FIC & ART: Never Let Me Go [Harry/Teddy - NC-17]
Title: Never Let Me Go
Author/Artist: writcraft
Pairing(s): Harry Potter/Teddy Lupin
Prompt: Own Prompt
Word Count/Art Medium: ~2,700/Digital art
Rating: NC-17
Contains (Highlight to view): *Some angsty elements including fear of losing someone*
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Thank you to A for a very swift SPaG check. All remaining mistakes are my own. Thanks as always to the ever patient Kitty for moderating the fest and always staying calm in the face of repeated extensions *hugs*, happy holidays lovely lady. Fic inspired by I Still Love Him by Lana Del Rey, and the summary is lifted directly from that monologue.
Summary: He was charismatic, magnetic, electric and everybody knew him…he became torn between being a good person and missing out on all of the opportunities life could offer a man as magnificent as him…and I loved him...and I still love him
His hair is peppered with grey strands which shine in the sunlight, and when he smiles his eyes crinkle at the edges.
“I’m an old man now,” he says. He teases us, as if he’s one hundred and fifty instead of forty one and more handsome than ever. His eyes hold mine for longer than they should and his smile falters.
I know what he’s saying and I pull a face, resisting the urge to stick my tongue out at him because he’s such a bloody principled idiot it makes me want to cry sometimes.
I’m an old man means I’m too old for you.
Be sensible, Ted. Think rationally. We can’t. We mustn’t. I can’t.
He can. He wants it so badly, his body hums with it. I feel it in every lingering gaze and every flush and grimace when his body betrays him. He wants me.
And gods, I want him too.
“Too old to fly?” James kicks off and his boots send snow flying in our direction. He swoops into the air on his broom and Harry laughs.
“Never too old for that.”
“Catch him, dad! He’s such an arrogant arse. Thinks he’s the next Victor Krum.”
That’s Al. He adores Harry. Harry’s everything to Al, and it’s impossible to stop smiling when Al’s eyes shine with such obvious affection whenever he looks at his dad.
I wonder if they see it in me, when I look at Harry. Perhaps I’m not as good at hiding as I think. I stare at Harry too, constantly. Maybe I’m moon-eyed and star-struck and it’s written on my face even when I put on my very best mask.
Harry saw it once, after all.
“Teddy…” His voice rough with liquor and wanting while the fire flickered steadily and Harry’s breath warmed my cheeks.
He caught himself before his lips touched mine and it was over before it began. All of a sudden I was cold again.
* * *
At night I imagine we’re back there on his ridiculously comfortable sofa and this time he doesn’t stop.
“Harry.” I wonder if his hands are as firm and sure as they are in my dreams. I picture his eyes watching me strip - dark with need. I roll his name on my tongue and arch up into my own hand, with a desperate shout for something more than darkness and the cold winter air.
I think he’d be urgent. It’s been a while, I expect. He’s not the sort to fuck any old wizard who wants to sell their story about the Boy Who Lived to Shag All Night. He’s waiting for something special, I suppose. Someone who understands him. Someone he can save, or maybe someone who can save him right back.
I clean myself up with a hurried charm and tug on my pyjama bottoms.
Part of me hopes Harry didn’t hear, and another part hopes he did.
I lie back and stare at the ceiling, sending tiny dots of light onto the plaster until it looks like fireflies in a cave or starlight in the midnight sky.
The sound of glass breaking downstairs jolts me from my daydreams and I make my way towards it, past the snores from James’ room and the loud music from Al’s. Lily is staying with friends tonight and that means it must be Harry in the kitchen.
I catch him by himself staring into a slow burning candle candle and half a glass of brandy down. Whatever he broke has been quickly dispensed with, but I can tell Harry’s not quite right. He’s clutching his arm and I know he’s in pain.
I’ve seen him fresh out of the shower and I know he’s got this mark on his arm from a spell gone wrong when he used to be an Auror. He wears long sleeves to cover it sometimes, so the sun doesn’t catch the scar or the frosty air doesn’t touch the sensitive flesh.
Harry says all of the magic is long gone and all that remains is torn skin which never fully heals. “It’s fine,” he says. “Don’t worry.”
We do worry, and it isn’t fine but none of us push because Harry gives us this look that says really, I’m fine.
“Does it hurt?”
“Yes.” He speaks through gritted teeth and when I touch his arm, it’s clear the wound isn’t the only thing that bothers him. He yanks his arm away and snaps in a way I haven’t heard before. “It’s okay, Teddy.”
“No it isn’t. None of this is okay.” I want to kick things - I want to kick Harry most of all - and throw stuff around the place until he listens. I need him to hear me for once. “Don’t be a prat. Accio Harry’s ointment.”
I catch it neatly, and Harry sighs. He shakes his head and mutters something to himself. He unbuttons the sleeve of his shirt and rolls it up his arm.
The scar doesn’t look like a scar anymore. It’s a fresh wound, and it’s red raw from being outside in the cold too long.
“You didn’t put your ointment on before you went flying in the snow?”
“No.” Harry shifts and avoids looking at me. “I can do it. Please…just go back to bed.”
“You’re impossible.” I purse my lips in a way I’ve seen Hermione do when she’s angry with Harry. “Give me your bloody arm.”
“Thanks.” Defeated, Harry offers his arm and I slide my fingers into the ointment.
“Better?” I stroke my fingers over the flesh and the cool ointment mingles with Harry’s hot skin.
“Mmph.” Harry nods. His cheeks flush and he looks at a spot just above my left ear. His lips press together and his fingers furl and unfurl.
“You know I’m not fifteen anymore,” I remind him. “I’m nearly twenty five, and I know what I’m doing. I’ve had sex before.”
“Really?” Harry arches an eyebrow and his grim expression lifts. He’s teasing me and my heart skips a beat.
“Depending on how you define sex.” I shrug and allow myself to smile as the tension lifts. Harry doesn’t pull his arm away and I run my fingers lower to touch his wrist. The pit pat of his pulse betrays him, and I let him know I’ve noticed with another grin.
“It’s just…not appropriate.” Harry sighs and moves his arm away slowly. He folds his hands together on the table and bows his head, as if it’s painful to meet my eyes.
“I don’t see why not.”
“Because you’ve been part of my family for years.” Harry grimaces and finally does me the courtesy of looking at me, head on. His eyes are dark and so full of emotion I almost stop breathing. “Would it be appropriate if it was James, or Al?”
“That’s hardly the same, and you know it.” My voice sounds thick and heavy. I just need to say the right things because I’m fairly certain this could be one of those moments. A pivotal one. One I’ll back on when my hair can’t turn blue anymore. “You’ve been brilliant to me. But I’m not your son. I never have been.”
“Not in the eyes of the law, but I always treated you like family.” Harry rolls down his shirt sleeve and winces. He takes a moment to steady his breathing, before continuing in the same firm, steady tone. “I can’t reconcile that with what you want from me.”
“What you want too,” I remind him.
“What I want too,” Harry agrees. He looks startled, as if he didn’t mean to say it out loud.
“Seventeen years is nothing. Not for wizards. Not even for Muggles.”
“I’m not the man you think I am.”
“I know exactly who you are.” My voice rings with confidence, and I run my fingers over Harry’s arm. “You’re better than anyone I know.”
“What if I can’t be the person you expect me to be?” Harry’s face crumples, his mask slips and in a heartbeat I finally see Harry. His loneliness is palpable and I wonder if this is how all soldiers look after a long and bloody war. It seems so unfair that just when he stopped fighting everybody else, Harry had to start fighting himself.
“You have no idea what I expect you to be.” My heart bursts and I slide my hands onto Harry’s thighs, the muscles taut beneath my palms. “I suppose you think I’ll expect you to be strong all the time? Do you think I’ve spent all of these months waiting for a hero?”
“Perhaps not a hero.” Harry’s lips twitch into a smile and he catches my hands before they can inch higher still. “But maybe someone who’s better than anyone you know.”
I squeeze his hands and snort. “I’ve been wandering about the place half naked for weeks. Trust me. You’re better than anyone I know.”
Harry’s eyes widen and then he laughs.
The sound fills me with warmth and I laugh with Harry until my sides hurt.
By the time we stop laughing and start kissing, I don’t think either of us can remember why we started laughing in the first place.
* * *
I half expect the sex to be bad after wanting it for so long. The thought of one crap night and a lifetime of wishing I could have the moment back again fills me with dread.
“It doesn’t matter if it’s rubbish. We’ll just do it again, won’t we? It’s bound to take a bit of time to get used to one another.”
“Relax.” Harry gives me a look which makes me anything but relaxed and I glare at him.
“Easy for you to say.”
We ward the door to Harry’s room. He pulls his jumper over his head and nearly falls over when I tell him that in my dreams he fucks like a porn star.
“Fucking hell, Teddy.”
“Sorry.” I grin and strip out of my trousers. “But you do.”
Harry huffs and unbuckles his belt. He pauses after unbuttoning his jeans just enough to make me salivate. He opens his mouth to speak and then reconsiders. He slips out of his trousers and pants and stretches out on the bed.
“Harry…” I swallow, my heart hammering in my chest at the sight of Harry stretched out on the bed.
“Come to bed.” Harry smiles, and it nearly kills me. He’s so fucking perfect and he has no idea. I finish undressing and settle next to Harry.
“There’s so much I want to tell you. There’s so much I want you to know.”
I don’t know why I can’t say normal things like any other horny twenty-something. I don’t know why I can’t just turn over and ask to be fucked. I don’t know why I can’t stop thinking about spells hitting Harry’s chest or slicing through his arm. I don’t know why I can’t just-
“Breathe,” Harry murmurs. His hand slides over my back and he’s so close. I swallow back a wave of emotion and Harry’s lips tickle my ear. “I understand.”
“You can’t.” Because Harry can’t know that now I have him, all I can think about is losing him.
Harry’s hands slide higher and his sighs, tangling them in my hair. “Teddy.”
The way Harry says my name unleashes something inside me - it’s raw and tinged with the same desperate need I hear whenever I whisper Harry’s name in the darkness of my own room. The look he gives me is one of vulnerability and something a little like hope.
“I want to know you. Properly.” I hold my breath, waiting for an answer.
Harry kisses my cheek and his breath warms my skin when he speaks. “I think, perhaps, you already do.”
“You have to see a Healer. About that thing on your arm. It’s not right, we both know it.”
Harry sighs, and I know I’ve won the battle. “If you say so. It seems like a lot of fuss over nothing.”
I catch Harry’s lips in a deep kiss to let him know it isn’t nothing - not to me. I take my time moving along the length of his body. I take pleasure in tracing every line of his skin with my lips. I run my tongue over the wiry hair on his chest and write my name over his heart with my finger. I bury my nose in the crook of his arm and breathe in the scent of him in a heady rush. I touch the mole on his right shoulder with my tongue and discover a tattoo of a small lizard just above his hip. It wriggles beneath me when I slide my tongue over it, and we both laugh. Harry pillows his head in his arms and watches me as I move from his ankles upwards. I kiss his inner thighs and brush my lips over the velvet skin of his cock, tasting his arousal on my tongue as I slide it over the tip of his prick.
I move back up his body and bite down on his neck, nibbling at his skin lightly. He arches up beneath me with a groan and I wonder how that of all things can cause Harry to react more than my tongue tracing the length of his cock. Perhaps it’s the pain. I nip at him again and suck the delicate skin until it leaves a bruise.
When I pull away, Harry breathes roughly and watches me with the kind of dark look I’ve so often dreamed about.
“Am I too rough?”
“Not even close.” Harry’s voice is gravelly and he presses up against me, the heavy length of his cock hard against my thigh.
“You like it rough?” I slide my fingers down his chest and twist his nipple between my thumb and forefinger. Harry’s eyes flutter closed and he nods, his lips pressed together in a tight line. I don’t like his silence and I twist again, harder this time. Harry catches my hand and murmurs my name.
He pushes my hand down towards his cock and wraps his hand around mine.
“Again. Use your teeth.”
I gladly comply and let Harry guide the movement of my hand, showing me how to stroke and squeeze around his prick until he’s putty in my hands. I tease his nipples between my teeth and scratch my free hand down his side, digging my fingers into the flesh on his thigh.
“I want you.” I hardly recognise my own voice - deep with arousal and falling from my lips with a growl.
“You already have me.”
Harry’s response makes me tremble and I stroke him more quickly, catching his bottom lip between my teeth and kissing him with urgent need.
When he comes, he spills over my hand leaving us both sticky. His cheeks redden and he looks sheepish.
“I think it’s your turn.”
“In a minute.” I swallow, because seeing Harry come with my name on his lips was too much. I hope it won’t always hurt to look at him. I know I need to stop being such a sap, but I reckon I can worry about that tomorrow. I roll onto my side, next to Harry and press my lips to his neck. The skin beneath my nose is purple and bruised and I flick my tongue over it, sliding my hand along Harry’s stomach to make him shiver.
“We’re going to have to talk about telling the others tomorrow. I won’t keep secrets.” Harry pulls me tight against his body and runs his fingers down the length of my spine, his touch resonating in all the right places. He’s warm and familiar. The scent of his skin reminds me of my past and sends a rush of heat through my body.
“I know.” There’s James, Al and Lily to tell after all and Harry wouldn’t be Harry if he didn’t think about other people. “Tomorrow?”
“Yes.” Harry’s hand moves lower and his fingers brush my backside. “Tomorrow.”
I press close to Harry and wonder if I’m dreaming when he pushes me back onto the bed and kisses me senseless. My body trembles and my heart quickens as his hands and fingers caress my body, eliciting sensations I’ve never felt before.
I want it all so much, he has to keep telling me steady and just relax. He has to kiss me when I think I’m going to fall apart in his arms and we hold onto one another until I wonder if maybe we’re both just one more kiss away from breaking into pieces.
He tells me, just before midnight. I know the time because I hear the clock downstairs. I’ll always equate the sound of cuckoos with Harry’s whispers and dark winter nights.
I love you.
I respond by telling him things I suspect I won’t remember. Stuff about how it’s always been him. Private things about my dreams, my hopes and my fears. He tells me what it’s like to be a hero and how it feels when you don’t want to be a hero anymore.
I tell him he’s just Harry to me. He’s a tatty Gryffindor scarf, chocolate digestives and a nip of brandy on a winter’s night. He’s flying into the clouds, the scent of broom polish and a pair of well-worn trainers. He’s handsome. He’s smart. He’s kind.
And I love him.
He seems happy enough with that. His eyes shine and his smile knocks me sideways. I kiss him until I’m too tired to kiss anymore, and tell him my body aches in all the right places. He does filthy, wonderful things with his tongue in an effort to make it ‘feel better’.
Eventually we fall asleep and I dream of Harry - of flying in the snow, brandy-soaked kisses and wounds that won’t heal.
~Fin~
Author/Artist: writcraft
Pairing(s): Harry Potter/Teddy Lupin
Prompt: Own Prompt
Word Count/Art Medium: ~2,700/Digital art
Rating: NC-17
Contains (Highlight to view): *Some angsty elements including fear of losing someone*
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Thank you to A for a very swift SPaG check. All remaining mistakes are my own. Thanks as always to the ever patient Kitty for moderating the fest and always staying calm in the face of repeated extensions *hugs*, happy holidays lovely lady. Fic inspired by I Still Love Him by Lana Del Rey, and the summary is lifted directly from that monologue.
Summary: He was charismatic, magnetic, electric and everybody knew him…he became torn between being a good person and missing out on all of the opportunities life could offer a man as magnificent as him…and I loved him...and I still love him
His hair is peppered with grey strands which shine in the sunlight, and when he smiles his eyes crinkle at the edges.
“I’m an old man now,” he says. He teases us, as if he’s one hundred and fifty instead of forty one and more handsome than ever. His eyes hold mine for longer than they should and his smile falters.
I know what he’s saying and I pull a face, resisting the urge to stick my tongue out at him because he’s such a bloody principled idiot it makes me want to cry sometimes.
I’m an old man means I’m too old for you.
Be sensible, Ted. Think rationally. We can’t. We mustn’t. I can’t.
He can. He wants it so badly, his body hums with it. I feel it in every lingering gaze and every flush and grimace when his body betrays him. He wants me.
And gods, I want him too.
“Too old to fly?” James kicks off and his boots send snow flying in our direction. He swoops into the air on his broom and Harry laughs.
“Never too old for that.”
“Catch him, dad! He’s such an arrogant arse. Thinks he’s the next Victor Krum.”
That’s Al. He adores Harry. Harry’s everything to Al, and it’s impossible to stop smiling when Al’s eyes shine with such obvious affection whenever he looks at his dad.
I wonder if they see it in me, when I look at Harry. Perhaps I’m not as good at hiding as I think. I stare at Harry too, constantly. Maybe I’m moon-eyed and star-struck and it’s written on my face even when I put on my very best mask.
Harry saw it once, after all.
“Teddy…” His voice rough with liquor and wanting while the fire flickered steadily and Harry’s breath warmed my cheeks.
He caught himself before his lips touched mine and it was over before it began. All of a sudden I was cold again.
* * *
At night I imagine we’re back there on his ridiculously comfortable sofa and this time he doesn’t stop.
“Harry.” I wonder if his hands are as firm and sure as they are in my dreams. I picture his eyes watching me strip - dark with need. I roll his name on my tongue and arch up into my own hand, with a desperate shout for something more than darkness and the cold winter air.
I think he’d be urgent. It’s been a while, I expect. He’s not the sort to fuck any old wizard who wants to sell their story about the Boy Who Lived to Shag All Night. He’s waiting for something special, I suppose. Someone who understands him. Someone he can save, or maybe someone who can save him right back.
I clean myself up with a hurried charm and tug on my pyjama bottoms.
Part of me hopes Harry didn’t hear, and another part hopes he did.
I lie back and stare at the ceiling, sending tiny dots of light onto the plaster until it looks like fireflies in a cave or starlight in the midnight sky.
The sound of glass breaking downstairs jolts me from my daydreams and I make my way towards it, past the snores from James’ room and the loud music from Al’s. Lily is staying with friends tonight and that means it must be Harry in the kitchen.
I catch him by himself staring into a slow burning candle candle and half a glass of brandy down. Whatever he broke has been quickly dispensed with, but I can tell Harry’s not quite right. He’s clutching his arm and I know he’s in pain.
I’ve seen him fresh out of the shower and I know he’s got this mark on his arm from a spell gone wrong when he used to be an Auror. He wears long sleeves to cover it sometimes, so the sun doesn’t catch the scar or the frosty air doesn’t touch the sensitive flesh.
Harry says all of the magic is long gone and all that remains is torn skin which never fully heals. “It’s fine,” he says. “Don’t worry.”
We do worry, and it isn’t fine but none of us push because Harry gives us this look that says really, I’m fine.
“Does it hurt?”
“Yes.” He speaks through gritted teeth and when I touch his arm, it’s clear the wound isn’t the only thing that bothers him. He yanks his arm away and snaps in a way I haven’t heard before. “It’s okay, Teddy.”
“No it isn’t. None of this is okay.” I want to kick things - I want to kick Harry most of all - and throw stuff around the place until he listens. I need him to hear me for once. “Don’t be a prat. Accio Harry’s ointment.”
I catch it neatly, and Harry sighs. He shakes his head and mutters something to himself. He unbuttons the sleeve of his shirt and rolls it up his arm.
The scar doesn’t look like a scar anymore. It’s a fresh wound, and it’s red raw from being outside in the cold too long.
“You didn’t put your ointment on before you went flying in the snow?”
“No.” Harry shifts and avoids looking at me. “I can do it. Please…just go back to bed.”
“You’re impossible.” I purse my lips in a way I’ve seen Hermione do when she’s angry with Harry. “Give me your bloody arm.”
“Thanks.” Defeated, Harry offers his arm and I slide my fingers into the ointment.
“Better?” I stroke my fingers over the flesh and the cool ointment mingles with Harry’s hot skin.
“Mmph.” Harry nods. His cheeks flush and he looks at a spot just above my left ear. His lips press together and his fingers furl and unfurl.
“You know I’m not fifteen anymore,” I remind him. “I’m nearly twenty five, and I know what I’m doing. I’ve had sex before.”
“Really?” Harry arches an eyebrow and his grim expression lifts. He’s teasing me and my heart skips a beat.
“Depending on how you define sex.” I shrug and allow myself to smile as the tension lifts. Harry doesn’t pull his arm away and I run my fingers lower to touch his wrist. The pit pat of his pulse betrays him, and I let him know I’ve noticed with another grin.
“It’s just…not appropriate.” Harry sighs and moves his arm away slowly. He folds his hands together on the table and bows his head, as if it’s painful to meet my eyes.
“I don’t see why not.”
“Because you’ve been part of my family for years.” Harry grimaces and finally does me the courtesy of looking at me, head on. His eyes are dark and so full of emotion I almost stop breathing. “Would it be appropriate if it was James, or Al?”
“That’s hardly the same, and you know it.” My voice sounds thick and heavy. I just need to say the right things because I’m fairly certain this could be one of those moments. A pivotal one. One I’ll back on when my hair can’t turn blue anymore. “You’ve been brilliant to me. But I’m not your son. I never have been.”
“Not in the eyes of the law, but I always treated you like family.” Harry rolls down his shirt sleeve and winces. He takes a moment to steady his breathing, before continuing in the same firm, steady tone. “I can’t reconcile that with what you want from me.”
“What you want too,” I remind him.
“What I want too,” Harry agrees. He looks startled, as if he didn’t mean to say it out loud.
“Seventeen years is nothing. Not for wizards. Not even for Muggles.”
“I’m not the man you think I am.”
“I know exactly who you are.” My voice rings with confidence, and I run my fingers over Harry’s arm. “You’re better than anyone I know.”
“What if I can’t be the person you expect me to be?” Harry’s face crumples, his mask slips and in a heartbeat I finally see Harry. His loneliness is palpable and I wonder if this is how all soldiers look after a long and bloody war. It seems so unfair that just when he stopped fighting everybody else, Harry had to start fighting himself.
“You have no idea what I expect you to be.” My heart bursts and I slide my hands onto Harry’s thighs, the muscles taut beneath my palms. “I suppose you think I’ll expect you to be strong all the time? Do you think I’ve spent all of these months waiting for a hero?”
“Perhaps not a hero.” Harry’s lips twitch into a smile and he catches my hands before they can inch higher still. “But maybe someone who’s better than anyone you know.”
I squeeze his hands and snort. “I’ve been wandering about the place half naked for weeks. Trust me. You’re better than anyone I know.”
Harry’s eyes widen and then he laughs.
The sound fills me with warmth and I laugh with Harry until my sides hurt.
By the time we stop laughing and start kissing, I don’t think either of us can remember why we started laughing in the first place.
* * *
I half expect the sex to be bad after wanting it for so long. The thought of one crap night and a lifetime of wishing I could have the moment back again fills me with dread.
“It doesn’t matter if it’s rubbish. We’ll just do it again, won’t we? It’s bound to take a bit of time to get used to one another.”
“Relax.” Harry gives me a look which makes me anything but relaxed and I glare at him.
“Easy for you to say.”
We ward the door to Harry’s room. He pulls his jumper over his head and nearly falls over when I tell him that in my dreams he fucks like a porn star.
“Fucking hell, Teddy.”
“Sorry.” I grin and strip out of my trousers. “But you do.”
Harry huffs and unbuckles his belt. He pauses after unbuttoning his jeans just enough to make me salivate. He opens his mouth to speak and then reconsiders. He slips out of his trousers and pants and stretches out on the bed.
“Harry…” I swallow, my heart hammering in my chest at the sight of Harry stretched out on the bed.
“Come to bed.” Harry smiles, and it nearly kills me. He’s so fucking perfect and he has no idea. I finish undressing and settle next to Harry.
“There’s so much I want to tell you. There’s so much I want you to know.”
I don’t know why I can’t say normal things like any other horny twenty-something. I don’t know why I can’t just turn over and ask to be fucked. I don’t know why I can’t stop thinking about spells hitting Harry’s chest or slicing through his arm. I don’t know why I can’t just-
“Breathe,” Harry murmurs. His hand slides over my back and he’s so close. I swallow back a wave of emotion and Harry’s lips tickle my ear. “I understand.”
“You can’t.” Because Harry can’t know that now I have him, all I can think about is losing him.
Harry’s hands slide higher and his sighs, tangling them in my hair. “Teddy.”
The way Harry says my name unleashes something inside me - it’s raw and tinged with the same desperate need I hear whenever I whisper Harry’s name in the darkness of my own room. The look he gives me is one of vulnerability and something a little like hope.
“I want to know you. Properly.” I hold my breath, waiting for an answer.
Harry kisses my cheek and his breath warms my skin when he speaks. “I think, perhaps, you already do.”
“You have to see a Healer. About that thing on your arm. It’s not right, we both know it.”
Harry sighs, and I know I’ve won the battle. “If you say so. It seems like a lot of fuss over nothing.”
I catch Harry’s lips in a deep kiss to let him know it isn’t nothing - not to me. I take my time moving along the length of his body. I take pleasure in tracing every line of his skin with my lips. I run my tongue over the wiry hair on his chest and write my name over his heart with my finger. I bury my nose in the crook of his arm and breathe in the scent of him in a heady rush. I touch the mole on his right shoulder with my tongue and discover a tattoo of a small lizard just above his hip. It wriggles beneath me when I slide my tongue over it, and we both laugh. Harry pillows his head in his arms and watches me as I move from his ankles upwards. I kiss his inner thighs and brush my lips over the velvet skin of his cock, tasting his arousal on my tongue as I slide it over the tip of his prick.
I move back up his body and bite down on his neck, nibbling at his skin lightly. He arches up beneath me with a groan and I wonder how that of all things can cause Harry to react more than my tongue tracing the length of his cock. Perhaps it’s the pain. I nip at him again and suck the delicate skin until it leaves a bruise.
When I pull away, Harry breathes roughly and watches me with the kind of dark look I’ve so often dreamed about.
“Am I too rough?”
“Not even close.” Harry’s voice is gravelly and he presses up against me, the heavy length of his cock hard against my thigh.
“You like it rough?” I slide my fingers down his chest and twist his nipple between my thumb and forefinger. Harry’s eyes flutter closed and he nods, his lips pressed together in a tight line. I don’t like his silence and I twist again, harder this time. Harry catches my hand and murmurs my name.
He pushes my hand down towards his cock and wraps his hand around mine.
“Again. Use your teeth.”
I gladly comply and let Harry guide the movement of my hand, showing me how to stroke and squeeze around his prick until he’s putty in my hands. I tease his nipples between my teeth and scratch my free hand down his side, digging my fingers into the flesh on his thigh.
“I want you.” I hardly recognise my own voice - deep with arousal and falling from my lips with a growl.
“You already have me.”
Harry’s response makes me tremble and I stroke him more quickly, catching his bottom lip between my teeth and kissing him with urgent need.
When he comes, he spills over my hand leaving us both sticky. His cheeks redden and he looks sheepish.
“I think it’s your turn.”
“In a minute.” I swallow, because seeing Harry come with my name on his lips was too much. I hope it won’t always hurt to look at him. I know I need to stop being such a sap, but I reckon I can worry about that tomorrow. I roll onto my side, next to Harry and press my lips to his neck. The skin beneath my nose is purple and bruised and I flick my tongue over it, sliding my hand along Harry’s stomach to make him shiver.
“We’re going to have to talk about telling the others tomorrow. I won’t keep secrets.” Harry pulls me tight against his body and runs his fingers down the length of my spine, his touch resonating in all the right places. He’s warm and familiar. The scent of his skin reminds me of my past and sends a rush of heat through my body.
“I know.” There’s James, Al and Lily to tell after all and Harry wouldn’t be Harry if he didn’t think about other people. “Tomorrow?”
“Yes.” Harry’s hand moves lower and his fingers brush my backside. “Tomorrow.”
I press close to Harry and wonder if I’m dreaming when he pushes me back onto the bed and kisses me senseless. My body trembles and my heart quickens as his hands and fingers caress my body, eliciting sensations I’ve never felt before.
I want it all so much, he has to keep telling me steady and just relax. He has to kiss me when I think I’m going to fall apart in his arms and we hold onto one another until I wonder if maybe we’re both just one more kiss away from breaking into pieces.
He tells me, just before midnight. I know the time because I hear the clock downstairs. I’ll always equate the sound of cuckoos with Harry’s whispers and dark winter nights.
I love you.
I respond by telling him things I suspect I won’t remember. Stuff about how it’s always been him. Private things about my dreams, my hopes and my fears. He tells me what it’s like to be a hero and how it feels when you don’t want to be a hero anymore.
I tell him he’s just Harry to me. He’s a tatty Gryffindor scarf, chocolate digestives and a nip of brandy on a winter’s night. He’s flying into the clouds, the scent of broom polish and a pair of well-worn trainers. He’s handsome. He’s smart. He’s kind.
And I love him.
He seems happy enough with that. His eyes shine and his smile knocks me sideways. I kiss him until I’m too tired to kiss anymore, and tell him my body aches in all the right places. He does filthy, wonderful things with his tongue in an effort to make it ‘feel better’.
Eventually we fall asleep and I dream of Harry - of flying in the snow, brandy-soaked kisses and wounds that won’t heal.
~Fin~