Sudsy - HP - Zacharias/Harry - R
Sudsy
HARRY POTTER ; ZACHARIAS/HARRY - R
Sudsy
The insect is perched on the lip of the tub. It’s brownish-purple, its legs are spiky, and its eyes are much too big for its head. Harry lowers himself further into the water until he’s eye-level with the ugly bugger. It makes a clicking sound when Harry blows soap suds out of his nose. He raises his eyebrows and contemplates touching it, but he’s not exactly sure it won’t explode in size and eat him right out of his bath. Harry thinks that’s a pretty sad way to go. He can just imagine what Draco would have to say about his untimely, buggy death:
“Oh brilliant. So now the rest of the wizarding world is doomed because Harry Potter can’t keep his hands to himself”(which is true)”and got his stupid git arse devoured by an insect while having a wash. Nice one, Potter.”
Harry gulps and scoots away from the bug, which clicks again as the water sloshes against the sides of the tub.
Zacharias enters the Gryffindor bathroom as he normally does, neither knocking nor considering people are in there with the door closed because they’d like to be alone.
“Tuh, shoo!” he swats at the insect and it flies up and into the deserted showers. Harry blushes. Zacharias pulls a chair (Harry recognizes it as the oak chair from his desk; Seamus carved Cho’s name and bunches of little hearts into its back sometime fourth year.) into the messy, slightly dank bathroom and sets it down next to the tub. He looks down at Harry, who covers himself underneath the water. Zacharias gives him a look.
“What?” Harry asks.
“I ran into Ron again.”
“Literally?”
Zacharias gives him another look, and then flicks water on Harry’s face. “What do you think?”
“Well, you’ve done it before.” Harry shakes his hair out, causing sprinkles of soapy water to land on Zacharias’ white button-down.
Zacharias gives his shirt a look. “Obviously not my fault.” He brushes at the wet spots half-heartedly. “He’s the one who goes romping around the hallways like an ape with one of Padma’s panties up its arse.”
Harry tries very hard not to laugh. “That’s not nice. Ron is my best friend.”
“Yes, he is.” Zacharias smiles and puts a hand into the bathwater. “Shouldn’t you be defending him or something?”
“Er.” Harry shifts in the tub, causing the water to wet Zacharias’ shirt sleeve up to the elbow. Zacharias sighs and flicks more water in Harry’s face, tucks a few stray curls behind his ear with his other hand, and rolls up his sleeves.
“Er?” he mocks, eyebrows raised and a smirk on his face.
“We’re not exactly… good. Yet,” Harry adds as an afterthought.
“Mmm.” Zacharias puts his hand back into the lukewarm water and feels around. Harry pulls his knees up to his chest, the tops of his kneecaps sticking out of the water like twin islands, dark from the sun and worn from Quidditch, among other things.
“He still doesn’t like it.”
“Well, clearly,” Zacharias huffs as he grabs Harry’s foot. Harry, completely unprepared and lost in thought, falls underwater. He splutters up a few seconds later, his right ankle lodged firmly in Zacharias’ now-very-wet lap. “How’d this happen?”
Zacharias is talking about Harry’s ankle. It’s bruised and swollen.
“Ron hit me with his broomstick.”
Zacharias laughs. “Really?”
“Yes, you git! It was an accident-he’s still getting used to the Firebolt-but it hurts like a fuck.”
“That was nice of you to buy him a Firebolt,” Zacharias comments. Harry nods.
Everyone knows it was a gift given out of guilt, but really, how was Harry supposed to know that when Ron said he wanted “to talk”, he really wanted “to go out”? And wasn’t it bad timing on Ron’s part to announce his sudden love just two days after Harry first sucked Zacharias’ cock dry? Harry blamed his shit luck on Draco, mostly because it was convenient. That didn’t stop Ron from sleeping in the common room until Harry, fidgeting like mad, gave Ron the Firebolt and offered him a spot on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
It’s been a week, and Ron’s said maybe twenty words to Harry since. Harry’s tried to start conversation, but always ends up tongue-tied and saying the first thing that comes to mind. Breakfast this morning, for example: “How do you feel about trees? I think they’re rather useful, myself.”
“Anyway,” Zacharias says. “Your ankle looks awful. You should get it checked. Mm, but first-“ He lets his Hufflepuff tie fall into the tub. “-how much, exactly, does a fuck hurt?”
The water is cold and Harry’s getting prunish. He hears the dormitory door open outside, but he also feels silk on his stiff cock and the bulge in Zacharias’ trousers pressing against his heel.
He smirks and curls his toes up in the opening between two of the buttons on Zacharias’ clingy, white shirt.
The hormones win out.
(my first attempt ever at hp fps. for the contrelamontre laundry list challenge. had to include: something cold, something purple, a tree, bare feet, and a physical wound. i think i cheated a bit, but oh well. this surprised the hell out of me. i was supposed to be writing angsty ron/seamus. also for hownovel, who reminded me of the excellence in this fandom.)
HARRY POTTER ; ZACHARIAS/HARRY - R
Sudsy
The insect is perched on the lip of the tub. It’s brownish-purple, its legs are spiky, and its eyes are much too big for its head. Harry lowers himself further into the water until he’s eye-level with the ugly bugger. It makes a clicking sound when Harry blows soap suds out of his nose. He raises his eyebrows and contemplates touching it, but he’s not exactly sure it won’t explode in size and eat him right out of his bath. Harry thinks that’s a pretty sad way to go. He can just imagine what Draco would have to say about his untimely, buggy death:
“Oh brilliant. So now the rest of the wizarding world is doomed because Harry Potter can’t keep his hands to himself”(which is true)”and got his stupid git arse devoured by an insect while having a wash. Nice one, Potter.”
Harry gulps and scoots away from the bug, which clicks again as the water sloshes against the sides of the tub.
Zacharias enters the Gryffindor bathroom as he normally does, neither knocking nor considering people are in there with the door closed because they’d like to be alone.
“Tuh, shoo!” he swats at the insect and it flies up and into the deserted showers. Harry blushes. Zacharias pulls a chair (Harry recognizes it as the oak chair from his desk; Seamus carved Cho’s name and bunches of little hearts into its back sometime fourth year.) into the messy, slightly dank bathroom and sets it down next to the tub. He looks down at Harry, who covers himself underneath the water. Zacharias gives him a look.
“What?” Harry asks.
“I ran into Ron again.”
“Literally?”
Zacharias gives him another look, and then flicks water on Harry’s face. “What do you think?”
“Well, you’ve done it before.” Harry shakes his hair out, causing sprinkles of soapy water to land on Zacharias’ white button-down.
Zacharias gives his shirt a look. “Obviously not my fault.” He brushes at the wet spots half-heartedly. “He’s the one who goes romping around the hallways like an ape with one of Padma’s panties up its arse.”
Harry tries very hard not to laugh. “That’s not nice. Ron is my best friend.”
“Yes, he is.” Zacharias smiles and puts a hand into the bathwater. “Shouldn’t you be defending him or something?”
“Er.” Harry shifts in the tub, causing the water to wet Zacharias’ shirt sleeve up to the elbow. Zacharias sighs and flicks more water in Harry’s face, tucks a few stray curls behind his ear with his other hand, and rolls up his sleeves.
“Er?” he mocks, eyebrows raised and a smirk on his face.
“We’re not exactly… good. Yet,” Harry adds as an afterthought.
“Mmm.” Zacharias puts his hand back into the lukewarm water and feels around. Harry pulls his knees up to his chest, the tops of his kneecaps sticking out of the water like twin islands, dark from the sun and worn from Quidditch, among other things.
“He still doesn’t like it.”
“Well, clearly,” Zacharias huffs as he grabs Harry’s foot. Harry, completely unprepared and lost in thought, falls underwater. He splutters up a few seconds later, his right ankle lodged firmly in Zacharias’ now-very-wet lap. “How’d this happen?”
Zacharias is talking about Harry’s ankle. It’s bruised and swollen.
“Ron hit me with his broomstick.”
Zacharias laughs. “Really?”
“Yes, you git! It was an accident-he’s still getting used to the Firebolt-but it hurts like a fuck.”
“That was nice of you to buy him a Firebolt,” Zacharias comments. Harry nods.
Everyone knows it was a gift given out of guilt, but really, how was Harry supposed to know that when Ron said he wanted “to talk”, he really wanted “to go out”? And wasn’t it bad timing on Ron’s part to announce his sudden love just two days after Harry first sucked Zacharias’ cock dry? Harry blamed his shit luck on Draco, mostly because it was convenient. That didn’t stop Ron from sleeping in the common room until Harry, fidgeting like mad, gave Ron the Firebolt and offered him a spot on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
It’s been a week, and Ron’s said maybe twenty words to Harry since. Harry’s tried to start conversation, but always ends up tongue-tied and saying the first thing that comes to mind. Breakfast this morning, for example: “How do you feel about trees? I think they’re rather useful, myself.”
“Anyway,” Zacharias says. “Your ankle looks awful. You should get it checked. Mm, but first-“ He lets his Hufflepuff tie fall into the tub. “-how much, exactly, does a fuck hurt?”
The water is cold and Harry’s getting prunish. He hears the dormitory door open outside, but he also feels silk on his stiff cock and the bulge in Zacharias’ trousers pressing against his heel.
He smirks and curls his toes up in the opening between two of the buttons on Zacharias’ clingy, white shirt.
The hormones win out.
(my first attempt ever at hp fps. for the contrelamontre laundry list challenge. had to include: something cold, something purple, a tree, bare feet, and a physical wound. i think i cheated a bit, but oh well. this surprised the hell out of me. i was supposed to be writing angsty ron/seamus. also for hownovel, who reminded me of the excellence in this fandom.)