Smutmas!!!! (Fic: Waiting for the Sun, Bill/Harry)
I have to admit, I was horribly nervous when I turned in my smutmas fic to Gina this year. See, I write porn. Stop, stop, I know you might not have realized, but yes, it's true. I'm a porn author, plain and simple.
That this fic grew into a bit of plot pulled me right out of my comfort zone.
But I have had the most gorgeous feedback on this fic, and I'm going over there now to start replying. Thanks to everyone who read it and who took time to leave a review. I'm used to reviews that say 'omg I just came'... not to reviews like those. *is all bouncy and shit* So yeah. I'm posting it here in two parts cause it was too long for one post. :D
Title: Waiting for the Sun
Author: Anise
Recipient's name: Medawyn
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Bill/Harry
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warnings: Rimming, mild bondage. Porn. Not real warnings, more like… nice temptations.
A/N: Merry Smutmas, medawyn!!! I hope you like it, dear. I had a wonderful time writing it for you.
Also, thanks so much to my lovely beta, ridicu_liz. You were brilliant,gorgeous.
And special thanks to Gina, for making everyone's holidays brighter.
A child skipped past, holding onto his mother’s hand. The young woman looked perfect in the sunlight, laughing, turning to call to her husband who ran to catch up. Harry watched them from the window, feeling nothing, and proud of himself that at least he didn’t feel bitter.
A thousand years had passed since the war, or so it seemed, and his mind couldn't quite wrap itself around the fact that it hadn't all been some horrible dream. Some nights, as he lay in bed, he could almost imagine that his best friend was snoring just a few feet away, and that he'd forgotten something… perhaps to finish his Divination diary, or his Potions essay.
Those nights were always the worst. Because then, in sleep, it would come back to him full force; the fighting, the blood, the fire - death and beyond death, horrors that he couldn't seem to remember vividly in his waking hours, because his mind would not let him.
It seemed there were things not worth remembering.
He felt bitter most of the time. The war had destroyed everything around him, everything inside. He’d watched his friends die, he’d killed, he’d committed acts beyond murder. Now that it was over, he was left wondering if there was anything left inside to rebuild.
Watching that child giggle at a word from his pretty mother, not a care in the world, made him feel a twinge that he quickly tamped down. He hated them all for being able to breathe without pain, for being able to fall in love without fear, for being able to continue.
So often now, he went through the motions, an endless cycle of getting up and functioning and doing anything he could just to not feel.
He stared as they walked out of sight before turning and joining the others who had gathered across the room. Discussion had already started about the break in, and he listened as he cast his gaze toward the goblins watching them, eyes distrustful and accusing.
Harry wondered why they had even contacted the Aurors, if their help wasn’t wanted. He nodded at the man next to him without catching his eye, and followed the group into the tunnels.
Bill Weasley knelt in the midst of the crumbled wall. He could have almost been a picture from Harry's childhood. The same dragon hide boots, the same earring, the leather thong securing his hair back at the base of his neck. His profile was so familiar that it was as if a hole had opened up in time and pulled everything through, a decade past, until he was watching twin tables battle in the blue sky.
The memory was so clear that Harry momentarily felt dizzy. His robes felt out of place because he was supposed to be fourteen and in jeans, so star struck by the man in front of him that he couldn’t even speak.
Well, some of the latter still held. Bill always had been an enigma.
But then he moved and Bill turned his head; the jagged scars that covered the other side of his face became visible and the spell was broken. Harry felt a sharp spike of anger for being forced to remember, even for a second, the way things were before. At being forced to think about what a semblance of normality was like.
He leaned against the wall and watched Bill work, struggling with the anger. Dust had settled across Bill's features and he was consumed with his work, his eyes narrowed as he moved his wand over the hole in the wall. Something powerful had done this; Harry could still feel a charge in the air, a sharp tang that made the hair on his arms stand on end. It didn't feel particularly dark, though, a fact that Harry was insanely grateful for.
He wasn’t aware of how hard he was watching Bill until dark brown eyes were locked with his. It shocked him, the intensity he saw there, the tail end of Bill’s concentration and focus before recognition set in. He cursed himself silently and wanted to look away but he forced himself to hold the gaze as Bill nodded, and turned back to his work.
He could breathe again.
The urge to run from the room was strong, but his pride made him hold his ground. He found that a bit humorous. He'd not been aware that he'd any pride left. One of the Aurors cornered him, reading off a list of duties that would be sure to keep Harry busy for the next few weeks. There was very little to go on.
At least he had a valid excuse to leave.
And he almost made it. He would have made it if Bill hadn't been standing in the doorway.
"Harry," Bill said, extending his hand.
Inwardly cringing, Harry stepped forward to meet him, clasping his hand in his own.
"It's been a long time. Where've you been keeping yourself?" Bill's face no longer looked as it did all those years ago, but beneath the twisted lines of scars that covered half of his face, Harry could still see the man that he'd once been.
"Working." Harry jerked his head toward the other Aurors who were now shuffling through the rubble. "They keep me fairly busy. How about you?" Bill hadn't let go of his hand and it was making him feel edgy. Uncomfortable.
Bill smiled, his twisted features seeming to pull unnaturally against the scar tissue. "Working as well. I'm back in Egypt for part of the year. I'm gone a few months at a time. But it's nice being a bit closer to home more often. Mum needs me around, and I don't mind." He looked at Harry, straight into his eyes, and Harry put up the wall immediately, sure that Bill was trying to read his thoughts. "You should come by. She misses you."
Harry pulled his hand free from Bill's grasp and shoved it into his pocket, tearing his eyes off of Bill's. "Right then. It was good to see you. I assume you are the person that instructed the goblins to alert us. We'll handle our end and I will have someone Owl you if we find anything out." He gave a tight smile and walked out of the vault, leaving Bill standing there gaping. It was cowardly, to be sure, and rude, but it couldn't be helped.
He thought that that was probably the end of it.
If he'd paused to think about the way things usually went in his life, he'd have not been nearly as optimistic.
He'd spent hours trying to question angry goblins. They'd talked in circles, and insulted everything about him, from the way he did his job to the way his hair stuck up in the back. It had been almost as fun as his Auror exams. Almost.
He sat in his cubicle with his head pressed against the desk, wondering what he'd done in a past life that he was now being punished for. He hoped whatever it was that he'd enjoyed it. It was difficult to fight the urge to bang his head against the wood, but he managed to control the impulse.
"They can be a pain in the arse, I know. They've reason to distrust us. I'm sorry you got stuck with the questioning."
Harry looked up to see Bill leaning against the entry of his cubicle, his thumbs hooked in the belt loops of his jeans.
Harry sighed. "It's part of the job. Anything I can help you with?"
"Yeah. Get your shit together. We're going out to have a drink. I'm buying."
And that, was such a bad idea that Harry was momentarily struck speechless. The shock must have shown in his face because Bill rolled his eyes and stepped forward, grabbing Harry's cloak off of the stack of books that it had been thrown haphazardly across. "I'll meet you downstairs."
With that, he turned and left, taking Harry's cloak with him.
A memo soared overhead, flittering against the lights and casting shadows over his desk. Harry cursed under his breath. He really fucking liked that cloak. Growling, he shoved back from his desk and stomped out of the cubicle, ignoring the memo.
He was sure he'd be chewed out for whatever was on that memo tomorrow, but he didn't care. A dressing down from his superiors would break up the monotony of the day nicely.
The atrium was deserted save for one lone figure standing by the gates and Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked up to him.
"This is a bad idea."
"Most ideas are," Bill said blandly, tossing Harry his cloak. "Come on, then."
His hand closed around the dark material and he had the insane thought that now he could make his getaway. He could imagine himself laughing maniacally, his cloak clutched to his chest, and screaming, ‘YOU’LL NEVER CATCH ME, NEVER!!’ Bill would think he’d finally gone round the twist. Perhaps he had. But he simply sighed and followed Bill out into the cool London air.
They walked in uncomfortable silence, the sky a sea of reds and purples that stretched down to touch the tops of the dirty buildings. It seemed wrong somehow, that the world had not turned shades of grey. The brilliance of the evening sky was out of place amidst the world that Harry currently lived in.
He wasn’t watching where he was going and he plowed right into Bill as Bill tried to steer them into the alleyway.
"Sorry," he mumbled, rubbing his nose where he’d crushed it against Bill’s shoulder. Bill just smiled and took his arm, leading him further into the alley.
Harry would have jerked away, demanded to know what the fuck Bill was doing, and why he thought it was all right to lead him, Harry, around like a bloody dog. But the pressure of Apparition pressed down around them and all thought fled in the sensation of being suffocated in blackness, breath stolen from his body by some unnamed force.
He’d never liked Apparating. He did all right at it, but this had caught him off guard, and panic built in his chest like a nasty wound, festering and spilling over, infecting everything in its path. He knew he was safe, but fear wasn’t always rational, and as they slowly popped into view in front of the Leaky Cauldron, Harry felt the fear turn to anger.
Jerking his arm from Bill’s large hand, he all but growled at him, his wand drawn, though he didn’t remember his hand closing around it. Shocked brown eyes widened as Harry pointed the wand at his chest, stepping into him. "You ever do that to me again, and your goblin friends will have trouble identifying the remains."
Bill watched him for a moment, making no move toward him, no move to retreat. Finally, he blinked and stepped toward the door, pulling it open and holding it for Harry.
Unbelievable. Harry huffed and stalked forward, angry that he’d allowed this to happen, even angrier that he was actually still fucking here.
The Leaky Cauldron wouldn’t have been his choice either, it was too well known, and he was stopped three times by well-wishers before he made it to a dark table in the back corner. He’d had too bad of a day to be overly friendly and he was sure he’d offended at least one of his fans. Slumping into his seat, Harry reached up to rub his face, glad at least that he had his cloak back.
There had to be more to life than this.
When he looked up Bill was watching him again and he glared. "What?"
Bill shook his head and ordered a bottle of firewhisky and two glasses before answering him.
"I apologize for Apparating so suddenly. It was foolish of me. It won't happen again."
The apology caught him as off guard as the Apparition, and he sat stupidly for a moment before nodding and accepting his glass. The thick brown liquid burned going down and warmth spread out from his chest, loosening something that had wound tight and painful.
He gazed out across the room, watching the crowd, looking, always looking for something that was hiding from him. He never found it.
"Why did you insist that I come here?" he asked, as he slid down in his seat a bit, fiddling with his glass.
Bill shrugged. "You looked like you needed a drink. I know I sure as hell did." He lifted his glass to his lips.
Harry gave a wry half-smile and picked up his glass as well. "I had whisky at home."
"Yes, but you didn't have the company. I can be insanely charming when I put my mind to it."
Harry snorted but didn't comment. Bill watched him over his glass for a moment.
"What do you think about the break in?"
Harry shrugged. "I think that whoever did it will get away free and clear unless they sell the contents of the vault to one of our informants, or unless they try it again. It was a pretty clean job."
Bill nodded. "It was. I'm just thankful that it doesn't seem to be something too sinister. I looked at the log of all the items taken. A lot of gold, and a few heirlooms. Nothing dark, nothing too valuable, other than the money. And the vault is in a low security area. It looks opportunistic to me."
"I agree." Harry watched as a couple sat down across from them. The girl laughed at something the young man said and he squeezed her hand. "Hopefully they'll slip up. I'm honestly surprised the goblins let you call us in."
"I figured it was worth a shot. I'm not very confident that we'll find them, but I knew we wouldn't without outside help."
"We won't be much help if they won't cooperate. There was one there today who nearly took my head off. Ah hell, we won't be much help anyway. But it would be nice if the Ministry didn't blame me for us not finding anything."
Bill laughed, a deep rich sound, and Harry once again had the feeling of inherent wrongness. Nothing should sound so nice.
"How's Ginny?" He'd not meant to say it, and really, it hadn't even been in the forefront of his mind. He was sure that he looked shocked that the words had left his mouth and he avoided Bill's eyes.
"She's good. Just had another baby. Last month. Another girl. Seems she broke the curse that Weasley's only have boys." He smiled. "She's happy."
He poured Harry another drink and tossed back his own.
"Good," Harry said. He meant it. He'd wanted her to be happy. She deserved that. It seemed odd to think that anyone deserved happiness anymore, but she did. He'd hurt her badly, and he let the guilt wash over him, cleansing, covering up the sins he couldn't stand to name.
"She worries about you."
Harry gave a sharp laugh at that, an ugly sound, and he poured himself another drink. "She shouldn't."
"The twins asked about you the other day. You know, you don't need to hide from my family. They miss you. They don't blame you."
It was the closest he'd come to talking about him in years and Harry bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from screaming.
"I don't blame you," Bill continued. The man didn't even have the decency to lower his eyes.
"Then you're a fool," Harry spat, before grabbing his cloak and standing up. "Thanks for the drinks," he said grudgingly before jerking his cloak on and turning to walk away.
He'd known that this was going to be a disaster, so what had possessed him to even think about going along with it? He was angry at Bill, even angrier at himself, and he pushed through the crowd, thankful when the cool night air hit his face.
Bill's hand fell heavily on his shoulder and Harry's hand closed around his wand again.
"Harry." Bill's voice sounded rougher than usual.
"Don't," he bit out, twisting away.
"Why are you punishing yourself over this?"
"Why do you fucking care?" he growled, walking further away from the Leaky Cauldron. "I didn't ask for your concern. I don't want it, nor your pity. Piss off."
Bill's fingers closed around his shoulder and spun him around. "You're not the only one who lost him. We all miss him."
"We are not talking about this." He felt magic building inside of him, his thoughts swirling in his head, memories that he didn't want stirred up brought to the forefront of his mind, painful and stinging. "I don't want to remember, got that? I don't give a damn about your family, or about you, and I expect the favor returned in spades."
Bill's eyes narrowed, the scar tissue around his face pulling, and he stepped forward. Harry raised his wand but a moment too late.
Bill lunged.
Then he was being shoved back against the wall, the bricks digging into his back, Bill's large hand grasping at his collar. Anger had clouded his judgement, slowed his reflexes, or perhaps Bill was just that fast, but the next moment his wand hand was pinned by the wrist against the wall and Bill's breath was warm on his cheek.
"He didn't die for you to stop living," Bill said, his voice shaking with suppressed rage.
"Fuck you," Harry said, struggling against him.
The kiss, when it came, was crushing, and Harry could taste blood, but he wasn't sure whose it was. Sharp, metallic, and then Bill's tongue surged forward into his mouth and he parted his lips, pushing his tongue against Bill's tasting whisky and smoke and something deeper and darker and his wrist was held so tightly he was sure it would be bruised but somehow the pain didn't matter.
Breath, heat, weight against his chest, and Bill pressed against him, pinning him in place, and Harry kissed him back, harder, deeper, fighting back in the only way he was capable.
Bill pulled away abruptly, his lips red, swollen, rage in his eyes, and something beyond. Perhaps fear. It was gone in an instant. Harry licked his lips, still tasting Bill, and wondered when the world had gone mad and how he'd missed it. Adrenaline made him feel dizzy and he couldn't breathe properly and then Bill's lips were lowering to touch his once more and this time he didn't fight.
His heart was beating so hard that it felt as if it would explode from his chest. Bill's hands rested on the wall on either side of his face as Bill's mouth moved against his, firm but slow, their breath mingling in soft gasps. Harry was glad for the wall behind him because he couldn't think, he couldn't seem to do anything but part his lips to Bill's questioning tongue and let him in.
Thoughts seemed to slow and fade as the kiss continued, and Harry kissed him back, reaching for the ability to forget, to lose himself. He was showing a weakness here, but he didn't have the energy to fight it. He didn't want to.
"Get us out of the street," Bill murmured against his lips, and Harry lifted his wand, his arms going up to Bill's waist, and the blackness took them both.
He'd miscalculated a bit, a detail that he'd never share, and they ended up outside the door of his flat rather than inside. Bill didn't seem to notice.
The doorknob was pressing into his back and Bill's hands were on his arms, pushing him against the door, holding him still as he plundered his mouth. Harry gasped as Bill pressed against him, his hand fumbling with the knob before he remembered that he had a bloody wand and could get in much easier with that.
The door sprang open and they stumbled through, Bill kicking it closed behind them, his hands already going to Harry's robes. "You're sure?" he mumbled, a few buttons popping off in his attempts to tear open the cloak.
"Don't treat me as if I'm about to break," Harry said, harsher than he'd meant. He shrugged off the cloak and lifted his hands to Bill's hair, pulling him into another kiss. The couch hit the back of his legs and they tumbled to the cushions, mouths pressed tightly together, limbs entwined. He felt out of control in a way he couldn’t remember feeling, and he was defenseless against it. Countless nights and faceless men and women and he’d always been in control. But this… this was heat and his hands were shaking and his back arched as Bill’s hand made its way underneath his shirt, rough calluses moving over his skin.
Bill's fingers closed around his hip and jerked him further underneath him. Bill was quite a bit larger than he was and the weight was almost suffocating but it was happening so fast, and so frenzied, and he didn't have time to panic.
Another jerk and his wand fell free, clattering to the floor and Bill's hands tore at his shirt, his mouth pulling away from his own and warm lips trailing over his chest. Harry's mouth formed a word, perhaps 'stop,' perhaps something entirely different, but Bill's teeth closed over his nipple, pulling and tugging, not hard enough to break the skin but hard enough to make his balls draw up tight against his body and his prick throb, hot and heavy against his pants.
A low growl came from Bill's throat and it made him harder, even as unease settled into the pit of his stomach. He had a feeling that Bill wasn't completely in control of himself anymore. It was only fair though, as his own body had completely ignored each and every command from his brain for the last half-hour.
His trousers were being ripped open and Bill's tongue traced the small raised scar on his stomach, nothing like the ones on Bill's face, but a reminder that he didn't want all the same. Cool air hit his prick, the tip wet, making him shiver, before Bill's fingers curled around him, sure, deft, as if he'd done this time and again and the fact that he knew exactly how to touch him, how to stroke him, to make him writhe was nearly his undoing.
But then a warm, wet tongue slipped into the slit of his cock, probing at the hole, tonguing him gently, and Bill moaned as if Harry were the best thing he'd ever tasted and Harry's mouth fell open as those lips parted, slowly pulling him inside.
Hot, pliable, living flesh molded around him, sucking his prick in deep, deeper, moving around him as if it were eating him alive. Bill's hand cupped his sac, rolling his fingers over the tight skin, massaging behind, fingers playing him so easily. Too easily.
Nothing should feel this good.
Harry's body tried to curl in on itself and he dug his hands into Bill's hair, long, thick softness around his knuckles, pulling tight. Bill sucked harder, despite the jerks, or perhaps because of them, and Harry felt Bill's throat relax, felt the head of his cock slowly slip past the tightness and deep, falling, pulsing, oh God, oh God, oh God, can't… don't… and Bill swallowed and Harry screamed as he came. And came.
And came.
His cock throbbed as he spilled himself into Bill's mouth, into his throat. He could feel the muscles in his throat working around him as he humped up against his face, fucking his mouth, unable to control anything anymore.
It went on forever it seemed and then he was gasping, dizzy from the orgasm and the man on his knees before him.
"Bill," he said, and he didn't know why but it didn't matter because Bill was pulling off and crawling up over him, his cock hard and thick inside his trousers where they pressed against Harry's leg. A heartbeat later, Bill's lips were covering his once more and Harry forgot to breathe.
Bill's hair had come loose and it fell in sheets around his face as they kissed. He could taste himself, bitter and harsh on those lips, he could feel the edge of one of the scars against his face, and Bill's hips pressed hard against his, one muscular thigh wedging his legs apart, pushing him into an unnatural angle atop the couch.
"I don't bottom," he blurted, unable to stop it, another weakness shown, another wall down.
Warm fingers closed around his, pulling his hand down between them and long red hair brushed across his face and something about Bill smelled like him and it made a small part of what remained of his heart twist painfully.
His throat hurt.
Bill closed their hands around his own prick and he felt huge, hot and wet and slick and silk over steel. He throbbed, pulsing into Harry's palm, his hips shifting, rutting against him, dragging the head of his cock against Harry's hip, leaving a trail of precome in its wake.
He remembered things he had no right to remember, things he was sure he had buried. He squeezed his eyes shut, still tasting him on his tongue, on his lips, feeling weak and hopeless and completely vulnerable in a way he hadn't felt, not even when he was spending himself down the other man's throat.
Their joined hands moved together, Bill guiding them, a rushed movement as his tongue slipped inside Harry's mouth once more. Bill kissed him as if he'd been doing it for a thousand years, tilting his head and moving into him as his cock began to spurt.
Warm spunk covered his fingers, dribbling down over his knuckles and his belly was wet. That his face felt wet was left alone, unrecognized and unquestioned.
He couldn't allow this to continue.
"You should go," he said weakly, sweaty and sticky and so completely confused that he was sure he'd never understand anything again.
"I should." Bill pressed his lips against Harry's temple, his voice breathless and shaking. Harry's wasn't much better. After an eternity of flesh sliding against flesh and warm hands on his belly, he stood, pulling Harry to his feet. It was embarrassing how weak he was, how very tired. Bill didn't comment, he simply led him to bed and undressed him, hands once more sure and deft.
That Harry allowed the attention was a miracle in and of itself. He simply didn't have any fight left in him.
And if he kept his mouth shut when Bill pushed him between the sheets and crawled in after him, still in his torn shirt and unfastened trousers, Harry couldn't be held responsible. He felt devastated and Bill's arms around him, pulling him to his chest, were an echo of comfort that he would have accepted willingly in another lifetime.
Now he closed his eyes and let sleep claim him. Otherwise he might have enjoyed the contact.
Sunlight fell across his face and Harry groaned, pulling the sheet up over his head. There was a moment of silence in his brain, the kind that only comes with first waking up, still lingering close to the dreamscape. Then in a rush it all came flooding back to him and Harry groaned again.
He didn't have to look to know that the other half of the bed was empty. He was relieved, but not as much as he should have been. Not as much as he wanted to be.
His head throbbed and his back ached and he wasn’t sure what time it was but he thought it was probably safe to say that he was late.
Fabulous.
Slowly he pushed himself up and went to shower. The scalding water not nearly enough to wash away the feel of those hands on his skin.
hr
The Aurors' offices were a flurry of activity when he arrived. Memos flying here and there, and harried Aurors rushing in between cubicles. Harry just stared for a moment before trudging toward his desk.
Of course he was stopped twice by coworkers before his boss stepped out of his office and motioned him inside. He followed and tried to act remorseful at being late. It helped to imagine slamming his boss's head through the frosted glass door of his office. No wait… that made him smile. But he covered it as best he could.
Finally, after listening to all the reasons why he shouldn't be an Auror, for what seemed like the billionth time, he was dismissed. It was almost 10 o'clock and he'd not even made it to his bloody desk.
His desk which was, of course, covered from one end to the other with unfinished reports and new case files. He slumped into his seat and pressed his fingers to his temples.
"Rough day, Potter? Bit early to be worn out. Long night?" The comment came from Davis who was one cubicle over. He'd always been a bastard.
"Fuck off," Harry said, sighing and sitting forward to reach for the nearest parchment.
The snigger from the next cubicle pissed him off, as Davis was sure to know it would, and he put up a silencing charm to block out any noise and finally got to work.
Lunch came late, as usual, and he came back upstairs from grabbing a cold bowl of soup and staring longingly at the next table's pint of ale and wondering if it were possible to drown one's self in a cup of tea.
The walk back was uneventful and that alone should have told him that some imminent evil was quickly approaching. Well, all right, not exactly evil, but it was fucking close enough.
He heard Bill’s rich laughter before he saw him and it stopped him in his tracks. Suddenly nervous and not at all pleased with the feeling, he nearly turned around and walked back to the lifts. Tonks saw him before he had the chance.
"Harry! Come over here!" Bright pink hair seemed to shine from across the room and Harry cursed himself and his general inability to be a bastard to her. It was hard to be a prick when someone was so obviously pleased to see you, regardless of how ill advised that was.
He hesitated before walking over, unable to muster up a decent smile and unwilling to meet Bill’s eyes.
"Harry," Bill said, nodding his way and Harry could hear the smile in his voice.
He was near enough that Harry could smell him and he forced himself to look up. The scars were as unsettling as ever but that mouth brought back memories of those lips stretched over his cock, and those eyes burning into his as he came across his tongue.
It was suddenly unnaturally warm.
Bill's eyes caught his, knowingly, as if he knew what he was thinking. "Having any luck with the investigation?"
"I've not had a chance to look at it today, but I've not heard anything." His voice didn't sound quite right.
Tonks noticed. "You all right, Harry? You're not coming down with something are you." She reached out to touch his forehead and he saw the hurt in her sweet face when he jerked away.
There was nothing he could do to help that.
"I'm fine," he said. He said that a lot.
Tonks let her hand fall to her side but forced a smile. "Course you are. Bill was just saying that there might have been a break. Turns out that someone spoke to a dealer in Knockturn Alley. Might be a trunk that was taken, but we don't know yet. We've got an Auror on site to watch."
Harry nodded.
"We're pushing for an arrest… it's been a long time since Gringotts was broken into. We'd like to make it very clear that we won't tolerate this type of thing," Bill said, and Harry thought of how he'd sounded as he'd come on his stomach.
"Right. Who's on site?"
"Davis," Tonks said, her face drawing into a sneer.
She hated him too. "He's an arse, but he's good at his job. It's not a bad move."
Tonks shrugged it off. "Maybe. Do you want to go back to the bank with us? I need to do a final sweep before I take the wards down and let them repair the damage. Don't want to miss anything."
Harry looked at Bill. "No. I'm behind here. Thanks though." He nodded at Bill. "Good seeing you again."
Bill smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "And you." His hand reached out and touched Harry's as he passed and Harry closed his eyes, willing the feeling in his stomach to go away.
It was probably just the soup.
He should have been surprised to see Bill leaning against his door when he climbed the stairs to his flat. He paused and looked at him for a moment before opening the door and leaving it open, not inviting, but knowing Bill would come in anyway.
"Why are you here?"
"I've absolutely no idea." Bill had followed him into the kitchen and was leaning against the counter, watching him grab two ales from the refrigerator.
"That clears that up, then," he said dryly.
"Indeed."
Bill took the offered ale and walked into the living room, sitting down on the couch that they'd been on just the night before. Harry stared at it for a moment before choosing the chair.
He closed his eyes for a second, trying to pretend he was alone, trying to relax, but he could hear the sofa creak, and he knew that if he moved closer he'd be able to smell him, feel the heat coming off of his body. He opened his eyes to find Bill staring back at him.
"Look, Harry," Bill began, "I just wanted to say that-"
"If you say you're sorry I'll hex you," Harry said quickly.
Bill smiled and it was a nice smile, scars and all.
"I made my decisions, I chose to do what we did." And it wasn't exactly true but he'd never ever let him know that. There was no way he could have told him no, not once he'd tasted him, not with him pulling at the buttons of his robes. "I'm a big boy. I can handle myself."
"Of that, I have no doubt." Bill watched him, his head tilted to the side. "I don't think I've ever quite figured you out. Not even when you were a kid."
Harry snorted. "I'm not the same kid."
"No. None of us are. But he's in there."
Harry raised an eyebrow but didn't reply.
"You work too much. You're young. You should be out having fun."
"You're my mother now?"
"No," Bill said, laughing. "I suppose I do sound like my mum, don't I? I'll try not to anymore." He took a deep pull on his ale and Harry's eyes were drawn to his throat as it worked, a sinuous motion beneath his skin.
He'd thought he was being sly about it, but Bill's eyes told him that he'd seen that look.
"Why'd you come by? Just to apologize for compromising my virtue?"
Bill shook his head. "Actually to make sure you were all right. But, after the threat at my almost apology, I assumed that asking would be out of the question."
"You assumed right," said Harry, taking a swig of his ale.
Bill smiled and leaned his head back on the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him. His eyes caught Harry's again, and held them. "I'm glad I didn't ask how you were, then."
"So am I." Mostly because he didn't have an answer.
Bill nodded and finished his ale. Slowly, he stood and walked over to where Harry sat, until their knees touched. "I suppose I should leave?"
"Probably," Harry said, but his voice shook.
Those dark eyes watched him carefully and Harry fought the urge to fidget.
"Probably," Bill repeated, his hand falling to slide across Harry's forearm. The touch itself was warm, familiar in a way he didn't understand, and Harry pressed his leg against Bill's.
It was all the invitation the other man needed.
He leaned down, hands propped on the arms of the chair, one trapping Harry's arm, the other pressing into the armrest. As he moved closer, a few tendrils of red hair fell in front of his face.
"I'll just go then," he whispered, his lips touching Harry's brow.
"You do that," Harry rasped, tilting his face up until his lips brushed against Bill's.
"All right." And then Bill was pressing him back into the chair, kneeling, his body covering Harry's. It was dizzying and frightening, and somewhere inside it felt as if something broke, leaking warmth into his chest. His one free hand came up to Bill's side, feeling the muscles twitch beneath his palm. Warm, alive, heat and breath and his taste made him hard, the feel of his tongue tracing along Harry's teeth, over his palate, against his own tongue, bold and forceful.
Such sureness. It only served to make him harder.
The loud moan surprised him and it was even more surprising to realize it had come from his own chest. It seemed to spur Bill on, and he slid forward and Bill's large hands curled round his waist, pulling him closer, until his legs were spread around Bill's hips. Bill moved against him, a slow grind, pressing their already hard cocks together through their clothes. He was hot, burning against him, and Harry could never remember feeling so completely taken by another person.
His fingers closed around the leather strap and he pulled, releasing Bill's hair, letting it flow over his hands and the scent was there, somewhere buried deep, and Harry felt something twist in his stomach and pulled him closer, thrusting up against him and opening his mouth wide.
Bill groaned into his mouth, his fingers clenching on Harry's hips and then the world tilted and dear God he was strong. He moved them both, pushing the table out of the way and lowering Harry to the floor, all in one motion, never parting their lips, his hands still steady around his waist. And he was on his back, the floor hard beneath him, Bill's body completely covering his, heavy and thick and solid. It felt remarkably good to be covered this way, but Harry pushed those thoughts into the back of his mind.
It wouldn't do to dwell on such things.
Not thinking sounded like a damn good idea.
Long fiery hair fell around his face in a curtain, blocking everything out but this moment, this man above him, and this kiss, so consuming, so completely devastating.
Bill's hands moved over his stomach, his sides, pushing his shirt up. His skin felt hot, too tight for his body, but Bill's touch made him ache. He wanted more and he wasn't used to wanting. Not anymore.
"I want you naked," Bill whispered, soft against his lips.
Harry found that he couldn't do anything but nod. Clothes fell from their bodies like rain, easy, so easy. A motion, a shift, and skin pressed against skin, their chests together, tight and hot, rubbing slowly. Bill's nipples slid hard across his chest, touching his own, and Bill's fingers found the button on his trousers, working them open one handed, never faltering. It was more careful than the night before, more heated somehow, if that was even possible.
One strong hand curled under his back, arching him up as soft lips fell upon his throat. It was like a dream, foggy and difficult to grasp or follow, but a nice dream, not like the ones he usually had. He half expected a great nasty demon to lurch into the room and fall upon them both.
He always woke up ill from his dreams. He certainly didn't feel ill now.
His trousers were pushed down past his hips, lower, and Bill's followed, although he had no recollection of how exactly this happened. They never parted once and what should have been fumbling and awkward only felt fucking fantastic.
Maybe it was a dream after all.
The soft slide of skin on skin made him dizzy and their legs twined together, bellies pressing tight as their cocks rubbed against one another. It felt hedonistic to lie here, stretched out and held, pushed further and further toward the edge. Head thrown back, legs spread wide, he rutted up against him, gasping, tongues thrashing together. Bill's fingers curled around his wrists, pulling them high up above his head, pinning him in place as his hips ground down against his.
"All right?" Bill whispered, trailing kisses down to his neck.
"Fuck you," Harry said weakly, groaning halfway through the last word.
Bill's breathless chuckle made his toes curl. "I thought that was the idea."
"Then get on with it."
"As you wish."
Talking became a memory as their moans and gasps melded together, just like their bodies, and somewhere in there Bill transferred both his wrists to one strong hand and reached between them with the other. His fingers closed around their cocks, pulling in time with their uneven thrusts and Harry convulsed and came, coating their bellies with come, Bill following at once, spurting up over his chest.
They were sweaty and sticky and his heart felt as if it would burst and he couldn't catch his breath. Damn it felt nice.
Harry's eyes fluttered closed and he remembered a soft kiss to his temple and a warm hand brushing his hair back from his face. And his dreams were in greyscale, as always, but for once he didn't wake up screaming. .
Part Two
That this fic grew into a bit of plot pulled me right out of my comfort zone.
But I have had the most gorgeous feedback on this fic, and I'm going over there now to start replying. Thanks to everyone who read it and who took time to leave a review. I'm used to reviews that say 'omg I just came'... not to reviews like those. *is all bouncy and shit* So yeah. I'm posting it here in two parts cause it was too long for one post. :D
Title: Waiting for the Sun
Author: Anise
Recipient's name: Medawyn
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Bill/Harry
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warnings: Rimming, mild bondage. Porn. Not real warnings, more like… nice temptations.
A/N: Merry Smutmas, medawyn!!! I hope you like it, dear. I had a wonderful time writing it for you.
Also, thanks so much to my lovely beta, ridicu_liz. You were brilliant,gorgeous.
And special thanks to Gina, for making everyone's holidays brighter.
A child skipped past, holding onto his mother’s hand. The young woman looked perfect in the sunlight, laughing, turning to call to her husband who ran to catch up. Harry watched them from the window, feeling nothing, and proud of himself that at least he didn’t feel bitter.
A thousand years had passed since the war, or so it seemed, and his mind couldn't quite wrap itself around the fact that it hadn't all been some horrible dream. Some nights, as he lay in bed, he could almost imagine that his best friend was snoring just a few feet away, and that he'd forgotten something… perhaps to finish his Divination diary, or his Potions essay.
Those nights were always the worst. Because then, in sleep, it would come back to him full force; the fighting, the blood, the fire - death and beyond death, horrors that he couldn't seem to remember vividly in his waking hours, because his mind would not let him.
It seemed there were things not worth remembering.
He felt bitter most of the time. The war had destroyed everything around him, everything inside. He’d watched his friends die, he’d killed, he’d committed acts beyond murder. Now that it was over, he was left wondering if there was anything left inside to rebuild.
Watching that child giggle at a word from his pretty mother, not a care in the world, made him feel a twinge that he quickly tamped down. He hated them all for being able to breathe without pain, for being able to fall in love without fear, for being able to continue.
So often now, he went through the motions, an endless cycle of getting up and functioning and doing anything he could just to not feel.
He stared as they walked out of sight before turning and joining the others who had gathered across the room. Discussion had already started about the break in, and he listened as he cast his gaze toward the goblins watching them, eyes distrustful and accusing.
Harry wondered why they had even contacted the Aurors, if their help wasn’t wanted. He nodded at the man next to him without catching his eye, and followed the group into the tunnels.
Bill Weasley knelt in the midst of the crumbled wall. He could have almost been a picture from Harry's childhood. The same dragon hide boots, the same earring, the leather thong securing his hair back at the base of his neck. His profile was so familiar that it was as if a hole had opened up in time and pulled everything through, a decade past, until he was watching twin tables battle in the blue sky.
The memory was so clear that Harry momentarily felt dizzy. His robes felt out of place because he was supposed to be fourteen and in jeans, so star struck by the man in front of him that he couldn’t even speak.
Well, some of the latter still held. Bill always had been an enigma.
But then he moved and Bill turned his head; the jagged scars that covered the other side of his face became visible and the spell was broken. Harry felt a sharp spike of anger for being forced to remember, even for a second, the way things were before. At being forced to think about what a semblance of normality was like.
He leaned against the wall and watched Bill work, struggling with the anger. Dust had settled across Bill's features and he was consumed with his work, his eyes narrowed as he moved his wand over the hole in the wall. Something powerful had done this; Harry could still feel a charge in the air, a sharp tang that made the hair on his arms stand on end. It didn't feel particularly dark, though, a fact that Harry was insanely grateful for.
He wasn’t aware of how hard he was watching Bill until dark brown eyes were locked with his. It shocked him, the intensity he saw there, the tail end of Bill’s concentration and focus before recognition set in. He cursed himself silently and wanted to look away but he forced himself to hold the gaze as Bill nodded, and turned back to his work.
He could breathe again.
The urge to run from the room was strong, but his pride made him hold his ground. He found that a bit humorous. He'd not been aware that he'd any pride left. One of the Aurors cornered him, reading off a list of duties that would be sure to keep Harry busy for the next few weeks. There was very little to go on.
At least he had a valid excuse to leave.
And he almost made it. He would have made it if Bill hadn't been standing in the doorway.
"Harry," Bill said, extending his hand.
Inwardly cringing, Harry stepped forward to meet him, clasping his hand in his own.
"It's been a long time. Where've you been keeping yourself?" Bill's face no longer looked as it did all those years ago, but beneath the twisted lines of scars that covered half of his face, Harry could still see the man that he'd once been.
"Working." Harry jerked his head toward the other Aurors who were now shuffling through the rubble. "They keep me fairly busy. How about you?" Bill hadn't let go of his hand and it was making him feel edgy. Uncomfortable.
Bill smiled, his twisted features seeming to pull unnaturally against the scar tissue. "Working as well. I'm back in Egypt for part of the year. I'm gone a few months at a time. But it's nice being a bit closer to home more often. Mum needs me around, and I don't mind." He looked at Harry, straight into his eyes, and Harry put up the wall immediately, sure that Bill was trying to read his thoughts. "You should come by. She misses you."
Harry pulled his hand free from Bill's grasp and shoved it into his pocket, tearing his eyes off of Bill's. "Right then. It was good to see you. I assume you are the person that instructed the goblins to alert us. We'll handle our end and I will have someone Owl you if we find anything out." He gave a tight smile and walked out of the vault, leaving Bill standing there gaping. It was cowardly, to be sure, and rude, but it couldn't be helped.
He thought that that was probably the end of it.
If he'd paused to think about the way things usually went in his life, he'd have not been nearly as optimistic.
He'd spent hours trying to question angry goblins. They'd talked in circles, and insulted everything about him, from the way he did his job to the way his hair stuck up in the back. It had been almost as fun as his Auror exams. Almost.
He sat in his cubicle with his head pressed against the desk, wondering what he'd done in a past life that he was now being punished for. He hoped whatever it was that he'd enjoyed it. It was difficult to fight the urge to bang his head against the wood, but he managed to control the impulse.
"They can be a pain in the arse, I know. They've reason to distrust us. I'm sorry you got stuck with the questioning."
Harry looked up to see Bill leaning against the entry of his cubicle, his thumbs hooked in the belt loops of his jeans.
Harry sighed. "It's part of the job. Anything I can help you with?"
"Yeah. Get your shit together. We're going out to have a drink. I'm buying."
And that, was such a bad idea that Harry was momentarily struck speechless. The shock must have shown in his face because Bill rolled his eyes and stepped forward, grabbing Harry's cloak off of the stack of books that it had been thrown haphazardly across. "I'll meet you downstairs."
With that, he turned and left, taking Harry's cloak with him.
A memo soared overhead, flittering against the lights and casting shadows over his desk. Harry cursed under his breath. He really fucking liked that cloak. Growling, he shoved back from his desk and stomped out of the cubicle, ignoring the memo.
He was sure he'd be chewed out for whatever was on that memo tomorrow, but he didn't care. A dressing down from his superiors would break up the monotony of the day nicely.
The atrium was deserted save for one lone figure standing by the gates and Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked up to him.
"This is a bad idea."
"Most ideas are," Bill said blandly, tossing Harry his cloak. "Come on, then."
His hand closed around the dark material and he had the insane thought that now he could make his getaway. He could imagine himself laughing maniacally, his cloak clutched to his chest, and screaming, ‘YOU’LL NEVER CATCH ME, NEVER!!’ Bill would think he’d finally gone round the twist. Perhaps he had. But he simply sighed and followed Bill out into the cool London air.
They walked in uncomfortable silence, the sky a sea of reds and purples that stretched down to touch the tops of the dirty buildings. It seemed wrong somehow, that the world had not turned shades of grey. The brilliance of the evening sky was out of place amidst the world that Harry currently lived in.
He wasn’t watching where he was going and he plowed right into Bill as Bill tried to steer them into the alleyway.
"Sorry," he mumbled, rubbing his nose where he’d crushed it against Bill’s shoulder. Bill just smiled and took his arm, leading him further into the alley.
Harry would have jerked away, demanded to know what the fuck Bill was doing, and why he thought it was all right to lead him, Harry, around like a bloody dog. But the pressure of Apparition pressed down around them and all thought fled in the sensation of being suffocated in blackness, breath stolen from his body by some unnamed force.
He’d never liked Apparating. He did all right at it, but this had caught him off guard, and panic built in his chest like a nasty wound, festering and spilling over, infecting everything in its path. He knew he was safe, but fear wasn’t always rational, and as they slowly popped into view in front of the Leaky Cauldron, Harry felt the fear turn to anger.
Jerking his arm from Bill’s large hand, he all but growled at him, his wand drawn, though he didn’t remember his hand closing around it. Shocked brown eyes widened as Harry pointed the wand at his chest, stepping into him. "You ever do that to me again, and your goblin friends will have trouble identifying the remains."
Bill watched him for a moment, making no move toward him, no move to retreat. Finally, he blinked and stepped toward the door, pulling it open and holding it for Harry.
Unbelievable. Harry huffed and stalked forward, angry that he’d allowed this to happen, even angrier that he was actually still fucking here.
The Leaky Cauldron wouldn’t have been his choice either, it was too well known, and he was stopped three times by well-wishers before he made it to a dark table in the back corner. He’d had too bad of a day to be overly friendly and he was sure he’d offended at least one of his fans. Slumping into his seat, Harry reached up to rub his face, glad at least that he had his cloak back.
There had to be more to life than this.
When he looked up Bill was watching him again and he glared. "What?"
Bill shook his head and ordered a bottle of firewhisky and two glasses before answering him.
"I apologize for Apparating so suddenly. It was foolish of me. It won't happen again."
The apology caught him as off guard as the Apparition, and he sat stupidly for a moment before nodding and accepting his glass. The thick brown liquid burned going down and warmth spread out from his chest, loosening something that had wound tight and painful.
He gazed out across the room, watching the crowd, looking, always looking for something that was hiding from him. He never found it.
"Why did you insist that I come here?" he asked, as he slid down in his seat a bit, fiddling with his glass.
Bill shrugged. "You looked like you needed a drink. I know I sure as hell did." He lifted his glass to his lips.
Harry gave a wry half-smile and picked up his glass as well. "I had whisky at home."
"Yes, but you didn't have the company. I can be insanely charming when I put my mind to it."
Harry snorted but didn't comment. Bill watched him over his glass for a moment.
"What do you think about the break in?"
Harry shrugged. "I think that whoever did it will get away free and clear unless they sell the contents of the vault to one of our informants, or unless they try it again. It was a pretty clean job."
Bill nodded. "It was. I'm just thankful that it doesn't seem to be something too sinister. I looked at the log of all the items taken. A lot of gold, and a few heirlooms. Nothing dark, nothing too valuable, other than the money. And the vault is in a low security area. It looks opportunistic to me."
"I agree." Harry watched as a couple sat down across from them. The girl laughed at something the young man said and he squeezed her hand. "Hopefully they'll slip up. I'm honestly surprised the goblins let you call us in."
"I figured it was worth a shot. I'm not very confident that we'll find them, but I knew we wouldn't without outside help."
"We won't be much help if they won't cooperate. There was one there today who nearly took my head off. Ah hell, we won't be much help anyway. But it would be nice if the Ministry didn't blame me for us not finding anything."
Bill laughed, a deep rich sound, and Harry once again had the feeling of inherent wrongness. Nothing should sound so nice.
"How's Ginny?" He'd not meant to say it, and really, it hadn't even been in the forefront of his mind. He was sure that he looked shocked that the words had left his mouth and he avoided Bill's eyes.
"She's good. Just had another baby. Last month. Another girl. Seems she broke the curse that Weasley's only have boys." He smiled. "She's happy."
He poured Harry another drink and tossed back his own.
"Good," Harry said. He meant it. He'd wanted her to be happy. She deserved that. It seemed odd to think that anyone deserved happiness anymore, but she did. He'd hurt her badly, and he let the guilt wash over him, cleansing, covering up the sins he couldn't stand to name.
"She worries about you."
Harry gave a sharp laugh at that, an ugly sound, and he poured himself another drink. "She shouldn't."
"The twins asked about you the other day. You know, you don't need to hide from my family. They miss you. They don't blame you."
It was the closest he'd come to talking about him in years and Harry bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from screaming.
"I don't blame you," Bill continued. The man didn't even have the decency to lower his eyes.
"Then you're a fool," Harry spat, before grabbing his cloak and standing up. "Thanks for the drinks," he said grudgingly before jerking his cloak on and turning to walk away.
He'd known that this was going to be a disaster, so what had possessed him to even think about going along with it? He was angry at Bill, even angrier at himself, and he pushed through the crowd, thankful when the cool night air hit his face.
Bill's hand fell heavily on his shoulder and Harry's hand closed around his wand again.
"Harry." Bill's voice sounded rougher than usual.
"Don't," he bit out, twisting away.
"Why are you punishing yourself over this?"
"Why do you fucking care?" he growled, walking further away from the Leaky Cauldron. "I didn't ask for your concern. I don't want it, nor your pity. Piss off."
Bill's fingers closed around his shoulder and spun him around. "You're not the only one who lost him. We all miss him."
"We are not talking about this." He felt magic building inside of him, his thoughts swirling in his head, memories that he didn't want stirred up brought to the forefront of his mind, painful and stinging. "I don't want to remember, got that? I don't give a damn about your family, or about you, and I expect the favor returned in spades."
Bill's eyes narrowed, the scar tissue around his face pulling, and he stepped forward. Harry raised his wand but a moment too late.
Bill lunged.
Then he was being shoved back against the wall, the bricks digging into his back, Bill's large hand grasping at his collar. Anger had clouded his judgement, slowed his reflexes, or perhaps Bill was just that fast, but the next moment his wand hand was pinned by the wrist against the wall and Bill's breath was warm on his cheek.
"He didn't die for you to stop living," Bill said, his voice shaking with suppressed rage.
"Fuck you," Harry said, struggling against him.
The kiss, when it came, was crushing, and Harry could taste blood, but he wasn't sure whose it was. Sharp, metallic, and then Bill's tongue surged forward into his mouth and he parted his lips, pushing his tongue against Bill's tasting whisky and smoke and something deeper and darker and his wrist was held so tightly he was sure it would be bruised but somehow the pain didn't matter.
Breath, heat, weight against his chest, and Bill pressed against him, pinning him in place, and Harry kissed him back, harder, deeper, fighting back in the only way he was capable.
Bill pulled away abruptly, his lips red, swollen, rage in his eyes, and something beyond. Perhaps fear. It was gone in an instant. Harry licked his lips, still tasting Bill, and wondered when the world had gone mad and how he'd missed it. Adrenaline made him feel dizzy and he couldn't breathe properly and then Bill's lips were lowering to touch his once more and this time he didn't fight.
His heart was beating so hard that it felt as if it would explode from his chest. Bill's hands rested on the wall on either side of his face as Bill's mouth moved against his, firm but slow, their breath mingling in soft gasps. Harry was glad for the wall behind him because he couldn't think, he couldn't seem to do anything but part his lips to Bill's questioning tongue and let him in.
Thoughts seemed to slow and fade as the kiss continued, and Harry kissed him back, reaching for the ability to forget, to lose himself. He was showing a weakness here, but he didn't have the energy to fight it. He didn't want to.
"Get us out of the street," Bill murmured against his lips, and Harry lifted his wand, his arms going up to Bill's waist, and the blackness took them both.
He'd miscalculated a bit, a detail that he'd never share, and they ended up outside the door of his flat rather than inside. Bill didn't seem to notice.
The doorknob was pressing into his back and Bill's hands were on his arms, pushing him against the door, holding him still as he plundered his mouth. Harry gasped as Bill pressed against him, his hand fumbling with the knob before he remembered that he had a bloody wand and could get in much easier with that.
The door sprang open and they stumbled through, Bill kicking it closed behind them, his hands already going to Harry's robes. "You're sure?" he mumbled, a few buttons popping off in his attempts to tear open the cloak.
"Don't treat me as if I'm about to break," Harry said, harsher than he'd meant. He shrugged off the cloak and lifted his hands to Bill's hair, pulling him into another kiss. The couch hit the back of his legs and they tumbled to the cushions, mouths pressed tightly together, limbs entwined. He felt out of control in a way he couldn’t remember feeling, and he was defenseless against it. Countless nights and faceless men and women and he’d always been in control. But this… this was heat and his hands were shaking and his back arched as Bill’s hand made its way underneath his shirt, rough calluses moving over his skin.
Bill's fingers closed around his hip and jerked him further underneath him. Bill was quite a bit larger than he was and the weight was almost suffocating but it was happening so fast, and so frenzied, and he didn't have time to panic.
Another jerk and his wand fell free, clattering to the floor and Bill's hands tore at his shirt, his mouth pulling away from his own and warm lips trailing over his chest. Harry's mouth formed a word, perhaps 'stop,' perhaps something entirely different, but Bill's teeth closed over his nipple, pulling and tugging, not hard enough to break the skin but hard enough to make his balls draw up tight against his body and his prick throb, hot and heavy against his pants.
A low growl came from Bill's throat and it made him harder, even as unease settled into the pit of his stomach. He had a feeling that Bill wasn't completely in control of himself anymore. It was only fair though, as his own body had completely ignored each and every command from his brain for the last half-hour.
His trousers were being ripped open and Bill's tongue traced the small raised scar on his stomach, nothing like the ones on Bill's face, but a reminder that he didn't want all the same. Cool air hit his prick, the tip wet, making him shiver, before Bill's fingers curled around him, sure, deft, as if he'd done this time and again and the fact that he knew exactly how to touch him, how to stroke him, to make him writhe was nearly his undoing.
But then a warm, wet tongue slipped into the slit of his cock, probing at the hole, tonguing him gently, and Bill moaned as if Harry were the best thing he'd ever tasted and Harry's mouth fell open as those lips parted, slowly pulling him inside.
Hot, pliable, living flesh molded around him, sucking his prick in deep, deeper, moving around him as if it were eating him alive. Bill's hand cupped his sac, rolling his fingers over the tight skin, massaging behind, fingers playing him so easily. Too easily.
Nothing should feel this good.
Harry's body tried to curl in on itself and he dug his hands into Bill's hair, long, thick softness around his knuckles, pulling tight. Bill sucked harder, despite the jerks, or perhaps because of them, and Harry felt Bill's throat relax, felt the head of his cock slowly slip past the tightness and deep, falling, pulsing, oh God, oh God, oh God, can't… don't… and Bill swallowed and Harry screamed as he came. And came.
And came.
His cock throbbed as he spilled himself into Bill's mouth, into his throat. He could feel the muscles in his throat working around him as he humped up against his face, fucking his mouth, unable to control anything anymore.
It went on forever it seemed and then he was gasping, dizzy from the orgasm and the man on his knees before him.
"Bill," he said, and he didn't know why but it didn't matter because Bill was pulling off and crawling up over him, his cock hard and thick inside his trousers where they pressed against Harry's leg. A heartbeat later, Bill's lips were covering his once more and Harry forgot to breathe.
Bill's hair had come loose and it fell in sheets around his face as they kissed. He could taste himself, bitter and harsh on those lips, he could feel the edge of one of the scars against his face, and Bill's hips pressed hard against his, one muscular thigh wedging his legs apart, pushing him into an unnatural angle atop the couch.
"I don't bottom," he blurted, unable to stop it, another weakness shown, another wall down.
Warm fingers closed around his, pulling his hand down between them and long red hair brushed across his face and something about Bill smelled like him and it made a small part of what remained of his heart twist painfully.
His throat hurt.
Bill closed their hands around his own prick and he felt huge, hot and wet and slick and silk over steel. He throbbed, pulsing into Harry's palm, his hips shifting, rutting against him, dragging the head of his cock against Harry's hip, leaving a trail of precome in its wake.
He remembered things he had no right to remember, things he was sure he had buried. He squeezed his eyes shut, still tasting him on his tongue, on his lips, feeling weak and hopeless and completely vulnerable in a way he hadn't felt, not even when he was spending himself down the other man's throat.
Their joined hands moved together, Bill guiding them, a rushed movement as his tongue slipped inside Harry's mouth once more. Bill kissed him as if he'd been doing it for a thousand years, tilting his head and moving into him as his cock began to spurt.
Warm spunk covered his fingers, dribbling down over his knuckles and his belly was wet. That his face felt wet was left alone, unrecognized and unquestioned.
He couldn't allow this to continue.
"You should go," he said weakly, sweaty and sticky and so completely confused that he was sure he'd never understand anything again.
"I should." Bill pressed his lips against Harry's temple, his voice breathless and shaking. Harry's wasn't much better. After an eternity of flesh sliding against flesh and warm hands on his belly, he stood, pulling Harry to his feet. It was embarrassing how weak he was, how very tired. Bill didn't comment, he simply led him to bed and undressed him, hands once more sure and deft.
That Harry allowed the attention was a miracle in and of itself. He simply didn't have any fight left in him.
And if he kept his mouth shut when Bill pushed him between the sheets and crawled in after him, still in his torn shirt and unfastened trousers, Harry couldn't be held responsible. He felt devastated and Bill's arms around him, pulling him to his chest, were an echo of comfort that he would have accepted willingly in another lifetime.
Now he closed his eyes and let sleep claim him. Otherwise he might have enjoyed the contact.
Sunlight fell across his face and Harry groaned, pulling the sheet up over his head. There was a moment of silence in his brain, the kind that only comes with first waking up, still lingering close to the dreamscape. Then in a rush it all came flooding back to him and Harry groaned again.
He didn't have to look to know that the other half of the bed was empty. He was relieved, but not as much as he should have been. Not as much as he wanted to be.
His head throbbed and his back ached and he wasn’t sure what time it was but he thought it was probably safe to say that he was late.
Fabulous.
Slowly he pushed himself up and went to shower. The scalding water not nearly enough to wash away the feel of those hands on his skin.
hr
The Aurors' offices were a flurry of activity when he arrived. Memos flying here and there, and harried Aurors rushing in between cubicles. Harry just stared for a moment before trudging toward his desk.
Of course he was stopped twice by coworkers before his boss stepped out of his office and motioned him inside. He followed and tried to act remorseful at being late. It helped to imagine slamming his boss's head through the frosted glass door of his office. No wait… that made him smile. But he covered it as best he could.
Finally, after listening to all the reasons why he shouldn't be an Auror, for what seemed like the billionth time, he was dismissed. It was almost 10 o'clock and he'd not even made it to his bloody desk.
His desk which was, of course, covered from one end to the other with unfinished reports and new case files. He slumped into his seat and pressed his fingers to his temples.
"Rough day, Potter? Bit early to be worn out. Long night?" The comment came from Davis who was one cubicle over. He'd always been a bastard.
"Fuck off," Harry said, sighing and sitting forward to reach for the nearest parchment.
The snigger from the next cubicle pissed him off, as Davis was sure to know it would, and he put up a silencing charm to block out any noise and finally got to work.
Lunch came late, as usual, and he came back upstairs from grabbing a cold bowl of soup and staring longingly at the next table's pint of ale and wondering if it were possible to drown one's self in a cup of tea.
The walk back was uneventful and that alone should have told him that some imminent evil was quickly approaching. Well, all right, not exactly evil, but it was fucking close enough.
He heard Bill’s rich laughter before he saw him and it stopped him in his tracks. Suddenly nervous and not at all pleased with the feeling, he nearly turned around and walked back to the lifts. Tonks saw him before he had the chance.
"Harry! Come over here!" Bright pink hair seemed to shine from across the room and Harry cursed himself and his general inability to be a bastard to her. It was hard to be a prick when someone was so obviously pleased to see you, regardless of how ill advised that was.
He hesitated before walking over, unable to muster up a decent smile and unwilling to meet Bill’s eyes.
"Harry," Bill said, nodding his way and Harry could hear the smile in his voice.
He was near enough that Harry could smell him and he forced himself to look up. The scars were as unsettling as ever but that mouth brought back memories of those lips stretched over his cock, and those eyes burning into his as he came across his tongue.
It was suddenly unnaturally warm.
Bill's eyes caught his, knowingly, as if he knew what he was thinking. "Having any luck with the investigation?"
"I've not had a chance to look at it today, but I've not heard anything." His voice didn't sound quite right.
Tonks noticed. "You all right, Harry? You're not coming down with something are you." She reached out to touch his forehead and he saw the hurt in her sweet face when he jerked away.
There was nothing he could do to help that.
"I'm fine," he said. He said that a lot.
Tonks let her hand fall to her side but forced a smile. "Course you are. Bill was just saying that there might have been a break. Turns out that someone spoke to a dealer in Knockturn Alley. Might be a trunk that was taken, but we don't know yet. We've got an Auror on site to watch."
Harry nodded.
"We're pushing for an arrest… it's been a long time since Gringotts was broken into. We'd like to make it very clear that we won't tolerate this type of thing," Bill said, and Harry thought of how he'd sounded as he'd come on his stomach.
"Right. Who's on site?"
"Davis," Tonks said, her face drawing into a sneer.
She hated him too. "He's an arse, but he's good at his job. It's not a bad move."
Tonks shrugged it off. "Maybe. Do you want to go back to the bank with us? I need to do a final sweep before I take the wards down and let them repair the damage. Don't want to miss anything."
Harry looked at Bill. "No. I'm behind here. Thanks though." He nodded at Bill. "Good seeing you again."
Bill smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "And you." His hand reached out and touched Harry's as he passed and Harry closed his eyes, willing the feeling in his stomach to go away.
It was probably just the soup.
He should have been surprised to see Bill leaning against his door when he climbed the stairs to his flat. He paused and looked at him for a moment before opening the door and leaving it open, not inviting, but knowing Bill would come in anyway.
"Why are you here?"
"I've absolutely no idea." Bill had followed him into the kitchen and was leaning against the counter, watching him grab two ales from the refrigerator.
"That clears that up, then," he said dryly.
"Indeed."
Bill took the offered ale and walked into the living room, sitting down on the couch that they'd been on just the night before. Harry stared at it for a moment before choosing the chair.
He closed his eyes for a second, trying to pretend he was alone, trying to relax, but he could hear the sofa creak, and he knew that if he moved closer he'd be able to smell him, feel the heat coming off of his body. He opened his eyes to find Bill staring back at him.
"Look, Harry," Bill began, "I just wanted to say that-"
"If you say you're sorry I'll hex you," Harry said quickly.
Bill smiled and it was a nice smile, scars and all.
"I made my decisions, I chose to do what we did." And it wasn't exactly true but he'd never ever let him know that. There was no way he could have told him no, not once he'd tasted him, not with him pulling at the buttons of his robes. "I'm a big boy. I can handle myself."
"Of that, I have no doubt." Bill watched him, his head tilted to the side. "I don't think I've ever quite figured you out. Not even when you were a kid."
Harry snorted. "I'm not the same kid."
"No. None of us are. But he's in there."
Harry raised an eyebrow but didn't reply.
"You work too much. You're young. You should be out having fun."
"You're my mother now?"
"No," Bill said, laughing. "I suppose I do sound like my mum, don't I? I'll try not to anymore." He took a deep pull on his ale and Harry's eyes were drawn to his throat as it worked, a sinuous motion beneath his skin.
He'd thought he was being sly about it, but Bill's eyes told him that he'd seen that look.
"Why'd you come by? Just to apologize for compromising my virtue?"
Bill shook his head. "Actually to make sure you were all right. But, after the threat at my almost apology, I assumed that asking would be out of the question."
"You assumed right," said Harry, taking a swig of his ale.
Bill smiled and leaned his head back on the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him. His eyes caught Harry's again, and held them. "I'm glad I didn't ask how you were, then."
"So am I." Mostly because he didn't have an answer.
Bill nodded and finished his ale. Slowly, he stood and walked over to where Harry sat, until their knees touched. "I suppose I should leave?"
"Probably," Harry said, but his voice shook.
Those dark eyes watched him carefully and Harry fought the urge to fidget.
"Probably," Bill repeated, his hand falling to slide across Harry's forearm. The touch itself was warm, familiar in a way he didn't understand, and Harry pressed his leg against Bill's.
It was all the invitation the other man needed.
He leaned down, hands propped on the arms of the chair, one trapping Harry's arm, the other pressing into the armrest. As he moved closer, a few tendrils of red hair fell in front of his face.
"I'll just go then," he whispered, his lips touching Harry's brow.
"You do that," Harry rasped, tilting his face up until his lips brushed against Bill's.
"All right." And then Bill was pressing him back into the chair, kneeling, his body covering Harry's. It was dizzying and frightening, and somewhere inside it felt as if something broke, leaking warmth into his chest. His one free hand came up to Bill's side, feeling the muscles twitch beneath his palm. Warm, alive, heat and breath and his taste made him hard, the feel of his tongue tracing along Harry's teeth, over his palate, against his own tongue, bold and forceful.
Such sureness. It only served to make him harder.
The loud moan surprised him and it was even more surprising to realize it had come from his own chest. It seemed to spur Bill on, and he slid forward and Bill's large hands curled round his waist, pulling him closer, until his legs were spread around Bill's hips. Bill moved against him, a slow grind, pressing their already hard cocks together through their clothes. He was hot, burning against him, and Harry could never remember feeling so completely taken by another person.
His fingers closed around the leather strap and he pulled, releasing Bill's hair, letting it flow over his hands and the scent was there, somewhere buried deep, and Harry felt something twist in his stomach and pulled him closer, thrusting up against him and opening his mouth wide.
Bill groaned into his mouth, his fingers clenching on Harry's hips and then the world tilted and dear God he was strong. He moved them both, pushing the table out of the way and lowering Harry to the floor, all in one motion, never parting their lips, his hands still steady around his waist. And he was on his back, the floor hard beneath him, Bill's body completely covering his, heavy and thick and solid. It felt remarkably good to be covered this way, but Harry pushed those thoughts into the back of his mind.
It wouldn't do to dwell on such things.
Not thinking sounded like a damn good idea.
Long fiery hair fell around his face in a curtain, blocking everything out but this moment, this man above him, and this kiss, so consuming, so completely devastating.
Bill's hands moved over his stomach, his sides, pushing his shirt up. His skin felt hot, too tight for his body, but Bill's touch made him ache. He wanted more and he wasn't used to wanting. Not anymore.
"I want you naked," Bill whispered, soft against his lips.
Harry found that he couldn't do anything but nod. Clothes fell from their bodies like rain, easy, so easy. A motion, a shift, and skin pressed against skin, their chests together, tight and hot, rubbing slowly. Bill's nipples slid hard across his chest, touching his own, and Bill's fingers found the button on his trousers, working them open one handed, never faltering. It was more careful than the night before, more heated somehow, if that was even possible.
One strong hand curled under his back, arching him up as soft lips fell upon his throat. It was like a dream, foggy and difficult to grasp or follow, but a nice dream, not like the ones he usually had. He half expected a great nasty demon to lurch into the room and fall upon them both.
He always woke up ill from his dreams. He certainly didn't feel ill now.
His trousers were pushed down past his hips, lower, and Bill's followed, although he had no recollection of how exactly this happened. They never parted once and what should have been fumbling and awkward only felt fucking fantastic.
Maybe it was a dream after all.
The soft slide of skin on skin made him dizzy and their legs twined together, bellies pressing tight as their cocks rubbed against one another. It felt hedonistic to lie here, stretched out and held, pushed further and further toward the edge. Head thrown back, legs spread wide, he rutted up against him, gasping, tongues thrashing together. Bill's fingers curled around his wrists, pulling them high up above his head, pinning him in place as his hips ground down against his.
"All right?" Bill whispered, trailing kisses down to his neck.
"Fuck you," Harry said weakly, groaning halfway through the last word.
Bill's breathless chuckle made his toes curl. "I thought that was the idea."
"Then get on with it."
"As you wish."
Talking became a memory as their moans and gasps melded together, just like their bodies, and somewhere in there Bill transferred both his wrists to one strong hand and reached between them with the other. His fingers closed around their cocks, pulling in time with their uneven thrusts and Harry convulsed and came, coating their bellies with come, Bill following at once, spurting up over his chest.
They were sweaty and sticky and his heart felt as if it would burst and he couldn't catch his breath. Damn it felt nice.
Harry's eyes fluttered closed and he remembered a soft kiss to his temple and a warm hand brushing his hair back from his face. And his dreams were in greyscale, as always, but for once he didn't wake up screaming. .
Part Two