The scent of power
by Gomenace
Disclaimer: The universe of Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling. I'm merely borrowing some of her characters for entertainment. I make no money on any of my writings.
Warnings: This story will be slash eventually, but there is only a mentioning of male/male pairings in this chapter. If you don't like slash, don't read this story. I won't accept critique on the fact that my story contains slash, but constructive criticism of my writing and/or plot is highly appreciated.
Rating: Rated M for future sexual scenes and adult themes. This chapter contains snogging and foreplay (male/female).
A/N: As this is my first fan fiction ever, I would much enjoy a few words in a review from any reader that might stumble upon my story. In case possible, I would also like a beta reader, since my English needs quite a few corrections ;) I haven't quite decided the length of this story, but 7 chapters at least. It will depend on the response I get and what my muse tells me :)
Until further notice, everything I write is dedicated to my beloved smaller sister, Maja, who, however, will not see this story, before she has been 'cured' of her homophobia. Furthermore, I believe she is too young to read mature content, so I hope that she'll enjoy my writings – and slash in general, when she reach a proper age. I won't force it down her throat, or course :P But I might suggest reading some.
* * * *
Chapter one:
The party had been going on quite a while and in a few hours the sun would rise. Only a few select members of the party elite were still standing, but it was only a matter of time, before gravity would claim them too.
Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas had departed some time ago: in the company of one another, of course. Both wearing tell tale signs of lust; glazed over eyes, slightly parted lips and incapability of not touching the other. It was well know that the two Gryffindors were very much in love, but only under the influence of alcohol, would they act upon those feelings.
Seamus and Dean were not the only Gryffindors at the party, or the only two in love. The couple of Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley were preparing to take their leave as well. They were, however, having a hard time getting ready, due to heavy snogging. Snogging had the most unexpected effect on Hermione; she forgot about things! Things that she would normally pay attention to. What she failed to notice at the moment was the missing part of the Golden Trio. One Mister Harry Potter.
Harry sat in a chair not far from the snogging pair, not quite aware of his surroundings and quietly humming an incoherent melody not yet known to men. Had anyone been less intoxicated, they would have noticed this, seeing that the sight of Harry Potter drunk was as unusual as an ugly veela, and much can be said about veela, but they are never described as ugly (unless, of course, you anger a full veela woman. Not a pleasant sight or experience). It wasn't that Harry didn't drink, but rather that he had a hard time letting go of his control and therefore never drank more than a beer or two. Over the years, his sense of duty had grown too big and now, even after defeating Voldemort, he constantly felt the need to be available should a sudden emergency arise.
His friends had, of course, teased him mercilessly about the issue, but he always just smiled knowingly and brought them home, when the alcohol made them a danger to others as well as them selves. Frequent occurrences of him bringing them home in an intoxicated state were the reason why Harry's friends got together with one goal: Get. Harry. Drunk. This they did to prove to Harry that even if he is not around, the world still stands in the morning. Nonetheless, another reason for doing this might also be the slight embarrassment his friends felt, whenever they woke up at home with no memory whatsoever of how they got there and a hangover potion by their side, courtesy of Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World.
Harry had had no intention of drinking at this party either, but after the end of the war the houses at Hogwarts had united and Harry had gotten to know quite a few Slytherins during their seventh and last school year. Something he was probably going to regret come morning, as Gryffindors and Slytherins in the same room could be a lethal combination, more so when working together. Hermione and Ron were still not exactly fond of the Slytherins, but they were aware that they would need the cunning behaviour of the Slytherins to trick Harry into drinking more than he usually would.
So, Hermione, Ron, Seamus, Dean and Ginny – with help from Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson – made sure that everything drinkable at the party was spiked with alcohol (making sure not to alter the taste with the alcohol, since Harry would then quickly catch on and stop drinking all together). Yet, they neglected to notice that with every beverage turned into alcohol, they would also become extensively drunk rather quickly themselves.
One might have thought that this Gryffindor/Slytherin-scheme was the reason sleeping people lay about on the floor and on the furniture. They had passed out from too much alcohol while dancing or heading for another drink, but this happened at most parties, so the real difference was that none of those people would wake in their own beds with hangover potions next to their pillows. Their saviour was going to need the hangover potions for himself in the morning.
"Harry?" Hermione disentangled herself from Ron long enough to remember that she was supposed to make sure of something. Something that had something to do with Harry. Ah, but the thought left her, as Ron attacked her lips once more.
Harry turned his head and blinked, when he heard his name being called by a familiar, soft voice. He sank slowly, trying to rid himself of the fog in his head that wouldn't let him think straight, and answered with a slurred voice. "Mione?"
"C-can you get home by .. by yourself?" It took all of her will power to focus just partly on Harry, when the promise of pleasure in bed was standing so close to her. Hell, he was touching her! One cannot expect a woman to be perceptive under these circumstances.
"'Course." Harry got up from the chair to prove that he was fully capable of going anywhere he wanted to, but in his drunken state he instead found himself sprawled on the floor mere seconds later. Spotting the colourful decorations on the ceiling that he for some reason suddenly found very funny, he started laughing.
Hermione moaned slightly as Ron let his hand slip under her blouse and she hastily chose to accept Harry's statement at it's face value. "Great! We'll, eh .. see you in the morning, ri-right Harry?" Before Harry had a chance to answer, though, she was out of the door with a grinning Ron in tow.
Harry stayed on the floor for a while, trying to sort out his thoughts. He had noticed at one point during the night that he was becoming more drunk than he logically should have, since he mainly drank pumpkin juice, but he had already been too drunk to remember, why he wanted to stay sober in the first place. Eventually, he got up – not noticing that his vision was now dramatically more blurred than just a moment before – and fought his way to the door, stumbling over the many sleeping bodies, while feeling giddily happy with no apparent reason.
He stepped outside, not even noticing the profound rain.
* * * *
Tonight had been an unusually hard night with work until 10 pm and afterwards a celebration party, held by one of his resent clients. A very wealthy client, which had prevented him from declining the invitation as his boss would most likely have killed him, had he done so. After all, what better place to meet future wealthy clients than at a former wealthy clients house? It was a perfect business opportunity.
He put up his umbrella as he stepped out onto the street and sighed heavily. He was very glad that he did not have to go to work in the morning, seeing that he was seriously lacking sleep. He would have to work on a few cases, of course, but he could do that in his own apartment, which would noticeably lower the stress level. While his office was nice, he found it very disturbing that colleagues would drop by every now and then with no apparent reason. Therefore, he stayed at home to work, whenever he had the chance.
Standing in front of his apartment, he noticed a huddled figure in the shadows by the corner of the building. At first, the figure was still, and he suspected that it had passed out, but after a moment the person moved and tried to get up, using the wall as support. As the figure got up, a flash of recognition hit him: he knew that figure! Hell, every wizard in the world probably knew Harry Potter, but just looking at the figure he knew him, whereas others needed to see the scar to be sure.
In a few long strides, he was at the corner.
He watched as the slightly smaller person struggled to keep standing, and he unconsciously took a step closer to see, if Potter was injured. What meet him, as he stepped closer, made his eyes widen far more than any of the small injuries that Potter sported alone would have. He was hit by the smell of alcohol, which made his eyes slowly narrow, as he tried to figure out, why that exact smell would come from Potter. Potter never got drunk; he knew that for a fact.
The drunk boy had yet to notice his presence, while he on the other hand quickly noted Potter's drenched clothes and he had to wonder, why the hero hadn't bothered with neither a jacket nor an umbrella, when he wandered mindlessly outside at 5 am in the middle of November. This was when his brain caught up with him and kindly reminded him of the amount of alcohol the boy wonder would have had to consume to reek as extensively of alcohol as he did at the moment.
Swearing under his breath, he slowly extended his umbrella to cover both Potter and himself, which after a while made the raven haired boy freeze. Well, he's conscious enough to notice that it stopped raining rather abruptly, at least. He watched as the smaller frame beside him slowly started turning, presumably to see what had stopped the rain.
"Potter." He said in a way of greeting, looking into the green depths that had already seen more than a several lives worth of pain, yet was still filled with warm feelings.
* * * *
Harry had been wandering for quite a while, he was aware of that much. He also knew that he originally had been heading for home, which only his drunken, optimistic state had allowed him to, as his sober self would have known that he was very far from his apartment and additionally in a part of London that he barely knew at all.
He reached yet another street corner that looked exactly like the previous; at any rate, it was just as dark and blurred as everything ells around him. He walked towards the light coming from the nearest lamp pole in the hope that he would be able to see better once in the light. Due to his relatively fast stride towards the light, he failed to notice a loose flagstone in front of him (he probably wouldn't have noticed it under any circumstances), which resulted in sudden contact between his head and the pavement.
It took a while before he moved again and then only to crawl towards the wall of the closest building. He sat there catching his breath for a few minutes, not detecting the blood that ran from the newly required wound on his forehead. When the dizziness he felt had disappeared partly, he fought his way to his feet with the support of the nearby wall. He was still standing like that, when he suddenly noted that it had stopped raining. That it, it had apparently only stopped raining on him, since he could still hear that rain hit the street beside him.
Turning slowly as to not become dizzy again, he suddenly found himself rather close to another person. "Potter." A man, definitely a man. Or well, it could be an unfortunate woman with a male-like voice. Harry reached out towards the person, trying to determine for sure, whether or not it was a man. Unfortunately, he had calculated the distance between them incorrectly, resulting in him grabbing thin air, which in turn resulted in the dizziness coming back full force. He felt his legs give after and his already blurred vision narrowed down to near nothing.
Just as darkness took him, he felt strong arms wrap around his upper body.
TBC
- Please, do review.