Rightttttt. So, bit more info. This does have some slash, but it's just some heavy kissing. It's rated for gore. And for fucks sake, he doesn't kiss everyone, don't get your knickers in a twist. So thank you for giving this a shot, I wrote it today, and finished it today, and I hope you enjoy!

Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter.

Kisses

Of course, when Harry saw himself in the future, he hadn't pictured this as his side hobbie. Though, at the time, he hadn't really thought about what he'd do in the future, seeing as it started when he was, oh, eightish?

Little Harry Potter had been sitting at a picnic table, watching the kids run around. Someone from school had thrown a birthday party, and had invited both Harry and Dudley. Mrs. Figg wasn't available, and so the Dursley's had been forced to take Harry along.

Of course, Harry wasn't doing anything. He had already been given a soda by one of the parents, and the warning glare his aunt had sent him warned him not to do anything else. So he sat quietly, restraining himself from chugging the sugary drink he had been given. He began to toy with it, when he tired of watching the kids run around. He noticed the tab on the top. He had seen the mother open it by bending it back and forth.

Harry mimicked her movements, bending it back and forth repeatedly. Eventually, it popped off abruptly, startling Harry. He stared at it for a moment. It was just a thin piece of aluminum metal, with folds on the bottom. What was he supposed to do with it now?

Harry looked around himself. He looked at a few of the other kids, who had seemingly done the same thing as him. A few were chewing on it. Harry looked back down at his. It seemed like a strange thing to do. But why not? Everyone already thought he was strange.

Slowly, Harry bit it. It was satisfying, feeling the metal crush beneath his teeth. He stuck the whole thing in his mouth, and spent the rest of the party chewing on it, taking it out of his mouth and holding it in his hand whenever he wanted to take a drink so that he didn't swallow it.

When they left, an hour later, Harry was still fiddling with the metal thing in his mouth. He was careful to make sure his aunt and uncle didn't notice that he had it, they would surely make him spit it out.

And then, when they were almost home, a pain erupted in his mouth. His face scrunched up for only a second, and then he stopped. He couldn't let them see him in pain. He tried to move the tab, but it seemed to be stuck on his tongue. Harry whimpered. It hurt. The car hit a bump when he was trying to gently pry it off with his teeth, and he almost yelped when he felt it come off, feeling like it ripped something off with it. Almost immediately, he tasted blood. He held the tab between his teeth resolutely until they got home. He went to the bathroom as soon as he could. When the door closed behind him, he carefully took it out of his mouth. His fingers came back bloody. He threw it away, and looked at his tongue in the mirror. A gash was to the right side of his tongue, but the bleeding was slowing. He squished his tongue together with his teeth, causing it to start bleeding again.

Tongues are weird. Harry started to move his tongue around it weird positions. He realized he could turn it all the way upside down. He'd tried to hold it still, and it would quiver and shake, and move almost on it's own. He wasn't sure how long he was there, just staring at the mirror, but it had to be several minutes. Tongues were hard to control, too. When he tried to move it just a little, it was a jerky movement, and his tongue went further to one side than he wanted it to.

That night, he went back to his cupboard with a realization. Tongues were weird. They were just this flexible, strong muscle with no bone that did basically whatever they wanted without having to think about over. Over the next several weeks, Harry noticed that his tongue moved about as he did anything. As he was working on homework, or doing chores, or anything. He would be licking his lips, or running his tongue over his teeth, or something. Then he noticed other people. Dudley would stick his tongue out of the side of his mouth when he was concentrating. Aunt Petunia would repeatedly lick her top lip when she was having a conversation. Uncle Vernon would lick his mustache (ew) when he was reading the newspaper.

Harry noticed another thing, about a week after he made his ground-breaking discovery that tongues were weird. Tongues were necessary for communication. He noticed it when Peter Polkiss came over once. Peter talked with his hands, and exaggerated motions, spittle flying out every once in awhile. Harry himself didn't speak much, but other people did. Without a tongue, his teacher, Miss Brown wouldn't be able to tell them about stuff, about how to do math and how to write properly. Without a tongue, Peter wouldn't be able to rave about that awesome biking trip he went on. Without a tongue, Dudley wouldn't be able to whine about how he was hungry. Without a tongue, Aunt Petunia wouldn't be able to tell him his chores. Without a tongue, Uncle Vernon wouldn't be able to shout insults at him.

When Harry was nine, he realized another thing. As disgusting as the idea was, people kissed using their tongues. He had been at a park, and saw a couple kiss briefly, before what he assumed to be their kids ran over to them. And then he went home. Over the next few years, Harry didn't forget about his realization. He didn't have much else to think about, seeing as he wasn't allowed to read books unless Dudley discarded them, or watch television, and since he didn't have any friends to distract him.

So Harry didn't forget. And then his letter came. He learned of magic, of weaving spells and bright lights, of simmering potions and whimsical powers. Without a tongue, magic wasn't impossible, but it would be extremely difficult. Harry made friends for the first time ever. Ron and Hermione. Ron was brash, and tended to speak loudly. Hermione was smart, and tended to correct people when they made a mistake, or would just ramble on about something or something other. Without a tongue, neither of them could do either of those things. Simple. There were spells to do all kinds of things. Even cut things. Once, he had gotten curious, and asked one of his professors how Dumbledore found wizard kids.

Professor Binns had gone on to explain, quite happily, that while accidental magic (magic performed without a wand) was untraceable, there were spells that tracked magic within kids, which was linked to the lettering system. It was fascinating, in Harry's opinion, and Professor Binns seeme extraordinarily surprised that Harry hadn't fallen asleep standing up during his explanation.

When Harry was thirteen, Aunt Marge stayed with them for the summer. Usually, Harry could keep his temper in check. He'd dealt with his uncle all his life, constantly shouting at him about how worthless he was, and saying horrible things about his parents. But two of them...Harry felt that Dumbledore was testing him. Harry wanted to shut her up, he wanted her to never speak a word about him or his parents again. And the dog, Ripper, that Aunt Marge loved so much, with his constant barking, who growled whenever Harry was near, and got more food than Harry himself did.

Dogs were helpless without their tongues, Harry realized. Without their tongues, they couldn't lap up water. He wasn't sure if they could eat without their tongues, but he was pretty sure they couldn't. Of course, getting rid of a dog's tongue wouldn't keep it from barking, that was the sound of air being pushed out. But the dog might be traumatized, or something along the lines, and then it wouldn't bark, possibly. Harry had to try it. If it would make the dog shut up, it was worth a shot.

So, about a week into Aunt Marge's visit, Harry crept out of his room. They had stopped locking him in after last year, so all he had to worry about was skipping the squeaky step at the bottom of the staircase. Since Aunt Petunia hadn't wanted too much dog hair in her house, she had requested that Ripper's bed go in the kitchen, so Harry padded silently down the small hallway.

Ripper was in his bed, head lolling to the side, hanging off the edge of the cushion. Harry realized that this could end badly, and so he stuck close to the door incase he had to make a quick escape, which seemed likely.

Harry trained his eyes on Ripper. He felt his magic bubbling at the surface, swirling beneath his skin. It simmered, waiting to be used. Waiting to be unleashed. Feeling incredibly foolish, Harry stuck his hands out in front of him, directed at Ripper. He felt pain behind his eyes, but ignored it. Ripper shifted, legs kicking. Harry almost fled then and there, but then Ripper grew still again. Harry took another breath, his eyes narrowing.

And then he felt it. The magic. Traveling in his veins, moving from his core, and then out through his fingers. He could feel it pulsing; it was palpable. Light suddenly shout out through his fingers, hitting Ripper square in the muzzle. The dog whimpered, pawing at its face furiously. Something felt out from it's mouth when it opened. Harry recognized the dark tissue of a bloody, severed tongue. Harry walked over, picking it up. He turned it over it his hand, studying it. It was much different from a human tongue, much rougher. Suddenly, Ripper started to cry out, and Harry panicked. He desperately wished the dog would shut up, and then it did. He could still see the dog doing the motions, he could see it's chest vibrating from the yowls. It was just as though...Ripper had been muted.

Harry rushed back up the stairs, severed tongue in hand. He took a deep breath once he entered his room, and gave a savage smile to Hedwig, who shuffled nervously. He walked up to her, petting her through the cage. "Don't worry girl. I would never hurt you." Harry whispered. That seemed to satisfy the owl. And Harry never would hurt her. She was the only one who had never hurt him in anyway, besides affectionate nips, but that was perfectly fine. "I got you a treat. Do you want it? You don't have to eat it." Harry whispered, holding the severed dog tongue out to her. She inspected it for a few seconds, before hesitantly nipping at it. She still seemed unsure, so Harry left it at the bottom of her cage, in her food bowl. She stared at him, and Harry laid down in his lumpy bed, giggling to himself as he fell asleep.

He slept to the sound of an owl eating.

The next morning, Marge came down as he was preparing breakfast. She sat at the table, calling Ripper to her, who wouldn't come. She frowned, but brushed it off. Sometimes Ripper ignored her, she explained with a yawn. But over the next few days, Marge hardly noticed that Ripper hadn't eaten or drank anything in days. Again, she brushed it off, figuring that the dog was eating when she wasn't looking. Seeing as Harry cleaned out the dog's food bowl after everyone had left the kitchen, no one realized that the food had been uneaten. And water dissipated in the hot London air. No one was none the wiser.

Ripper stilled moved around, if not sluggishly. He didn't bark, or growl, or do anything. Marge finally grew concerned when he seemingly hadn't moved from his position after two days. Even ten minutes later, Marge's shriek at realizing her dog was dead still made Harry's ears ring.

And that satisfied Harry for the next few years. But it thought lingered in the back of his mind continuously. It was when he was sixteen, sitting the owlry, visiting Hedwig that he finally thought back to that memory in full detail. "Did you like that treat, Hedwig? You couldn't get a fresher tongue, unless you killed it yourself." Harry cooed. Hedwig moved her head against his hand, which was petting her head. "Would you like another, girl? A human one this time, perhaps?" Harry pondered. Hedwig hooted at him. Harry smiled. His owl was so intelligent. "You know, I think I could make that happen...would you mind sending a letter for me, girl? You'll have to wait until tonight to get your treat, if all goes well." Again, Hedwig hooted.

Harry sat at one of the numerous desks within the owlry, pulling some supplies out of the stationary. He composed a quick letter, and sent it off with Hedwig with a whispered word. It was Friday, just an hour after dinner. Curfew would be soon, but he stilled had a few minutes to look out the window before he had to depart to get to the tower with enough time. He watched Hedwig fly until she swooped around the castle, out of sight. But then he realized the dorm he had sent her to didn't have windows. He bit his lip. Well, if she wasn't able to get it to the recipient, she would fly back to Gryffindor, and he would just have to resend it during breakfast. Problem solved.

Harry went back to his tower. Meanwhile, in the dungeons, Draco Malfoy had just walked into his dorm. A snowy white owl was perched on his trunk, a letter attached to her leg. Draco froze in his place. "How in the hell did an owl get in here?" He asked the open air. Obviously, he received no answer. That was ridiculous. He crept forward slowly, outstretching his hand. The owl looked extremely familiar. He knew he had seen the bright white feathers somewhere before, many times, he just couldn't remember where. She outstretched her leg for him, letting him untie it. When he had it in his hands, she didn't leave, so he assumed the sender wanted a response.

Malfoy,

Would you please meet me, tonight at midnight, at the top of the astronomy tower? I would like to strike a proposition with you. Please come alone. Send a response with Hedwig as promptly as possible, if you would.

HP

Malfoy froze in place. That's where the owl was from. He wanted to hit his head. How could he forget, the snowy white owl had to belong to the famous Harry Potter. But...this had to be a trick, right?

But Potter had said please. Twice.

He looked at the owl. What was it's name? Draco looked back at the letter. "Hedwig. What does he want, Hedwig?" Of course, Malfoy's did not ask animals questions. But if no one was around, no one could say otherwise.

He sighed, running a hand through his fabulous hair. He had to go, didn't he? Draco wrote a response, not noticing Hedwig's piercing eyes zeroed in on his face as he wrote.

Harry paced the astronomy tower. Was he gonna go through with this? Yes. Yes he was. Malfoy was the perfect person to go first. He was always insulting Harry, his friends, everyone. And that wasn't allowable.

Harry was just getting bored now. Malfoy better bring his pale ass here or-

"Potter." Harry turned around in surprise.

"You came." Harry breathed. Time to make my acting skills worth something.

"If you were willing to swallow your pride to the point of saying please to me twice, obviously I had to see what you were going on about." Malfoy said snobbily. Harry looked at his feet. "Well, Potter?"

"Well...you see...I kinda…"

"Get on with it, I don't have all night." Draco huffed impatiently.

"I've really liked you for awhile now and I wanted to tell you." Harry mumbled. He wasn't sure if Draco had heard it at first, until he heard the sharp intake of breath.

"Really, Potter? Are you insane? That isn't possible. We've hated each other for years. You've hated me for years." Draco spat. Harry quickly brought his head up.

"That isn't true. Maybe at first, but that was because I didn't know what was going on at the time. Please, Malfoy. Give me a chance?" Harry stuck out his bottom lip. Just slightly. For emphasis.

"Potter, you've got barny. I'm not gay. I knew I shouldn't have come here." Malfoy sighed, and began to walk away.

"Malfoy! Wait! Please. Just give me a chance?"

"No, Potter. Go away."

"I won't bother you again. Please?"

Malfoy stopped. "What do you mean by you won't bother me again, exactly?" He said slowly, looking over his shoulder. Harry approached him slowly.

"I won't insult you again. Or bother you. Please?" Draco narrowed his eyes.

"What do you want?" Harry's face lit up.

"Just give me one kiss. Please?" Holy Merlin on a stick can we hurry this along please? Malfoy still looked weary. "Malfoy, it isn't much. And we both know I can't be the only one who wants this." Harry said lowly, stalking closer.

"What? What exactly are you insinuating, Potter?" Malfoy cried out, looked affronted.

"That you can't have hate me that much. It can't all be negative feelings. If we're honest with ourselves, how much of that is probably sexual tension?"

"Okay, Potter, I'm going to back away slowly-"

"But Drrrrraco," Harry purred, rolling the 'R' as he wound his arms around Draco's neck (when did he get that close?). Draco stared down at Harry in shock.

"Wha-" For once, Harry had rendered him speechless. Harry felt proud. Harry stood on his tiptoes, softly kissing the blond.

Not as bad as a thought it would be, at the very least, Harry pondered. Harry very softly kissed Malfoy, until the taller person had settled into it. Harry felt hands touch his waist lightly, and almost smiled. It took some time, some coaxing, but eventually Harry had encouraged Malfoy to use his fucking tongue for Merlin's sake, that was the point!

Malfoy apparently had a thing for power, and easily overpowered the kiss, tilting Harry's head and shoving his tongue into Harry's mouth. But that was okay. That was what he wanted.

Harry snuck one hand down Draco's body and into the pocket of his own robes. His hand enclosed on his wand. With all his might, Harry bit down on Draco's tongue. Blood immediately filled his mouth. Harry swiftly parted himself from Draco, spitting the appendage out into his hand (Hedwig liked her meat bloody) and watching Draco as he screamed.

Tears sprung up into his eyes as a hand clamped over his mouth, which was bleeding profusely. "Sorry 'bout that. You were a good kisser." Harry whipped out his wand, murmuring a spell as Draco stumbled back in pain. "Now you can't tell anyone. Well, not like you could now anyways, at least verbally. But now you can't communicate about what happened at all. Nifty little spell, huh? See you, Malfoy."

Harry walked to the owlry, leaving Malfoy there, a sobbing, bloody mess. Harry cackled as he threw his invisibility cloak over himself. He fed Hedwig the treat, which she seemed to like much more than the dog tongue. Harry smiled. He petted Hedwig absentmindedly. "Don't worry girl. You'll get more, soon." Harry smiled. Soon, he returned to his tower.

Harry took a month to consider his next victim. Though, he didn't really want to kiss him, as Harry did see him as a brother. Kinda. He didn't really know the person, but by association, Harry certainly saw him as a brother. But he could easily find a way around that. Smiling out of the corner of his lips, Harry composed his letter quickly, sending it off with Hedwig, who immediately took off, aware that this meant she would get another special treat soon. Harry chuckled.

It was mid November, Hogsmead weekend. He had to wait until now to arrange the meeting, since his victim did no longer go to school. He waiting outside the Three Broomsticks, searching for the brightly haired person.

Eventually, the bright red hair came into view. Harry threw on a smile. "Harry! I must say, I didn't expect the letter you sent me."

"Charlie! Good to see you again. I hope I didn't interrupt anything, right?"

"O'course not. So you want to get into dragon taming, eh?"

"Yeah, I was thinking about it. After everything blows over. I've kinda had a thing for dragons since fourth, you know?"

Charlie laughed. "Yeah, I understand. Most people would be scared of them from then on, but of course you wouldn't be. How can I help you, Harry?"

"Uh...can we go somewhere a bit more secluded? I don't like being stared at." Harry shuffled, glancing at the people around them. No on in particular was staring, but Charlie took his word for it.

"Aye, no problem." They walked around the building, and moved more towards the forest and the shrieking shack. "Good?"

"Yeah." Harry looked up at the large tree protecting them from view of everyone else. He had once thrown mud at Malfoy under this tree. Good times.

Harry looked back at Charlie. The tall redhead wore a smile, small scars twisting around the expression. "So, how can I help?"

Harry smiled. "Hold still."

When Harry returned to the castle that night, Charlie Weasley was nowhere to be found. Ron was none the wiser, nor was anyone, and Hedwig was quite pleased.

It was creeping into February when he approached his next victim.

Neville?

Would you talk to me in the common room tonight, around midnight?

Harry.

Harry got up silently. He knew Neville would follow him, since the boy at nodded at him confusedly at breakfast this morning, when he had sent his letter with a school owl, so that no one recognized Hedwig (she was miffed about that, but knew she was getting a treat, so she settled).

Harry didn't have to wait long, for Neville had followed him soon, walking down the winding steps from the boys dormitory. "Harry? Are you okay?" Harry had to admit it. Neville was a real good-lookin bloke. And a nice one, too. But oh well.

"Hey, Nev."

"What's wrong?"

"Nev, you know how you came out to me last year?" Neville nodded confusedly. He hadn't told anyone else, and was surprised Harry would chose to bring that up now. "Well...it got me thinking, and...I think...I might…"

"Be gay?"

"Yeah." Harry finished lamely. Neville smiled softly.

"It's fine Harry. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Well...I was kinda hoping you would, maybe...help me experiment?" Harry said shyly. Neville raised his eyebrows.

"What do you mean by experiment, Harry?"

"Will you kiss me?" Harry didn't move his eyes from his folded hands in his lap. Neville sat next to him slowly. Neville grabbed his chin and tilted it.

"Are you sure you want me to do this, Harry? Look me in the eye."

"Yes. Please, Nev?"

"It's okay. Calm down. I'm going to kiss you know, okay?"

Harry nodded. Neville slowly leaned forward, stopping to lick his lips for a second before continuing.

Merlin, Neville was a better kisser than Malfoy. For a moment, Harry forgot where he was, he was so immersed in the kiss. And then he realized, he was doing this for a reason. But...he couldn't bring himself to do it. Oh, shit. Harry sighed mentally, and continued to let Neville kiss him. Fuck, he couldn't hurt Neville.

When the taller finally pulled away, they were both panting. "Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"You gay?"

"Yeah."

"Go out with me?"

"Yeah." Fuck this wasn't supposed to happen. Harry sighed mentally, and then actually sighed against Nevilles lips when the other boy came in for another kiss.

Guess Hedwig isn't getting her treat tonight.

Sixth year passed. Seventh. The war. Through it, Harry and Neville were together. When he was with Neville, Harry felt guilty, and so he hadn't hurt anyone else since (Hedwig was miffed, but then...she was gone.) when he was killed Charlie.

And then the war happened. And everyone...was dead. Including Neville. And then Harry was mad, and frustrated, and angry. Oh, he was so angry. He forgot about his guilt.

So Harry got a new owl. It was pitch black, which he had chosen on purpose. The least it reminded him of Hedwig, the better.

And so he sent out a letter just a week after he had gotten the owl. And thus, the letter was sent, signed with the name Dudley Dursley.