(no subject)
OK, so, this isn’t nearly as cool as what we were supposed to do this weekend, once upon a time, but hopefully it is still a cheerful thing! I bring you Harry, magicofisis! I bet you’re shocked. :P He’s fully grown, this time!
Title: House Call
Author: goneoffthelump
Pairing: Harry/magicofisis :D
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2500
Summary: magicofisis gets some extra help around the house.
Warnings: Household chores. Too much wine. Flimsy plot devices. Fictionalised areas of the house. Questionable internal logic.
A/N: Many thanks to the lovelies who assured me this wasn’t too creepy to post. I’m returning the favour by allowing you to remain anonymous. Just in case you were wrong.
Oh, Sue. ♥. You are amazing and strong and unimaginably brilliant. And so is your husband, whom I will never be able to look in the eye again.
House Call
His shirt was riding up. Again. Every time he lifted his arms, she got another flash of skin, and it was driving her crazy. His jeans seemed to be in on it, too, slipping further and further down his hips, revealing a little bit more and a little bit more and a little bit more, each time.
It was almost too much to bear.
She swallowed against the sight of the short, dark hairs between his belt and his navel.
He pressed up onto his toes to reach his wand to the very top of the wall, just where it met the ceiling, and took a few steps away from her as he traced the seam, making sure the paint job was perfectly neat. As he turned away from her at the corner, her eyes trailed down the few inches of spine she could see, right to where it disappeared into his jeans.
She hadn’t quite managed to stop staring at his ass by the time he’d turned back to face her, and his ears went red.
“Can I get you something to drink?” she blurted, feeling her own face heat up.
One side of his mouth quirked up into a half-smile as his gaze shifted to the counter, where the two untouched glasses of water she’d already brought him sat. “Um,” he said. She’d been a bit flustered by his unexpected arrival on her doorstep.
“No, I - I meant,” she managed, “would you like something else? Wine? Beer?”
The left side of his mouth rose to meet the right, and the resulting smile set her heart beating ridiculously.
“Beer’d be fantastic,” he said, still smiling most unfairly. “Whatever you’ve got. I’m not picky.”
She held the refrigerator door open for a bit longer than was necessary, feeling the cool air slide against her overly warm cheeks before pulling out two bottles.
She gave a small start when she turned and found him standing right behind her.
“May I?” he asked, offering his wand hand.
She nodded, without really knowing what he was asking. This close, his eyes were even greener than she’d realized, and she could see the scar hidden beneath his hair.
She swallowed and hoped he didn’t notice how her breath shuddered as he reached forward, tapping his wand against the bottles. The twin hisses as the caps came off seemed almost obscene, somehow.
“Cheers,” he said, taking one of the bottles and clinking it against hers. Kindly, he ignored the fact that she continued openly staring at him.
She caught herself after a moment, and took a steadying sip from her beer as he looked around the kitchen appraisingly.
“Well,” he said, “that’s the painting done, then. Does it look all right?”
“Looks great,” she said, nodding. “Thank you, again, so much.”
He smiled and took a long pull from his beer. “I’m glad. What else have you got for me?”
She gave him a stern look. “Nothing. You’ve already done more than enough!”
“I haven’t! Sue, that’s why I’m here. Anything and everything you need,” he said. His expression was so earnest, she almost felt guilty telling him no.
“I hate asking you to repeat yourself,” she said, “but, can you explain me one more time why you’re actually here? And... how?” It was possible that she’d been something closer to completely flustered by his unexpected arrival on her doorstep.
Harry smiled. “Just a couple of Portkeys. No big deal.” Sue raised her eyebrows at him. “What can I say?” he continued, giving an embarrassed laugh. “You have some very persuasive friends. I’m not sure I want to know what goes on in this... live journal or whatever the place you all hang out is, but your friends there seemed to think you’d appreciate a visit.”
“Oh, I do, believe me! More than even I am capable of understanding right now, but I just - why do you want to do all this work for me?”
Harry bit back a smile. “As I said, they were very persuasive.”
Sue narrowed her eyes at him. “Why? What did they say? Or, should I say, do?”
Harry’s smile blossomed into a grin. “Sorry. I promised never to tell.” He laughed when Sue gave an incredulous sigh.
“Fine,” she said, “if that’s how it’s gonna be. How much work are you really up for?”
“Anything. I’m all yours until you kick me out.”
She blushed - again, dammit - and smiled. “Well, OK then.”
*
Her requests were fairly basic, at first. Boring. He finished the laundry, groomed the dog, and set up a new filing system for her “office” in the dining room, and then she set him to work reorganizing the tall bookcase in the living room.
She stood nearby, but was allowed only to make conversation, as Harry wouldn’t let her lift a finger to help.
“So, have you read them?” she asked.
“These?” Harry replied, holding up an armful of science study guides.
“No,” she chuckled. “The Harry - the, well, yours. The books about you.”
He grinned and nodded. “Of course.”
“And? Did she get it all right? Are they true?”
“Quite true, yes,” he said, replacing the books on the shelf and taking a break for another few sips of beer. “She embellished a bit, here and there, and of course that stuff always sounds a lot cooler than it really was, but. She got it mostly right, yes.”
Sue smiled hugely and insisted he tell her more, things about his life that hadn’t made it into the books. He began happily chattering away about Hogwarts, and his life afterwards.
She went to get them both some more beer a little while later, and when she returned, nearly dropped both bottles in surprise.
She hadn’t thought that the bookcase project would be any more exciting than the porch-sweeping or vacuuming projects of the hour before, since the novelty of Harry using his wand to do all the heavy lifting had largely worn off.
Harry, however, was now apparently in the mood for something a bit more physical.
Sue stood silently in the threshold for a solid minute or more, just watching as Harry alternated between reaching up to the books on the topmost self, exposing more and more of his lower back, and bending down to reach the lowest ones, stretching the seat of his jeans tightly across his rear end.
When he turned around and smiled at her, Sue’s mouth had gone dry.
She missed a fair bit of the next story he told, as she was busy enumerating a list of household tasks that would require Harry to stretch and bend as much as possible.
*
As Harry poked his head inside the oven, checking to see if the top needed cleaning, Sue decided it was time to open herself a bottle of wine. It was that or light a cigarette, after he’d been on his knees for the last ten minutes, sweeping the fireplace.
Her second glass had her trying to keep her mouth from watering as more and more of Harry’s lower stomach appeared with each perfectly good light bulb he changed.
And he’d noticed, she knew that. He caught her gaze, making her blush, more than once. Quite a few times more than once, actually. But he only ever smiled and happily made conversation.
She, in turn, pretended not to notice the sly sideways glances he was giving her.
After his third beer, he began cocking his head to the side as he focused on something, exposing a long stretch of neck, always in whichever direction she was standing.
*
They were in the garage, and Harry was sorting through the high shelves full of tools, unused sports gear, and various out-of-season supplies. Sunlight was pouring through the windows, low and flat, and as he moved a large box from one end of the shelf to the other, Harry eyed the empty car stall.
“Your husband’ll home soon, I expect?”
Sue checked her watch, and tried to hide her surprise at how much later it was than she’d realized. “I’m actually not sure.”
“He out for the night?” Harry asked, casually.
“No,” she answered. “Just driving the kids. There was band practice and an after-school birthday party, and then they’re both staying at friends’ tonight. The family my son’s staying with are good friends of ours, so he’ll probably stay and visit for a while before he comes home.”
“Ah,” Harry said, nodding. “Well, I look forward to meeting him, if I’m still here.”
There was an odd silence, until Sue asked, a tad more pointedly than she’d intended to, “So, what about the Epilogue?”
Harry glanced at her, and then away, before reaching for another box overhead. “What about it?” he said, grunting under the weight of the box.
“It is true, too?”
Harry examined the contents of the box, and scanned the shelf to determine what to do with it all. Sue couldn’t tell if he was committed to doing a thorough job, or if he was just stalling. She waited.
Finally, he shrugged. “How should I know? It’s not due to happen for another, what, nine years?” He shot her a sideways smile.
She couldn’t help but smirk as she gave him an unimpressed look. “Well, yeah, but - certain aspects of it would already have to be true or not.”
Harry ducked his head, conceding the point, before lifting and pushing the box up into a new spot on the shelf.
“So?!” Sue pressed. “You and Ginny? And children?”
Harry’s ears went pink as he brushed his hands over his thighs. He was definitely stalling, now.
“I’m, um,” he said. “I’m actually contractually prohibited from confirming or denying anything about my life as it is depicted in the Epilogue.”
“Oh, come on,” Sue groaned. “Really? How about I give you some more beer, and ask again later?”
Harry laughed and met her eye. “Well, I won’t say no to being liquored up, but you should know it hasn’t a chance of loosening my tongue.”
Sue frowned. “Magical contract?”
Harry scrunched up his nose and nodded.
“Dammit,” she laughed.
*
The sun had set, the chores on Sue’s list were all done or forgotten, and the wine was flowing.
Her sides ached with laughter by the time Harry collapsed emphatically next to her on the sofa. “And that,” he said, “is why Ron is now strictly forbidden from drinking at Muggle pubs. You should have seen the look on the barmaid’s face.” He shook his head disappointedly. “None of us can ever go back there.”
Sue laughed and watched as Harry tipped his wine glass against his lips.
Her efforts to convince herself that she wasn’t watching his throat work each time he drank were waning, in large part because those efforts mostly involved looking away and taking another sip of her own. And all that sipping had really started to add up.
So she allowed herself to stare at the rise and fall of his throat and the curve of his jaw and the stretch of his shirt over his chest, and she only felt a little bit guilty as the battle began to rage inside her head: Harry or Hubby?
Well, OK, maybe it wasn’t raging so much as it was... happening. A little. Because... Hubby wouldn’t really mind, would he?
She was only looking, after all, and it seemed like a small price to pay, for all the work around the house that he wouldn’t have to do later.
And besides, how often did Harry frickin’ Potter, in the flesh, show up on your very doorstep?
Not.
That’s how often.
*
Sue didn’t know what time it was, but she was warm and completely comfortable as she and Harry chatted easily about everything under the sun except the fact that her eyes lingered on his ass every time he got up to use the bathroom, and that the looks he was giving her in return were sending waves of something strangely swoon-like all through her body.
Completely comfortable, until Harry returned, wearing the sort of determined look on his face that could only mean trouble. “All right, look,” he said. “I know I shouldn’t, but I’m afraid I’ve just got to say this.”
Sue blinked. “OK.”
“Normally I would never - I mean, I know you’re happily married, but well. See. You’re lovely. And, well. I think - if you’re interested, that is - I think we’ve got ourselves a bit of a loophole, here.”
“Excuse me?”
“I think it might be OK.”
“It - what?”
“Your husband. He might not mind, so much. Because, well.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“I’m a fictional character.”
Sue... didn’t know what to say to that.
“And you’re... not. So... it never happened, right? Loophole,” he said, reddening. He shifted uncomfortably and averted his eyes when she didn’t reply. “I suppose it’s just a technicality, really. But, I dunno. S’worth a shot, don’t you think?”
“But,” Sue said.
“If you’re not interested, I understand.”
“No, it’s - it’s not, um. It’s just, well.” It was a fair number of things, actually, but. She frowned and considered that maybe she’d had entirely too much wine, because she couldn’t actually think of a reason to disagree with him.
“So, do you think he’d mind?” Harry pressed, when she didn’t finish her thought. “We can wait until he gets home, if you’d rather, and ask him what he thinks. And if he’d like to join us.”
That got her attention. She felt her eyebrows ascend, and her heart was off like a rocket inside her chest, bouncing and tripping about against her ribs like an overeager terrier. “You want to - ask him - what? You know you’re drunk, right?”
Harry just smiled. “Am a bit, yeah. But that just makes it more fun. And the more, the merrier. I’ll bet he’s lovely - if you like him so much, he must be.”
Sue stared at him, and her mind whirred as a long, silent moment passed.
Then they both jumped at the sound of the garage door opening.
Harry’s eyes flashed as he smiled. “That’ll be him, then?”
Sue managed a nod.
“Let me go talk to him,” he whispered. “Your friends aren’t the only ones who can be persuasive, when they want to be.”
He stood and turned, and Sue stared at his ass and found herself wondering if it would feel fictional, if she touched it, and her head - or the room - or both - seemed to spin a bit. “Wait,” she called after him. “Before he comes in, tell me - is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?”
Harry beamed at her, and his voice sounded loud and strong even as he whispered from halfway across the room.
“Of course it’s happening inside your head, Sue, but why on earth should that mean it isn’t real?”
*
*runs and hides*
Title: House Call
Author: goneoffthelump
Pairing: Harry/magicofisis :D
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2500
Summary: magicofisis gets some extra help around the house.
Warnings: Household chores. Too much wine. Flimsy plot devices. Fictionalised areas of the house. Questionable internal logic.
A/N: Many thanks to the lovelies who assured me this wasn’t too creepy to post. I’m returning the favour by allowing you to remain anonymous. Just in case you were wrong.
Oh, Sue. ♥. You are amazing and strong and unimaginably brilliant. And so is your husband, whom I will never be able to look in the eye again.
House Call
His shirt was riding up. Again. Every time he lifted his arms, she got another flash of skin, and it was driving her crazy. His jeans seemed to be in on it, too, slipping further and further down his hips, revealing a little bit more and a little bit more and a little bit more, each time.
It was almost too much to bear.
She swallowed against the sight of the short, dark hairs between his belt and his navel.
He pressed up onto his toes to reach his wand to the very top of the wall, just where it met the ceiling, and took a few steps away from her as he traced the seam, making sure the paint job was perfectly neat. As he turned away from her at the corner, her eyes trailed down the few inches of spine she could see, right to where it disappeared into his jeans.
She hadn’t quite managed to stop staring at his ass by the time he’d turned back to face her, and his ears went red.
“Can I get you something to drink?” she blurted, feeling her own face heat up.
One side of his mouth quirked up into a half-smile as his gaze shifted to the counter, where the two untouched glasses of water she’d already brought him sat. “Um,” he said. She’d been a bit flustered by his unexpected arrival on her doorstep.
“No, I - I meant,” she managed, “would you like something else? Wine? Beer?”
The left side of his mouth rose to meet the right, and the resulting smile set her heart beating ridiculously.
“Beer’d be fantastic,” he said, still smiling most unfairly. “Whatever you’ve got. I’m not picky.”
She held the refrigerator door open for a bit longer than was necessary, feeling the cool air slide against her overly warm cheeks before pulling out two bottles.
She gave a small start when she turned and found him standing right behind her.
“May I?” he asked, offering his wand hand.
She nodded, without really knowing what he was asking. This close, his eyes were even greener than she’d realized, and she could see the scar hidden beneath his hair.
She swallowed and hoped he didn’t notice how her breath shuddered as he reached forward, tapping his wand against the bottles. The twin hisses as the caps came off seemed almost obscene, somehow.
“Cheers,” he said, taking one of the bottles and clinking it against hers. Kindly, he ignored the fact that she continued openly staring at him.
She caught herself after a moment, and took a steadying sip from her beer as he looked around the kitchen appraisingly.
“Well,” he said, “that’s the painting done, then. Does it look all right?”
“Looks great,” she said, nodding. “Thank you, again, so much.”
He smiled and took a long pull from his beer. “I’m glad. What else have you got for me?”
She gave him a stern look. “Nothing. You’ve already done more than enough!”
“I haven’t! Sue, that’s why I’m here. Anything and everything you need,” he said. His expression was so earnest, she almost felt guilty telling him no.
“I hate asking you to repeat yourself,” she said, “but, can you explain me one more time why you’re actually here? And... how?” It was possible that she’d been something closer to completely flustered by his unexpected arrival on her doorstep.
Harry smiled. “Just a couple of Portkeys. No big deal.” Sue raised her eyebrows at him. “What can I say?” he continued, giving an embarrassed laugh. “You have some very persuasive friends. I’m not sure I want to know what goes on in this... live journal or whatever the place you all hang out is, but your friends there seemed to think you’d appreciate a visit.”
“Oh, I do, believe me! More than even I am capable of understanding right now, but I just - why do you want to do all this work for me?”
Harry bit back a smile. “As I said, they were very persuasive.”
Sue narrowed her eyes at him. “Why? What did they say? Or, should I say, do?”
Harry’s smile blossomed into a grin. “Sorry. I promised never to tell.” He laughed when Sue gave an incredulous sigh.
“Fine,” she said, “if that’s how it’s gonna be. How much work are you really up for?”
“Anything. I’m all yours until you kick me out.”
She blushed - again, dammit - and smiled. “Well, OK then.”
*
Her requests were fairly basic, at first. Boring. He finished the laundry, groomed the dog, and set up a new filing system for her “office” in the dining room, and then she set him to work reorganizing the tall bookcase in the living room.
She stood nearby, but was allowed only to make conversation, as Harry wouldn’t let her lift a finger to help.
“So, have you read them?” she asked.
“These?” Harry replied, holding up an armful of science study guides.
“No,” she chuckled. “The Harry - the, well, yours. The books about you.”
He grinned and nodded. “Of course.”
“And? Did she get it all right? Are they true?”
“Quite true, yes,” he said, replacing the books on the shelf and taking a break for another few sips of beer. “She embellished a bit, here and there, and of course that stuff always sounds a lot cooler than it really was, but. She got it mostly right, yes.”
Sue smiled hugely and insisted he tell her more, things about his life that hadn’t made it into the books. He began happily chattering away about Hogwarts, and his life afterwards.
She went to get them both some more beer a little while later, and when she returned, nearly dropped both bottles in surprise.
She hadn’t thought that the bookcase project would be any more exciting than the porch-sweeping or vacuuming projects of the hour before, since the novelty of Harry using his wand to do all the heavy lifting had largely worn off.
Harry, however, was now apparently in the mood for something a bit more physical.
Sue stood silently in the threshold for a solid minute or more, just watching as Harry alternated between reaching up to the books on the topmost self, exposing more and more of his lower back, and bending down to reach the lowest ones, stretching the seat of his jeans tightly across his rear end.
When he turned around and smiled at her, Sue’s mouth had gone dry.
She missed a fair bit of the next story he told, as she was busy enumerating a list of household tasks that would require Harry to stretch and bend as much as possible.
*
As Harry poked his head inside the oven, checking to see if the top needed cleaning, Sue decided it was time to open herself a bottle of wine. It was that or light a cigarette, after he’d been on his knees for the last ten minutes, sweeping the fireplace.
Her second glass had her trying to keep her mouth from watering as more and more of Harry’s lower stomach appeared with each perfectly good light bulb he changed.
And he’d noticed, she knew that. He caught her gaze, making her blush, more than once. Quite a few times more than once, actually. But he only ever smiled and happily made conversation.
She, in turn, pretended not to notice the sly sideways glances he was giving her.
After his third beer, he began cocking his head to the side as he focused on something, exposing a long stretch of neck, always in whichever direction she was standing.
*
They were in the garage, and Harry was sorting through the high shelves full of tools, unused sports gear, and various out-of-season supplies. Sunlight was pouring through the windows, low and flat, and as he moved a large box from one end of the shelf to the other, Harry eyed the empty car stall.
“Your husband’ll home soon, I expect?”
Sue checked her watch, and tried to hide her surprise at how much later it was than she’d realized. “I’m actually not sure.”
“He out for the night?” Harry asked, casually.
“No,” she answered. “Just driving the kids. There was band practice and an after-school birthday party, and then they’re both staying at friends’ tonight. The family my son’s staying with are good friends of ours, so he’ll probably stay and visit for a while before he comes home.”
“Ah,” Harry said, nodding. “Well, I look forward to meeting him, if I’m still here.”
There was an odd silence, until Sue asked, a tad more pointedly than she’d intended to, “So, what about the Epilogue?”
Harry glanced at her, and then away, before reaching for another box overhead. “What about it?” he said, grunting under the weight of the box.
“It is true, too?”
Harry examined the contents of the box, and scanned the shelf to determine what to do with it all. Sue couldn’t tell if he was committed to doing a thorough job, or if he was just stalling. She waited.
Finally, he shrugged. “How should I know? It’s not due to happen for another, what, nine years?” He shot her a sideways smile.
She couldn’t help but smirk as she gave him an unimpressed look. “Well, yeah, but - certain aspects of it would already have to be true or not.”
Harry ducked his head, conceding the point, before lifting and pushing the box up into a new spot on the shelf.
“So?!” Sue pressed. “You and Ginny? And children?”
Harry’s ears went pink as he brushed his hands over his thighs. He was definitely stalling, now.
“I’m, um,” he said. “I’m actually contractually prohibited from confirming or denying anything about my life as it is depicted in the Epilogue.”
“Oh, come on,” Sue groaned. “Really? How about I give you some more beer, and ask again later?”
Harry laughed and met her eye. “Well, I won’t say no to being liquored up, but you should know it hasn’t a chance of loosening my tongue.”
Sue frowned. “Magical contract?”
Harry scrunched up his nose and nodded.
“Dammit,” she laughed.
*
The sun had set, the chores on Sue’s list were all done or forgotten, and the wine was flowing.
Her sides ached with laughter by the time Harry collapsed emphatically next to her on the sofa. “And that,” he said, “is why Ron is now strictly forbidden from drinking at Muggle pubs. You should have seen the look on the barmaid’s face.” He shook his head disappointedly. “None of us can ever go back there.”
Sue laughed and watched as Harry tipped his wine glass against his lips.
Her efforts to convince herself that she wasn’t watching his throat work each time he drank were waning, in large part because those efforts mostly involved looking away and taking another sip of her own. And all that sipping had really started to add up.
So she allowed herself to stare at the rise and fall of his throat and the curve of his jaw and the stretch of his shirt over his chest, and she only felt a little bit guilty as the battle began to rage inside her head: Harry or Hubby?
Well, OK, maybe it wasn’t raging so much as it was... happening. A little. Because... Hubby wouldn’t really mind, would he?
She was only looking, after all, and it seemed like a small price to pay, for all the work around the house that he wouldn’t have to do later.
And besides, how often did Harry frickin’ Potter, in the flesh, show up on your very doorstep?
Not.
That’s how often.
*
Sue didn’t know what time it was, but she was warm and completely comfortable as she and Harry chatted easily about everything under the sun except the fact that her eyes lingered on his ass every time he got up to use the bathroom, and that the looks he was giving her in return were sending waves of something strangely swoon-like all through her body.
Completely comfortable, until Harry returned, wearing the sort of determined look on his face that could only mean trouble. “All right, look,” he said. “I know I shouldn’t, but I’m afraid I’ve just got to say this.”
Sue blinked. “OK.”
“Normally I would never - I mean, I know you’re happily married, but well. See. You’re lovely. And, well. I think - if you’re interested, that is - I think we’ve got ourselves a bit of a loophole, here.”
“Excuse me?”
“I think it might be OK.”
“It - what?”
“Your husband. He might not mind, so much. Because, well.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“I’m a fictional character.”
Sue... didn’t know what to say to that.
“And you’re... not. So... it never happened, right? Loophole,” he said, reddening. He shifted uncomfortably and averted his eyes when she didn’t reply. “I suppose it’s just a technicality, really. But, I dunno. S’worth a shot, don’t you think?”
“But,” Sue said.
“If you’re not interested, I understand.”
“No, it’s - it’s not, um. It’s just, well.” It was a fair number of things, actually, but. She frowned and considered that maybe she’d had entirely too much wine, because she couldn’t actually think of a reason to disagree with him.
“So, do you think he’d mind?” Harry pressed, when she didn’t finish her thought. “We can wait until he gets home, if you’d rather, and ask him what he thinks. And if he’d like to join us.”
That got her attention. She felt her eyebrows ascend, and her heart was off like a rocket inside her chest, bouncing and tripping about against her ribs like an overeager terrier. “You want to - ask him - what? You know you’re drunk, right?”
Harry just smiled. “Am a bit, yeah. But that just makes it more fun. And the more, the merrier. I’ll bet he’s lovely - if you like him so much, he must be.”
Sue stared at him, and her mind whirred as a long, silent moment passed.
Then they both jumped at the sound of the garage door opening.
Harry’s eyes flashed as he smiled. “That’ll be him, then?”
Sue managed a nod.
“Let me go talk to him,” he whispered. “Your friends aren’t the only ones who can be persuasive, when they want to be.”
He stood and turned, and Sue stared at his ass and found herself wondering if it would feel fictional, if she touched it, and her head - or the room - or both - seemed to spin a bit. “Wait,” she called after him. “Before he comes in, tell me - is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?”
Harry beamed at her, and his voice sounded loud and strong even as he whispered from halfway across the room.
“Of course it’s happening inside your head, Sue, but why on earth should that mean it isn’t real?”
*
*runs and hides*