Note from poster: My friend Shira wrote this and asked me to post it. http/ her Livejournal and you should go there to tell her you liked her story.
A/N: Okies. moonysshadow asked for "Harry/Bill, with bronzed skin, lip peircing (on Bill) and nipple piercing (on Harry). Oh, and throw in a coming-out story."
So here it is. A little strange. Harry bashing. Breaking of the fourth wall. This is what happens when I try to write Romance...
Disclaimer: I admit it, I own Harry Potter and all thats in it. That's why I go to a fanfiction site instead of publishing it in a book. Also, people who don't get sarcasm don't deserve to live.
A single earring dangled in front of Harry. He reached for it, his fingers itching to touch the vicious fang. Something thudded into his side and the suspended earring wavered and dissolved.
"Harry! Wake up."
Harry groaned.
"It's Christmas vacation, Ron. I get to sleep in."
Ron shrugged. "Yeah, but it's Christmas vacation. You get to not do anything, and the more you're awake, the more time you have to do that." Before Harry could protest this dubious logic, he continued, "Anyway, we're going to the Burrow. Mum sent a letter." He waved a half-rolled piece of parchment.
"Oh. The Burrow?" Harry struggled to sit up. He never was much good at thinking first thing in the morning. "We've got to go to the Yule Ball." He winced in memory. He'd told Ron it was shyness that delayed him in inviting a girl to the Ball. Ron hadn't thought to ask why he turned so many girls down when they asked him. He had a date now, a pretty girl to start the dance with...Oh gods.
"Are we going to miss it?" he asked, hope creeping into his voice.
"Nope. She says, mm, '...tell Harry not to worry; it's just for the week."
"Oh. Great. Uh, why?"
"I reckon the Dark Mark really scared her. Says she wants to see us all as much as possible. Bill and Charlie'll be there too!"
Harry's heart jumped.
"Yeah," Ron continued, "And Percy too, of course. Don't see why he can't get a flat in town. D'ya think he's still working on thick bottomed cauldrons? I still can't believe he didn't tell us about the Tournament...His own brothers!" He wandered off, shaking his head.
The next morning dawned cold and windy, but Harry's heart felt as warm as if he were standing next to a roaring fire... He shook his head. Was everybody cursed with a pretentious inner monologue?
He stuffed his bag into the overhead bin and sat down next to Ron and Hermione. They'd had no trouble finding an empty compartment with so many students staying for the Yule Ball.
"How are we getting back to Hogwarts, Ron?" Hermione asked. "The train doesn't come back until the end of break."
Harry looked up in surprise. He hadn't thought of that. Granted, the storming-in part of a plan was more his strength than the getting-back-out-after part.
"Oh, right," said Ron through a mouthful of Chocolate Frog. "Dad'll apparate us back or something."
"How many times do I have to tell you--"
"To outside the castle, ok?"
Harry could hear the second question mark leap into place. Muttering something about getting more snacks, he escaped into the corridor as his two best friends fell to arguing. Honestly, he thought, why don't they just go ahead and shag?
Oh my GOD, thought Harry. When I said they should shag, I didn't mean in my ROOM. He backed slowly out of the room he was sharing with Ron for the week as the two hastily scooted under the covers. Ignoring Hermione's call of 'Harry! Wait!' he bolted from the house, bewildering feelings swamping him.
So the two of them had found true love in each other's arms, had they? Bully for them. He felt betrayed. By them, yes, but no less by his own body's reaction to seeing Ron's lanky form in passionate, um, passion. And, attraction notwithstanding, there was the simple ick factor of seeing his two best friends screwing... Oh god. He wandered out into the delightfully overgrown garden. Within the low stone walls it was still full summer. More bloody cool weirdness at the Weasely's. There was a rosebush next to the kitchen door. Harry leaned down and sniffed at one exquisite bloom.
"Harry?"
He jumped. A thorn tore his finger.
"Oh, shit," he said.
Bill was standing behind him, amused smile stretching his lips.
"So unhappy to see me, Harry?"
"What? Er, no! Um. Nice ring."
Bill smiled again and touched the lip ring. Harry stared.
"This? Thanks. New acquisition. Mum's not too happy about it."
As Harry stood there trying to think of something to talk about aside from the way Bill flashed his tongue out to touch the ring, Bill stepped forward.
"Are you ok?"
Harry took a breath.
"I--Oh! Right. This. I mean, it's ok. I just nicked it on the rose bush."
Bill took Harry's hand in his, his fingers oh-so-gentle. He tapped the bleeding finger with his wand, then wiped away the drops of blood. Oh my god, thought Harry. This is so cliched.
"Alright now, Harry?"
"Aksfgl."
"Good. I have to go. Running errands for Mum and all that. Careful next time you try to pick a rose."
He turned away, the end of his ponytail fanning out slightly. Harry stood dumbly. Great. Something else to be bewildered about. But his heart was light and his throat tight with that sort of wild emotion that finds an outlet in laughter as he walked deeper into the garden.
Hermione found him under an peach tree later that afternoon.
"Harry?" she asked tremulously, "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine."
She sighed. Harry could be so annoyingly manly at times. Not, of course, all the time. She glanced up at the peach tree.
"I'm sorry, Harry."
He didn't reply or look at her as she sat down next to him.
"We should have at least told you."
More silence.
"I know you've been having a difficult year..."
"Hermione," said Harry, "I'm fine." He was, actually. Logic had made a cautious appearance under the peach tree and reminded him that he had known they liked each other, and had, in fact, been silently telling them to get a room all semester. That didn't mean he couldn't be hurt and broody, though. He stared off into the distance.
"But you have! I mean, with the tournament and everything..." You want to talk about it, Harry, her eyes urged.
Harry sighed.
"I just wish I knew who put my name in the cup."
"Mm."
"And I don't dance."
"Hmm."
"But I'm working on the egg, really!"
Yeah, sure. "Is there anything else, Harry?"
"What? No." He lapsed back into silence.
"You must be sad about Cho. Are you happy with your date, though?"
"No. I mean, yeah. She's pretty. Um. Hermione?"
"Yes?" Ahaha, here it was. Hermione decided she would make an
excellent Aruour, wrenching confessions out of Death Eaters over a cup of tea... But Harry just shrugged and lapsed back into silence.
Oh! Silly boy.
"Is there someone else you like, Harry?"
"Bill."
"What?"
"Bill."
"Oh. He's cute."
Harry looked at her in astonishment.
"Hermione! I'm gay."
"Ok." She smiled at him. "Is he?"
"Um? I...don't know."
"Maybe you should ask him."
"Hermione! I'm GAY. That's, that's BAD."
"Nonsense," replied Hermione matter-of-factly. "It's not something
that gets talked about much in the wizarding world, but it's not considered evil or anything. You should tell him."
"Oh, sure."
"Really, Harry. You'll feel better if you tell people."
"Hmgh. You don't seem surprised."
"Remember Lupin? I'm good at figuring things out. Besides, you've
always been good with a broomstick."
"Huh?"
"Nevermind. Lunch will be ready soon; I have to go help Mrs.
Weasley."
She left, leaving Harry more bewildered than before.
Lunch was pie. Pie, pie, pie. Meat pie to start and apple pie for dessert.
Ron gave Harry a slightly guilty look and dug in. Harry sat next to Bill. Hermione looked amused and sat next to Ginny. She looked positively smug when Bill asked Harry if he wanted a tour around the town.
"And you can help me carry the groceries," said Bill.
"Ok," said Harry.
It was Bill's idea to take a dip in the stream on their way back. Harry took one look at the snow rimming its banks and crossed his arms. Bill would have to come up with a much better place to get naked. Er. Anyway. It was cold.
"You're kidding."
"No! See..." He took out his wand. Harry thought of Freud. He stroked it gently. Harry stopped thinking.
"I figured out this spell when I was cursebreaking up in Siberia. I was dying for a bath and everything had ice floating on it." He murmured a spell. The chill of the winter air faded from Harry's skin. It got very hot, in fact, though that could have been because Bill had just taken off his shirt.
He'd just come back from a prolonged trip to Australia; according to the twins, it had been 99 percent sunbathing and one percent working. His chest was bronzed, odd looking in the watery winter light. Stripping down to his trousers and reveling that the tan covered his whole body, Bill leaped into the water. Idly wondering if he had been sunbathing naked, Harry followed suit.
"Your nipple?"
"Um." Harry put a protective hand to his chest.
"It's...nice." Bill swam closer. "How long have you had it?"
"Um," said Harry again. Bill was very close. "Since last summer."
"Why?" He was playing with his own ring with the tip of his tongue.
"I'm not sure, really. I, I wanted something different about that was by my own choice. That sounds silly, I know. I'm just about as different as you can get as a teen. But none of it's been by my own will."
"Makes sense." Bill looked thoughtful. "Besides," he added, "They're fun to play with."
Goosebumps ran down Harry's arms as Bill rubbed the ring between his fingers.
"Cold?" Bill purred. "The spell must be wearing off. I should warm you up."
Harry panicked.
"Yes!" he said, "it must be! We should be getting back. Mrs. Weasley will be wondering where we are!"
He turned and stumbled out of the water.
The walk home was one long awkward silence.
"So he probably thinks I hate him," finished Harry.
"Probably," agreed Hermione. The two were sitting under the peach tree again.
"Hermione! You're supposed to be all smart and helpful! That," he informed her, "was not helpful."
"Oh, Harry. Fine. Why don't you ask him out on a date? That'll prove your intentions, even if you make mess of it."
Harry glared at her.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence."
Hermione shrugged.
"But Hermione," he continued, "What about the age difference? I'm not even fifteen!"
"That doesn't matter to fanfic writers," Hermione assured him. "all kinds of ordinarily taboo pairings become ok."
"You're right. Sick bastards... But what do you mean, invite him on a date?"
Hermione smiled.
And that is why Harry Potter opened the Yule Ball by dancing with former student and current Gringotts cursebreaker Bill Weasley.