Disclaimer:of course, you all know none of these characters belong to me. If they get into any trouble you can contact the lovely JK Rowling to post bail . . . :)
For Anyone Who Cares: this story is rated R, just to be safe, and is SLASH! Yes, SLASH! If you don't know what SLASH is, you probably should not continue reading until you go find out.
So, this is just sort of a prequel to a series of stories I have planned - please R&R so I know if I should continue with these or not! Thanks
DracoLurve
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It was the kind of summer Harry wished would never end. After being forced upon the Dursleys for less than two weeks, Harry had been invited by Ron to spend the remainder of his summer hols at the Burrow. Harry was ecstatic. Having been there before, he knew it would be great. It was, however, so much more than he ever expected. Harry could think of only one word to describe it - Golden.
The days were filled in liesurely pursuit. Harry was able to spend all the time he wished with some of his very favorite people. He and Ron talked for hours on end. They ate ice cream in the sun and laughed as they tried to keep it from melting all over. They went swimming in the pond nearly every day and basked on the shores in the mid-day sun. They talked late into every night, counting the stars from a blanket in the grass. And, of course, there was the rest of the family. Harry loved them all so much. They talked and laughed and loved without reserve. Harry couldn't ever remember feeling so welcome.
The very best part, to Harry, was to finally be able to fly during a summer holiday. And they *did* fly. Every single day. They flew in the morning when the dew still glistened on the grass. They flew in the deep shaded orchards when the sun was highest. They flew in the balmy evenings, fireflies to light up the approaching twilight. They practiced every sort of quidditch move they could think of, and then they made up some of their own. Then, on the second Tuesday in July, things got even better. Their good friend and former team-mate Oliver showed up to spend some of the summer with them. He brought along a practice set of quidditch balls. Harry was glad, as they had previously been using a half-deflated muggle basketball as a make-shift quaffle. And he wouldn't have to imagine the snitch anymore.
Harry thought mealtimes were the cheeriest times at the Burrow. Although money was tight, it seemed there was always an abundance of food. And laughter. Harry almost always found it to be a happy thing. Cheerful, sometimes - well, always - loud, and rather comforting. There were some days, however, when it was all a little too much for Harry. Today was one of those days. He'd started the day at 4 am with nightmares, reliving his godfather's death again and again. And so the day had progressed. Of course, it wasn't the Weasleys' fault. He hadn't told them of the nightmares. Or the off and on headache he'd been fighting all afternoon. They didn't know. It was no one's fault, really. It was just one of those days.
They had just started an early dinner and the entire family was present. Harry was trying to concentrate on his food, but it wasn't working very well.
"Eat up your peas, Harry dear!"
"Leave him alone, Mum!"
"So I read up on it all I could..."
"And he said, 'Are you really sure...'"
"We thought it was harmless..."
"Oh, right."
"Ginny, dear, do stop doing that with your fork!"
"'that's the safest place to hide your wand?'"
"Well, as much as you can read up on 'that' sort of thing."
"How were we to know it would cause his ears to come off?"
"Honestly, Fred, what did you 'really' expect to happen?"
Then, as suddenly as these things tend to happen, it all became too much. The heat in the room turned from comfortable to stifling. The collar on Harry's shirt felt tight and itchy. His palms got sweaty and his temples began to pound. The once enjoyable banter at the table was at once overwhelming. He needed to get out. Making a quiet apology, he left the table and darted out the door. The Weasleys, loving as they were, could sometimes be a touch oblivious to these sort of things. Seeing no one take particular notice, Oliver ducked out as well, and went to find Harry.
Oliver found him quickly, walking through the orchards behind the house. He jogged up behind Harry. Placing a few fintertips on Harry's shoulder and cracking a half-smile, he simply said,
"Hey."
They walked in companionable silence until they reached the edge of the orchards. Leaving the cool shade, Harry waded into waist-high sweet grass that stretched out for several acres.
"I sometimes come out here to get away."
"Aye, they can be a bit much at times, can't they?" Oliver replied.
They waded through the grass for a full two minutes until Harry was satisfied. He threw himself down, flattenng the stems with his body. Oliver did the same, and was surprised to find it strangely comfortable, the tall grass providing an easy cushion. They both lay on their backs with their hands behind their heads, and stared up at the incredible sky, at the clouds rolling softly by. Harry closed his eyes and relaxed, allowing the golden, angled rays of late-afternoon sun to warm his body. He focused on the chirping sounds of nearby insects, and on the low aroma of the grasses surrounding him.
"This is nice," said Oliver, in his softly lilting voice. "I come to visit a bit every summer, but I've never been out here."
"So, how's Puddlemere been?" Harry asked, as he continued to bask.
"Oh, it's great," Oliver said in an excited voice. Harry listened as Oliver talked animatedly about his team.
"We all went to your last match, earlier this summer. You were brilliant. I barely recognized you, though," admitted Harry.
"Aye, I don't get to wear the wonderful Gryffindor red any longer."
"It's a shame. You really looked good in red," Harry said. Then, realizing what he'd just said, he quickly changed the subject. "Erm...so...what else have you been up to?"
Oliver let the comment pass and they fell once again into easy conversation, trying to catch up on all that had happened in the previous years. And it was nice. Part-way through their conversation, Harry turned onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow. He watched Oliver while he talked. As Oliver's eyes were still closed, Harry let his vision wander. He studied Oliver's well muscled arms, so tan. The tiny hairs on his bicep glistened in the slanting sun. He studied his hair. It was shorter than Harry's . His gaze fell softly over Oliver's face and dropped to his pink lips, moving as he spoke.
It was one of those immeasurable moments in life where time seems to stand still, yet occupies only a heart-beat's time. In that solitary moment, Harry realized that - somewhere along the way - what he felt for Oliver had turned from like to...lust. Harry's breathing grew shallow and his heartbeat got faster. He couldn't take his eyes off of Oliver's soft lips, couldn't stop watching for Oliver's tongue to peek out from between his teeth as he spoke. He was mesmerized.
"Harry?"
"Harry."
Harry realized then that Oliver had been trying to ask him a question. Stupidly, he had been fantasizing about Oliver's mouth. Harry felt a deep blush heat his skin. He looked back up into Oliver's eyes.
"What? I'm sorry..."
Oliver looked at Harry very closely. He watched as the red creeped into Harry's cheeks. When Harry's eyes met his, he couldn't miss the lust reflected in their deep green pools. *Surely that blush wasn't for me. I can't believe this handsome creature would look at me like that. It's too good to be true. Really.* But there was no mistaking it. Oliver recognized the signs. Dialated eyes, hitched breathing. Sweet Merlin.
"I asked how you like being the Gryffindor team captain," Oliver repeated.
"Oh. Well, I don't think I'll ever be as good a teacher as you were..."
Oliver decided to be a bit bold. He didn't think Harry would be one to make a first move in this sort of situation. He leaned up on his side, mirroring Harry. The action left their faces only inces apart.
"There's lots of other things I could teach you, Harry," Oliver replied softly, running a finger gently across Harry's arm.
^*^*^*^*^*^
A/N There's a second part to this, I should have it up in a day or so - come back and read it, it will be Hot Hot HOT!
DracoLurve
For Anyone Who Cares: this story is rated R, just to be safe, and is SLASH! Yes, SLASH! If you don't know what SLASH is, you probably should not continue reading until you go find out.
So, this is just sort of a prequel to a series of stories I have planned - please R&R so I know if I should continue with these or not! Thanks
DracoLurve
^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^
It was the kind of summer Harry wished would never end. After being forced upon the Dursleys for less than two weeks, Harry had been invited by Ron to spend the remainder of his summer hols at the Burrow. Harry was ecstatic. Having been there before, he knew it would be great. It was, however, so much more than he ever expected. Harry could think of only one word to describe it - Golden.
The days were filled in liesurely pursuit. Harry was able to spend all the time he wished with some of his very favorite people. He and Ron talked for hours on end. They ate ice cream in the sun and laughed as they tried to keep it from melting all over. They went swimming in the pond nearly every day and basked on the shores in the mid-day sun. They talked late into every night, counting the stars from a blanket in the grass. And, of course, there was the rest of the family. Harry loved them all so much. They talked and laughed and loved without reserve. Harry couldn't ever remember feeling so welcome.
The very best part, to Harry, was to finally be able to fly during a summer holiday. And they *did* fly. Every single day. They flew in the morning when the dew still glistened on the grass. They flew in the deep shaded orchards when the sun was highest. They flew in the balmy evenings, fireflies to light up the approaching twilight. They practiced every sort of quidditch move they could think of, and then they made up some of their own. Then, on the second Tuesday in July, things got even better. Their good friend and former team-mate Oliver showed up to spend some of the summer with them. He brought along a practice set of quidditch balls. Harry was glad, as they had previously been using a half-deflated muggle basketball as a make-shift quaffle. And he wouldn't have to imagine the snitch anymore.
Harry thought mealtimes were the cheeriest times at the Burrow. Although money was tight, it seemed there was always an abundance of food. And laughter. Harry almost always found it to be a happy thing. Cheerful, sometimes - well, always - loud, and rather comforting. There were some days, however, when it was all a little too much for Harry. Today was one of those days. He'd started the day at 4 am with nightmares, reliving his godfather's death again and again. And so the day had progressed. Of course, it wasn't the Weasleys' fault. He hadn't told them of the nightmares. Or the off and on headache he'd been fighting all afternoon. They didn't know. It was no one's fault, really. It was just one of those days.
They had just started an early dinner and the entire family was present. Harry was trying to concentrate on his food, but it wasn't working very well.
"Eat up your peas, Harry dear!"
"Leave him alone, Mum!"
"So I read up on it all I could..."
"And he said, 'Are you really sure...'"
"We thought it was harmless..."
"Oh, right."
"Ginny, dear, do stop doing that with your fork!"
"'that's the safest place to hide your wand?'"
"Well, as much as you can read up on 'that' sort of thing."
"How were we to know it would cause his ears to come off?"
"Honestly, Fred, what did you 'really' expect to happen?"
Then, as suddenly as these things tend to happen, it all became too much. The heat in the room turned from comfortable to stifling. The collar on Harry's shirt felt tight and itchy. His palms got sweaty and his temples began to pound. The once enjoyable banter at the table was at once overwhelming. He needed to get out. Making a quiet apology, he left the table and darted out the door. The Weasleys, loving as they were, could sometimes be a touch oblivious to these sort of things. Seeing no one take particular notice, Oliver ducked out as well, and went to find Harry.
Oliver found him quickly, walking through the orchards behind the house. He jogged up behind Harry. Placing a few fintertips on Harry's shoulder and cracking a half-smile, he simply said,
"Hey."
They walked in companionable silence until they reached the edge of the orchards. Leaving the cool shade, Harry waded into waist-high sweet grass that stretched out for several acres.
"I sometimes come out here to get away."
"Aye, they can be a bit much at times, can't they?" Oliver replied.
They waded through the grass for a full two minutes until Harry was satisfied. He threw himself down, flattenng the stems with his body. Oliver did the same, and was surprised to find it strangely comfortable, the tall grass providing an easy cushion. They both lay on their backs with their hands behind their heads, and stared up at the incredible sky, at the clouds rolling softly by. Harry closed his eyes and relaxed, allowing the golden, angled rays of late-afternoon sun to warm his body. He focused on the chirping sounds of nearby insects, and on the low aroma of the grasses surrounding him.
"This is nice," said Oliver, in his softly lilting voice. "I come to visit a bit every summer, but I've never been out here."
"So, how's Puddlemere been?" Harry asked, as he continued to bask.
"Oh, it's great," Oliver said in an excited voice. Harry listened as Oliver talked animatedly about his team.
"We all went to your last match, earlier this summer. You were brilliant. I barely recognized you, though," admitted Harry.
"Aye, I don't get to wear the wonderful Gryffindor red any longer."
"It's a shame. You really looked good in red," Harry said. Then, realizing what he'd just said, he quickly changed the subject. "Erm...so...what else have you been up to?"
Oliver let the comment pass and they fell once again into easy conversation, trying to catch up on all that had happened in the previous years. And it was nice. Part-way through their conversation, Harry turned onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow. He watched Oliver while he talked. As Oliver's eyes were still closed, Harry let his vision wander. He studied Oliver's well muscled arms, so tan. The tiny hairs on his bicep glistened in the slanting sun. He studied his hair. It was shorter than Harry's . His gaze fell softly over Oliver's face and dropped to his pink lips, moving as he spoke.
It was one of those immeasurable moments in life where time seems to stand still, yet occupies only a heart-beat's time. In that solitary moment, Harry realized that - somewhere along the way - what he felt for Oliver had turned from like to...lust. Harry's breathing grew shallow and his heartbeat got faster. He couldn't take his eyes off of Oliver's soft lips, couldn't stop watching for Oliver's tongue to peek out from between his teeth as he spoke. He was mesmerized.
"Harry?"
"Harry."
Harry realized then that Oliver had been trying to ask him a question. Stupidly, he had been fantasizing about Oliver's mouth. Harry felt a deep blush heat his skin. He looked back up into Oliver's eyes.
"What? I'm sorry..."
Oliver looked at Harry very closely. He watched as the red creeped into Harry's cheeks. When Harry's eyes met his, he couldn't miss the lust reflected in their deep green pools. *Surely that blush wasn't for me. I can't believe this handsome creature would look at me like that. It's too good to be true. Really.* But there was no mistaking it. Oliver recognized the signs. Dialated eyes, hitched breathing. Sweet Merlin.
"I asked how you like being the Gryffindor team captain," Oliver repeated.
"Oh. Well, I don't think I'll ever be as good a teacher as you were..."
Oliver decided to be a bit bold. He didn't think Harry would be one to make a first move in this sort of situation. He leaned up on his side, mirroring Harry. The action left their faces only inces apart.
"There's lots of other things I could teach you, Harry," Oliver replied softly, running a finger gently across Harry's arm.
^*^*^*^*^*^
A/N There's a second part to this, I should have it up in a day or so - come back and read it, it will be Hot Hot HOT!
DracoLurve