in the familiar
worn red upholstery. He could almost see Neville sitting there, smiling,
reaching out to touch Harry's knee. Had it only been a few weeks?
Harry rested his hand on the arm of Neville's chair, absently noting the spots
and wrinkles, the twisted tendons that showed through his skin. He would catch
no more Snitches, fight no more duels, caress no one in love any longer.
"I think... I think I'll be with you again soon," said Harry.
***** On Fire *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry comes afire when he's with Draco.
Chapter Notes
     Draco/Harry. Innuendo only. Prompt 41, "burning".
This desire is a flame burning inside, and if I don't feed the conflagration,
it will consume me whole.
My recognition of my longings came on me gradually. Perhaps it was when I saw
Charlie kissing Viktor behind the marquee at Ron and Hermione's wedding that it
first struck me that, after all, it wasn't girls that turned me on, but boys. I
was thankful to have realized the truth in time not to have yet proposed to
Ginny; instead I broke off with her, and gave a good deal of thought to what
and who I really desired.
When I saw Draco through the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies one Saturday
afternoon, I knew. My obsession with him in sixth year, which I had told myself
was only to do with my suspicion that he was a Death Eater, had in reality been
about something else entirely. He felt the same about me, to my surprise but
eternal delight, and we ended up in bed together that very same evening. Why
delay when you have all love to gain?
Draco is the only one who can slake the fire of my need, though phoenix-like,
it always returns soon again.
***** Practical Demonstration *****
Chapter Summary
     Kingsley promised he could get Harry off in a new way.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Kingsley, adult; iceplay and waxplay. For secretsolitaire.
     Prompt 56, "run".
Kingsley held an ice cube between his fingers, watching it melt, one slow
shivering drop after another falling onto Harry's bare skin.
He traced the chill trail from one pebbled nipple to the other, across Harry's
pale stomach and down to his ruddy cock. When the first icy drop kissed his
slit, Harry moaned.
"Oh God... Kingsley..."
Drop followed drop the length of Harry's prick, running down over his bollocks.
Harry's eyes were closed, all his attention focused on the sensations he could
not escape, bound hand and foot as he was.
The piece of ice was nearly melted. Kingsley transferred it to his other hand
and picked up the candle that stood waiting, already lighted. He touched the
ice to Harry's perineum at the same moment he let the first drops of hot wax
fall onto Harry's torso.
"Oh!" Harry shuddered convulsively, pearly jets of spunk pulsing from his cock,
mingling with the cold water and hot wax.
Kingsley smiled and kissed him. He had promised Harry that he could get him to
come without touching his cock directly, and now he had proved it.
***** Compassion *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry can't turn his back on the infant.
Chapter Notes
     Gen ficlet. For cruisedirector, who said, "I would love to read
     something in which Harry tells Dumbledore to stuff it and does NOT
     leave warped!baby!Voldemort!soul to die." Prompt 23, "just".
All the while that Dumbledore was talking to him, Harry's thoughts kept
straying back to the bloody infant Dumbledore had urged him to abandon.
He knew who -- or perhaps what was the better term -- it was. Voldemort. The
embodiment of Voldemort's final Horcrux, created unexpectedly in Harry himself.
He understood that this place wasn't real, that it was just his brain's way of
visualising the peculiar half-alive state he was in, and that therefore the
infant wasn't precisely real either... but that didn't matter.
To defeat Voldemort in the real world, Harry knew that all the Horcruxes had to
be destroyed first, but he couldn't bear the thought of leaving a helpless
infant to die. Surely there had to be some other way?
When Dumbledore stopped talking, Harry nodded at him. "I understand what has to
be done, and I accept the burden... and the consequences of my actions." Then
he turned his back and hurried to where the infant lay, still feebly kicking.
He crouched down and awkwardly picked it up, straightening with an effort. It
quieted at his touch. Harry stroked its cheek with one finger, ignoring the
blood and mucus that still smeared the tiny body. "After your mother died,
there was no one to love you, was there?" he whispered, a surge of compassion
running through him. "I could so easily have become like you, poor thing, poor
Tom. Perhaps, with love, you won't have to remain what you became."
Holding the baby close, he took a deep breath, and let his consciousness return
to his body.
***** A Fresh Start *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry's asked Draco to meet him.
Chapter Notes
     For aome, who wanted Harry/Draco. Prompt 47, "curious".
Harry waited, watching the door of the Leaky Cauldron, a glass of butterbeer on
the table before him. He didn't know whether Draco would appear or not. The
note he had sent had said merely, We need to meet, and named the time and
place. He hoped Draco would be curious enough to come and find out what Harry
wanted.
The minutes ticked by. It was now half past the hour and Harry had nearly
decided to give up and go browse through the shops in Diagon Alley when Draco
came in, glanced around the room, and approached Harry's table.
"You're late," said Harry, blurting the first thing that came to mind. "I
thought you weren't coming."
Draco gave him a look that mingled bitterness and exasperation. "I'm under
house arrest, Potter. The only reason I'm here is because it was you who asked.
My gaolers made me drink truth serum and swear by my family's honour that I
would come back before they gave me permission to leave, and even then I was
not allowed to Apparate here on my own; I had an escort who brought me by Side-
Along."
"I'm sorry," said Harry, startled. "Honestly, I didn't realise it would be so
much trouble. Why are you under house arrest?"
"To make sure I don't flee the country before the Wizengamot can interrogate me
and decide if I'm to be allowed to go free, or if I have to go to Azkaban."
Draco shivered. "The hearing is scheduled for next week. But you didn't bring
me here to talk about that, you didn't know... What did you ask me to come here
for?"
"This." Harry brought out Draco's wand and placed it on the table between them.
Draco's fingers stretched longingly towards it, but otherwise he remained
still. "What do you want for its return?"
"Nothing. It's yours, and I'm giving it back to you."
Slowly Draco reached for the wand, touched it. Some of the tension in his face
smoothed out as his fingertips caressed the sleek wood. "It's mine, but it
doesn't feel the same. What have you done to it?"
"Used it for a few spells, that's all," said Harry. "Nothing that would harm
it, or you, now."
Draco pointed the wand at an empty glass sitting on the table. "Wingardium
Leviosa!"
The glass lifted up, circled Harry's head, and settled back down on the scarred
wood.
"I guess it will still work for me, anyway," said Draco. He took a deep breath
and added, "Thanks."
"Of course. Look, if you don't have to return immediately, would you like to
stay and have a butterbeer with me? I'll buy; if you're under house arrest, I
don't suppose they let you bring any money with you."
Draco hesitated so long that Harry thought he would refuse, but finally he
nodded agreement. Harry went up to the bar and brought back two more
butterbeers. Settling back down in his seat, he said, "I really didn't know
that you weren't able to leave your house, or I would've gone there. I've been
avoiding reading the Daily Prophet." He made a face.
"I would too." Draco took a deep gulp of his butterbeer. "Er. I suppose I ought
to thank you for saving my life in the Room of Requirement... I never wanted
that to happen."
"I didn't think so." Harry looked at Draco, remembering those terrifying
moments when he thought the Fiendfyre would catch them. It had been terrifying,
but exhilarating in a strange way, and there had been something else, too...
From the faint colour that stained Draco's cheeks, Harry suspected the same
memory had crossed his mind as well. "I..." he floundered, not sure how to say
what was suddenly on his mind. Instead he mumbled, "If you need to thank me, I
need to apologise, for using that Sectumsempra curse on you. I didn't know what
it would do, but that's no excuse. I'm sorry."
"It's all right." Draco shrugged. Then the corner of his mouth twitched upward.
"Maybe we should call it all even, pretend we've never met before, and start
over as if we were strangers? Hello, I'm Draco Malfoy."
"Harry Potter. That's not a bad idea, really." Harry grinned. "Although I was
going to offer to be a character witness for you, if you wanted, and if I'd
never seen you before that might be a bit difficult."
"True," Draco acknowledged. "But -- you'd speak for me?"
Harry nodded. "If you think it would do any good."
"You can't be that thick." Draco snorted. "Of course it would. So yes, that
would be marvellous, and thank you."
"Maybe... maybe afterward, assuming that you're free, we could meet again,
talk, get to actually know each other?" Harry felt shy about asking, but he
didn't know if he would ever have a better opportunity. "Start from square one,
as you suggested. Maybe..."
He couldn't quite articulate his hope that they could become friends, certainly
not his feeling of attraction that was potentially more than just friendship.
"I'd like that." Draco lifted grey eyes to meet Harry's. "I'd like that very
much."
***** Ignorance *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry knows that he doesn't know much about the wizarding world, yet.
Chapter Notes
     For jelazakazone who wanted Harry/???; I chose Ron. This is part of
     the loose Harry/Hermione/Ron series, but also stands alone. Prompt 8,
     "conceal".
Harry really didn't understand the wizarding world yet, and he knew it. There
seemed to be hundreds of things that someone raised in a wizarding family knew
and took for granted, but that Harry had no clue about, and worse yet often
didn't even realise he was ignorant of.
One of those things was whether it was acceptable to fancy other boys. He
certainly knew that many Muggles disapproved -- Uncle Vernon made no secret of
the fact that he was disgusted by what he called "those nasty nancy boys" -
- but Harry generally disagreed with Uncle Vernon's ideas, and from snatches he
had seen on the telly and overheard, he was quite sure that not all Muggles
shared that opinion. But were wizards the same?
Harry didn't want to risk appearing ignorant. He resolved to conceal as best he
could that he was starting to think of Ron in ways that went beyond the
friendship they had shared since the day they had met. Nor did he want to
confide in Hermione, although if she didn't know whether wizards thought it was
all right to be gay she could certainly find out. Harry didn't entirely trust
her not to guess his reason for wanting to know. More important, he was
uncomfortable about letting anyone learn how he felt, until and unless the day
arrived when he told Ron himself.
***** Creating Beauty *****
Chapter Summary
     Dennis came to photography in memory of his brother, and nervously
     asks Harry to be a subject.
Chapter Notes
     Future Dennis/Harry. For kaellite, who asked for Harry/Dennis. Prompt
     27, "beauty".
Dennis had played around a little bit with cameras before his brother died, but
after Colin was gone, he became serious about it. During the summers and then
after he had finished at Hogwarts he took courses in photography, learning the
principles of composition, experimenting, gradually developing his own style.
It took the better part of a decade, but he became quite well-known as an
artist, with shows in both the Muggle and wizarding worlds.
Along the way he realised that he was gay, and eventually decided to make that
a theme of his art. He didn't necessarily photograph men in erotic or even
sensual poses, but often captured his subjects in the midst of ordinary life,
merely hinting at their preferences. He might, for instance, photograph a man
standing at a bar having a pint: totally innocuous unless one noticed and
recognised the meaning of the bandanna in his back left pocket. From time to
time he would approach men whom he knew and ask them to serve as models,
assuring them that he would not ask them to pose nude unless they wanted to,
and that any photographs of that sort would not be made public without their
permission.
It was with some trepidation that he asked Harry Potter to be one of his
subjects. He remembered Colin telling him that Harry had always been annoyed by
Colin's photography at school, and he doubted that Harry had had good
experiences with reporters and photographers since. But Harry was gay, that was
an open secret, and Dennis very much wanted to photograph him, even if he could
never publish the images, even if Harry insisted on remaining fully clothed.
Greatly to Dennis's surprise, Harry did not make any conditions. He seemed
thrilled that Dennis would ask him, in fact, and cooperated willingly with all
of Dennis's suggestions as to clothing (or lack thereof), poses, and the use of
various props and backgrounds.
At the end of the session, when Harry was dressed again, Dennis offered him a
drink. Harry accepted.
"Why did you agree to do this?" Dennis asked, watching Harry's throat move as
he swallowed.
Harry lowered the glass and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a
curiously young and endearing gesture. "Because I've seen your work," he said.
"In the end, all those things that made me famous? All they amounted to was
destruction. What you do is to create, and create beauty. I wanted to be part
of that somehow."
Nodding, Dennis reached out to clasp Harry's hand. He was flattered beyond
measure by the compliment, but all he could manage to say was, "Thank you."
***** No Paternal Oversight Desired *****
Chapter Summary
     Having drinks with both his father and Harry Potter is not the most
     comfortable experience Draco has ever had.
Chapter Notes
     For felaine who wanted Harry/Lucius. This is part of the Harry/
     Lucius, Draco/Harry series, the previous instalment being "Two
     Roads", but stands alone (I hope). Prompt 38, "fright".
Draco looked from one to the other of the two men sharing his table,
unconsciously shaking his head. He had been pleased to run into Harry here
tonight, the more so when his tentative suggestion that they have a drink
together had been enthusiastically accepted. He had fancied Harry for quite
some time, and a few hints in the Prophet indicating that the erstwhile
Gryffindor Seeker flew on both sides of the broomstick had given Draco the hope
that Harry just might be interested in return.
Normally he would not have minded being joined by his father, either, although
the admiration and respect he had felt for Lucius as a little boy had been
replaced by more complex, and not always positive, emotions.
Having Lucius and Harry together was uncomfortable, however. Draco would have
liked to flirt with Harry a bit, and he sensed that Harry felt the same way in
reverse, but the presence of Lucius was inhibiting to both of them. In fact, if
anything, it was Lucius who was flirting with Harry, keeping his eyes fixed on
the younger man with only occasional glances at his son, and making remarks
that could easily be construed as having double meanings.
"I trust you are well, and enjoying all the pleasures that a grateful public
can bestow upon you?" Lucius asked Harry with a slight smile.
Harry blushed. "Yes, thank you."
"Sowing a few wild oats, I should imagine."
"I suppose you could say that," muttered Harry, going even redder. He looked at
Draco, his eyes hunted, tacitly imploring Draco to say something to help.
"What have you been doing with yourself?" asked Draco.
"Er, what do you mean?"
Draco's question seemed to have disturbed Harry even more; he looked as though
he had had some terrible fright. Draco couldn't understand such an extreme
response to a simple pleasantry, but he tried again.
"I heard at one point that you were planning to try to join the Aurors," said
Draco. "Did you?"
"Oh, yes. For a bit. I was accepted and started the training, but after a few
months I realised that I didn't want to be an Auror, not really. I'd had enough
of all that sort of thing facing Voldemort." Harry bit his lip, apparently
regretting the reference in front of the two Malfoys. "I've started an
apprenticeship with old Ollivander, learning wand lore."
"That sounds interesting," Draco replied out of politeness. Personally he
didn't see much attraction in such a job, but he supposed Harry knew what he
liked.
"It is, actually. There's a great deal more to it than I'd ever thought; each
type of wood or core has its own properties, but they can combine in very
unexpected ways." Harry's voice was animated. "I've found I really enjoy it."
"Playing about with wands all day does sound delightful," commented Lucius with
a slight smirk.
Draco scowled at his father, but said nothing. Any overt reaction would only
encourage Lucius further. Harry shifted slightly in his chair, subtly turning
away from Lucius. Something bumped Draco, and he realised it was Harry's leg
pressing against his own. The thrill of it pulsed through him. He saw Harry wet
his lips, and wondered what it would be like to kiss that red mouth. He wished
his father would go away; what in Merlin's name was he doing sticking around
here? Lucius had finished his drink, and surely he could see that Draco was
fine and didn't want or need him there.
Perhaps Lucius had some inkling of Draco's thoughts, for at last he rose. "I
suppose I should be getting along; I'll see you this weekend. Your mother says
you're planning to visit us?"
"I'll be there Saturday, Father," said Draco.
"Take good care of yourself, Mr Potter," said Lucius to Harry.
Harry merely nodded, blushing again. Draco had never thought he was so easily
embarrassed, but it was rather endearing.
"I'm sorry if my father made you uncomfortable," he said, leaning forward, as
soon as Lucius had gone. "He has peculiar sense of humour sometimes."
"So I saw." Harry tipped back the last few drops in his glass. "I think another
of these is in order, don't you?" At Draco's nod, he went and bought a fresh
round.
"It's strange to be here with you like this," said Draco thoughtfully upon
Harry's return.
"Perhaps, but in a good way." Harry lifted his glass and clinked it against
Draco's. "Cheers."
They both drank. Harry's throat worked as he swallowed.
"Could I ask you something? Maybe this is too soon, but I'm not very good at
this sort of thing," said Harry.
Draco felt that thrill down his spine again, as if he already knew what Harry
would ask. "Of course."
"Would you consider going to bed with me?" Once again Harry's face was scarlet,
but his green eyes pleaded with Draco, who felt a surge of triumph. That was,
after all, very much what he desired, and Harry had been the one to do the
asking.
"Yes," he said. "Any time you want, Harry."
"How about now?"
***** (Almost)-Birthday *****
Chapter Summary
     Neville and Harry celebrate their birthdays together.
Chapter Notes
     For coffee_n_cocoa who requested this pairing. Prompt 59, "birthday".
The weather was fine; they would eat in the garden tonight. Enough sunlight
remained into late evening that they would need neither candles nor any magical
means of illumination. The air was still warm and smelled of the flowers
Neville had planted.
He had also grown most of the produce that Harry had used to prepare the meal:
ratatouille, fresh-baked bread, and a green salad, to be followed by sliced
fruit and cheese. A bottle of good red wine waited on the table.
"Happy birthday, Neville." Harry hooked an arm around Neville's waist.
Neville turned his head and gave Harry a swift kiss. "Happy almost-birthday,
Harry. Is everything ready?"
As they sat down, Harry remarked, "There was a time when I didn't think I would
live to be thirty. I didn't think I would even reach eighteen... and now I'm
older than my parents ever were."
"It's strange, isn't it?" Neville agreed. He reached across the table to take
Harry's hand. "I felt the same, back then, but I'm glad we both survived."
"Me, too. I couldn't imagine life without you now... and I hope we'll still be
celebrating like this in fifty years," said Harry.
Neville nodded. "And more."
***** Leave the Past Behind *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry wants to look to the future.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Percy, for swtalmnd, who asked for this pairing. Prompt 45,
     "ideals".
Harry kissed Percy's closed eyelids, first the right, then the left. "I never
want you to bring it up again," he said firmly. "It's in the past, over and
done with, and there's an end of it."
Bright blue eyes opened. Percy blinked at Harry. "But I..."
"No buts." Harry put his fingers over Percy's lips. "You were living by your
ideals. You thought you knew how everything ought to be, who ought to be
trusted, and you behaved accordingly. I can't blame you for that, not really,
not when I know you meant it for the best. You did come to fight when it
counted, and that's what matters most. That's enough for me."
Percy laid a kiss on each of Harry's fingers before he reached up and twined
them with his own. "All right," he agreed. "Let's leave the past behind us and
focus on the future. What do you want from it?"
"The first thing that I want is to make love with you." Harry gave Percy a
teasing smile. "After that, who knows?"
"And who cares?" murmured Percy in reply as he took Harry in his arms.
***** Really Happening *****
Chapter Summary
     One of Harry's dearest wishes is coming true.
Chapter Notes
     Adult; rimming, oral & anal sex. This fic is part of the Harry/
     Lucius, Draco/Harry series. Prompt 55, "wishes".
One of Harry's dearest wishes, something he had dreamed about since he was a
sixth-year at Hogwarts and perhaps earlier if he was honest about it, was about
to become a reality.
He had to keep reminding himself to breathe as he talked to Tom and got one of
the rooms at the Leaky Cauldron. Although he had told Draco he already had one,
it had actually not been under his name, so now he had to get his own. Luckily
Tom still had several available.
Draco was still sitting at the table finishing his drink when Harry hurried
back. The way the light caught his cheek bones made him look older, emphasising
his resemblance to his father, a phenomenon that made Harry's stomach twist
just a little bit. He had been having an affair with Lucius for the past few
months; his original intent had been to learn to be a good lover from someone
to whom he would not form an attachment, but now he wasn't so sure that had
been a good idea. He had learned a great deal, true, but recently he had begun
to realise that he cared for Lucius more than he would ever have anticipated,
even though his desire for Draco had remained strong.
He certainly had more in common with Draco from any rational standpoint. For
one thing they were the same age, and they had had a great deal of interaction
at school, though it had not always been positive. Harry had been obsessed with
Draco the last year they had been at Hogwarts together, and he strongly
suspected that Draco had had similar feelings, even if neither of them had felt
himself in a position to act on them then.
"Room five," he said to Draco.
"Excellent." Draco smiled up at him. "I'm ready if you are."
And there was another plus to being with Draco, thought Harry as they left the
pub proper and went upstairs. For a number of reasons he and Lucius had to be
extremely discreet, whereas if anyone noticed that Harry and Draco had taken a
room together, it might be an item in the Prophet's gossip column, but no one
would really care that much. The door to the room shut behind them. It was like
all of the rooms at the Leaky Cauldron: a bit musty, with a squeaky floorboard
or two, and furnished with an old four-poster bed, a small wardrobe, and a
single chair. There were no en suite baths; Harry suspected the building dated
from well before indoor plumbing existed at all.
He took a deep breath and confessed, "I'm a little nervous." Thanks to Lucius
he knew what he was doing, probably more than Draco, unless Draco had had
rather more experience than seemed likely, but Harry had imagined this moment
so often, he wanted to make it perfect. Honesty might be a way to defuse the
tension, which would be better for them both.
"So am I." Draco stepped closer. "I can't quite believe this is really
happening, you know?"
"Yes." Harry pushed up his glasses.
"Maybe you should take those off," suggested Draco.
When Harry did, Draco took them from him and set them carefully down on the
window sill. Harry blinked a few times, letting his vision adjust. He could see
without glasses, it was just that everything close had blurred edges, and more
distant objects faded to mist.
"That's better... although it's a bit funny to see you without them. They're so
much a part of your face." Draco's fingertips touched Harry's cheek and the
bridge of his nose where the wire rims always made a mark. His fingers were
warm. Harry reached and brought Draco's hand to his mouth, kissing each finger
in turn before returning to Draco's forefinger and taking it between his lips,
his tongue circling the tip.
"Ah," Draco breathed. He moved a step closer, until Harry could feel the heat
of his body across the scant space that still separated them. Harry took the
next step, pressing them together as he released Draco's finger and let his
head tip back to meet Draco's kiss.
There was little to remind Harry of Lucius in that. Where Lucius's kisses
tended to be powerful, even demanding, Draco held back as though worried that
Harry might object. Not until Harry took the lead, coaxing Draco's lips to
part, did Harry feel Draco's tongue against his own.
Embraced, they moved toward the bed and fell across it, side by side. Harry
nudged his knee between Draco's legs and pulled him closer, still kissing.
Already he was almost unbearably aroused, but his experiences with Lucius had
taught him the value of restraint.
Draco was slimmer than his father, Harry noticed, running his hands along
Draco's body. Not that Lucius was by any means fat; he was a little more
muscular than his son, that was all, and Harry supposed that Draco might yet
fill out more too. He cupped Draco's arse, squeezing its firm resilience
through Draco's trousers, and Draco responded by rocking against Harry's thigh.
It was evident that Draco was as turned on as Harry, but he seemed also to have
the same preference for taking this slowly. Not until Draco's movements ceased
did Harry stop kissing him and move back a few inches.
Draco lay glassy-eyed, rumpled, but still fully clothed. Deliberately Harry
reached for Draco's chest, undid one button, then the next, and all the way
down. He could see the outline of Draco's cock in his tight trousers, and
brushed his fingers over the fine wool, watching Draco's hips jolt in response.
Pushing aside the loosened folds of Draco's shirt, Harry stroked the sparse
fair curls of his chest, stroking circles and spirals that inevitably centred
on his nipples. Draco gasped as Harry pinched him, his mouth opening into a
longing O.
"Do you like that?" murmured Harry, though he scarcely needed Draco's emphatic
nod of assent. He continued toying with Draco's nipple with one hand while with
the other he unbuttoned his shirt. Shrugging out of it, he guided Draco to
touch him and hissed as Draco's fingers pinched. Draco twisted the tight nub,
just a little.
"Oh fuck, yes," breathed Harry, and saw Draco give a smile that was so similar
to his father's that for an instant Harry thought it was Lucius there.
He took a deep breath, willing himself to control.
"Harry."
"Yes?"
"Do you want to fuck me?"
Harry was a little surprised that Draco would put it so bluntly, but then, why
shouldn't he? "If that's what you want... I can go either way, I don't mind,"
said Harry.
"I'd rather you fucked me, this time anyway." Draco's lips were parted, his
breathing quick and shallow. "I'll do you next time if you want."
Harry nodded, his heart leaping at Draco's assumption that there would be a
next time. "I don't have any lube with me, though, I'll have to use a spell."
"That's fine." Draco's hand dropped away from Harry's chest to start
unfastening his trousers.
Once they were both naked, Harry fumbled for his wand and brought the tip to
rest between Draco's arsecheeks. He didn't use the lubrication charm
immediately, however, but rather a sanitising spell. Then he stroked the still-
dry skin.
"Er, Harry...?" Draco craned his neck to look back over his shoulder. "I think
you forgot something?"
"Not at all." Harry nudged Draco's thighs apart and knelt between them. He
lowered his head and traced a line with his tongue, down along Draco's spine to
the dimple at its base and on, slithering it in between Draco's arsecheeks.
"You're not... oh fuck, Harry, fuck!" Draco exclaimed as Harry's tongue found
the tight pucker of his arsehole and nudged inside.
The sanitising spell had done its work. Harry tasted nothing but clean skin as
he explored the soft texture of Draco's entrance. Above him Draco whimpered,
pushing back against Harry's face, clearly very much enjoying what Harry was
doing.
Even the most delightful activity cannot be sustained forever. Eventually Harry
had to give his tongue some rest. By that point Draco's arsehole was quite
relaxed -- Harry tested it with his finger -- and only a quick lubrication
charm was needed before Harry was pressing his long-denied cock into Draco's
warm and willing body.
Glancing down he saw that Draco had grasped his own cock, whether to fist
himself or try to hold himself back, Harry wasn't sure. Perhaps both, as Draco
saw fit. If he didn't come while Harry was inside him, Harry would take care of
that later. In the meantime, he kept his own thrusts slow, savouring the
sensation. It felt different from his experiences with Lucius, although he
couldn't put his finger on just how. Not that it mattered; this was enough, too
much even.
Harry's breath came in ragged gasps, his thrusts quickening involuntarily. The
tide of desire rising through him could no longer be controlled. With a groan
that seemed torn from his very guts he came, his spunk pulsing deep into
Draco's body.
The cessation of his movements evidently told Draco what had happened. He
stilled the motion of his arm. "Harry?"
"Yeah. Fuck. That was... wow." Harry swallowed. "My jaw's a little sore, but do
you want me to suck you off?"
"Please; I'm pretty sure it won't take long, so your mouth should be okay."
Draco scooted forward a little, letting Harry's cock ease out of him, and
turned over. If being fucked had caused his erection ever to falter, it had
regained its full size, standing hard and scarlet above his tight bollocks.
Harry touched his tongue to the slit and tasted the clear fluid that welled
there before he began to suck in earnest. He was thankful for Lucius's
instruction in this technique; without that teaching he could not have taken
Draco in to the very root. Draco's hands clutched at Harry's shoulders, his
nails digging into the flesh. As his words had suggested, it was only moments
before his bitter cream spurted into Harry's throat. Harry backed off,
swallowed, and crawled up Draco's body, laying down a line of kisses that led
to his mouth. Draco kissed him back, fiercely now, with none of the
tentativeness he had shown earlier.
"Merlin. Where'd you learn to do that?"
"Oh, just around, you know." Harry shrugged and smiled. He was certainly not
going to tell Draco the whole truth about how, and from whom, he'd learned. At
least... not yet.
***** A Gentleman-like Manner *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry thinks he might be gay. Charlie knows he is.
Chapter Notes
     For secretsolitaire who asked for Harry/Charlie. The title is
     borrowed from Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. Prompt 94,
     "embrace".
"You're kidding."
Harry stared at Charlie, astonished. The hand holding his drink relaxed so that
the glass tilted, nearly spilling. Charlie reached out to steady it.
"No, not kidding in the slightest," he said lightly. "If you want me to prove
it...?" Charlie left the question dangling.
Harry's brain was still spinning. Absently he raised his glass and finished it
in three gulps. He had already been more than half-drunk, which was why he had
confessed to Charlie that he thought he was gay, leaving Charlie to respond
that he, Charlie, unquestionably was. The additional cider calmed him but sent
the world out of focus, as if his glasses had disappeared. He felt for them to
make sure that they were still perched securely on his nose.
"Um, what?" He looked owlishly at Charlie and found himself sliding from his
stool.
"Careful there." Charlie hopped down from his own seat and caught Harry in a
rough embrace, holding him upright. "Not right now, mind you; you're in no
shape to know what you're doing."
"Am too," Harry protested, enjoying the feel of Charlie's strong arm around
him, supporting him.
"No, you're not." Charlie was definite. "Come on, I'll take you home so you can
sleep this off. You're going to have a thumping headache in the morning, I
suspect. But you can think about what I said then. If you're still of the same
mind when you're sober, that's another story."
Harry stuck out his lower lip, but Charlie ignored his sulky expression and
steered Harry out of the pub. Again he took Harry in his arms, preparing to
Apparate them back to the Burrow where they were both staying. Harry was to be
Ron's best man in four days' time, and Charlie had come home for the wedding.
They had both been happy to have an opportunity to escape the preparations
tonight and go to the Three Broomsticks for a quiet evening.
Charlie landed them with a bump in the back garden. Harry took advantage of
overbalancing to give Charlie a drunken kiss. Charlie only allowed it for a
moment before breaking away and saying softly, "Now, none of that." He stroked
Harry's hair away from his face. "I meant it when I said I want you to make
this decision sober."
Harry sighed, though deep down he knew Charlie was right. He let Charlie lead
him inside and deposit him by the door of Ron's room, which he was sharing.
"Goodnight, Charlie. Thanks," he mumbled sleepily.
Charlie cupped his cheek and gave him a swift kiss on the forehead. "Goodnight,
Harry. I'll see you in the morning." He turned and disappeared down the stairs
to his own room.
***** Patience Rewarded *****
Chapter Summary
     "Angelina had been fascinated by Harry since he had first arrived at
     Hogwarts."
Chapter Notes
     For ancarett who asked for Harry with Angelina or Katie. Prompt 89,
     "luck".
Angelina had been fascinated by Harry since he had first arrived at Hogwarts.
It wasn't because he was the Boy Who Lived. If anything that was off-putting,
although she was pleased to observe he didn't care for his fame either. Nor was
it a physical attraction. Even by the time Angelina left Hogwarts, Harry was no
taller than she, and really quite ordinary-looking.
No, what drew her to him was his ability at Quidditch. He often seemed to have
luck on his side, that was true, but she could also tell that most of his
success was due to skill instead. She looked forward to working with him when
she was named Gryffindor captain, and his suspension from playing by Professor
Umbridge was frustrating in the extreme.
After that Angelina told herself not to hope for anything much. She didn't
forget him, and during the year when Voldemort's supporters seized power, she
often wondered how he was and hoped he would be all right.
It came as a pleasant shock, however, when she ran into him at Quality
Quidditch Supplies the following year -- Angelina was buying a new pair of
flying gloves, Harry checking out the latest broom models -- and after some
spirited reminiscing about the matches they had played together, Harry asked
her to have dinner with him.
***** A Destined Love *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry can't explain why he is with Severus.
Chapter Notes
     For alisanne, who asked for Snarry. Prompt 43, "sacred".
Hermione has asked me more than once to explain, but all I can do is shrug.
When he passed on his memories to me, I believed he was dying. I don't know why
I returned after the fighting to find him.
Something bound us together, life to life: a kind of sacred trust. Our separate
sacrifices, perhaps? I don't know. Anytime I've asked what he thinks, he just
shakes his head. I think he's still surprised to be alive. I know I am, and
more surprised to discover that the love of my life is someone I hated for
years.
***** Played for a Fool *****
Chapter Summary
     Lucius Malfoy has never in his life been a fool.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Lucius, references to infidelity. Prompt 95, "message".
No one has ever been able to call Lucius Malfoy a fool. I have done foolish
things, to be sure; but I defy anyone to say he has not, at some point in his
life, acted foolishly. That is not the same thing.
When I saw Harry and my son sitting together, I knew quite well what their
intentions were. Draco reminded me far too clearly of myself in the first grip
of a new desire, and by then I knew Harry well enough to easily read the lust
in his expression.
I pretended to be unaware, of course, and flirted gently with Harry just as I
would have done had I not seen how things stood between the younger men.
Nothing that I said would give away to Draco the sexual relationship I had been
enjoying with Harry, but Harry himself could not mistake my meaning. I am, I am
afraid, petty at times. If Harry was intending to seduce my son, I wanted to
ensure that I was on his mind as well.
Although I delayed my departure from their company as long as I was able,
eventually I could put it off no longer, and left. Half of my thoughts remained
with them, however, and I tormented myself the rest of that evening imagining
what they might be doing together.
The irony of it would have made me smile, had it not been myself caught in the
trap. Because of my gratitude toward Harry for saving Draco's life, I had been
more than willing to teach him what he wanted to learn, and now he was putting
my lessons to use with Draco. I presumed that this meant Harry would cease to
meet me. We had, after all, explored many different sexual acts together
already, and I was under no illusion that he was likely to feel the same
affection for me that I had unintentionally and unexpectedly developed toward
him.
I continued my other activities as usual, and if I was occasionally somewhat
short with Narcissa, well, she had lived with my bouts of temper before. We had
long since come to an agreement that we would not inquire into each other's
affairs of whatever sort. She may have suspected that I had had a romantic
entanglement go badly, but she gave no indication of it, just as I disregarded
her own frequent absences.
Perhaps I am a fool in some respects after all, because I could not stop
thinking about Harry. Even with what I had been teaching him he retained a
charming naïveté, tempered by just enough Slytherin-style cunning
never to be dull. I occasionally wondered what might have happened had he been
Sorted into Slytherin rather than Gryffindor. He could have been one of the
most outstanding members of my old House; his ability to speak Parseltongue was
a strong indicator of that. He had spoken it to me on more than one occasion,
and I pleasured myself now recalling it. Something about the gutturals and
hisses falling from those soft red lips excited me to a remarkable extent, and
even the memory of it brought me swiftly to orgasm.
Harry had always been the one to make contact when he wished to have another
lesson. I would not stoop to pleading with him to return, and I assumed I would
hear nothing more from him. He had always made it plain that he saw me in no
light other than that of teacher, given me no cause to think he had any motive
other than instruction. I resigned myself to temporary solitude, until I should
find another young wizard -- or witch, perhaps -- to break it.
Yet several weeks after I left Harry and Draco sitting together at the Leaky
Cauldron, a message arrived by owl at breakfast with the rest of the post. I
recognised Harry's childish handwriting, and took the envelope up to my study,
where I would be undisturbed. When I was in that room the house-elves knew not
to enter without being specifically summoned.
I broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. Harry had written in quite the
same manner he always had. He did not mention Draco at all, merely asked if I
would be free in the next several days to meet and give him another lesson, the
subject to be anything I wished that I felt he might enjoy learning.
Swiftly I wrote back, naming a date three days away, and suggesting a Muggle
pub that we had used once before as a rendezvous. With my reply winging its way
back to Harry, the tightness that I had not consciously recognised as
constricting my heart eased.
***** Pearl of Great Price *****
Chapter Summary
     Something hard to endure can become valuable.
Chapter Notes
     Draco/Harry. This is in the Better Than Revenge universe, but stands
     alone. Prompt 13, "sand".
When Draco left me to marry Asteria, it would be no exaggeration to say that my
heart broke.
Not that it was a surprise. He had made it clear all along how important it was
to his parents, and to him, that he pass along the Malfoy bloodline and name.
We had argued over that time after time, until we were both exhausted, but I
had never been able to shake his determination. The knowledge that he had not
lied helped... a little bit.
I couldn't just forget about Draco and everything we had shared, though. He
became like a pearl in my heart and mind. I'm not sure whether I learned about
it at school when I still lived with the Dursleys, or if Hermione mentioned it
some time, but apparently the reason that oysters make pearls is because a
grain of sand has managed to slip under their shell. The sand irritates them,
so they create layers of nacre, trying to smooth it down to where they can
tolerate this intrusion that they are unable to get rid of. Draco was like that
for me; once he had lodged himself in my heart, I couldn't get him out. All I
could do was try to find ways that let me remember without too much pain.
He did come back, and that wasn't entirely a surprise either. I hadn't been
sure whether his wife would agree to it, despite Draco's assurances. But she
did, and he did, and at nearly the same time Ginny made her astonishing offer
to have a baby for me if I wanted. In less than two years I went from being
childless and single to having a husband and two children -- Horatio and
Rosemary. To me that's almost more of a miracle than surviving my duels with
Voldemort, but I suppose it's just another demonstration of the power of love.
Dumbledore always claimed that love was a greater force than magic, and perhaps
he was right. In any case, it has been so for me. Off and on we have been
together for the best part of twenty years now; for our tenth anniversary I
gave Draco a platinum tiepin, set with pearls.
***** Truth Is Stranger *****
Chapter Summary
     Hermione has a strange idea.
Chapter Notes
     In the Harry/Hermione/Ron series, maybe, but stands alone. Prompt 31,
     "book".
"Do you ever have the feeling that we're just characters in a book that someone
else is writing?" Hermione asks Harry one night. "That someone else is deciding
what we're like, how we act, who we fall in love with?"
"What a strange idea. What made you think of that?" Harry is too occupied
watching Hermione's breasts as she takes off her bra to really pay close
attention.
She shrugs, saying, "I don't know. Just that sometimes I feel like I can't
predict what will happen next, as if it's all arbitrary."
"You're mental," says Ron, who has already snagged the spot in the middle of
their big bed tonight. "I'm real, I am, and so is Harry." He smacks Harry's
pyjama-clad arse lightly. "Couldn't do that if I were just dreamed up in some
author's imagination."
"I suppose not." Hermione slides into the bed on Ron's other side and kisses
him, then leans across to kiss Harry. "No author would put the three of us
together like this; and they do say that truth is stranger than fiction, after
all."
***** Scylla and Charybdis *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry wants them both.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Lucius, Draco/Harry. Prompt 65, "and".
I suppose, when it comes right down to it, that I'm greedy. I want to have
Draco, and I want to have Lucius.
Draco... It's hard to explain what he means to me. We were enemies for so long.
Our mutual suspicion led to my obsession with him in our sixth year at
Hogwarts, and eventually that obsession developed into fascination of a more
positive kind. Maybe some of my feeling comes from Dumbledore's insistence that
love will win out every time. There's also the fact that I happen to find him
bloody attractive.
As for Lucius, I freely admit that I started the affair with him purely because
I thought I could learn a lot about sex. He's older, obviously, but he and
Draco strongly resemble each other, so that was a plus. I can't deny that the
idea of having an old antagonist more or less at my command -- even when he
tops, we both know that he was the one who originally offered to do whatever I
wanted, as recompense for saving his son -- is more than a little appealing.
I'd like, that is I think I'd like, to have things be serious between Draco and
me. Like, let's-make-this-permanent serious. It's a bit early for that really,
but maybe for once I'm thinking ahead. Lucius, on the other hand, I don't think
I would want to marry, even if he didn't already have a wife. Not because of
his age! If nothing else being with him has taught me how little that means.
Nor is it even because he used to be a Death Eater. We've had a few
conversations about that little issue, seeing as how we can't have sex all the
time that we spend together, and I'm convinced that his change of heart is
genuine. He's never going to go out of his way to be friends with non-
purebloods, but he acknowledges that it's the ability to do magic that matters,
not who one's parents were... and that's a big step. I'm not planning to hold
my breath for Lucius to realise that even magical ability is not that
important, given that probably ninety-eight percent of the wizarding world
would agree with him on that one.
The question then becomes whether and how I can keep both Lucius and Draco in
my life. I'd be an idiot to think I could do it and keep the fact secret from
them both. Sooner or later I would call one of them by the other's name
accidentally... or worse. So I'll have to tell them.
How do you tell your lover that you're also fucking his father? Or his son?
Somehow I don't think this is covered in any etiquette guide. And they'll both
have to go along with the idea, or it will be impossible. If one of them
doesn't agree, then I'll have to choose. Choose between them, or give them both
up.
Facing Voldemort almost seems easy compared with this. At least then I had help
from Ron and Hermione and a whole lot of other people. For this one, I'm on my
own.
***** The Ravell'd Sleave *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry's having nightmares.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Hermione/Ron. The title is from Shakespeare's Macbeth, Act II,
     scene ii, line 48. Prompt 25, "demons".
"Harry. Harry." Hermione shook Harry's shoulder. "Wake up!"
"What...?" Harry struggled out of sleep.
"Another nightmare," said Hermione gently. She smoothed sweat-dampened hair
from Harry's forehead and looked helplessly across at Ron.
"Do you remember what you were dreaming, mate?" Ron took Harry's hand and
squeezed it.
"No," Harry said.
Hermione shook her head. Harry never remembered his dreams, which made it hard
to figure out what demons of the past troubled him. Whatever they were, they
made him tremble and cry out, sometimes thrash so that he kicked one of the
other two by accident. Not that they blamed him, but it wasn't exactly restful
to sleep in the same bed as Harry these days. Making him sleep elsewhere didn't
seem like a good solution, however.
Sighing, Hermione kissed Harry and lay down again.
Ron resettled the covers over them all.
Harry lay wakeful the rest of the night.
***** At Night *****
Chapter Summary
     Charlie helps Harry be most himself.
Chapter Notes
     Charlie/Harry, adult. For angela_snape because she likes this
     pairing. Prompt 76, "night".
Night is the time when Harry can most be himself. During the day he carries out
the duties of an Auror with competence, even flair. He knows that he is being
groomed to be the next Head of the Aurors, and he accepts the prospect of
increased responsibility with equanimity; there is no one else in the
department likely to do a better job than he would, as he acknowledges with no
false pride.
Nevertheless it is a relief to let that burden roll off his shoulders. He has
Charlie to thank for that, Charlie who taught him what was possible, Charlie
whose love and discipline enfold him securely each night when he comes home.
Harry obeys Charlie's every command, striving always for perfection, secure in
the knowledge that Charlie will discipline him for any faults, because he loves
Harry and wants him to be the best he can be.
At Charlie's request, Harry has been wearing a plug in his arse all day today.
Now naked, he stands at attention as Charlie inspects him, nodding
satisfaction, nudging Harry's feet further apart so that when he removes the
plug he can immediately replace it with his own thick cock, one hand pinching
Harry's nipple, the other toying with his prick. No discipline is needed
tonight; this is Harry's reward for a week of faultless service. Charlie's
scraping fingernails only serve to heighten sensation so that Harry is ready to
spill out his orgasm at Charlie's whispered command, his arse flexing,
tightening, milking Charlie's cock to climax.
Charlie kisses Harry's neck, biting hard, sucking. There will be a bruise there
tomorrow, a reminder that at night Harry will be able to relax and lay aside
the stresses and responsibilities of the day.
***** No Hope *****
Chapter Summary
     Hermione feels herself a failure.
Chapter Notes
     Part of the H/Hr/R series. Prompt 51, "fact".
As soon as Hermione walked in the door tonight I knew, and so did Ron, that her
news would not be good.
The three of us sat on the sofa together, Hermione in the middle. I held her
right hand, Ron her left, and we put our other arms around her shoulders so
that we could hold each other's hands too.
"There is no hope," she said, her voice wobbling. "I mean, there's a chance,
technically, and since you both tested perfectly fine and the only thing they
can find wrong with me is slightly low hormone levels, but not low enough that
they should be a problem, it's not impossible. After three years of nothing,
though, the chance is pretty small... and I'm not getting any younger. Those
are simply the facts and we -- have to -- accept them."
She started to cry. I looked over at Ron, and his face showed the same helpless
misery that I felt. So many Muggle and magical tests done, everything we had
tried, and still nothing to show for it.
All of us wanted a child, me perhaps more than either of the others, but just
then I could only think of Hermione's pain.
"I feel like such a failure," she choked out between sobs.
"You're not," Ron and I both assured her, almost simultaneously.
Hermione, a failure? I had to repress a laugh that would have been beyond
inappropriate at that moment. Hermione had always been the best at nearly
everything... except flying. Certainly at anything she cared about. Perhaps
that was why she was taking it so hard; up to this point in her life she had
always succeeded at anything she tried to do.
I wished again that she had let me or Ron go with her to more of these
appointments, particularly today, but she had wanted to go alone. I think she
felt that if either of us was there she would lose her self-control in the
office and feel doubly humiliated. So we had respected her wishes.
All I could do now was to hold her close, hold Ron tight too, as we shared our
grief together.
***** End of the World *****
Chapter Summary
     Ron didn't come back on Hermione's account.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Ron, Hermione/Ron. Part of the H/Hr/R series. Prompt 74,
     "world".
I pretended that it was because of Hermione that I came back, but that wasn't
the truth.
Oh, I love Hermione, don't get me wrong, but it was Harry's need that drew me,
that left me gasping awake at night with a conviction that things were going
horribly wrong and it was my fault for not being there. Yes, we had quarrelled
-- badly -- but Harry had been my best mate for years, long before we became
lovers, and that wasn't something I was willing to give up, not once my temper
had cooled.
I'll admit that being away from that Horcrux helped too.
So I made the decision to go back; the trouble was how to find them, moving
around as I knew they must be, and protected by all of Hermione's best
concealment spells.
The Deluminator was a stroke of luck. Harry has told me, since, about
Dumbledore's theory that love is ultimately what saves us all, but I didn't
know that then, only decided that following the impulse, the tug, that I felt
when I used it was no worse a way of guessing where the other two might be than
any other.
I didn't really believe it would work, though, so the sight of Harry going down
through the ice into that black pond astounded me so much that it was several
moments before I reacted. I didn't stop to consider; I just threw myself after
him as soon as I realised what was happening. There was nothing in the world
more important at that moment than saving Harry. I wasn't thinking of You-Know-
Who or the Horcruxes or Harry's value as a symbol of resistance, or anything
really. I just knew that if Harry died, even if Hermione still lived, my world
would come to an end.
***** Assertions *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry nerves himself up to tell Lucius what's been going on with
     Draco, and what he really wants.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Lucius, adult, D/s, nipple clamps, cock ring, oral sex,
     watersports, infidelity. Prompt 61, "months". This is part of the
     Harry/Lucius, Draco/Harry series, although as usual I have tried to
     make it stand alone.
Harry had discovered that he quite liked being submissive to Lucius's dominant
in the bedroom. He didn't much care for pain. They had experimented with that
and it wasn't for him, except in the mildest way. Nipple clamps might be all
right on occasion, but not flogging. Bondage, however, or role-play as master
and servant and the like, those gave Harry great pleasure, when Lucius was in
charge.
He thought he might enjoy being dominant to Draco's submissive, though, so
tonight he was practicing that role with Lucius. It felt a little awkward. He
kept wanting to wait for Lucius to tell him what to do rather than the other
way around, but by imagining that it was Draco instead of Draco's father, he
was managing.
It helped that Lucius seemed comfortable in the role. Harry wondered a little
in the back of his head with whom Lucius had played such games before. Not that
it mattered, of course. Whoever it had been, that was in the past, and it
wasn't as if the two of them were exclusive now. Lucius was still married to
Narcissa, although Harry had never inquired into the state of their
relationship. Harry himself was becoming increasingly involved with Draco. Now
that was a complication. Soon he was going to have to tell each of them about
the other, and hope that they would understand and accept that Harry didn't
want to give either of them up.
In the meantime Harry continued to learn from Lucius. Just now the older man
knelt in front of Harry, beautifully posed, his long fair hair spilling over
his shoulders, not quite concealing the small silver dragons whose teeth were
clamped on his nipples. The base of his cock was encircled by the serpentine
form of another silver dragon, its tail twined around Lucius's bollocks,
drawing them tight. Lucius held perfectly still, waiting for Harry's command.
"Suck me."
Lucius's mouth closed around him, warm wet suction, Lucius's tongue flickering,
teasing. Harry steadied himself against the wall, looking down at Lucius's
bobbing head. It still astonished to him from time to time that he was having
this affair. Both these affairs. He spread his legs a little wider and murmured
the words of the lubrication charm.
"Use your fingers."
The first moment of penetration was always a shock, however much he wanted it.
Lucius was familiar with Harry's responses by now. He paused until Harry had
relaxed. Then he began to rotate his finger, stroking the tight ring of muscle,
coaxing it to open, to let him in deeper. Some time, Harry thought, he might be
willing to try having Lucius's entire hand inside him, but not today. Today he
had something else in mind that he thought Lucius would enjoy, having mentioned
it several times.
It was sheer bliss to have Lucius's skilled tongue working him over, Lucius's
fingers teasing his arsehole. Harry played with the idea of having Lucius fuck
him, or conversely of fucking Lucius's own delicious arse, but he decided to
remain as he was.
By now Lucius had relaxed his throat so that he was taking in the whole length
of Harry's prick. Harry hadn't yet mastered that technique. He was practicing
occasionally on his own with courgettes and hoped to have perfected the skill
soon. He was close, so fucking close, and then Lucius's teeth scraped his
cockhead gently and it was as if he had exploded, his arsehole clamping around
Lucius's fingers, his cock spurting into Lucius's throat.
Lucius stayed there, swallowing, lapping Harry clean, until Harry was limp and
relaxed. Then Lucius knelt back on his ankles, waiting for Harry's next
command.
"Take that off."
Harry indicated the dragon cock ring, within which Lucius's prick stood
rampant. Lucius murmured the words of release and the dragon uncoiled, curling
up instead in Lucius's palm. Harry bent and flicked a nipple clamp. "There's
something you talked about doing," he murmured near Lucius's ear. "Do you know
what?"
Lucius shook his head. He had told Harry about many things, after all.
"Look at me."
Harry watched Lucius's eyes dilate as he continued. "I'm going to piss on you,
and you're going to make yourself come while I do it." His lips parted for an
instant, but Lucius said not one word.
"You've told me how it feels to have someone's hot piss soaking you, trickling
down your skin, and how it feels to be the one doing the pissing, the gush of
relief, but it's the intimacy of it, the trust, that appeals to me most. Over
all these months we've become attuned to each other physically, learned to
trust each other, don't you think? You may answer."
Lucius's face was stiff, unreacting, but he replied, "Yes."
"Then touch yourself."
Harry took his cock in his hand, aimed it, let the first drops trickle out. He
had planned to do this, made sure his bladder was full, but he wanted to make
it last as long as he could.
Already Lucius's eyes were half-closed, his fist closed over his cock, pumping.
The pungent smell hit Harry's nose. He let himself go a little more, so that a
thin trickle sprayed Lucius's groin. It felt good, this slow release, almost
like drawing out a mild orgasm, but better yet was watching Lucius take
pleasure in what Harry was doing. Once upon a time he might have fantasised
about pissing on Lucius to humiliate him, belittle him in a most direct way,
but no longer; now his only purpose was to find new ways to enjoy their bodies,
to explore the limits of ecstasy.
On impulse Harry directed the flow for a moment at Lucius's chest. The dragon
clamps reacted, biting down on Lucius's nipples, and by the time that the
golden stream had returned to Lucius's cock, it was already throbbing, pulsing
out jets of spunk to be washed away with the last of Harry's piss. Lucius
sighed, slumping for a moment before quickly re-assuming his erect posture.
"Enough," said Harry softly. "Clean us up, and your service is over for today."
A flick of Lucius's wand and a couple of murmured words left them both, and the
rug, clean and dry.
"Why did you decide to do that today? I have suggested it in the past, but you
never seemed very interested," Lucius commented.
Harry worried his lower lip with his teeth. When he spoke, he did not answer
directly. "I need to talk to you about something," he said at last.
Lucius said, "This sounds serious. I think a drink might be in order. You?" He
slipped on his black silk dressing gown, tying the sash, and poured two glasses
of whiskey, handing one to Harry before sitting down. "Now, what is it?"
Before he answered, Harry took a gulp for courage. It was a mistake; he choked
and coughed, his eyes streaming. Lucius thumped him on the back.
"Let's sit down," said Harry when he could speak again. He pulled on his jeans
and shirt, not bothering with anything more, and sat, running his finger around
the rim of the glass.
"What is it?" Lucius asked again after a few moments of silence. "Did you want
to end our... association?"
"No!" Harry replied instantly, and saw Lucius relax. "No, but..." He swallowed.
"I've been seeing Draco. Your son."
"Yes, I know," said Lucius dryly, "both those things."
"I..." Harry faltered. "Oh. That's right, you were there the first time he and
I had drinks, at the Leaky Cauldron."
Lucius nodded.
Harry's face was hot. "I care for Draco. A lot. I think maybe he feels the
same, but we haven't really talked about it, not yet. The thing is that
realising how much he means to me made me recognise that you mean a great deal
to me too."
"I see." The words came slowly.
"I'm not sure what to do now." The misery clenching Harry's heart lessened a
fraction, seeing that Lucius seemed more or less calm about this revelation,
which apparently was not so much of a surprise as Harry had expected. "I don't
think things can go on the way they have, but I don't want to give you up.
Either of you."
Lucius gave a lazy, almost feline stretch, but his gaze was sharp as he said,
"You needn't, as far as I am concerned."
"You don't mind?"
"Oh, Harry. What good would that do? I would prefer to have you to myself, I
won't lie, but if the alternatives are to share you or to lose you altogether,
then naturally I will chose the former. In a way I'm flattered to know that you
don't want to throw me over in favour of Draco."
"I don't." Harry swallowed, his eyes prickling. "I still have to tell him. I
hope he takes it as well as you have, but I doubt he will."
"You never know." Lucius's teeth gleamed in a shrewd smile. "If you can't
persuade my son, you might consider having him talk with me."
***** Accidents Happen *****
Chapter Summary
     An accident is nothing to be ashamed of.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Severus. For alisanne. Prompt 90, "perfume".
Harry sniffed at the air as Severus entered their living room. "Are you wearing
perfume?"
"No." Severus sounded offended, but there was also a hint of defensiveness in
his voice. "Why do you ask?"
"I just thought I smelled something, that's all."
Harry returned to leafing through Which Broomstick. He was considering the new
Thunderbolt 3000, which was supposed to be so fast it was like having lightning
between your legs. As Seeker for the Wigtown Wanderers, he felt it was time to
replace his now-ancient Firebolt, and he had managed to get the team's owner to
agree to pay half of the cost if he wanted to go for the best broom currently
available, rather than stick with the Nimbus 2500 model used by the rest of the
Wanderers.
His perusal of the specifications of the Thunderbolt was unexpectedly
interrupted.
"What did you smell?"
"What?" Harry looked up, surprised. "Er. I'm not sure exactly; something like
warm grass, a little spicier than that though. And leather. Why?"
"No reason." Again, Severus seemed somewhat embarrassed, if the flush on his
cheeks was anything to judge by. "I was just curious."
Now it was Harry who was curious about what Severus was doing that had produced
the pleasant aroma, and why he didn't want to explain it. He put the magazine
aside and stood up, wrapping his arms around Severus. The smell was stronger
now, definitely coming from the other man, and Harry's mouth watered. Other
parts of him reacted, too.
"Did you brew Amortentia today?"
Severus turned even redder. "Yes. There was a small… accident. The cauldron
overturned."
"And splashed your robes," Harry guessed, nuzzling Severus's neck, inhaling
deeply. "It could happen to anyone; don't be embarrassed about it."
"I suppose." Severus let out a sigh and held Harry close.
***** Petunia Resents *****
Chapter Summary
     Petunia loved her sister once.
Chapter Notes
     For accioslash who asked for Petunia and Harry. Prompt 70,
     "breaking".
Petunia was nearly four when her sister was born, and from the moment Lily came
home from the hospital and gazed at Petunia with her big green eyes, Petunia
loved her. Lily adored Petunia right back.
Lily tried so hard to keep up with her beloved older sister that she outshone
Petunia at every stage, but that didn't matter until she started to show that
she could do magic. Real magic, not like performing card tricks and making
scarves disappear. As hard as Petunia tried, she couldn't do any, and when Lily
received the letter from Hogwarts, Petunia felt as though something were
breaking inside her.
As much as she could, Petunia ignored Lily from then on. She told herself that
Lily was a freak, conceited about her ability, deserving no attention. When
Petunia met Vernon Dursley, she knew that here was her chance. It wasn't until
the wedding—their mum insisted that Lily should be Petunia's bridesmaid—that
Vernon even knew Petunia had a sister.
The baby on the doorstep couldn't be anyone but Lily's son. Petunia had known
of Harry's birth, had even sent a note of congratulations to keep up
appearances, but she had never seen him. Nevertheless she was certain this was
her nephew as soon as he opened his eyes, the same clear green as his mother's.
For an instant all the affection that Petunia had once felt for Lily rushed
back. She stooped and lifted Harry, and the fold of blanket that had covered
his forehead fell away, revealing an odd cut, shaped like a lightning bolt.
Petunia frowned. She heard a rustle of paper, and pulled a letter from the
blanket. Reading it, the brief sympathy she had for the now-orphaned boy
vanished. If this child had so much magic that he had survived a powerful
wizard's curse that had killed his mother, he would be even worse than Lily.
Petunia would keep Harry, but she would never let herself love him, not when he
was a living reminder of the most painful part of her own past.
***** Full Disclosure *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry finally nerves himself up to tell Draco about the other man in
     his life.
Chapter Notes
     Draco/Harry, adult. Part of the Draco/Harry, Harry/Lucius series, but
     (I hope) stands alone. For felaine. Prompt 49, "can't".
I pace around my living room, muttering. When Hedwig was alive she would have
been the object of my conversation, but she is long gone and I have never quite
brought myself to replace her.
Not that Hedwig would have had good advice on this particular problem. I am
trying to figure out how to explain to Draco that even as we began our
relationship, I was already involved with his father... and that I've reached a
point where I can neither keep what's going on secret, nor give up either one
of them.
Lucius already knows. I told him last weekend, but I think he had guessed even
before then. He's not exactly thrilled with the situation but he says he'd
rather have something than nothing.
Neither of us thinks that Draco will take this little revelation as well as
Lucius has.
The thing is that I never intended to end up in such a tangle. It's Draco I've
been interested in for ages, but when Lucius offered to do anything I asked as
thanks for saving Draco from the Fiendfyre, I couldn't resist having him teach
me about sex. I guessed, and I was right, that he had had plenty of experience
with other men, and with activities rather beyond the usual. I didn't expect
that eventually he would come to mean more to me than a kinky tutor, but that
is what happened.
In the meantime I had finally managed to hook up with Draco; our initial
encounter led quickly to getting physical, but we hit it off in every other way
as well. We complement each other. I'm impulsive, he's more calculating; I'm an
orphan, he's had more of family bonding that he would like; I'm a hero, he's...
well, not a villain, but maybe close, at least in most people's eyes. Anyhow.
The point is that we get on surprisingly well, to where I think we're both
seriously considering spending the rest of our lives together... except for
this one little snag.
"Maybe not so little," I say aloud, just as a thud in the fireplace signals
Draco's arrival.
"That's definitely not so little," he says, coming toward me. "Is that a
broomstick in your trousers, or are you just happy to see me?"
"Flatterer," I murmur against his lips. "You're bigger than I am."
"Only longer," he corrects me.
We measured, one night, when we'd had sex about four times and were happily
exhausted and drinking firewhiskey. Draco's right, he's longer, but I'm bigger
around. He says he prefers that; he likes to suck me off but has a tendency to
gag when he takes me too deep into his mouth.
Already his hand is on me, and yeah, I'm hard for him. I've been thinking about
him and Lucius and sex, how could I not be hard? He's flattered, though, I can
tell by the way his eyes shine as he pulls a little back and sinks gracefully
to his knees, reaching to unfasten my trousers, setting my cock free.
"Draco," I say.
"Mm-hm?"
His lips are already parting, sliding around the tip, his tongue flickering out
to taste me.
I can't say it now. I haven't even figured out how to explain the situation
yet. So I let it go, let myself yield to the pleasure Draco is offering.
"Nothing. Just that... I love you," I say.
It's not the first time I've told him this, but it's still new between us, this
acknowledgment that what we feel is more than pure physical attraction, and I
can see his cheeks flush. He keeps his hair trimmed short, unlike his father. I
like that. It suits him... and it has helped me, more than once, not to call
out the wrong name.
His mouth is busy, but he caresses my thigh in response.
All too soon, it seems, he stops. I can't really object, since he only does so
in order that we can both strip down and move into the bedroom. I stroke his
chest, his belly, his cock, as he quivers under my touch.
"Accio lube," I say, and slick Draco generously with the slippery gel before
positioning myself on the bed on my side, my top leg forward.
He takes a fingerful and probes me, pressing the lube inside. We both prefer it
when I am still quite tight, so it is only a few seconds before his cock nudges
my hole, and I groan as he enters.
"Ohgod -- Draco --"
"Sh, I have you," he whispers. His cheek rasps against my shoulder blade, and
his hand toys with my bollocks. The pressure of his cock, the feeling of
fullness, usually makes my own cock soften at this point, but today I remain
relatively hard. Realizing this, Draco shifts to give long strokes timed with
his own thrusts, so that his hand reaches the base of my cock just as his own
cock fills me completely.
I hear myself whimper; that's really the only word that fits the sound. It's
all too much, too good, too loving when I am almost sure that what I'm going to
have to talk to Draco about tonight will only bring him pain.
But I love him too much to lie to him any more, even by omission, and so I bite
down on my own fist and rock back against him, gasping, groaning. He cries out
my name when he comes, and together we bring me off too.
Draco spoons himself around me, his breath slowing, warm on my skin. "Good?"
"You know it was," I reply, and kiss his palm.
We stay there a little while, but my stomach starts rumbling. We were supposed
to be going out for dinner, after all. Luckily we hadn't made reservations
since we would have been late if so.
"Maybe we should just get a takeaway?" Draco suggests. "It would be quicker."
There's a fairly good curry place in the next street but one. Muggle, of
course, but Draco has adapted to the fact that I regularly go to Muggle shops
and restaurants, even resigned himself to joining me. I wouldn't say he's
totally comfortable with treating non-wizards as equals yet, but he's not
nearly as bad as he used to be. He even voluntarily wrote a letter of apology
to Hermione after he and I had been seeing each other for a couple of months.
We get samosas, chicken tikka masala, and dal, as well as rice and naan and
various chutneys and raitas -- more than enough for the two of us, but I'll eat
the leftovers for lunch for a day or two.
Draco licks orange-colored chicken sauce from his fork and sighs happily. I
grin at how much he likes it all, but my smile fades as I remember what I still
have to do.
There's no point in putting it off any longer; we've eaten and cleared away the
table and are sitting on the sofa in my living room, sipping the last of our
lagers. Draco's kicked off his shoes and his narrow bony feet are propped on my
lap.
"Draco." I stroke his ankle. "I need to talk to you about something."
"So talk." He squirms down into the cushions a little further.
I take a deep breath. "Before I started seeing you, I was... kind of involved
with someone else. Strictly a physical thing."
He shrugs. "I knew you weren't a virgin, if that's what you're trying to say.
Neither was I."
"No. I mean, I didn't stop getting together with him once you and I got
involved."
Now Draco cocks his head and eyes me. "Him, huh? I guess at least it's not
Ginny. So you're saying that you're still seeing this bloke?" His voice is
flat.
"Well, yeah. I am." I swallow hard. "And, the thing is, it was meant only to be
physical, like I said, but what I realized is that he means something to me. I
love you. I mean that, very much. But... I have feelings towards him too."
"You love him," says Draco, still quietly, but there's a strange hollowness to
his tone.
"I don't know. Maybe. Not in exactly the same way. Oh, hell." I pull off my
glasses and rub my hand across my eyes, frustrated. "Parents can have more than
one kid and love them all, right? Why can't I, can't anyone, love more than one
person romantically?"
I still haven't told Draco who the other man is. One step at a time.
Somehow, surprisingly, my rhetorical question engages Draco's interest. "I
don't know." He has pulled his feet away and curled up against the far arm of
the sofa, but he hasn't moved any further off than that. "It doesn't really
make sense, on a certain level. Although it's a lot easier to figure out what
is going on if people are only supposed to be involved with one other person at
a time."
"That's true," I have to admit. "You can sort of check both people off mentally
as taken, and not have to worry about them. Whereas if they might also each be
seeing more people... yeah, confusing."
"Just a little." Draco brushes his fringe back and peers at me. "You thought
I'd be furious over this, didn't you?"
"Yes." I wonder if maybe Draco, too, has someone else. It would be only fair...
but it doesn't seem likely. He's never given the slightest hint of such a
thing. Then again, neither have I.
"Well, I am; but I'm a Slytherin. I can save up and hit you with it later, when
you're not expecting it."
"If you tell me that's what you're doing, doesn't that kind of ruin the
surprise?" I ask.
"Harry..." He shook his head at me. "No. Believe me, no."
"Okay," I say doubtfully, because I'm sure I am going to worry about this until
he does take his anger out on me.
"So putting the fact that you've been cheating on me aside for the moment..."
I want to protest that description -- it's not as though we ever promised
exclusivity -- but I'm not exactly in a position to do so.
"...is this other man someone I know? Just so I have an idea of who the
competition is, you understand." Draco takes a long drink, finishing his glass,
but his eyes remain fixed on me the whole time, and I know he won't accept an
evasion.
This is even harder than telling him there was someone else to begin with.
"It's someone you know," I say.
"Please tell me it's not that Weasley brother. I don't think I could cope with
that," says Draco.
"Not Charlie." I shake my head. "Not a Gryffindor at all."
"Really?" Draco's eyebrows go up. "Dare I hope you had the good taste to choose
a Slytherin?"
Since I know that Lucius, like Draco, had been in that House, I can only nod.
"You did? All right, now I have to know who. Blaise? No one else in our year
flies on the wrong side of the broomstick." Draco squints at me. "Miles? He's
only a couple of years ahead of us, not that much older."
"It's someone a lot older," I say, almost under my breath. Before Draco can ask
me to repeat myself, I say, more loudly, "Lucius. Your father."
"My what? Sorry, I can't have heard you right."
"You did," I sigh. "It just... happened."
"I can't believe this."
I have never seen Draco so upset, not even when he was so frustrated in the
Room of Requirement that he was practically crying. I guess his relative calm
at knowing I've been sleeping with someone else was more of a pretense than he
was letting on, because it's as if a switch has flipped inside him. He's not
red, but pale and shaking, curled in on himself with his arms around his knees.
"I can't... I have to leave."
Before I can stop him, he's over at the fireplace, grabbing a handful of Floo
powder.
He's gone.
***** Summer Love *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry makes a visit to Charlie in Romania.
Chapter Notes
     Schmoopy Charlie/Harry. For angela_snape. Prompt 7, "tranquil".
"This is the life."
Harry sighed happily, looking up at the blue sky, broken only by the occasional
puffy white cloud. The smell of sun-warmed grass and wildflowers -- most of
which he did not recognize -- filled the air. He was sprawled on a blanket in a
tiny meadow nestled among rocky slopes at the dragon reservation.
"You're lucky to get to work here," he said to Charlie with a yawn. They'd been
up late last night, and just eaten an enormous breakfast. "It's gorgeous."
Charlie chuckled. "Yeah, in summer. You should see it in winter though -- still
beautiful but covered in snow and ice. And then there's autumn and spring,
breeding and hatching seasons. At those times we're lucky to have a second to
look at anything but the dragons; if you're not alert all the time, you can end
up very, very dead."
Harry took Charlie's hand, noticing the many scars and burns that marred his
skin. "I know. People say I was brave, doing what I did against Voldemort, but
I think you dragon handlers are far braver; I had to fight him, for my own
life. You choose to do this work despite the danger."
"Yes, well." Charlie wriggled his shoulders deeper into the green-golden
grasses, looking embarrassed. "I do it because I love working with the dragons.
There's nothing else like it. But still, I'm glad to have some down time now
and then."
"Like now?" Harry gave Charlie a grin. Green eyes met blue, and a spark kindled
between them.
"Like now," Charlie agreed, rolling over and pulling Harry to him.
***** Business Proposition *****
Chapter Summary
     George can't quite manage Weasley's Wizard Wheezes on his own.
Chapter Notes
     George/Harry preslash. For secretsolitaire. Prompt 75, "decision".
Running Weasley's Wizard Wheezes just wasn't the same without Fred. George
didn't want to give up the dream that he had shared with his twin for so long,
though, so he doggedly kept at it, developing some of the ideas that he and
Fred had talked about and even coming up with a few new ones.
That part was all right, if less enjoyable than collaborating. Finding wizards
to make the products was trickier, but he couldn't possibly keep up all on his
own. Running the shop was the least fun of all. George liked talking with
customers, helping them to pick out the best gags and joke products for their
needs, but if he did that, he had no time for anything else. He had no choice
but to hire a couple of witches, although he tried to spend an hour or so a day
in the shop himself.
After nearly a year of juggling the many different responsibilities, George
came to a decision. He sent an owl to Harry.
The next day, Harry was in George's workshop, looking a bit older and wearier
than George remembered, but he supposed that being a celebrity wasn't all
Chocoballs and Fizzing Whizbees. His dark hair was still as messy as ever, and
his green eyes were alight.
"You wanted to talk?"
George nodded, and explained his business proposition. In a way Harry had been
a silent partner in the shop from the beginning, since he'd given Fred and
George the Galleons they needed to start it up. Now George hoped that Harry
might consider coming in actively, helping George out with invention and
initial manufacture, spending a few hours with the customers, and generally
doing anything and everything that was becoming too much for George to handle.
"Charms weren't my strongest skill at school," Harry pointed out. "I'm nothing
like as good as you are on those."
"Doesn't matter," said George firmly. "You'll get better over time, and anyhow,
just having someone to bounce ideas off of would help. You always appreciated
the kinds of things that Fred and I made, and you work hard when it's something
you want to do. Honestly, there's no one else I would rather have helping me
out."
Harry pushed his glasses up and looked thoughtful. "Not any of your family? Ron
would probably leap at the chance, for instance."
"He might, but he's still enthralled with the idea of becoming an Auror; I
don't want to mess that up for him. You already decided it wasn't for you after
all. Now, if you don't want to come work with me, I understand. Maybe this
isn't your mug of pumpkin juice either." Under the table George crossed his
fingers.
"No, I'd love to. I just don't understand why you want me over anyone else,"
said Harry. "Some people, I would know they wanted my name for advertising or
whatever, but that's not the way you think. So why?"
"Ask me that again a year from now, all right?" By then, George hoped, he would
have managed to make Harry his partner in more than business.
***** Luna's Triumph *****
Chapter Summary
     One thing Harry loves about Luna is her creative unpredictability.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Luna. For ragdoll. Prompt 21, "whimsy".
Harry loved Luna's whimsy.
She woke Harry up one morning with a plateful of pancakes made with puffapods;
when he took a bite, each seed burst into a flower in his mouth. Delicious,
surprisingly, but disconcerting.
Another time Luna decided that their kitten (sired by Crookshanks) suffered
from scrofungulus, and made charmed amulets out of hellebore and sneezewort for
all three of them to wear. Harry sneezed at random moments for weeks afterward,
but he had to admit that he stayed healthy.
Her greatest triumph, though, was the way that she decorated every room. Harry
had told her how much he liked the portraits she had painted of him and their
other friends on her ceiling at her father's house, and she responded by first
re-creating those images, and then memorializing all (as near as Harry could
tell) of their friends and allies who had resisted Voldemort.
The Weasley twins' faces grinned at Harry whenever he used the toilet; each
original member of the Order of the Phoenix (Luna borrowed the photograph)
lined the hallway to the library cum study cum guest room; and Cedric Diggory
flew a painted broomstick up the staircase.
None of them would ever be forgotten.
***** Married at Last *****
Chapter Summary
     Usually it's the bride who has the privilege of late arrival, but
     Hermione's not that kind of person.
Chapter Notes
     For aome who wanted Harry with anyone of his generation, and
     especially wanted him late at a wedding. This fits into the ongoing
     Harry/Hermione/Ron series, but stands alone perfectly well. Prompt
     92, "late".
"Where are they?" Hermione hissed out of the corner of her mouth, trying not to
disturb the careful job of makeup, hairdressing, and general transformation
that had been done to her by Ginny, Luna, and Mrs Granger. She looked entirely
unlike her usual self, and wasn't sure she liked it, but, well, this was once
in a lifetime and it meant rather a lot to her mother.
"I'm sure they'll be here," said Luna serenely.
===============================================================================
"We're late!" Harry pawed with frantic urgency through the piles of
miscellaneous clothing that were strewn over dresser, chair, and bed, looking
for the cufflinks that had once belonged to Sirius and Kreacher had unearthed
for the occasion.
"They can't start without us," said Ron, who was wrestling with his tie. "Calm
down."
"He's right." Neville was already dressed in formal robes of deep purple, a
white rose that matched the pair waiting for Ron and Harry pinned to his chest.
"You survived everything that V-Voldemort threw at you, time after time. You
can handle this."
Harry took a deep breath and let it out. "I know. I just want everything to be
perfect, for Hermione's sake."
"She'll forgive you. What is it you're looking for?" Ron asked. His tie was
tied, if slightly askew, and he'd been generous with the Sleekeazy's Hair
Potion that Hermione had insisted they both use.
"Cufflinks!"
"Here they are." Ron plucked them from the top of the wardrobe. "Wonder how
they got up there?"
"Doesn't matter. Right." Harry fumbled to fasten them. "Ready?"
"Just these," said Neville, pinning on their roses. "I have the ring."
===============================================================================
Minerva McGonagall looked positively beatific as the three of them stood before
her, with Neville behind Harry and Ron, and Ginny and Luna backing up Hermione.
Harry was glad that they had asked the Hogwarts Headmistress to perform the
ceremony, as well as to have it on the school grounds.
The words were somewhat different from what he had known growing up at the
Dursleys', and Harry found the simultaneous spell-casting of a Happiness Charm
by the entire assembly a bit overwhelming, but the three of them were married
at last.
***** Valedictory *****
Chapter Summary
     The three of them have tea together.
Chapter Notes
     For westernredcedar who wanted Harry/Ron; this ended up Harry/Ron/
     Hermione, and angsty. Prompt 15, "brown".
Ron's hand rests on top of the blanket. His freckles are hard to distinguish
from brown age spots, these days, thinks Harry, as he reaches to entwine his
fingers with Ron's.
They both know that time is short. How short -- that is the unanswerable
question. It could be moments, could be months. In private conversations with
Harry, Hermione has expressed the hope that it will be shorter rather than
longer, for Ron's sake.
"Where's Hermione?" Ron's voice cracks, wavers, and Harry wonders if Ron has
somehow caught his thoughts, even without Legilimency.
"Making tea," he says, almost equally huskily. "Want me to get her?"
Ron moves his head from side to side. His hand clasps Harry's more tightly,
though it is nothing like the grip he once had. "'S all right. She'll be here
soon."
The two of them wait. It isn't long, really, before Hermione returns, the
loaded tea tray floating before her to settle gently on the stand beside Ron's
bed. She pours: milk and one sugar for Ron, four sugars for Harry, none for
herself. Harry chooses a biscuit.
"Thanks." Ron raises himself with an effort to sit upright against his pillows.
He keeps hold of Harry with one hand, taking the cup with the other.
Hermione pats his knee. "You're welcome."
It is a quiet time, simply being together, remembering. When Ron's eyes slide
shut, Harry rescues his teacup from falling.
***** Best Laid Plans *****
Chapter Summary
     Percy is delayed on his way to meet Harry for dinner.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Percy schmoop. For secretsolitaire. Prompt 46, "full".
"Minister, do you have a minute?"
He didn't, really, but he hadn't risen to this position by ignoring the
reasonable requests of the wizards and witches whose work made the Ministry of
Magic function. He pulled his expression into the semblance of patient calm and
listened.
It seemed that the world-wide conference between the highest levels of
wizarding authority might fall through... all because someone hadn't bothered
to check the translations, and now the delegations from no fewer than forty-one
countries were indignant over a supposed slight.
Percy sighed inwardly. "Send an urgent owl to Hermione Granger in the
Department of Magical Law Enforcement," he instructed. "Ask her -- at my
personal request -- if she would please look for precedents in how to handle
this sort of situation, and if she has any good Muggle contacts to fix the
translations."
"Yes, Minister, of course." The Head of International Magical Cooperation bowed
thankfully and left Percy's office.
Percy checked the time and swore under his breath. He was late... and he had
had special plans for tonight, too. It was the fifth anniversary of his and
Harry's first date. He felt in his pocket to make sure he had the little box he
had so carefully wrapped the night before.
When he arrived at the restaurant, Harry was already at the table.
"I hoped you hadn't forgotten." Harry smiled, but Percy knew it was only a
semi-joke.
"Sorry." Percy made a face. "This upcoming conference I'm trying to get
arranged; there was an unfortunate error in the invitation that offended quite
a few recipients, totally unintentionally."
Harry nodded. He understood pressure, and the difficulties of being in the
public eye; that was one reason why they got on so well as a couple. It didn't
mean either of them always liked it, though.
"I ordered a bottle of that Chianti you like so well. Here." He poured Percy a
glass, and as Percy was raising it to his lips, placed something on the table.
"Percy... it's been five fantastic years with you. I wondered... if you'd like
to make it for always." Harry opened the box to show a ring.
"You..." Percy's jaw dropped, then he began to chuckle, and pulled the box he'd
brought from his pocket and handed it to Harry, who tore off the paper and
laughed just as hard at what was inside.
"I guess great minds really do think alike, and I guess that answers my
question."
"Mine, too," said Percy, his heart full as he leaned across the table to kiss
Harry.
***** Decisions, Decisions *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry is stumped for a gift for Draco's birthday.
Chapter Notes
     Draco/Harry, some innuendo. Because today (June 5) is Draco's
     birthday. Prompt 6, "day".
Today is a day like any other... except that it isn't. It's Draco's birthday
today, and I haven't been able to think of anything to give him as a gift.
I mean, it's not like it's a significant birthday. He's thirty-two today. Who
cares about thirty-two? It's not a coming-of-age, or a round number, or
something like that. Next year, maybe, first because two threes is kind of
cool, and also in those weird fantasy books that Dean made me read, the hobbits
came of age at thirty-three.
Not that Draco's a hobbit. Though there's that old saw about the size of a
man's feet relating to the size of his cock, and, well, never mind about that.
So what can I give him? We don't stint ourselves in how we live. Pretty much
anything that we want, we can buy, between what I inherited, his trust funds,
and what we earn. Even putting some Galleons aside for Teddy Lupin, money has
never been an issue.
He has an almost-new broomstick, more robes than will fit in his wardrobe, and
every kind of kinky jewelry you can imagine. We don't need any more furniture
or artwork or even commemorative teacups -- the china hutch is overflowing
already.
Maybe the best present I can give him is just me?
===============================================================================
Dear Draco,
IOU one day of doing whatever you like... and I do mean whatever. Happy
birthday!
Love,
Harry
***** A Lack of Virtue *****
Chapter Summary
     Waiting is hell.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Draco, Harry/Lucius, implied infidelity. For felaine, who
     wanted something in the Harry/Draco/Lucius series. As usual this is
     intended to stand alone. Prompt 40, "hell".
Harry doesn't believe in hell. The Dursleys only went to church twice a year -
- Christmas and Easter, at St Barnabas's -- and Harry was usually left at home.
His religious education, therefore, was negligible, and nothing he has
experienced since has made him more inclined toward the Church of England… or
any other religion for that matter.
Nevertheless, he thinks, what he is going through now is at least an
approximation of hell as commonly understood. Since Draco left Harry's flat six
days ago, Harry has heard nothing from him, nothing at all; nor has Lucius
contacted him either.
Patience is no doubt a virtue, but Harry doesn't feel very virtuous at the
moment. Rather the contrary. He has written and torn up a dozen letters, paced
around his living room for hours at a go, and tried drinking half a bottle of
Ogden's Old Firewhisky. All he's succeeded in doing is to fill his wastebasket,
wear a visible path on his carpet, and develop a pounding headache.
This might as well be hell. He could call it limbo, but that seems too neutral
a word. Until Draco tells him something, Harry is going to remain half-crazy
with uncertainty, made worse by the fact that he knows it's his own fault,
first for having affairs (if that is the right word) with both Lucius and
Draco, second for deciding that he wanted to stay with them both, and third for
actually telling them. Surely other people don't get themselves into such
complicated situations?
Harry scowls and pours himself a glass of pumpkin juice, hoping it will
alleviate the firewhisky headache. He considers trying again to write a letter
to Draco, but every previous one has either sounded too abject or too self-
justifying. He hasn't come up with any way to say better how he feels than he
did when he last saw Draco.
Six days. Only six days. He can wait longer than this, he assures himself. If
only Draco will decide that he can cope with Harry loving Lucius as well as
Draco, Harry can wait as long as necessary.
***** Hero Worship *****
Chapter Summary
     Dennis is in love with Harry.
Chapter Notes
     Dennis/Harry (perhaps unrequited). Prompt 52, "because". For kaellite
     who asked for this pairing for the prompt.
Because Colin came home from his first year at Hogwarts with something like a
thousand pictures that had Harry Potter in them, looking embarrassed but still
smiling.
Because Harry didn't treat Dennis any differently from the older students, even
his friends, when Dennis and Colin joined Dumbledore's Army.
Because Colin had sneaked back into Hogwarts to fight Voldemort and never came
back home again.
Because Harry wrote a letter to the Creevey family to say how sorry he was,
mentioning Colin's bravery, and Dennis's accomplishments in the D.A.
For all these reasons and more... Dennis is in love with Harry.
***** Thunderbolt City *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry should be frightened, but he's not.
Chapter Notes
     Charlie/Harry, for aunty_marion who requested the pairing. The title
     is pinched from a line in Four Weddings and a Funeral. Prompt 57,
     "lightning".
The rain had plastered Harry’s hair to his head, and even with the Impervius
spell he could hardly see through his glasses, but he was laughing as he landed
his broom next to Charlie's.
"That was wicked!" he said across a boom of thunder.
"What?" Charlie's face was illuminated by yet another lightning flash.
"Wicked!" Harry repeated, sweeping his arm towards the dark sky. "I've never
flown in a storm like that before."
He hadn't been frightened by it, though doubtless he should have been.
"You're mad!" Charlie laughed.
"I know." Harry grinned at him. "But you love me anyhow."
***** Sacrificed *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry cannot overcome the past.
Chapter Notes
     For aome, who asked for Harry/anyone. Prompt 62, "forget."
It's no good.
Harry knows this but he doesn't want to admit it even to himself, much less to
Ginny. The thought of her helped him hold on during that last dreadful year
before Voldemort's defeat; she was a talisman for him when things seemed
darkest, a living vibrant hope for a better world someday.
But he cannot forget.
Too many sacrifices, too many trials, too many traumas. He wakes up sweating
and shaking, to rise and take his broomstick and go flying through the damp
night for endless hours.
It's not fair.
His heart breaks when he says goodbye.
***** Part of the Collection *****
Chapter Summary
     Slughorn's collection of photos includes one that surprises Harry.
Chapter Notes
     For Cruisedirector who asked for Harry & Tom Riddle, not shippy.
     Prompt 3, "picture".
The picture stood on one of Professor Slughorn's tables, half-hidden behind
another in which a beaming Slughorn stood with the McCormack family: Catriona
and Meghan in their deep purple Pride of Portree robes, and Kirley holding his
guitar.
Harry ignored the waving Quidditch players to lean forward and look more
closely at the smaller photograph. A strikingly good-looking young man ran long
fingers through his dark hair and smiled up at Harry. He looked familiar,
somehow, but it took a moment for Harry to recognize Tom Riddle.
He picked up the photograph with trembling hands. For a moment he thought of
dropping it, smashing the glass and damaging the image, scarring Riddle's
handsome face. It would make this likeness from the past in some sense closer
to the reality of Voldemort.
But Slughorn would notice. With a whisper of regret Harry returned the picture
to its place on the table, wondering why Slughorn still kept it at all, much
less where a visitor could see.
***** The Announcement *****
Chapter Summary
     An advert in the Prophet might have caused less fuss.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Ginny. For jelazakazone who asked for this pairing. Prompt 84,
     "deadly".
As ever at the holidays, the Burrow was full of cheerful confusion. Every
Weasley was present, even Percy and Charlie, and all were talking, laughing,
drinking hot butterbeer or pumpkin juice, eating one of Molly's delicious spicy
biscuits.
After three attempts at getting everyone's attention, Harry gave up.
"If you don't mind."
The words boomed out, louder than he had intended. The entire room suddenly
fell deadly quiet. Harry flushed and adjusted the Sonorus spell.
"Ginny and I have something to tell everyone. Ginny?"
Smiling, Ginny said, "Harry and I are going to be married at Midsummer."
The wave of congratulations that roared over them almost made Harry wish they
had taken out an advertisement in The Daily Prophet instead.
***** Mistakes Were Made *****
Chapter Summary
     Kingsley reassures Harry.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Kingsley. For secretsolitaire who asked for this pairing.
     Prompt 53, "wander".
"Don't let it get you down, Harry," said Kingsley softly. "Sometimes they get
away, no matter how good our plans are."
"But I should've caught him," Harry insisted. "I mean, for Borgin to escape?
Maybe everyone was right, maybe I'm too young to be an Auror. I never had the
full training…"
Five quick steps brought Kingsley to Harry's side. "You have more real
experience against Dark wizards than half the Aurors who've been in the
department for a decade. Don't underestimate yourself. Everyone makes mistakes,
and as they go, yours was minor. We'll find Borgin again and catch him next
time."
Harry sighed. "I suppose so. At least I shouldn't have to wander around
Heidelberg pretending to be a Harriers fan again, right?"
"Right." Kingsley hugged him. "You're really more the Cannons type."
"The Cannons? That's Ron, not me," Harry protested, before he realised that
Kingsley was teasing him.
***** Hatred *****
Chapter Summary
     Before Severus ever saw Harry Potter, he hated him.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Severus, if you squint hard. For alisanne, who asked for this
     pairing. Prompt 64, "before".
Before Severus ever saw Harry Potter, he hated him.
Harry was living proof that Lily's friendship was gone forever. Proof that once
again, James Potter had triumphed.
Proof that Severus had failed.
His first sight of Harry did nothing to change his mind. No son should look
that much like his father. That Harry had his mother's eyes only made Severus's
resentment greater.
Year by year his antipathy grew, fuelled by Harry's reckless behaviour and
chronic insubordination.
Only when he gave up his memories to Harry did Severus realise that love for
the mother had become love for the son.
***** Love Abides *****
Chapter Summary
     Lucius waits to learn his fate.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Lucius, Harry/Draco, implied infidelity. For felaine, who
     wanted something in the Draco/Harry/Lucius series. As usual this is
     intended to stand alone, and it is (probably) the wrap-up of the
     series. Prompt 14, "inside".
At my age, and with my past, you would think that I should have learned to be
patient by now, but tonight patience seems as unreachable as the moon.
The wind roars. Birch branches lash at the windows. Were they not strengthened
by spells, they might break, spilling the wildness of the night inside to where
I pace on the green velvet of the carpet in my library.
Harry told me that he was writing to Draco, explaining matters. I wonder if my
son will understand, will believe, will accept what has happened. Even to me
the situation is unlikely. When I offered Harry anything he wanted, as
recompense for having saved Draco's life, I never expected him to demand that I
teach him how to have sex with another man. Still less did I imagine that I
would—let me be honest—learn to love him.
And if that were not enough, to find that his purpose was to seduce my own son!
But evidently Lady Fortune smiles not only on Harry, but on those around him as
well, since he has confessed that he returns my emotions, though he loves Draco
too. Hence the letter. Hence my disquiet until I learn what the outcome will
be.
A house-elf brings me a glass of whisky, and I have to restrain myself from
gulping the contents and requesting more. If Harry should come here tonight I
want all my wits about me, in case my son refuses Harry's request to continue
both relationships. I would, were I Draco. He has forgiven me much already, but
this… this might be more than he can take.
I pick up my battered copy of Hélas, Je me suis Transfiguré mes Pieds and leaf
through it, but for once the antics of Grenouille and Crapaud cannot hold my
attention. My treacherous mind keeps returning to Harry, presenting me with
image after image of him: sprawling unselfconsciously on rumpled sheets;
sitting with a cheeky grin, sideways in my best armchair; opening his mouth in
ecstasy as he comes inside my body. Merlin. I take another swallow of whisky
and adjust my robes.
"Sir?"
"What?" I snap at the elf.
"There is a visitor. Harry Potter, sir."
"Well, show him in at once!"
I breathe in deeply, willing myself to calm. I have to expect the worst, that
Draco will not accept Harry's ongoing liaison with me, that when forced to make
a choice, Harry will choose Draco. I move towards the windows and stand facing
the night, the wild wind. The darkness outside makes the glass into a mirror
that reflects the room behind me.
The door opens and Harry enters. His expression is somber. I sigh inwardly as
he crosses to stand behind me, puts his arms about me.
"Lucius…" he murmurs.
I turn in his embrace and tilt my head down to kiss him one last time, using
every subtle technique I have to convey the emotions I will never be able to
express again.
When the kiss ends, his green eyes hold my gaze fast. The door opens again and
Draco steps in. My son has the nerve to smirk at me.
"All is well, Lucius," Harry says, breaking into a smile. "All is well."
***** More Things in Heaven *****
Chapter Summary
     Suddenly Harry's not in the Leaky Cauldron any more.
Chapter Notes
     Harry Potter, Frodo Baggins. For espresso_addict who thought Frodo
     might give Harry interesting advice. I'm not sure that this qualifies
     as "interesting advice" but I hope it's an interesting situation, at
     least. The title is, of course, from Hamlet, act I, scene 5. Prompt
     58, "spirit".
Maybe someone really spiked the butterbeer? Because this place doesn't look
familiar at all. The last I remember, I was sitting in the Leaky Cauldron
having a pint and reminiscing with George. He got all misty, and now, poof,
he's gone and I'm in a totally different pub altogether.
I look around cautiously. It's darker in here than the Leaky, but there seem to
be a lot of children, so maybe it's not a pub after all?
No, wait. They're not children. Some of them have beards. And the short ones
without beards all have enormous feet. Bare feet. Hairy bare feet.
Something about that tickles the back of my mind. I take a swallow from the
pint glass in front of me—beer, not butterbeer, but it's not bad—and think
hard. Merlin. Big hairy bare feet. They're hobbits. And the other short people
must be dwarves. There are some bigger folks, my size, as well.
Am I dreaming? Or did George play one of his more involved practical jokes on
me and somehow dump me into a movie set? I heard that there was a remake of The
Lord of the Rings in the works, and that's what this seems to be… except that
there aren't any cameras that I can see, and this all looks too real to be a
movie set.
I must be dreaming. At least the beer is good, right?
There's a stir at the bar and then one of the little people, the hobbits, moves
in my direction.
"Frodo Baggins, at your service," he says, setting his glass down on my table
and hoisting himself into a chair.
"Er. Harry Potter, at yours," I reply.
That seems to be the right thing to say, because Frodo smiles. "Welcome to the
Prancing Pony."
"Is that where I am?"
"Well… near enough. The real thing is long, long gone, but a few of us chipped
in for this re-creation." He looks around with satisfaction. "It was always a
good place to meet travellers and learn the latest news, you understand, and
old Barliman Butterbur makes everyone welcome, the little folk and the big
alike."
"All right," I say doubtfully. "But, er, aren't you dead? Or something?" I
vaguely remember that Frodo sailed west at the end of the books, but what
happened to him after that is unclear in my memory. "And why am I here? I'm
from the real world, and Middle-earth is just a story."
Now he laughs. "Do you think I'm some kind of ghost or spirit, or imaginary
creature? Poke me."
I do. He feels solid to me. Real.
"I don't understand." My voice sounds more plaintive than I would like.
"We're both real. Or both fiction. Whichever you prefer to think of yourself
as; it doesn't really matter." Frodo nods at my glass. "Can I get you another?"
I hesitate before agreeing. Frodo hops down and takes both our glasses away,
bringing them back refilled.
"Thanks." The beer goes down smoothly. "This is very good."
"Gandalf's enchantment," Frodo confides. "Strider talked him into it, or so he
claims, but I think Gandalf was happy for the excuse. He was always fonder of
both ale and pipeweed than he wanted anyone to notice."
"Gandalf," I repeat, my head spinning. "So I am in Middle-earth."
"No, you're in the afterlife." He shrugs. "Heaven, Valhalla, Annwn, Elysium…
whatever you want to call it. The Hall of Heroes."
So now I know where I am, I guess, but it still doesn't make any sense, except
that apparently I'm dead.
Frodo apparently senses my confusion, because he adds, "It's meant to be a
reward. Not everyone ends up here, obviously." He gestures around the room.
"The inn isn't nearly large enough. There are others, of course, and we can
move between them as we like, and visit the places where those who are not
heroes go too."
"So heaven is a kind of city?" I ask, trying to understand. "With different
neighbourhoods, and locals, and so forth?"
"More or less. You'll understand after you've been here a while," says Frodo.
"And it has fictional characters too?"
"No. We're all real, Harry. That was hard for Sam to understand too. Out
there," he waves his hand, "where you came from, you saw that as reality, and
so my world for you is fiction. But for me, it's the opposite. My world is
real, and you're fiction, and so are Ged, and Rand al'Thor, and Lessa, and
Taran, and Paksenarrion, and…"
"I've never even heard of any of those people," I say. "Except Taran. I think.
He sounds kind of familiar."
Frodo nods. "The Prydain Chronicles. Taran and Eilonwy drop in here from time
to time. Her bauble is similar to Galadriel's phial that helped me in Mordor,
you know."
I finish my beer. "So everything in books is actually real?"
"Pretty much. It's rather fun once you get used to it, especially since, being
now beyond death, you don't have to worry about it. I've had some good
conversations with Sméagol, for instance. Gollum," he adds when I don't
recognise the name.
"So the villains are here too, as well as the heroes?"
"No. Nothing truly evil gets to this place. Sméagol's sacrifice redeemed him,
or so Gandalf explained it to me. But Sauron's not here, or your Lord
Voldemort, or any such."
"I think I need another drink," I say under my breath. "This is all, er, rather
unexpected."
"I know how you feel," says Frodo. "It took me a while to get used to it
myself. I'm not sure why you ended up here, exactly—not that you're not
welcome!—since there are a few of your people around already, and generally
folks end up mostly with their book-kindred, as we call them. Maybe Dobby
suggested it. He's quite the character and often visits. There aren't any true
elves about, you know, since they are bound to Middle-earth and don't die as we
mortals do, so house-elves are as close to elves as you'll see. Not very close
at all."
"No," I agree, remembering a little now about the elves of Middle-earth.
"But listen. My advice to you now would be to take a room—Barliman has plenty
for folk your size—and get some rest, and we'll talk more in the morning. I can
take you on a bit of a tour if you'd like."
"That would be wonderful," I say gratefully. I hold out my hand. Frodo clasps
it, and I notice the missing finger.
This may be heaven, but I think I'm glad to know that not everything is perfect
here. Perfection would be awfully dull.
***** Love Me Two Times *****
Chapter Summary
     There's something behind Harry's humming.
Chapter Notes
     For alisanne, who asked for this pairing. The title is (obviously)
     from the Doors song! Prompt 39, "double."
"Er, Harry?"
"What?" Harry looked up from the thick file he was reading.
"You're doing it again. Humming," said Draco.
"Sorry," Harry apologised. "I didn't realise I was."
"I know." Draco sighed. "You never do."
"Just a few more pages and I'll quit for tonight. I need to get this read
through before tomorrow though. I'm lead on the case and my team will be going
to Romania the next day."
"Romania?" Draco's voice scaled up. "This Thursday?"
"Well, yes." Harry looked over his glasses at Draco. "I'm sorry I couldn't let
you know sooner, but it only just came up this morning."
"Harry. It's not the lack of notice I object to so much—after all these years
I'm used to that, even if I don't like it—it's the date. Our anniversary?"
"It isn't," said Harry blankly. "That's not till June."
"It's June now, Harry. Thursday is June 24. Our fifteenth anniversary."
"Oh, nogtails' nuts. I can't believe I forgot…"
"Again," said Draco grimly.
"Again," Harry agreed. "But there's no way I can change the schedule on this,
Draco, I'm sorry. Word came down from Kingsley on this one. But I'll make it up
to you."
"How?"
Harry smiled their private smile. "Just as soon as I finish reading," he
promised, "I'll meet you in the bedroom."
Draco had to smile back. "Twenty minutes?"
"Make it twenty-five," Harry said, "just to be on the safe side."
As he waited, Draco found himself humming the same tune that had so bothered
him earlier. One of the Muggle oldies that Harry so liked, he knew, and
eventually he put words to it.
Love me two times, baby
Love me twice today
Love me two times, girl
I'm goin' away
Love me two times, girl
One for tomorrow
One just for today
Love me two times
I'm goin' away
Draco sighed. Except for the "girl" part, it now made perfect sense that Harry
had had that tune in his head. At least Draco would get something out of it…
and he'd be sure to have something extra-special planned for Harry's return.
***** Taking Flight *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry is restless and pays an impromptu visit.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Lucius, consensual infidelity. For felaine who asked if I could
     try for one more in this series. Prompt 37, "spring."
Harry can't sit still. Something about the season, he thinks: springtime, new
life, new beginnings.
He's having a new beginning himself, one that he wouldn't have even imagined a
year ago. Quickly he scrawls a note to leave on the kitchen table.
D—
Going flying. Back by dinner.
Love,
H
Draco is still in their bed, asleep. Harry smiles as he pictures the way
Draco's long body curls into a comma, hands drawn in toward his face, lips
parted. Normally Harry would wait and fly with Draco, of course, but Draco is
having lunch with several other old Slytherins, and Harry wasn't invited.
Didn't want to be.
So he's going to fly, which sounds much more enjoyable than listening to Pansy
and Blaise and whoever else Draco will be meeting.
He's been diligent about maintaining his Firebolt and it is still in excellent
shape. A quick Invisibility Charm to prevent unwanted Muggle attention, and
Harry is off, zooming skyward.
For a while he dives in and out of the clouds, laughing aloud as the droplets
hit his face. The wind of his passage soon dries him off and he soars above the
billowing white masses, squinting into the sun. He practices some of the
manoeuvres he used to use as Seeker, just for fun, but without a Snitch to play
with it's hard to tell how he's doing.
The sun is just beginning to decline from noon when Harry realises where his
subconscious has taken him. He swoops past Stonehenge and its crowd of Muggle
visitors and veers north.
"Is Mr Malfoy at home?" he asks the house-elf who answers the door. Belatedly,
he worries that Narcissa might be there too.
"Tabby will see, Harry Potter, sir. Harry Potter will please wait here," the
elf squeaks and scurries off.
It returns in a few minutes and takes Harry's broom, placing it carefully aside
before leading Harry to Lucius's study.
"Have you had lunch?" Lucius asks as Harry enters.
Harry shakes his head.
"Lunch for two, here. One hour," Lucius tells the elf. After it leaves, he
looks at Harry. "What brings you here today? Not that I'm not delighted to see
you, but…"
"Oh, Draco's having lunch with some of his old friends, and I was restless, so
I thought I'd do some flying and ended up here," Harry says. "I hoped you'd be
around and not busy."
Lucius shrugs. "I was going over some papers. Nothing that can't wait."
"In that case…" Harry gives him a slow smile. "You told Tabby an hour until
lunch."
"I did." Lucius flicks his wand at the door. Harry hears the click as the lock
turns. "Come here."
Harry tilts his head back as Lucius's lips travel down his neck, breath warm on
Harry's wind-chilled skin. He presses his body against the older man's. Draco
knows about his father and Harry, has said that he doesn't mind, but there's
still a little bit of illicit thrill in coming to Lucius on the spur of the
moment like this, without Draco's awareness that he is doing so today.
Lucius is the one who taught Harry most of what he knows about sex, as part of
the bargain they made when Lucius insisted he had to repay Harry for saving
Draco's life. Neither of them expected that emotion would enter into the
arrangement, but it did. Since Harry's intention all along had been to get
involved with Draco—he just wanted to have some experience first—matters became
complicated.
Thankfully Draco is neither possessive nor jealous. He has even hinted once or
twice that the three of them might enjoy a mutual encounter, but Harry hasn't
decided if he is comfortable with that yet, and he hasn't mentioned it to
Lucius.
"I've missed you," Lucius says, pulling Harry down with him onto the green
velvet sofa. He kisses Harry again and again until Harry is breathless,
writhing with need.
"You top this time," says Harry, and sees the responding spark in Lucius's grey
eyes.
"Let me just…" Lucius puts an Engorgio charm on the sofa first, followed by
Lubricio. Harry feels the slickness of his arse as Lucius peels away their
robes. He gives Harry a playful swat. "Ready?"
"Oh, yes. Yes!" A keening moan comes from Harry's throat as Lucius penetrates
him. It's strange, how different Lucius and Draco feel, though to outward
appearances their cocks are nearly identical. Maybe it is Lucius's greater
experience. It's not that one is better than the other, but Harry is sure he
would know who is who even if he were blindfolded.
"You feel so good," Lucius pauses to bite at Harry's neck, "so—very—good." His
thrusts are slow, measured, and his hand finds Harry's bollocks, caressing them
first before he wraps his fingers around Harry's prick.
"So do you," Harry says with a gasp as Lucius's fingernail tickles his slit.
"Oh, fuck yes."
Part of Harry wants to beg Lucius to move faster, not to tease, but most of him
wants this to last as long as possible. Lucius appears to feel the same way,
keeping to the same leisurely pace in his motions of both hips and hand. Harry
falls into a daze of sensation, his nerves throbbing. It's like the best
moments of flying, when everything seems effortless and perfect and joyful.
"Harry…" Lucius's voice rasps in Harry's ear.
"Yes, now, now, Lucius," Harry responds, and at last Lucius speeds up, his
fingers rapid on Harry's yearning prick, until Harry comes messily on the green
velvet, his arse clenching, wrenching the orgasm from Lucius as well.
"Mm. That was wonderful," says Harry a few moments later, turning in Lucius's
embrace and brushing the long strands of damp fair hair away from Lucius's
face.
Lucius stretches, his joints popping. "Wonderful indeed," he agrees, although
his expression is more reserved than his words would suggest.
This is one of those moments when Harry wonders if he is being unfair to
Lucius, if Lucius wouldn't be happier out of this strange relationship. But
surely, if that were so, Lucius would say something. He's used to power, used
to taking control of his own life, and he could certainly tell Harry if he
wanted to break things off.
So for now Harry takes the words at face value. Before Tabby returns with their
meal, they get dressed and Harry restores the sofa to its usual size. Lucius
inquires after Draco, and what Harry is doing at work, and mentions that
Narcissa is having a fitting at Madam Malkin's that day. He offers Harry a
glass of Ogden's, but Harry wants to fly home, so he opts for butterbeer
instead.
"Dinner Wednesday next," Harry reminds Lucius before he leaves. They have a
standing fortnightly date for dinner, alternating who chooses the restaurant
and arranges for a room afterward. Sometimes they go to Harry and Draco's flat,
sometimes to Malfoy Manor, but only when Draco or Narcissa, respectively, will
be away. However tolerant and accepting Draco is, Harry isn't ready to flaunt
his relationship with Draco's father quite yet, and he hasn't inquired as to
whether Narcissa knows anything or not—that is Lucius's business to deal with.
"It's your turn to 'host' this time," says Lucius. "Owl me when you've decided
where."
"I will." Harry gives Lucius one more kiss and swings his leg over his broom.
He flies home through the spring evening sky, brilliant with more stars than
he's ever noticed before. Dinner with Draco awaits.
***** Hold Him to It *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry unexpectedly meets up with a fellow former Gryffindor.
Chapter Notes
     Harry/Cormac. For koshweasley who requested Cormac. Prompt 9,
     "bound."
"Hullo, Harry." The voice was rich and deep, with a hint of sexy growl. Just
the kind of voice that sent a delightful shiver down Harry's spine.
His shoulders tightened instinctively at the greeting nevertheless. While there
were occasional benefits to being famous throughout the wizarding world, they
were greatly outweighed by the disadvantages, one of which was being recognized
and importuned by everyone and his Crup. He repressed a sigh and turned.
To his surprise, the man standing beside his table was someone he knew. Not
well, and indeed his feelings toward Cormac McLaggen had always been less than
fond. Being hit on the head with a beater's bat wasn't something that would
exactly endear the hitter to the one thus walloped. But still, he did know
Cormac, which was a plus. Cormac was unlikely to be asking for financial
support for a new business, or for a charitable donation, or even for an
autograph.
"Cormac," said Harry. He hesitated only an instant before adding, "Have a
seat." At least that ought to prevent anyone else from coming up and bothering
him.
"Thanks." Cormac set down his glass—butterbeer by the look of it; Harry
approved—and slid onto the bench seat. "I don't mean to interrupt you, I expect
you're waiting for someone, I just wanted to greet a fellow old Gryffindor."
"No worries. I'm not meeting anyone, actually, just here for a butterbeer
before I go home." Harry shrugged, not wanting to explain that even though
being in public could get annoying, loneliness in his flat was sometimes worse.
"I see. Same here," said Cormac. "Er. Look. I know it's awfully late in the
day, but I did want to apologize to you… for that Quidditch game, you know,
when I hit you over the head, and lost the match for us." He had the grace to
look embarrassed as he spoke. "I was a complete git and there was no excuse for
it."
"It's all right," Harry said, embarrassed in his turn. "Gryffindor won the Cup
anyhow."
"Still." Cormac took a swallow of his butterbeer. "It's bothered me for a long
time, so, I'm sorry."
"Forgotten," said Harry firmly. "Honestly. Don't give it another thought."
He watched Cormac's throat move as he finished his drink. "Can I buy you
another?"
Cormac's eyes widened. "Are you sure?"
"Why not?" Harry rose and picked up both glasses. "I'll be right back."
Butterbeer might not be alcoholic, but Harry found himself talking easily with
Cormac over their second glasses, and then their third.
"Can I ask you something?" said Cormac eventually. "I mean, it might be out of
bounds."
"You can ask, I don't promise to answer," said Harry.
"Would you, er, would you like to have dinner with me sometime? It needn't be
tonight if you don't want." Cormac's face had gone slightly pink.
Oh, that stupid article from The Daily Prophet. Not that it wasn't true, but…
On the other hand, Cormac hadn't been acting like someone who would brag about
pulling Harry Potter, and Harry hadn't fancied anyone else in ages. Not that he
would say he fancied Cormac—not yet—but Cormac was attractive enough to provoke
Harry's interest. And with that voice…
"Why not tonight?" Harry kept his tone light. "But let's go somewhere else
besides the Leaky. There's a great Muggle chip shop near my flat; we could get
a takeaway."
Cormac's eyes shone. "Whatever you like, Harry."
"I'll hold you to that," Harry said. He was only half joking, which Cormac
seemed to realize.
"You can hold me to anything you want," Cormac said. "I owe you that… and I
look forward to it."
***** Skirmish *****
Chapter Summary
     While trying to reach a D.A. meeting, Harry encounters one of the
     Inquisitorial Squad.
Chapter Notes
     Harry, Millicent. For espresso_addict who suggested Millicent
     Bulstrode. Prompt 80, "while."
Harry glanced along the corridor and his heart sank. Even from a distance he
was sure that the other person was not a member of the D.A.—by now he knew them
all fairly well—and as the figure moved closer, he recognized Millicent
Bulstrode.
"Potter." Millicent sneered. "Here to while away your time in front of the
tapestry again? You're as barmy as Barnabas was."
Harry mumbled something extremely unflattering under his breath.
"What was that?" demanded Millicent.
"Don't you have anything better to do?" Harry asked in return.
Millicent reached out one beefy arm and pushed him against the wall. "No,
Potter, I don't. You'd better watch your step."
Gritting his teeth, Harry reminded himself that challenging one of Umbridge's
Inquisitorial Squad was worse than useless. He might well win the skirmish but
lose the war, so to speak.
"Thanks, I will," he said in a falsely pleasant voice. "Any other advice for
me?"
She gave him another shove and let go.
"Just watch it. Because we're watching you."
Harry remained in place as Millicent backed away. When she had turned the
corner, he hurried three times past the tapestry and entered the Room of
Requirement with relief.
***** Could It Ever Have Been Different? *****
Chapter Summary
     Twenty-three years after the war, Harry gets an unexpected visitor.
Chapter Notes
     Harry, Remus, general. For snegurochka_lee who has always been fond
     of Remus. The title is taken from the Pink Floyd song "A New Machine
     – Part I." Prompt 28, "final."
"What the… Remus?"
Harry's glass fell unheeded to the rug, spilling Firewhisky everywhere.
"Hello, Harry."
Remus's voice was even hoarser than Harry remembered, and his hair was entirely
grey, but there was no mistaking him.
"But you're dead. Years ago. I saw you buried. Not that… I mean, it's fantastic
that you're here, but…" Harry babbled. "No, wait a minute. Is it really you? "
"It's really me." Remus gave a twisted smile. "In the first Defense Against the
Dark Arts class I taught you, Dean Thomas's boggart turned into a severed hand,
and Padma Parvati's was a mummy."
Harry thought hard and nodded. "That's right, they were. Merlin. It is you. But
how can you be alive now, after twenty-three years? I don't understand."
"Could I have a drink?" Remus sank into the nubbly red armchair as though his
legs would no longer hold him up.
"Of course." Harry cleaned up the spilled whisky with a flick of his wand
first, then refilled his own glass and gave Remus a fresh one.
"Thanks." Remus took an enormous swallow and sighed. "I've been alive the whole
time. Werewolves are hard to kill permanently. Decapitation or burning the
corpse is the best way to ensure we won't return."
"You were buried alive?" asked Harry, horrified.
Remus nodded. "I transformed at the first full moon after the battle and clawed
my way out, but I was tremendously weakened, and of course my wand wasn't put
in the coffin. Do you know whatever happened to it?"
"I think Teddy has it," said Harry. "Hang on. What have you been doing for the
past twenty-three years? Why didn't you let us—let Teddy, and Tonks's
parents—know you were alive?"
"I…" Remus bowed his head and was silent for a few moments. "You called me a
coward once, Harry, and you were right. I couldn't… couldn't face them. Better
for Teddy to think I was dead, perhaps even a hero, than have me around."
Harry started to object, but realizing it was pointless, held his tongue. If
Remus had kept himself hidden for all those years, Harry's protests weren't
going to make any difference.
"So why are you here now?" he asked instead.
"I don't know, really." Remus finished his whisky and looked up again, his eyes
distant. "I suppose I just became too lonely to keep on. I've been living in…
well, it doesn't matter. A Muggle town, without any wizarding folk at all. I
had a job as a building cleaner."
"You're not going back to that," said Harry. "No. You can stay here in
Grimmauld Place with me. I want you to," he added fiercely when Remus seemed
about to demur. "There's plenty of room. Sirius would have wanted you to stay
too."
"I'd only be in your way, Harry."
"Not at all. I live here alone since Ginny and I split up, a couple of years
ago, and the kids are all out on their own too."
"You have children?" Remus looked pleased.
Of course, there was no way he could have known.
"Three," said Harry, unable to keep the pride from his voice. "James Sirius,
Albus Severus, and Lily Luna. There's a picture of them on the mantel."
Remus rose, his bones creaking, and crossed the room to look. The picture was
from only a year before, and the three waved happily as Remus peered into the
frame. "They look wonderful. Congratulations, Harry."
"Thanks." Harry took a breath. "If you want to know about Teddy… he's doing
well. I see him every couple of weeks. He's working as a wand-maker and engaged
to Bill and Fleur's daughter Victoire."
"I'm happy to hear that," said Remus, sitting down again.
"Don't you want to see him for yourself?" Harry couldn't help asking.
Remus shook his head. "He's never known me. I wouldn't want to push into his
life now."
"Don't be ridiculous. Teddy'd be over the moon," Harry winced as soon as he
said the infelicitous phrase, "to know you're alive, to get to meet you at
last. I'm sure of that."
"Well, maybe. I'll think about it," Remus said. He paused, chewing on his lip.
"Harry."
"What?"
"Forgive me for not coming back sooner. I simply… I couldn't, that's all. It
seemed so much easier to drift into the Muggle world, forget who and what I was
except for one day each month. A coward, as you said."
"Don't. I was wrong. You fought like hell when it came to the point," said
Harry.
Shrugging, Remus said, "That was easy for me. Fighting. Facing the day-to-day
has always been a much harder struggle."
Harry made an annoyed sound. "Have it your way. I'm glad you're back, I just
wish you hadn't waited so long, wasted so much time."
"For 'time all things devours,'" Remus quoted softly. "Oh, don't worry, Harry.
I have no plans to live as a Muggle any longer. For one thing, as I get older,
the transformation each month becomes worse. I'm less safe to be around than I
ever was, even taking every precaution I can. No, this is the end for me, the
final phase."
"The final phase?" repeated Harry uneasily. "What do you mean?"
Remus gave a hoarse chuckle. "I'm getting old, that's all. Werewolves may be
hard to kill, but we also don't usually reach old age. The physical strain on
the body is too much. I don't expect I have many years left."
"However many years you have, you'll spend them here, with me, with Teddy, with
all the people who have cared for you," Harry said. His mind was already
buzzing with possibilities for helping Remus. Hermione, he had to talk with
Hermione, whose campaigns to promote equal rights for all magical creatures had
been mostly successful over the decades. And Al's N.E.W.T. in Potions—surely he
could duplicate, even improve on, the Wolfsbane potion that Snape had used to
brew for Remus.
"As you wish." Remus's head sagged forward, then jerked back.
"You're exhausted. Come on, I think James's old room has the bed made up."
Harry held out his hand for Remus to pull himself up, then hugged him tightly.
Letting go, he pretended not to see the moisture on Remus's cheeks as he led
him upstairs to sleep.
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