Up in the Air - Part 2
Title: Up in the Air
Pairing: Harry/Katie
Rating/Warnings: NC17 - Mild Profanity, Intense Sexual Situations, Oral Sex
“Where are we?” he asked.
Looking around as if drinking in the scenery, Katie sighed, “I grew up here. This is where I sat my first broomstick.” She pointed to the north and said, “My parents’ house is about one mile that way.”
Harry observed his surroundings. He felt a minor stab of jealousy that Katie had been able to fly so freely when she was younger, while his broom had been firmly stowed in his trunk all summer long. It reminded him sharply of the childhood he could’ve had if things had been different. Every tree, every scorched blade of overlong grass - they were perfect. If he never left the place, he wouldn’t have minded at all.
“It’s gorgeous,” he said quietly, still rapt by the environs. “I could probably stay here forever.” And he meant it. This place appealed to him the same way the Burrow did, with vast expanses begging to be traversed. As it was, he desperately wanted to mount his broom and get a bird’s eye view of the simple splendour of this patch of countryside.
As if she could read his mind, Katie nudged his arm with her elbow. “Well, go on then!”
Needing no further prompting, Harry straddled the broom shaft and kicked off as hard as he could. He shot into the air like an arrow, and the feel of the wind coursing over every inch of him awakened a long-dormant part of him, one he’d not permitted to surface for eight years. The higher he climbed, the more things began to slip away from the forefront of his mind. A cry of pure joy flowed unabashedly from his throat.
He steered the broom straight upward, enjoying the strain of his body weight as he hung on for all he was worth. As the altitude increased, he felt himself become more and more breathless, a combination of thinner air and exhilaration. Once he was sure his lungs would burst, he levelled off and looked down upon the landscape. From up there, everything seemed so small and unimportant. There was only him and the blissful companion that was altitude.
Soon, Katie settled beside him and joined him in absorbing the scenery. Harry glanced over at her, and for the first time since they’d met at the Cauldron, she was the girl he had known at Hogwarts, the one who was at home on a broom and her happiest when she was flying. He couldn’t help but share her grin as he said, “Race you to that stand of pines.”
“You’re on,” she replied before taking off like a shot. Harry blasted off after her. His eyes trained on the target, which was the shock of tail twigs visible underneath her fluttering garments. The rush of pursuit sizzled in his every nerve ending as he slowly closed the distance between them, their destination quickly approaching. Just as they were about a hundred feet from the tips of the pines, he had managed to pull up beside her.
Glancing over, Harry saw stoic determination on her features, an expression he remembered well from her days as a Chaser. For a moment, he considered letting her win, but that thought was quickly dismissed, as she would’ve been able to tell right away. Instead, he clenched his teeth and -
Pain rattled through his limbs as he collided with the tallest tree. A moment of panic surged into his brain as he felt his broom continue forward without him, sending him downward through the tree’s branches. Every time he tried to grab his wand from his pocket, the tree had other ideas, buffeting his arm away from his last means of salvation. All he could do was wait for the ground to halt his plummeting form.
But as Harry squeezed his eyes shut to block out the sight of the earth fast approaching, he felt himself be hooked upward and away from the tree. When he dared look, he saw Katie with one hand clenched around his ankle and the other gripping the stirrup of her broomstick. He frantically looked from her hold on him and to her only lifeline, seeing that she wouldn’t be able to handle both of their weights.
“Let me go!” he called. “If you don’t, we’ll both fall.”
“Not a chance!” Katie fired, renewing her vice-like grip on his hand. Nodding toward the tree, she said, “Try to get a foothold on the branch and Summon your broom!”
Harry could just barely see his feet, and he identified the closest branch that could hold his weight. Carefully, he hooked his foot back and tried to make contact. His toe brushed the breadth of the limb, indicating that he was close to the target. He determinedly scooted his feet toward the thicker part of the branch until he could feel it strain under his full body weight. Finally steady, he slipped his wand from his pocket and cried, “Accio Nimbus!”
The broom, which had hovered patiently in the air, swooshed through the foliage, giving him just enough able to bite his wand and get a firm grasp on the shaft. He let go of Katie’s hand so she could get a better grip on her own broom, and within seconds, he was mounted and helping Katie get straightened out once more. They both sat unmoving on the brooms, staring at one another. Harry couldn’t contain the nervous peal of laughter that radiated from his chest. She joined in until she was wiping tears from her eyes.
“You prat!” she gasped. “You ran into… into a tree! How could you possibly run into a tree?”
“I don’t know,” he wheezed between bouts of mirth. “I just…” Harry breathed deeply until he was able to articulate properly. “I guess I was thinking.”
Katie had slowly quit laughing along with him. Her expression pensive, she asked, “’Bout what?”
Harry hesitated. He wasn’t sure how she would react if he said his thoughts had been about her. But, somehow, he found it hard to lie to someone who had seen him vomit copiously. Taking a deep breath, he admitted, “About how you look a lot happier in the air.”
“You know,” she started, a wry smile on her face, “I was just thinking the same about you. You were always so glad to sit a broom, no matter what the circumstances. Even that match we had in the god-awful rain… all you cared about was doing your best.” She looked down at the ground below. “I have to admit, I had a huge crush on you after that.”
Not expecting that remark, Harry started. “Really? You had a crush on me? I was so awkward then, and you were far too pretty for a git like me.”
“Pfft,” Katie snorted. “If I wanted pretty, I’d have stayed with Roger and his loo full of beauty products. I’d rather have someone who isn’t, well… like Roger.” She laughed humourlessly.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Harry said, almost wishing he had kept his last remark to himself. “I just meant that… well, you were pretty fit in your own right, and you really didn’t need extra, er, stuff to -” He cut himself off when Katie’s hands hid her face. “Bollocks, I’m sorry. I should really learn when to shut up.”
He watched her nervously, hoping that his insensitive remark hadn’t wounded her greatly. When she angled her broom downward for a landing, it didn’t seem to be a sign in his favour, but he wasn’t going to let her walk away with that hanging over their heads. But he didn’t get that chance, as she Apparated away seconds later.
Later that night, Harry sat at his kitchen table, absently polishing the handle of the broom he’d not got the chance to return to Katie. He was thankful for the distraction, as well as nostalgic for the days when he did this very chore once a week with such enthusiasm. It wasn’t until every last inch of the wood gleamed with lustre and every twig was neatly trimmed that he let his mind wander back to that grassy haven and, more specifically, the woman who had taken him there.
Katie had understood things about him that he himself hardly had the ability to admit. She had asked him if he was happy, and he hadn’t been able to give her a proper answer. For all intents and purposes, he wasn’t sure he had one. His life was where he’d expected it to be, save for things not working out with Ginny. The population of Dark wizards had been cut down to almost nil, he was a full-fledged Auror, and his two best friends were happy with their lot in life. In those respects, he was rich.
But he was polishing a broomstick on a Saturday night. He slept alone in a flat that smelled of must and dirty socks. Even he found that a bit pathetic, and thoughts of his day-to-day routine pushed him further and further into the realisation that he’d been dreading for years.
Of course he wasn’t happy. Every night he went to bed, the idea of waking up became more distasteful every time. He went to work every day, stayed as long as they would allow, and went home and surrounded himself with yet more work. At weekends, he more often than not foisted his presence on Ron and Hermione, who were trying to conceive and certainly didn’t need company during their efforts. Hermione didn’t mind and was always glad to see him, at least he hoped, but Ron was never good at hiding his feelings and was definitely becoming tired of redirecting his unspent sexual energy into mundane chatter.
By this point in his life, he had been expecting the same thing, to be trying to build a family of his own, which he had wanted so badly because he’d never had it growing up. He’d honestly thought he’d be married or with prospects by age twenty-four, not ponding the meaning of life while polishing a broomstick alone. He doubted that Katie went into her marriage with the foreknowledge that she would be divorced and as alone as he was.
Katie. He owed her an apology. She was nothing but good to him in his time of need, and he had made her uncomfortable and upset. Thinking of the broomstick in front of him as an excuse to seek her out, Harry gripped it and focused his mind on the only room in her flat that he knew. Wrapping his hand around his wand, he squeezed his eyes shut until the pull of Apparition hurled him onto a shock of fluffy carpet.
Peeling himself off the floor, Harry looked around at the barely-familiar décor of Katie’s bedroom, glad that he had made it there based solely on his foggy recollections of what it looked like. It was dark save for a candle on the bedside table, but the ambient scent, one of clean linens and a hint of strawberries, marked it in his mind as where he had been earlier that day.
He looked around for Katie, hoping that he would be able to exit the flat and knock on the door properly before she noticed he was there. It was then that he heard the soft trickle of water coming from the bathroom and, more importantly, the sound of it ending. Realising that he was grossly encroaching on her privacy, Harry darted toward the door, but as soon as his hand wrapped around the knob, he knew he was no longer alone in the room. He was sure there was no earthly way she hadn’t seen him, and his brain sprang into action, contemplating any possible explanation that might keep him from being rightfully hexed.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut and slowly turned around to stammer an apology, but he couldn’t hear so much as an indignant gasp. The possibility that he might have still had time to get away forced his lids to re-open, and any words he had strung together in his mind evaporated as his mouth became painfully dry. Katie was most certainly in the room; however, where he had expected shock or outrage on her face, there was only nonchalance as she nodded in acknowledgment and continued to towel off her hair. And the towel in her hand was the only stitch of fabric to be found on her person.
“I… I should go now,” Harry stuttered, thrusting the broomstick that was still in his hand toward her, which she took and tossed carelessly into the corner. In a voice a half-octave higher than the norm, he blurted, “I came to give this back to you, but I wasn’t sure where to find you. So I remembered this room and I Apparated in and…” His concentration abandoned him in short order as Katie began to approach him, her mouth angled into a borderline smirk and her body still glistening with moisture.
Though he tried his level best, Harry could not stop the reflexive tightening of his body in response. His gaze kept straying toward her chest and even lower, watching lithe muscles play under pale skin. He didn’t even realise that he was audibly panting until she stopped in front of him and clapped his jaw closed with her forefinger.
“I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting you,” she said. “Otherwise, I might’ve been a bit more… prepared.”
Shaking his head, Harry said, “No, no - I’m bloody rude, and I should probably just… go now.” He tripped on the last couple of syllables when her tongue brushed her bottom lip. His right hand fumbled behind him for the door handle and was already heavily perspiring. Averting his vision toward the ceiling in an attempted to regain composure, he tried to reel in the wayward thoughts rampaging through his head, but with little success. “Oh, God,” he breathed.
Katie snaked an arm around his neck and forced him to look at her face. “Go ahead and look. Hardly any of this is mine anyway. Just a bit of cosmetic witchcraft. In six months’ time, I’m supposed to go back to Paris for a booster session, but I don’t think I will. I’ll go back to being plain, flat-chested Katie Bell again.” She hoisted one of her breasts and examined it. “Though I might miss them a bit. Shopping for jumpers is easier when there’s something to put in them.”
Devoid of anything resembling a reply, Harry swallowed hard. It took every ounce of strength he had to keep himself in check, and that command was quickly dissolving. But when her other hand slowly trekked its way down his chest before brushing against the fly of his jeans. That last sliver of control snapped under that gentle pressure, something primal flaring to life beneath her fingers.
Leaning toward his ear, Katie whispered, “You can stay if you like.”
His ears filled with the sound of his blood pounding, Harry could hardly hear himself gasp, “I really shouldn’t.”
“Your trousers say otherwise.”
Fighting for one final modicum of higher thought, Harry said, “You don’t want this. This isn’t like you. And I’m not good for you, or anyone, for that matter.” He knew that he had to make her see reason before he was incapable of it himself. But that went out the window when she jerked open the zip on his jeans and wrapped her hand around his pulsing arousal.
“If you haven’t noticed,” she said before meeting his eyes with a gaze wrought with intensity, “I’m a big girl now. I think I’m allowed to decide for myself what I want.” Bringing her lips to within a hair’s breadth of his, she hissed, “Or who I want.”
Almost of its own accord, Harry’s mouth claimed hers. All he knew was the hand massaging his most sensitive organ and the resulting tumult of wanting that came from every stimulated nerve. Torn between the need for more and the agony that it caused, he growled and pulled her body into his. His brain clouded, he was confused when she shoved him back up against the door, stealing the contact with her bare flesh that base nature demanded.
“Patience, love.” She left a soft, almost negligible kiss on his cheek before sinking to her knees. “A little bit at a time.” With excruciatingly slow precision, she finished unfastening his trousers and pulled them down to his ankles before returning her attention to his midsection. When he felt her teeth scrape the skin of his belly before clamping around the elastic waistband of his underwear, Harry felt the whole room tilt. The constrictive fabric was pulled back and downward, freeing his aching manhood, and when her tongue traced a path upward along its breadth, his knees started to burn. Only his hand on the doorknob kept him from sliding into a pile on the floor along with his clothing. And when moist heat enveloped him, all he could do was mutter incoherently, as his entire world had been narrowed down to a brisk set of lips stroking him into oblivion.
He couldn’t help but buck his hips, but his eagerness was punished when her ministrations were slowed to nearly a halt. Devastated, he looked down, only to find her smirking at him and wagging a finger chidingly. The coyness she oozed made him want to bury himself inside her and make her feel what he was feeling. But any idea of him having any control were doused when she took in his whole length in one swift motion, and a groan of intense pleasure tore through his throat.
Just when he was sure he wouldn’t be able to hold himself any longer, her mouth slowly slid up, up, and away from his slickened member and toward his own lips. Surprising himself, Harry gently kissed her before cupping her bottom and carrying her over to the bed. He lay her down near the edge so her legs would hang over the side. Hooking one knee over either shoulder, he nipped at the soft flesh of her inner thigh, working his way down until he was an inch away from her core, which was glittering with the dew of desire.
Tentatively, he touched the tip of his tongue to the pulsating pinkness and was rewarded with a strangled whimper. Encouraged that he was on the right path, he did so again, only this time, her fingers coiled into his hair and roughly pulled him closer. The salty tang of payback danced on his palate as he stared down the flat plane of her belly and repeated her earlier statement. “Patience, love.”
The feel of her writhing in pleasure gave him a rush of power that eschewed his former mindless ecstasy in favour of a singular focus - to make her scream his name. It almost shocked him in its intensity, but the almost beast-like presence of his libido demanded it. His mission in place, he teased and he coaxed the outer edges of her womanhood until she was nearly sobbing beneath him. In one last act of borderline cruelty, he parted her folds and thrust his tongue into her depths.
A shriek filled the room, which only served to strengthen Harry’s ardour. Finally, he closed his lips around the sensitised bead at her centre and kissed it before journeying to her mouth once more. She matched his need, and with hitching breath, she begged him, “Please.”
It was a plea that he couldn’t ignore, and Harry pushed himself inside her with a single thrust. Katie’s groan of pleasure vibrated through him and spurred him to drive his hips madly until her only sound was a ragged pant. But it was when her hands weakly gripped his arms that he lost his measured pacing and let his feral desire take hold. The beads of sweat that trickled down his back only stimulated him further, and he knew he was close to the edge.
And when he felt himself let go within her, Harry collapsed on top of her, the soft, silken skin of her chest a welcome haven. Her arms wrapped around him, and her lips brushed his forehead gently, and it was the last thought before he fell asleep.