Fic: “A Trip to Diagon Alley” (2/2) BtVS/HP, Xander/Charlie Weasley, R
The happy couple gets some robes and some sexy-times. Harry gets hugged. Xander gets a surprise.
A Trip to Diagon Alley (2/2)
Author:
_beetle_
Fandom: BtVS/Harry Potter
Pairing: Xander Harris/Charlie Weasley
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: Approx. 3225
Notes/Warnings: Set post-Chosen by ten years, and post DH/e by ten years. Spoilers for BtVS “Chosen” and DH/e. Previous stories in the Impressions-verse can be found here.
Disclaimer: Just borrowing, thanks.
Summary: A shopping spree in Diagon Alley. Xander's fame precedes him.
“Charlie-Charlie! Stop!”
Charlie barely hears Xander, intent as he is on getting away from that vile woman. But when Xander yanks his hand away, the loss of that contact stops him-and the sack of crup-food--instantly. He whirls around. “What? What is it?” he demands, impatiently. Xander glares and points with his new wand at the establishment in front of which they've stopped.
Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions the sign above it says.
Even Jason yips as if pointing out this simple fact. And Charlie blushes, sighing. “Sorry, love. I was just trying to get us away from that-carbuncle on the arse of wizarding society.”
Xander's glare softens . . . melts completely away. He approaches Charlie and, when close enough, kisses his cheek. Jason squirms between them. “I know, hon. But we've left her behind. Relax, and lets try on some clothes. Retail-therapy works wonders for the distressed mind. I learned that from my first girlfriend.”
Charlie finds himself smiling. He brushes Xander's dark, silky hair out of his face and runs his thumb across one cheekbone. “You're right. We shouldn't let that gnat of a woman ruin your first trip to Diagon Alley.” He steps closer, till they're sharing air, then till they're sharing a kiss. Xander moans softly.
“Still up for changing room sexy-times?” he murmurs on Charlie's lips. Charlie chuckles.
“Always.”
Xander grins at him. “Then what're we doin' standing around here for? C'mon!”
He goes up to the door and opens it. A little bell dings, and Xander glances back at Charlie archly and winks.
Grinning, himself-and glancing around to make sure Rita Skeeter is well and truly behind them-Charlie levitates the crup-chow after Xander then follows suit.
*
Somehow or other, instead of immediately co-opting a changing room, they actually wind up trying on robes.
Well, Xander winds up trying on robes, anyway, and he's truly flabbergasted.
As he models the umpteenth robe-this one in sable and green-Charlie makes a little twirling motion with his finger that means turn around, let me get a look.
Heaving a very audible sigh-How did I not know my boyfriend is this gay? he wonders-Xander turns around like a petulant child, and Charlie and Madam Malkin make considering faces. This is the first robe that hasn't immediately been vetoed by one or the other of them.
“It matches his eyes,” Madam finally says, approvingly, smiling. Even Jason, laying on the floor at Charlie's feet, as well-behaved as anyone could want, barks once as if in affirmation.
“Yes, but is it . . . too nice?” Charlie ponders, and Xander, offended, puts his hands on his hips and glares.
“What do you mean too nice?”
Charlie blinks then smiles in chagrin. “Sorry, love, I just meant I don't want anyone admiring you too much. I'm a Weasley. We have jealous streaks wider than a country mile.”
Ruffled feathers soothed, Xande drifts over to his fiance and wraps his arms around him. “If you like this robe on me, we should get it. And maybe I'll where it the old-fashioned way for you when we get back to Grimmauld Place,” he adds in a whisper, kissing Charlie's earlobe as he does so.
Charlie clears his throat. “Madam,” he begins in a voice that's a bit shaky. “Could you pick out a few more robes for Xander? We'll just be-er, in the changing room. Changing.”
“Oh, certainly!” Madam says, clapping her hands together in anticipation. “I spotted some nicely flared robes that would look so handsome on you, Mr. Harris. I'll be back in a few minutes!” She practically flutters off, a plump butterfly of a woman, with greying dark hair and a kind smile.
Charlie and Xander watch her go, then Xander turns to Jason, who's watching him attentively.
“Stay,” he tells the crup, who licks his chops and shows no sign of getting up.
Then he and Charlie are making their way back to the changing room, hand in hand.
*
Things have just gotten good-really, really good-in their little sound-proofed slice of Shangri-la, when Charlie hears a familiar voice.
“-my friends were supposed to be here. Tall, muscular fellow with red hair and a dark haired American chap. Possibly with a crup-oh, well, there's the crup, anyway. Hullo, Jason.”
Leaning back against the mirrored wall, Charlie looks down at Xander, who's on his knees and in the midst of giving a mind-melting, prick-tease of a blowjob. He's been letting Charlie guide his motions and fuck his mouth with cock-hardening complaisance, and without breaking eye contact the whole while. His mouth, so pretty even when at rest, is bloody gorgeous stretched around Charlie's cock, and the sounds Xander's making-brief, choked little moans and whimpers, as if he can't get enough-send Charlie to the stratosphere.
“-the changing room, Mr. Potter, some time ago. I can't imagine why they're having so much trouble with one of my robes!”
“Neither can I,” Harry replies so dryly, that dryness comes across quite well even through the wall. “Well, I suppose I'll wait for them out here. You don't mind, do you?”
“Of course not, Mr. Potter! You're always welcome . . . hmm . . . that robe of yours is looking a little frayed around the edges. . . .”
Tuning out Harry's and Madam's voices, Charlie pushes his cock forward, past Xander's pink, swollen lips, and doesn't stop until Xander's eyes begin to water. Xander swallows around him, humming and moaning. He's mastered the art of deep-throating in a way Charlie envies even as he enjoys it. He runs his fingers through Xander's hair and cups Xander's face in his hand, withdrawing his cock slowly, till the tip rests on Xander's lips, painting them with pre-come. Xander swallows once and smiles.
“Hop-along Cassidy's arrived,” he says roughly, hoarsely, nodding toward the door to the changing room. “Shall we speed things up?”
Charlie smiles. “You've read my mind. Ah, bloody hell,” he sighs when Xander takes him in again, just the tip at first, tonguing the slit. Charlie bites his lip and leans his head back against the wall upon which the rest of his body is also depending for support. Xander wraps one hand around the base of Charlie's cock and gets down to business. In short order, Charlie's gasping and keening and coming in Xander's mouth
Xander, for his part, wastes no time standing up to kiss Charlie, who moans as he realizes Xander has not swallowed his come but is, in fact, sharing it with him via the kiss. He's moaning and groaning himself, his body shaking in Charlie's arms.
By the time it's all gone, but for the lingering taste of bitter salt, Charlie's fumbling at the fly of Xander's jeans, searching for hot hardness. What he finds is warm wetness. Xander chuckles, albeit a little sheepishly.
“Sorry . . . I came just after we started kissing,” Xander apologizes, still in that hoarsely sexy voice. He licks his lips and smiles. “What can I say? I've got an oral fixation. At least when it comes to you.”
Charlie grins, his fingers still rubbing the wet-spot on Xander's jeans. Behind it, he can feel that much like himself, Xander's still half-hard.
He's also, Charlie's just noticed, still wearing that sable and green robe.
“This really does look good on you, you know?” he murmurs, brushing the right lapel, and Xander lights up.
“Really? I don't look . . . silly?”
Charlie shakes his head no, and kisses Xander again. “No, you look . . . like a prince. Like you were born to wear robes.” He smiles when Xander blushes. “Hey . . . wanna see something the Medi-witch at the Ministry taught me?”
Xander's brows draw together. “Sure-when was this?”
Charlie pushes Xander back gently and draws his wand, aiming it at Xander's abdomen. “Right about the time you and Harry started talking about that movie about the pregnant Muggle man, just as we were leaving. Internum Visum!”
“Oh, you mean Junior? An Arnold Schwarzenegger classic. Not as good as Twins but better than End of Days,” Xander says, his eyes following Charlie's wand as he flicks it toward the opposite wall.
In seconds, there, in all its finished glory, is Xander's shiny, new womb. No organs are wibbling or wobbling or otherwise moving. Everything is still, if a bit cramped looking.
“So. . . .” Xander says, swallowing visibly, placing a hand on his abdomen. “I'm officially pregnant.”
Charlie nods, grinning. “That you are, my love.”
Xander laughs a little. “We're going to have baby, Charlie.”
“That we are.”
They stand there staring at the wall and the view until there's an impatient knock on the door, at which they both start.
“Charlie! Xander! Honestly, one would think you two were never going back to Grimmauld Place!” Harry's voice, low, but carying through the door. “C'mon, I'm already massively late for work and we've still got to stop at Slug and Jigger's.”
Xander sighs. “He's right. He's been really good about all this, but he's right.” He smiles limply at Charlie, who reluctantly says Finite. Then he Scourgifies them both and they straighten out their clothes.
“Ready?” Charlie asks, and Xander nods once, smiling again, though he looks a little . . . shiny about the eyes. “You sure?”
“Just open the door, Charlie, before Harry has an aneurysm.” Xander chuckles.
When the door is opened, Harry looks them over sternly. “Two grown men,” he says, shaking his head, and Charlie turns a bit pink. Xander merely pushes past Harry.
“Womb's finished. I'm officially preggers,” he says nonchalantly. “Jason? Here, boy! C'mon!”
The crup's bark precedes him, and when he does arrive, he jumps up into Xander's waiting arms.
“Congratulations. I think you'll both be wonderful fathers,” Harry says, looking at Charlie questioningly. Charlie can only shrug, and silently promise to himself to keep an eye on his fiance.
“Thanks, Harry!” Xander carries a lick-happy Jason into the the main room, where he stops at the entryway. “Aw . . . Harry, is that your owl? It's adorable.”
Smiling a little, Harry claps Charlie on the back and they approach the entryway and Xander. “Actually, she's your owl.”
Xander takes a few steps forward just as Charlie and Harry reach the entryway. Sitting on one of Madam's tables is a tall cage with rather small, tawny-colored owl in it. Said owl looks like a fluffball of feathers-more feathers than owl. But her eyes are large, dark, and intelligent.
“You-you got her for me?” Xander looks over from the cage at Harry.
“More for you both, actually. So you have a way to get hold of me, or anyone, any time of day or night. I figure that, especially now, you should have that extra bit of security. And anyway, Eeylops was having a sale on tawny owls,” Harry ends on a splutter, adjusting his neck tie and clearing his throat.
Xander blinks, that shininess back in his eyes and he puts Jason down. “You didn't have to do this.”
Harry clears his throat again, his cheeks going pink. “I wanted to. If only so I can be kept apprised of your probable whereabouts for the next little while.”
Xander grins and glances at Charlie, who grins back. Then, as one, the two converge upon Harry, who backs away.
“You're for it, mate,” Charlie says, opening his arms. Xander nods. “You totally have it coming, Harry Potter.”
“Oh, no . . . no-no, your thanks was more than enough.” Harry holds up his hands, but that's not enough to stop Charlie or Xander, who shortly have him backed into a corner.
Charlie, being easily the stronger of the two, pulls Harry in for a hug first, lifting Harry clear off the floor, swinging him around, and kissing his cheek soundly.
“Argh! Put me down you big munter!” Harry commands, and Charlie does, laughing, just in time for Xander's less showy, but no less thankful hug-which Harry is still clearly too dizzy to deflect. Not that it seems that he would, for when Xander's arms go around him, Harry actually returns the gesture for a moment.
“Thank you for everything, Harry. Not just the cool owl.” Xander whispers, kissing the corner of Harry's mouth briefly. Startled, Harry merely stands there, eyes wide, one hand flown to his mouth.
Xander smiles and looks at Charlie, who laughs again, crossing his arms. “Should I be jealous?”
“Absolutely. Harry's my new fiance and we're running off together to . . . where sounds good, sweetie?” Xander asks, linking arms with Harry, who's still blushing. “Hmm. I've always wanted to see Thailand.”
“Hmph!” Harry says, trying unsuccessfully to free his arm. But Xander tugs and cajoles Harry into following him to the large sofa, where he sits them both down. Then Xander's jumping up again as he notices the robes hung on the rack near the window.
“More robes! Harry, you're just in time to help me become a nattily-dressed member of wizarding society!”
Harry holds up his hands again. “Oh, no. I'm strictly the hired muscle. I don't even choose my own robes-I let Madam do it for me. Ginny says the only taste I have is in my mouth.”
“Most people do, when it comes to choosing their own clothes,” Xander says knowledgeably. “When weighing in on someone else's wardrobe, we can offer a differing and often helpful perspective.” He takes off his sable-and-green robe, and plucks the first robe off the rack, holding it up in front of himself. It is, oddly enough, a tawny-grey affair that matches the owl Harry purchased for him. Xander pulls it on and poses.
“I like it,” Charlie purrs, imagining undressing a Xander who's wearing nothing but that oh-so-proper robe. He nods his approval and Xander looks at Harry, who colors again.
“It's . . . very nice on you,” he says lamely. Xander rolls his eyes.
“Okay. Looks like we've got a keeper.” He shrugs the robe off and places it next to the sable-and-green one. “Only two more to look at, then we're done.”
“Then to the apothecary, then back to Grimmauld Place.” Harry sounds relieved, and Charlie can't blame him. Harry's been dedicated to his work for the better part of thirty years. Sometimes, it seems like that work is all he thinks he has. Charlie can understand why he'd want to get back to it. What he can't understand is why Harry, so beloved, would feel that way in the first place. . . .
But it's not his place to pry . . . is it?
“Well, let's be quick about it,” he says to Xander, who nods. Just then, Madam comes into the room with an armful of robes and a big smile.
Harry, Xander, and Charlie all groan.
*
They exit Madam's a surprisingly short time later, levitating packages, crup-chow, and the owl's cage. This latter has fallen to Xander, who, excited, gladly takes up the gauntlet.
The owl-as yet unnamed-seems unruffled as she floats along in her cage, which, except for the occasional dip or wobble, moves along nicely and steadily.
“Look at me, Charlie, Harry! I'm doing it!” Xander exclaims after nearly a minute of no dips or wobbles. Charlie and Harry share a glance and each claps Xander on his now-robed (in the sable-and-green one, since Charlie can barely keep his hands off it and Xander) back.
“Lovely job, Xand.”
“Yeah, mate. Levitating objects and floating them along with any consistency isn't all that easy. You're doing a fine job.”
Xander practically glows with the praise.
But it all too soon comes to an end as they arrive at Slug and Jigger's.
Xander, fortunately or unfortunately for him, winds up waiting outside with Harry while Charlie gets the prescriptions filled, as one whiff of the place brings the nausea back. Not as bad as before, but still bad enough that Xander just doesn't want to deal with it. Not when he's in such a good mood.
He and Harry take up a spot against a large, blank wall next to the apothecary, with the packages, the owl, and Jason, and settle down to wait in a comfortable silence.
His once more calm stomach reminded him of the baby he was now-officially-carrying, and he placed his hand on his abdomen, rubbing it soothingly.
“You do that a lot,” Harry notes, and Xander looks at him blankly. Harry points at Xander's hand on his abdomen. “That.”
“Oh!” Xander stops and drops his hand to his side, blushing and looking down. Harry smiles a little.
“I didn't mean you should stop. It quite common among pregnant, er, people, to do that.”
Xander glances sidelong at Harry to see if he's joking. “Really?”
“Oh, sure. Ginny used to do that all the time when she was pregnant. For all three kids, too.”
“Wow, three?” Xander shakes his head wonderingly, his hand going back to rubbing his abdomen. “I can barely imagine carrying and having this one. Hell, it's still hitting me like a ton of bricks that I can be pregnant, let alone that I am. Ginny must be one hell of a woman. I . . . look forward to meeting her, someday.”
Harry's smile fades a little. “She's, er, very busy with the Harpies-the Holyhead Harpies, her Quidditch team. Travelling with them. Which isn't to say she won't want to meet you, her brother's fiance, and all, it's just that . . . well, I feel I should warn you . . . when she was very young, she had a run in with Tom Riddle-“
Xander's jaw drops. “Who hasn't?” He laughs shortly, then covers his mouth. “I'm sorry, Harry, it's just . . . still surprising to me, sometimes, how many people's lives Tommy-boy fucked up.”
Harry sighs. “In this case, it was Tom Riddle's diary-one of his horcruxes-that affected Ginny. And a . . . projection of a very young Tom Riddle. Couldn't have been older than seventeen. She was only eleven.”
“Evil from Jump Street,” Xander shakes his head, leaning against the wall and sliding down into a squat. Jason, excited with this new development, tries to climb all over him for intensive licking.
After a few moments Harry joins Xander, and pets Jason's head.
“Don't worry,” he says finally. “You're not him, and Ginny will recognize that. So will everyone else.”
“Hopefully before they zap me with some kind of dangerous spell or something.” Xander snorts, rubbing his stomach worriedly.
“It won't come to that. I won't let it,” Harry promises, his hand leaving Jason's head to cover Xander's free hand and squeeze it. Then he's letting go and clearing his throat. “Neither will Charlie.”
They squat in silence for a while, but for Jason's panting and occasional bark. It's still comfortable, the silence, but different, now, the weight of their very different thoughts coming to bear on it. They watch the crowds shift and drift, come and go, largely unnoticed, themselves.
“Heyya, Harry?”
“Yes, Xander?”
“What's Quidditch?”
End
Baby Tawny Owl Postcard by alternateworlds
Browse more Tawny owl Postcards
A Trip to Diagon Alley (2/2)
Author:
_beetle_
Fandom: BtVS/Harry Potter
Pairing: Xander Harris/Charlie Weasley
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: Approx. 3225
Notes/Warnings: Set post-Chosen by ten years, and post DH/e by ten years. Spoilers for BtVS “Chosen” and DH/e. Previous stories in the Impressions-verse can be found here.
Disclaimer: Just borrowing, thanks.
Summary: A shopping spree in Diagon Alley. Xander's fame precedes him.
“Charlie-Charlie! Stop!”
Charlie barely hears Xander, intent as he is on getting away from that vile woman. But when Xander yanks his hand away, the loss of that contact stops him-and the sack of crup-food--instantly. He whirls around. “What? What is it?” he demands, impatiently. Xander glares and points with his new wand at the establishment in front of which they've stopped.
Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions the sign above it says.
Even Jason yips as if pointing out this simple fact. And Charlie blushes, sighing. “Sorry, love. I was just trying to get us away from that-carbuncle on the arse of wizarding society.”
Xander's glare softens . . . melts completely away. He approaches Charlie and, when close enough, kisses his cheek. Jason squirms between them. “I know, hon. But we've left her behind. Relax, and lets try on some clothes. Retail-therapy works wonders for the distressed mind. I learned that from my first girlfriend.”
Charlie finds himself smiling. He brushes Xander's dark, silky hair out of his face and runs his thumb across one cheekbone. “You're right. We shouldn't let that gnat of a woman ruin your first trip to Diagon Alley.” He steps closer, till they're sharing air, then till they're sharing a kiss. Xander moans softly.
“Still up for changing room sexy-times?” he murmurs on Charlie's lips. Charlie chuckles.
“Always.”
Xander grins at him. “Then what're we doin' standing around here for? C'mon!”
He goes up to the door and opens it. A little bell dings, and Xander glances back at Charlie archly and winks.
Grinning, himself-and glancing around to make sure Rita Skeeter is well and truly behind them-Charlie levitates the crup-chow after Xander then follows suit.
*
Somehow or other, instead of immediately co-opting a changing room, they actually wind up trying on robes.
Well, Xander winds up trying on robes, anyway, and he's truly flabbergasted.
As he models the umpteenth robe-this one in sable and green-Charlie makes a little twirling motion with his finger that means turn around, let me get a look.
Heaving a very audible sigh-How did I not know my boyfriend is this gay? he wonders-Xander turns around like a petulant child, and Charlie and Madam Malkin make considering faces. This is the first robe that hasn't immediately been vetoed by one or the other of them.
“It matches his eyes,” Madam finally says, approvingly, smiling. Even Jason, laying on the floor at Charlie's feet, as well-behaved as anyone could want, barks once as if in affirmation.
“Yes, but is it . . . too nice?” Charlie ponders, and Xander, offended, puts his hands on his hips and glares.
“What do you mean too nice?”
Charlie blinks then smiles in chagrin. “Sorry, love, I just meant I don't want anyone admiring you too much. I'm a Weasley. We have jealous streaks wider than a country mile.”
Ruffled feathers soothed, Xande drifts over to his fiance and wraps his arms around him. “If you like this robe on me, we should get it. And maybe I'll where it the old-fashioned way for you when we get back to Grimmauld Place,” he adds in a whisper, kissing Charlie's earlobe as he does so.
Charlie clears his throat. “Madam,” he begins in a voice that's a bit shaky. “Could you pick out a few more robes for Xander? We'll just be-er, in the changing room. Changing.”
“Oh, certainly!” Madam says, clapping her hands together in anticipation. “I spotted some nicely flared robes that would look so handsome on you, Mr. Harris. I'll be back in a few minutes!” She practically flutters off, a plump butterfly of a woman, with greying dark hair and a kind smile.
Charlie and Xander watch her go, then Xander turns to Jason, who's watching him attentively.
“Stay,” he tells the crup, who licks his chops and shows no sign of getting up.
Then he and Charlie are making their way back to the changing room, hand in hand.
*
Things have just gotten good-really, really good-in their little sound-proofed slice of Shangri-la, when Charlie hears a familiar voice.
“-my friends were supposed to be here. Tall, muscular fellow with red hair and a dark haired American chap. Possibly with a crup-oh, well, there's the crup, anyway. Hullo, Jason.”
Leaning back against the mirrored wall, Charlie looks down at Xander, who's on his knees and in the midst of giving a mind-melting, prick-tease of a blowjob. He's been letting Charlie guide his motions and fuck his mouth with cock-hardening complaisance, and without breaking eye contact the whole while. His mouth, so pretty even when at rest, is bloody gorgeous stretched around Charlie's cock, and the sounds Xander's making-brief, choked little moans and whimpers, as if he can't get enough-send Charlie to the stratosphere.
“-the changing room, Mr. Potter, some time ago. I can't imagine why they're having so much trouble with one of my robes!”
“Neither can I,” Harry replies so dryly, that dryness comes across quite well even through the wall. “Well, I suppose I'll wait for them out here. You don't mind, do you?”
“Of course not, Mr. Potter! You're always welcome . . . hmm . . . that robe of yours is looking a little frayed around the edges. . . .”
Tuning out Harry's and Madam's voices, Charlie pushes his cock forward, past Xander's pink, swollen lips, and doesn't stop until Xander's eyes begin to water. Xander swallows around him, humming and moaning. He's mastered the art of deep-throating in a way Charlie envies even as he enjoys it. He runs his fingers through Xander's hair and cups Xander's face in his hand, withdrawing his cock slowly, till the tip rests on Xander's lips, painting them with pre-come. Xander swallows once and smiles.
“Hop-along Cassidy's arrived,” he says roughly, hoarsely, nodding toward the door to the changing room. “Shall we speed things up?”
Charlie smiles. “You've read my mind. Ah, bloody hell,” he sighs when Xander takes him in again, just the tip at first, tonguing the slit. Charlie bites his lip and leans his head back against the wall upon which the rest of his body is also depending for support. Xander wraps one hand around the base of Charlie's cock and gets down to business. In short order, Charlie's gasping and keening and coming in Xander's mouth
Xander, for his part, wastes no time standing up to kiss Charlie, who moans as he realizes Xander has not swallowed his come but is, in fact, sharing it with him via the kiss. He's moaning and groaning himself, his body shaking in Charlie's arms.
By the time it's all gone, but for the lingering taste of bitter salt, Charlie's fumbling at the fly of Xander's jeans, searching for hot hardness. What he finds is warm wetness. Xander chuckles, albeit a little sheepishly.
“Sorry . . . I came just after we started kissing,” Xander apologizes, still in that hoarsely sexy voice. He licks his lips and smiles. “What can I say? I've got an oral fixation. At least when it comes to you.”
Charlie grins, his fingers still rubbing the wet-spot on Xander's jeans. Behind it, he can feel that much like himself, Xander's still half-hard.
He's also, Charlie's just noticed, still wearing that sable and green robe.
“This really does look good on you, you know?” he murmurs, brushing the right lapel, and Xander lights up.
“Really? I don't look . . . silly?”
Charlie shakes his head no, and kisses Xander again. “No, you look . . . like a prince. Like you were born to wear robes.” He smiles when Xander blushes. “Hey . . . wanna see something the Medi-witch at the Ministry taught me?”
Xander's brows draw together. “Sure-when was this?”
Charlie pushes Xander back gently and draws his wand, aiming it at Xander's abdomen. “Right about the time you and Harry started talking about that movie about the pregnant Muggle man, just as we were leaving. Internum Visum!”
“Oh, you mean Junior? An Arnold Schwarzenegger classic. Not as good as Twins but better than End of Days,” Xander says, his eyes following Charlie's wand as he flicks it toward the opposite wall.
In seconds, there, in all its finished glory, is Xander's shiny, new womb. No organs are wibbling or wobbling or otherwise moving. Everything is still, if a bit cramped looking.
“So. . . .” Xander says, swallowing visibly, placing a hand on his abdomen. “I'm officially pregnant.”
Charlie nods, grinning. “That you are, my love.”
Xander laughs a little. “We're going to have baby, Charlie.”
“That we are.”
They stand there staring at the wall and the view until there's an impatient knock on the door, at which they both start.
“Charlie! Xander! Honestly, one would think you two were never going back to Grimmauld Place!” Harry's voice, low, but carying through the door. “C'mon, I'm already massively late for work and we've still got to stop at Slug and Jigger's.”
Xander sighs. “He's right. He's been really good about all this, but he's right.” He smiles limply at Charlie, who reluctantly says Finite. Then he Scourgifies them both and they straighten out their clothes.
“Ready?” Charlie asks, and Xander nods once, smiling again, though he looks a little . . . shiny about the eyes. “You sure?”
“Just open the door, Charlie, before Harry has an aneurysm.” Xander chuckles.
When the door is opened, Harry looks them over sternly. “Two grown men,” he says, shaking his head, and Charlie turns a bit pink. Xander merely pushes past Harry.
“Womb's finished. I'm officially preggers,” he says nonchalantly. “Jason? Here, boy! C'mon!”
The crup's bark precedes him, and when he does arrive, he jumps up into Xander's waiting arms.
“Congratulations. I think you'll both be wonderful fathers,” Harry says, looking at Charlie questioningly. Charlie can only shrug, and silently promise to himself to keep an eye on his fiance.
“Thanks, Harry!” Xander carries a lick-happy Jason into the the main room, where he stops at the entryway. “Aw . . . Harry, is that your owl? It's adorable.”
Smiling a little, Harry claps Charlie on the back and they approach the entryway and Xander. “Actually, she's your owl.”
Xander takes a few steps forward just as Charlie and Harry reach the entryway. Sitting on one of Madam's tables is a tall cage with rather small, tawny-colored owl in it. Said owl looks like a fluffball of feathers-more feathers than owl. But her eyes are large, dark, and intelligent.
“You-you got her for me?” Xander looks over from the cage at Harry.
“More for you both, actually. So you have a way to get hold of me, or anyone, any time of day or night. I figure that, especially now, you should have that extra bit of security. And anyway, Eeylops was having a sale on tawny owls,” Harry ends on a splutter, adjusting his neck tie and clearing his throat.
Xander blinks, that shininess back in his eyes and he puts Jason down. “You didn't have to do this.”
Harry clears his throat again, his cheeks going pink. “I wanted to. If only so I can be kept apprised of your probable whereabouts for the next little while.”
Xander grins and glances at Charlie, who grins back. Then, as one, the two converge upon Harry, who backs away.
“You're for it, mate,” Charlie says, opening his arms. Xander nods. “You totally have it coming, Harry Potter.”
“Oh, no . . . no-no, your thanks was more than enough.” Harry holds up his hands, but that's not enough to stop Charlie or Xander, who shortly have him backed into a corner.
Charlie, being easily the stronger of the two, pulls Harry in for a hug first, lifting Harry clear off the floor, swinging him around, and kissing his cheek soundly.
“Argh! Put me down you big munter!” Harry commands, and Charlie does, laughing, just in time for Xander's less showy, but no less thankful hug-which Harry is still clearly too dizzy to deflect. Not that it seems that he would, for when Xander's arms go around him, Harry actually returns the gesture for a moment.
“Thank you for everything, Harry. Not just the cool owl.” Xander whispers, kissing the corner of Harry's mouth briefly. Startled, Harry merely stands there, eyes wide, one hand flown to his mouth.
Xander smiles and looks at Charlie, who laughs again, crossing his arms. “Should I be jealous?”
“Absolutely. Harry's my new fiance and we're running off together to . . . where sounds good, sweetie?” Xander asks, linking arms with Harry, who's still blushing. “Hmm. I've always wanted to see Thailand.”
“Hmph!” Harry says, trying unsuccessfully to free his arm. But Xander tugs and cajoles Harry into following him to the large sofa, where he sits them both down. Then Xander's jumping up again as he notices the robes hung on the rack near the window.
“More robes! Harry, you're just in time to help me become a nattily-dressed member of wizarding society!”
Harry holds up his hands again. “Oh, no. I'm strictly the hired muscle. I don't even choose my own robes-I let Madam do it for me. Ginny says the only taste I have is in my mouth.”
“Most people do, when it comes to choosing their own clothes,” Xander says knowledgeably. “When weighing in on someone else's wardrobe, we can offer a differing and often helpful perspective.” He takes off his sable-and-green robe, and plucks the first robe off the rack, holding it up in front of himself. It is, oddly enough, a tawny-grey affair that matches the owl Harry purchased for him. Xander pulls it on and poses.
“I like it,” Charlie purrs, imagining undressing a Xander who's wearing nothing but that oh-so-proper robe. He nods his approval and Xander looks at Harry, who colors again.
“It's . . . very nice on you,” he says lamely. Xander rolls his eyes.
“Okay. Looks like we've got a keeper.” He shrugs the robe off and places it next to the sable-and-green one. “Only two more to look at, then we're done.”
“Then to the apothecary, then back to Grimmauld Place.” Harry sounds relieved, and Charlie can't blame him. Harry's been dedicated to his work for the better part of thirty years. Sometimes, it seems like that work is all he thinks he has. Charlie can understand why he'd want to get back to it. What he can't understand is why Harry, so beloved, would feel that way in the first place. . . .
But it's not his place to pry . . . is it?
“Well, let's be quick about it,” he says to Xander, who nods. Just then, Madam comes into the room with an armful of robes and a big smile.
Harry, Xander, and Charlie all groan.
*
They exit Madam's a surprisingly short time later, levitating packages, crup-chow, and the owl's cage. This latter has fallen to Xander, who, excited, gladly takes up the gauntlet.
The owl-as yet unnamed-seems unruffled as she floats along in her cage, which, except for the occasional dip or wobble, moves along nicely and steadily.
“Look at me, Charlie, Harry! I'm doing it!” Xander exclaims after nearly a minute of no dips or wobbles. Charlie and Harry share a glance and each claps Xander on his now-robed (in the sable-and-green one, since Charlie can barely keep his hands off it and Xander) back.
“Lovely job, Xand.”
“Yeah, mate. Levitating objects and floating them along with any consistency isn't all that easy. You're doing a fine job.”
Xander practically glows with the praise.
But it all too soon comes to an end as they arrive at Slug and Jigger's.
Xander, fortunately or unfortunately for him, winds up waiting outside with Harry while Charlie gets the prescriptions filled, as one whiff of the place brings the nausea back. Not as bad as before, but still bad enough that Xander just doesn't want to deal with it. Not when he's in such a good mood.
He and Harry take up a spot against a large, blank wall next to the apothecary, with the packages, the owl, and Jason, and settle down to wait in a comfortable silence.
His once more calm stomach reminded him of the baby he was now-officially-carrying, and he placed his hand on his abdomen, rubbing it soothingly.
“You do that a lot,” Harry notes, and Xander looks at him blankly. Harry points at Xander's hand on his abdomen. “That.”
“Oh!” Xander stops and drops his hand to his side, blushing and looking down. Harry smiles a little.
“I didn't mean you should stop. It quite common among pregnant, er, people, to do that.”
Xander glances sidelong at Harry to see if he's joking. “Really?”
“Oh, sure. Ginny used to do that all the time when she was pregnant. For all three kids, too.”
“Wow, three?” Xander shakes his head wonderingly, his hand going back to rubbing his abdomen. “I can barely imagine carrying and having this one. Hell, it's still hitting me like a ton of bricks that I can be pregnant, let alone that I am. Ginny must be one hell of a woman. I . . . look forward to meeting her, someday.”
Harry's smile fades a little. “She's, er, very busy with the Harpies-the Holyhead Harpies, her Quidditch team. Travelling with them. Which isn't to say she won't want to meet you, her brother's fiance, and all, it's just that . . . well, I feel I should warn you . . . when she was very young, she had a run in with Tom Riddle-“
Xander's jaw drops. “Who hasn't?” He laughs shortly, then covers his mouth. “I'm sorry, Harry, it's just . . . still surprising to me, sometimes, how many people's lives Tommy-boy fucked up.”
Harry sighs. “In this case, it was Tom Riddle's diary-one of his horcruxes-that affected Ginny. And a . . . projection of a very young Tom Riddle. Couldn't have been older than seventeen. She was only eleven.”
“Evil from Jump Street,” Xander shakes his head, leaning against the wall and sliding down into a squat. Jason, excited with this new development, tries to climb all over him for intensive licking.
After a few moments Harry joins Xander, and pets Jason's head.
“Don't worry,” he says finally. “You're not him, and Ginny will recognize that. So will everyone else.”
“Hopefully before they zap me with some kind of dangerous spell or something.” Xander snorts, rubbing his stomach worriedly.
“It won't come to that. I won't let it,” Harry promises, his hand leaving Jason's head to cover Xander's free hand and squeeze it. Then he's letting go and clearing his throat. “Neither will Charlie.”
They squat in silence for a while, but for Jason's panting and occasional bark. It's still comfortable, the silence, but different, now, the weight of their very different thoughts coming to bear on it. They watch the crowds shift and drift, come and go, largely unnoticed, themselves.
“Heyya, Harry?”
“Yes, Xander?”
“What's Quidditch?”
End
Baby Tawny Owl Postcard by alternateworlds
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