An idea that just wouldn't leave me alone, when I should have been concentrating on my WIP fics. Let me know if you think I should continue to publish it, or just add it to the 'Ideas that Didn't Work Out' folder. Yes I actually have a folder titled such. Doesn't everyone?
-Vengeance
-thisisnotanobsession-
It was not an auspicious start to Harry Potter's stay at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He'd arrived in the night freezing cold and confused as hell, shouted at Ron and Hermione for listening to the words of a respected adult, and was hardly told anything about the madman out for his blood thereby not reassuring him at all, leaving the fifteen year old to remain uptight and paranoid. And that was just the remaining few hours of yesterday.
Harry was awoken his second day at Grimmauld Place once more freezing cold, and this time under the malevolent eye of the House of Black's psychotic house elf. Kreature had apparently vanished his blankets. Seeing the Potter boy awake, the elderly elf pulled a face and popped noisily from the room.
Mystified and somewhat grumpy from his rude awakening, Harry chose to have a hot shower to warm back up before heading to the kitchen. Unfortunately, this meant he was late for breakfast and so missed out on Mrs Weasley's berry pancakes. While there was plenty of eggs, bacon, toast, kippers, etc to be had, the pancakes were a bit of a treat and he was sad to have missed out.
Following breakfast Harry, the present Weasley kids and Hermione were bustled off upstairs to help clean the derelict townhouse. It was explained that the house itself was completely safe from the dangers of Voldemort and his ilk, but to be careful as there were several cursed items in each room that could very well kill you. This was said in such a way, that it seemed that the current Dark lord was the only danger worth worrying about, and the deadly-dangerous house was perfectly acceptable for school children to be living in. The wizard born members of the cleaning crew seemed unsurprised, like this was the way the world should be. Harry's eyes widened and his eyebrows raised. Hermione gave him a commiserating grimace.
Things only went downhill from there, with the twins sneaking dead Doxies, and anything else dangerous they could covertly get their hands on, into their magically expanded pockets. Then Ron tripped over a hidden pressure plate in the floor, falling headlong into a newly revealed hidden room. Mrs Weasley absently told Ron off for mucking around when he should be helping, and Sirius himself had stood calmly, water glass in one hand, unraised wand in the other, and stated, "Huh. Didn't know that one was there." The man finished taking a drink before going to check out the hidden room.
"Harry, Hermione, Stop lollygagging." Mrs Weasley snapped, stopping the two teens as they hurried over to where Ron has disappeared. Moments later the tall redhead reappeared, wildly brushing cobwebs from his hair, and his friends breathed a sigh of relief.
Dinner time came, and Harry happily volunteered to collect the twins for the meal in order the escape the not-quite-as-caring-as-she-makes-herself-seem Mrs Weasley, Sirius who couldn't seem to decide if his godson was Harry or James, and Ginny with her floral perfume that was making his eyeballs itch. The teen stomped up the stairs to the 3rd floor, passing the still locked library and the Weasley parents' room, opening the door to Fred and George's room since it wasn't warded, signed, barricaded nor locked.
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Harry's gaze took in the wafting misty smoke, which smelled oddly musky yet left a peppermint aftertaste in the back of his throat, and the surprised faces of Fred and George, mid-experiment with their heads covered with Bubblehead charms. Harry had enough time to realise that the misty air he'd been breathing was definitely Not Good if even the 17 year old dare devils before him had been protecting themselves from it. Harry then realised he was starting to feel very hot, in a feverish way, and very, very horny. A brief glance downward revealed the brunet was tenting his baggy jeans most impressively. Harry gave a horrified squeak and sat himself on the nearest bed quick smart, folding his hands in his lap while blushing crimson from his scalp down.
George carefully contained the potion the older boys had been working on, and Fred cleared the air with a wave of his wand. Banishing the Bubblehead charms, the twins snickered at the younger teen's embarrassment.
"I told you it was too much Hellebore." Fred commented to his brother then two pairs of blue eyes focused on the squirming, uncomfortable Harry.
"You gits forgot to ward the door!" Harry snarled, "You didn't even put up a note!"
"Hmmm," One of the redheads hummed, "Gred, looks like we were so excited about our work we missed a minor safety protocol."
"Right you are, Forge. Let's endeavour to do better in the future." The twins shook hands and nodded to each other agreeably.
"Minor safety protocol?" Harry hissed. "What if your mother had opened the door?" The two older boys shuddered dramatically.
"And how are you going to fix this?" The younger boy gestured briefly towards himself, his glowing blush resurfacing.
"Well, nothing to do but ward young Harrikins away while we get to work on an antidote." George suggested following a moment of thought.
"What? Why?" Harry asked, flicking his gaze between the two. "What have you done to me?"
"We're working on Mutually Satisfying Mistletoe – step under it with an enemy, you can get out with a satisfying smack to each other's face." Fred began.
"Walk under it with a loved one, and only a good old snog will set you free." George continued. "Satisfaction guaranteed."
"Unfortunately, you walked in while it was still giving off vapours."
"Aaannd, we still haven't quite got the formula down pat."
Harry stared. His embarrassment was quickly giving way to anger.
"So, what you're saying is, I'll have a permanent boner until I get off with someone?" He screeched. Horrified and angry as he might be, the mortified fifteen year old kept both his seat and his hands covering his lap.
"To a mutually satisfying conclusion!" Fred chirped cheerily. Harry responded with a flatly unimpressed stare.
"Or we ward you safely away from dear Ginevra while we make you up an antidote." George offered conciliatory.
"Let's go with option two." Harry growled. "And face the wall, both of you. This is embarrassing enough as it is."
Snickering again, the twins nevertheless did as asked before following a duck-walking Harry to a spare guestroom on the second floor, where they kept their word and effectively locked the younger teen in, while locking everyone else out.
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Charlie Weasley, the second oldest Weasley son, entered the illusive Order of the Phoenix headquarters to bedlam and shouting.
An aged portrait on the entrance hall wall was quickly silenced by Bill, who had entered in front of his younger sibling. While still incredibly noisy, at least now they could actually understand some of what was going on.
Charlie's mother was, surprise-surprise, shouting at his twin brothers, Fred and George; his sister, Ginny, was loudly announcing that she needed to freshen up before 'saving' Harry Potter from the effects of the twins' experiment gone wrong; a man whom Charlie assumed was the wrongly convicted Sirius Black was waving his wand around, raving that no little witch was going to take advantage of His precious godson; at which point Bill and Charlie's Order escort, Remus Lupin joined the fray, informing Sirius that No, he is not allowed to curse fourteen year old girls, even in defence of his godson's virtue. The oft mentioned by Ron, Hermione Granger chased Ginny on her way up the stairs noisily lecturing the younger girl on how taking advantage of Harry in his current state was beyond immoral and entrapping a husband through pregnancy was an outdated, dishonourable practice.
Only once the noise had died down; the twins disappearing upstairs with a dinner plate for the safely hidden Harry, and Black had sidestepped his old friend into a hidden passageway, presumably to hunt down Ginny and halt her plans; did Bill and Charlie finally get noticed and greeted by their mother. There were the usual "You both need a good haircut", "You're still wearing that earring William?" and "Did you have to bring your work with you Charlie?" before the two young men were directed to the first two guestrooms on the second floor.
Bill took the most immediate one, having to disintegrate an aged bathrobe that tried to attack him from its place hanging on the back of the door. Sadistically amused, Charlie turned to his own designated bedroom, finding the door warded shut. Curiosity piqued, the red head got a sneaking suspicion that he'd just found the hiding Potter heir. Charlie awkwardly juggled the duffel bag over his shoulder and the large crate he held under one arm, to pull from his pocket an International Dragon & Magical Wildlife Protection Agency issued Swiss army knife. Truthfully, the gadgets were never supposed to leave the preserve they were issued to, but handily in this case, Charlie had forgotten it was still in his trouser pocket.
One handed, he flicked out a tool that looked extraordinarily like a small cake server. It was descriptively called a Ward Spreader, and allowed a preserve staffer to cross from one warded habitat into another without having to dismantle, weaken or modify the complex magics keeping magical flora and fauna in its designated areas.
Squatting down, Charlie pressed the Ward Spreader against the worn carpet and slid the flat blade under the wards. He stood, taking the magics with him, and eventually lifting the Ward Spreader, with the ward bent over the blade, over his head. Grunting slightly at the weighted press of the wards, Charlie rammed a muscled shoulder against the old door, forcing the weakened door frame to give way at the catch. The young man stepped into the room under his upheld hand, before placing the wards back down and pushing the door to.
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Harry watched, stunned, as none other than Charlie 'Wank-Worthy' Weasley muscled his way through the locked door, waved around a cake server attached to a Swiss army knife, greeted him cheerfully and heaved a crate onto the dresser which knocked his finished dinner plate to the floor. The fifteen year old quickly sat back down again, covering his lap with a pillow from the one double bed.
Harry's curiosity over the contents of the crate eventually won over his self-consciousness when the older man took the lid off, peering inside while poking around with his wand.
"What are those from?" The teen asked, peering around one of Charlie's shoulders at the slate grey eggs nestled safely inside the wooden box.
"Rock Wyvern. A smallish dragon sub-species. Grows to about the size of a greyhound." Charlie answered, always eager to discuss his favourite topic. "Very few dragons on the preserve actually need human care, so the majority of the place is divided into habitats with self-contained ecosystems. The healthy dragons can hunt, fly, hoard, and do normal dragon things this way. The wyverns are part of those ecosystems." Harry nodded as he listened.
"So why do you have the eggs here? I don't think they're native to London."
"Ah. Well there's never enough people, or money, in Magical Wildlife Protection, so when you're on holiday, or even off duty from injury there's still something to be done, some work the boss can give you." Was the reply. "I'm only here while I'm off to heal from a burn, so watching a nest of eggs isn't too hard to do."
"Cool." Harry acknowledged. He hadn't even known Magical Wildlife Protection was a wizarding career, much less that there was more to 'Dragon Keeping' than the dragons that needed to be fed and cared for by people. When Harry voiced this, Charlie explained that the sick, injured and non-releasable dragons were housed nearest the preserve staff, so that's what visitors see first. He also admitted it was the most exciting part, while surveying prey numbers and weed control have to be the dullest and most thankless.
"So does Mrs Weasley know about your injury?" Harry cheekily asked, momentarily letting go of his mortification. He'd found last summer that he'd really liked talking with Charlie; he was like a cross between Hagrid and Professor Lupin, just made sexy, like that mental description was not.
The second oldest Weasley son shuddered theatrically. "Never. She thinks I just saved up my days off to visit and maybe join this Phoenix Order thing. And no one's going to tell her otherwise, right?"
"Well, since I am hiding in your room I suppose I can keep your secrets." Harry grinned. Charlie grinned back, letting his eyes flick to Harry's state of arousal, and wiggling his eyebrows. Harry squeaked, blushed and sat back down again. The older man chuckled.
"Here. Help me out." Charlie's voice cut through the teen's haze of embarrassment. Harry found himself handed a jar of ointment by a newly shirtless, muscular red head. The man sat next to the teen and turned his back, showing a half-healed burn on the left side of his spine spanning shoulder to waist.
"Aren't you supposed to keep your eye on the dragon, so it doesn't toast you from behind?" Harry snarked, in attempt to regain control of himself.
"Oh, my eyes were on the dragon," Came the good natured reply. "My eye wasn't on the burning tree branch above me though."
"Oh. Ow." Harry cringed apologetically. Charlie hummed agreeably.
Charlie felt when the younger man's mind wandered off. His burn had been sufficiently covered with the healing ointment, yet the slender hands continued their touches, aimlessly rubbing and smoothing over his healthy, undamaged skin.
-thisisnotanobsession-
If anyone had seen his expression at that moment, they would have realised just who taught Fred and George their demonic grin. Through a stroke of luck, and Bill's desperation to escape their mother ASAP, the openly pansexual Weasley son had an adorable and aroused Harry locked in his room.
Honestly, Ginny wasn't the only one of the Weasley kids to develop a bit of a Harry Potter obsession due to their mother's stories. Charlie had always been able to overhear Molly telling her daughter bedtime tales about the Boy-Who-Lived; Sound always travelled well through the Burrow, whether you wanted it to or not. Once he'd reached the age to actually think about these things, teen aged Charlie had imagined that Harry Potter only did his heroic deeds because he was forced to, before returning home to his prince who would take care of him and lighten the weight of the world from his shoulders. Of course, in his imagination, Charlie himself was the prince who rescues Harry from the rest of the world.
Charlie had abandoned his little dream-world as he finished Hogwarts and left England to work with dragons, meeting new people and living in the real world in the process. Then he'd come home to see the Quidditch World Cup with his family, and there back at his childhood home met Harry Potter in person for the first time. 'Just Harry' as he'd insisted was shy, gentle, obviously neglected, and absolutely buried under unwanted fame and even more unwanted expectations. And so, Charlie realised that his childhood fantasies from all those years ago, could actually come true. Even better, Harry himself voiced his desire for a physically strong man in his bed – admittedly this wasn't told directly to Charlie, but that was just semantics. Finally at the end of his family holiday Charlie decided that old fantasies weren't enough; He was going to be the saviour to Harry, and not for just one night either. Sweet, stubborn, cute little Harry would belong to Charles Septimus Weasley, no matter what the rest of the world, or little sister Ginevra thought.
-thisisnotanobsession-
The poor boy must have been very uncomfortable by now, he figured. Of course Charlie knew all about the twins' mistletoe project – they had bought ingredients from the preserve through him, rather than paying retail – so he also knew, via the 'welcome party' downstairs just how the Potter heir was suffering.
"So, I overheard a conversation last summer, between you and Hermione." Charlie led into the conversation. The hands on his back abruptly stopped moving.
"O-Oh." Harry jerked out of his reverie, realising he'd been unconsciously stroking Charlie's back. He briefly wondered what conversation the man might be referring to.
"Mmm. The one ranking Weasleys based on their attractiveness. I must say I'm quite happy that you ranked me most 'wank-worthy'."
Harry managed to lift his hands finally from the others skin, but was otherwise frozen stiff. He remembered that time, laughing with his female best friend. They thought they were alone and Ron and Ginny were both off doing their chores. Harry had admitted to his homosexuality and they'd gotten onto the topic of ranking the Weasley sons on physical attractiveness. He and Hermione had agreed Charlie was the most 'Wank-Worthy' Weasley. While it was a fun alliteration, the acronym WWW caused the two fifteen year olds endless amusement whenever Fred and George mentioned their business name.
Charlie turned to face his quarry, leaning forward until he could pull the younger man close. Harry felt as though his blush had finally taken over his entire body. He was slightly disappointed when the red head bypassed his parted lips.
"The way I see it, you can either let me help you with your little 'situation' right now, or you can wait all night and possibly all tomorrow uncomfortably while the twins make you an antidote." Charlie whispered hotly into Harry's ear. "I know which option I'd prefer, and it involves me making you forget all your worries, while you come on my cock, screaming my name. How does that sound Love?"
He could feel the teen's body tremble and his breath hitch. Harry nodded, stunned that Charlie would actually want him. Even though he figured it would be a one-time deal to rid Harry of his problem and allow Charlie to get his rocks off when he otherwise wouldn't be able to; Harry was a stubborn Griffindore, and he wanted at least this one chance to hook up with Charlie Weasley.
"I need to hear it Love. You need to tell me that you want it." The man continued, "Tell me what you want me to do to you."
"Please, Charlie… I want you for fuck me. Please." Harry answered more breathlessly than he'd intended.
"Good." Charlie smirked, backing Harry down all the way onto the bed, running his lips and tongue down the neck presented.
-thisisnotanobsession-
For those who want to know, fic title is a misquote from SOiL's song 'Obsession' from the album 'Redefine'. The actual words are 'It's not an obsession'