Title: Killing Hope
Prologue - Contact
Word Length: 750
Warnings: SLASH, boyxboy, etc. kissing, implied sex (Don't like? Don't read. You have been warned.) NB: Unbetaed.
Summary: 'If there was one word that that could be used to describe Charlie Weasley, it would be optimistic.' It takes a lot to bring despair to those who are incessantly hopeful. Personally, I suggest love. Harry/Charlie, HP/CW, CW/HP, SLASH
Inspiration: Lack of Harry/Charlie stories combined with slight, post-Spiderman angst... It was the first time I'd watched it, okay! Yes, very sad. I'm not very super hero literate...
As mentioned, this is just a prologue, it will be followed by 1 chapter (that's the plan), though 2 chapters is a possibility. Hopefully, it'll be up soon.
If there was one word that that could be used to describe Charlie Weasley, it would be optimistic. His hope seemed infallible and extraordinary. Everyone knew that Charlie was a rock. You could rely on Charlie, even if he was hurting too. Yes, Charlie was an optimist.
He had done it and now it was finally over. The Light were rejoicing, Harry Potter had killed You-Know-Who. It was time to celebrate…
Charlie wandered to the long trestle table at the side of the Great Hall, quickly locating the punch and filling two plastic cups. He wandered off into the crowd, looking for someone to have a drink with. He found Harry Potter sitting in a shadowy corner of the Hall, watching the rest of the joyous party-goers with dark eyes that spoke of wild, unknown terrors.
"Drink?" Charlie offered softly.
"Nah. I wouldn't say no to something stronger though. I need to…" he paused, as if considering whether he should tell Charlie, "Forget. Everything."
"Your wish is my command," Charlie said with a small chuckle. He pulled a battered, gold flask from inside his leather jacket. He poured a generous dash of the stuff into each cup and handed one to Harry, who took a sip.
"Jesus! What is this stuff?" Even with the high punch to whatever-it-was ratio, he could still feel the slow burn of alcohol.
"Dragonfire-Whiskey," Charlie replied, "Dangerous stuff, I'd look out if I were you Potter."
*
"Char-lie!" Harry exclaimed in a drunk, sing-song voice. He giggled.
"Yes, Harry?" he asked.
"You like guys, don't you? Gay 'n' all that?" Harry slurred and Charlie knew he wouldn't notice his blush.
"Yes, Harry. I'm gay," Charlie tried to remember to breathe. Harry was getting close to things he forced himself to forget around the amazing boy. Harry was no more than his little brothers friend, an adopted brother at most.
"So… You don't mind if I do this?" Harry asked and swept forward with accuracy and speed that was unexpected considering how intoxicated he was. Harry kissed him. His lips were damp from drink and saliva, yet strangely soft. He was suddenly hyper-aware of his own dry, cracked lips.
"I… I don't automatically like all men," Charlie said slowly, somehow managing to keep his voice from shaking. "Straight guys, like you, don't automatically like all girls, do they?"
"But you do like me, don't you Charlie? And girls aren't all that great anyway." Charlie sighed, he wasn't exactly sober either and he didn't seem to have the self-discipline he needed tonight. He could live with the consequences.
"You'll regret this, Harry," Charlie warned him.
"Course not, I like you too much." Simple, drunken talk should not have made his heart bubble with hope in such a way.
"Well, come on then," Charlie said, helping the boy hero to his feet. The least he could do was give Harry complete privacy, no one but them would know about this.
*
If Harry was sober, Charlie would have grabbed him by the hand and dragged him through the castle, running and laughing. But, if Harry was sober this wouldn't be happening… And then they were alone. The room was small and dark, but that didn't particularly matter. Harry was pushed to the bed and Charlie hovered above him.
"You sure about this, Harry?" Charlie inquired softly.
"Fuck yeah, Charlie." Dear Merlin, the way he said his name… "All these people have always been tryin' to control me 'n' I don't trust 'em. I trust you, Charlie. I want you to take control." The drunken slur in Harry's words couldn't stop the flood of arousal and hope that his words had caused. Charlie pressed his lips to Harry's , delighting in every movement the boy made as he reciprocated. And, for a few minutes, Charlie believed what he had dreamed for years might just be coming true.
*
His arm had been moved. It had been resting on something warm and soft and it had been moved. He heard someone shifting about lethargically, then a gasp, a sudden scuffle, a groan and some muttered words. Charlie was still half asleep, but he heard those words. They tore the hope that had grown in his heart to ribbons.
"Oh, God, what have I done?"
So, what do you think? I know it's short, that's why it's called a prologue. Reviews would be lovely, but if you're not in the right frame of mind (I understand) then add the story to alerts so you know when the next part is up! Hope you enjoyed it!
