AN: This is a prequel to my story The Perfect Space, which can be found here:
If you like lots of het and slightly canon goodness, read the full version of Living of Love here:
For just one chance to find
Love was someone that you loved to find
For just the sense to try
To walk ahead and leave the pain behind
He destroyed the final horcruxes.
He avenged his loved ones.
He killed Voldemort.
He survived.
After all of that, Harry just couldn't sleep. He wasn't afraid, he wasn't plagued with any nightmares, and he certainly didn't have a price on his head anymore. Well, not as big a price he should say. But even after all of that, even after the weight of wizarding world was lifted off of his shoulders with one 'expelliarmus', he was still restless.
He felt guilty that he wasn't sadder about Ginny. She had come to him and made more sense than any person their age ever should about relationships before finally confiding that she was in love with Neville. There was barely a sting in Harry's chest when it was all said and done, and that thought alone seemed to keep him hyper aware of his own psyche. It was as if with the spectre of Voldemort and war dissipating from his life, all of the other things inside of his head took precedence.
Harry banged his head against one of the posts on the bed, pulling back suddenly realizing that he might wake up the others in the room. He opened the curtains and glanced around furtively, only to find that the room was completely empty. No Neville, but after his last conversation, it was plain to know where he went. No Ron and Hermione, but Harry assumed that must have fallen asleep somewhere together. He knew they would never be away from each other…not after everything. But where were Dean and Seamus? Harry decided that being alone wasn't very appealing at the moment, so he slipped out of the bed, put on his invisibility cloak, and made his way onto the grounds.
The acrid smell of burning flesh, dust, and lingering curses still hung in the misty air of late evening. Harry shuddered, desperate for something warm and comforting to cling to. He didn't have that though. The closest he came to even having some sense of place was near Ron and Hermione, ensconced by the Weasleys, or wandering the walls of Hogwarts. However, Ron and Hermione were likely comforting each other, the Weasleys were all in mourning, and Hogwarts lay strewn with bodies and destroyed. The pain and loneliness ripped through Harry like a knife.
He looked over the grounds from the high vantage point near the castle and found that the grassy areas surrounding the lake and the border of the forest were relatively untouched. He quickly made his way there, hoping for a safe and familiar feeling. When he heard a groan followed by murmured voices, Harry crouched lower under his cloak and drew his wand.
"Ye've only just been back home. Ye need to rest ," came Seamus Finnegan's familiar clipped Irish voice.
"Mmmmm," murmured a voice in response. Suddenly, Seamus let out another shuddering moan.
When Harry finally found his way to the voices, he very nearly gave himself away with a startled gasp. Seamus and Dean were locked in a tight embrace, shirtless, with Dean's lips currently running up Seamus' pale chest. Harry gripped a nearby tree to keep from falling over. The sight of them didn't disgust him, didn't shock him, nor did it even make him want to run away. Instead, he was enthralled, filled with an instant desire, and also a very poignant loneliness.
Seamus whimpered again and tried to push Dean off. Dean pulled back then, his sharp eyes widening and his already tall body taking itself to full height and towering over Seamus' relatively small form. Dean's eyes were watering as he took Seamus' hand and pressed their entwined fists against Seamus' chest. Dean pulled them together, never moving their hands, until their foreheads rested against each other.
"Shay," Dean said, his voice painful and pleading to the point where Harry had to close his eyes for a second at the gravity of it. "This…" he said, bringing their hands up to his lips."This is the only home I know. The only place I ever want to be. I need you now."
Seamus took a deep breath and pressed his lips against Dean's hard. Dean's long, dark fingers threaded in Seamus' sandy hair, their bodies practically melting together. It was then that Harry had to walk away. If he didn't, the hole in his heart would threaten to engulf him.
Harry walked toward some benches he knew were nestled at the trailhead to the Forbidden Forest, just hidden enough that he wouldn't be bothered. However, as he approached his chosen spot, he heard more voices. These didn't sound nearly so hopeful, but were filled with sniffles and deep voices cracking and sobbing. Harry didn't know if he could take much more grief without completely succumbing to it himself.
This time, it was Ron and Hermione, only they were simply grieving. In between the small sobs and encouraging whispers, they were kissing like it was their only way of breathing. They lay on a stone bench, with Ron hovering over her, but the bench appeared to have been expanded to accommodate them. Ron had his hand up Hermione's shirt, and Harry could see them resting over the swell of her breasts. Hermione's hands were running up and down Ron's bare back, her own body trembling and her fingers shaking slightly. Both of their faces were streaked with tears.
"Need you so badly, Ron," Hermione moaned, her lips dancing along his neck.
"Hermione, you feel so good," He moaned back, even as his back shook with tears. "I almost lost you…so many times out there…it was so close. It was too close."
"Never again. Never again," Hermione whispered, thrusting her clothed hips up to meet his. Ron groaned loudly, echoing her motions until they were rocking against each other. His hand twisting slightly and she cried out, arching her back to meet his touch. They were both moaning desperately, their movements so frantic that Harry worried they were stuck in another world, a panicked one where the war hadn't ended.
When Hermione reached down and palmed Ron's obvious erection through his jeans, Harry felt his own cock twitch. He wanted to be touched so bad. It had been nearly a year since he even stirred down there. There was too much to be done, too much to worry over, and too much at stake. He just turned into a shell, bent on accomplishing his task and keeping his loved ones alive…nothing more. Just seeing his best friends throwing their heads back and groaning with need was enough to wake up so much in him that the loneliness was able to bore a bigger chasm in his chest.
Before the urge to reach down and touch himself became too much, Harry walked away, giving his best friends the privacy they deserved. When he had made it back into the lonely darkness, he closed his eyes and wrapped his hands around his cock. It had been so long, he had been through so much and even in the haze of the post battle, and his desire burned him like fire was whipping around his skin. He closed his eyes, picturing himself surrounded by the heady moans and welcoming arms of Ron, Hermione, Dean and Seamus. The moment they had reached their hands out to touch him, he came.
His orgasm shook his body and brought him to his knees. Near his impromptu resting place lay three stones from the walls of the castle. He had the composure to spell himself clean before his own sobs were taking over. His emotions were indecipherable, all of them moving together in one big torrent of confusion that had made him weak. He bit his lip and fought the urge to collapse right there in the leaves.
Suddenly, Harry saw a flicker of light to his right. He saw the large, hairy shadow of Hagrid move across a window of his hut and stretch out into the darkness of the late evening. Harry could feel a sense of ease come over him. He could find home, he could find warmth, and he could find rest with Hagrid. He smiled slightly, the war in his chest quieting a little as he walked toward the familiar stone hut.
When Hagrid greeted Harry with a warm and crushing embrace, Harry sighed.
"What are ye doin' here Harry?" Hagrid asked, concerned.
"Can I sleep here? I just…I can't…" Harry said, suddenly too weak to even articulate his needs.
"Say no more, son," Hagrid said softly, gesturing toward the overly large sofa. Harry sat down and took off his glasses. He heard a thump and saw a pillow was now laid at one end of the couch. He automatically leaned onto it, loving the smell of food, smoke, and animals that seeped through the linen.
As his eyelids closed heavily and tight and his body slipped away in exhaustion, Harry felt a blanket engulf him in warmth and a firm hand on his shoulder.
He was safe, he was warm, and he was home.
(Five months later)
"Bloody Wankers!" came a shriek from the kitchen. Still primed for the unexpected, both Harry and Ron leapt from their beds with their wands drawn immediately, only to share a look of relief when they realized where they were at.
"I'm not going to stand for it!" Ron's mother screeched, followed by an explosion and a resounding crash. Ron and Harry exchanged looks before barreling down the stairs of The Burrow.
When Ron got to the kitchen, he saw his mum with her wand drawn, the kitchen window in shards, and three harried looking people running across the front lawn. She was shooting curse after curse at them, griping and murmuring under her breath.
"Mum?" Ron said cautiously, his back pressed against the wall so as to avoid whatever was causing her wrath.
"Those bloody journalists! They found a hole in the wards!" Molly shouted, casting another spell at them to get them off of her lawn. They must have seen Harry through the windows, because they had attempted to come back and were currently craning their necks for a glimpse or a shot.
Harry had lain incredibly low since the end of the war. He had every intention of joining the aurors, but first he wanted to relax, to fix up Grimmauld place, and to spend some time with Teddy. Ron couldn't blame him, but also couldn't help but feel like Harry seemed a little lonely and aimless. Ron himself was working at the Wheezes, helping George get back on his feet and making quite a handsome chunk of galleons in the process. He wrote Hermione at Hogwarts on occasion, but he was shite at letters and missed her terribly.
At least she was safe.
Ron and Harry moved to assist his mother in ridding the field of vermin. "No, Harry," Molly said, raising her hand behind her. "Let's not give them any more fodder. Why don't you floo Bill and get him over here to repair the hole?"
Harry immediately went into the living room as Ron cast expelling charms on the nearest bloke with a camera in his hand. He found their presence to be annoying of course, but getting rid of them was recreational. He always loved trying out his curse work on the leeches, enjoying the shocked looks on their faces as they were thrown out on their bums. Sure, it meant Ron's family was slandered as violent and arrogant in victory in The Prophet, but it was worth it to watch those buggers squirm.
Once the journalists were gone and Bill had arrived, his brother immediately began to work on repairing the wards. "It's going to take a couple of days, mates," Bill said, regretful.
Suddenly, Ron had a stroke of genius. Hogwarts' first Hogsmeade visit was coming up, and Ron could drop the seed in his mother's ear of he and Harry perhaps taking a room until the journalists died down. No one would know Harry was there, as Old Aberforth could definitely keep a secret for them. It was the perfect plan really. However, Ron had to swallow a lump in his throat at the thought of getting his own room, and spending time alone with Hermione in said room.
"Why don't Harry and I stay at Hogsmeade for the night, above Abe's pub?" Ron said, willing his voice not to squeak with nerves. He met his mother's eyes with what he hoped was the picture of calmness. She eyed him suspiciously, and tried to keep steady under her scrutiny. Finally, her shoulders seemed to lose some tension.
"I'll owl Aberforth and let him know to up his wards," Molly said, turning around and heading for the floo.
"It'll be nice to get away, maybe go up and visit the school," Harry said, shoving his hands in his pockets. He got a devious smirk on his face. "Isn't this a Hogsmeade weekend too? If I remember correctly, it's the first one of the year. I wonder if Hermione will feel suddenly tired and need to rest in our room."
Ron punched Harry in the arm, but it did nothing to help his blush. They turned and walked back upstairs. Aberforth said that if they wished, they may remain there for two nights under his wards, granted they could pay him for room and board. Ron thought that was brilliant, because then he could see Hermione first thing the next morning. When their luggage was banished to the Hogshead, Harry immediately kneeled in front of the floo.
"I just need to tell Andromeda where I'll be, in case she needs me," Harry said, slightly nervous. Teddy Lupin had become his life, and Harry was at Andromeda Tonks' house nearly every day to play with him, babysit him, and even take him out to secluded places where the press wouldn't hound them. Ron thought Harry had been a bit single minded, but didn't fault him much. After everything Harry had been through, he deserved a slightly more narrowed focus.
Say yes we live uncertainty
And disappointments have to be
And every day we might be facing more
There's only one thing here worth hoping for
Harry watched with slight amusement as Ron poured over the Marauder's Map for a moment before apparating away with a confused, helpless look on his face. He turned to Ginny and she grinned openly back at him.
"Man, I used to think the constant arguments were annoying, but I certainly missed the entertainment value," Ginny said, shaking her head slightly.
"There wasn't much of that while we were on the run," Harry said, remembering the one fight they had as more heart wrenching than irritating. Ginny turned to look at him sharply, a slight sting in her eyes.
"I'm sorry I didn't…that I wouldn't wait for you," Ginny whispered, bravely maintaining her eye contact with him.
"It's okay, Ginny. I'm being honest when I say that," Harry said, putting a hand on her back.
"Hey, listen, since Ron wanted me to be scarce and leave the room free," Harry started.
"Ugh! Spare me," She said, making retching noises.
"Ha! Well, anyway, did you want to get some drinks at The Three Broomsticks?" He said, still grinning earnestly.
"Oh…ummm," She started, her face beginning to blush.
"Just as friends, of course!" Harry added hastily
"Oh of course," Ginny answered. "I'd love to. It's just that Neville is due back from the greenhouses soon, and we wanted to spend some alone time together." Her face was mimicking Ron's trademark blush.
"Okay. Well can you two do me a favor? None of the press knows I'm here, but if you happen to see someone, just send me a patronus," Harry said as he walked away. She nodded and waved.
Harry sauntered down the well-worn path that led from Hogsmeade back to Hogwarts. He was utterly lonely and the thought disturbed him beyond anything else that crossed his mind. He had spent the months after the war doting on Teddy and rebuilding Grimmauld Place. He even discussed joining the aurors with Kingsley (the interim Minister of Magic), but Kingsley had wanted Harry to rest a few more months. Harry could see the wisdom in that decision, but he was restless.
Without a mission, without the ever present specter of death and fear, Harry had turned his reflections inward. What he found was unsettling. Even in the warm entanglement of the Weasley's, he still felt detached and without a purpose. He needed a project, something to distract his mind.
Just then, Harry heard a cry coming from the forbidden forest at the edge of the grounds. It was a faint and distant whimper, but he was certain he heard something. As the cries and groans became louder, Harry ran faster and faster. His muscles screamed in exertion, but he only paused to track the faint sounds. When he saw a flash of white skin in the distance under a large elm tree, he drew his wand and slowed his steps.
There was a wizard lying in a bloody heap of robes on the leaf-strewn ground. His hair was carelessly shaven, leaving bald patches interspersed with spikes of blonde. The exposed arms of the man showed bruises and slashes and swelled and gushed with every small movement. He let out another moan and a small, soft cry.
"Hello?" Harry whispered, wand still drawn.
Two cold, gray eyes captured his and Harry gasped. Even with the bruising and broken bones, Harry could recognize that face anywhere. Draco Malfoy's refined features were staring back at him through a cloud of pain.
"Fuck! " Harry yelled, dropping to his knees. "Fuck, Malfoy!"
"Help," He whispered, his throat gurgling.
"I'm shite at healing spells. I'm going to take you to Hagrid's, maybe he can get Madame Pomfrey," Harry said, casting a lightening charm on Malfoy and lifting him easily into his arms.
"Please! Don't let them get me!" Draco said, his eyes unfocused and panicked.
"I won't," Harry whispered; fear blooming in his own chest.
Draco put his good arm around Harry's neck, letting his other one fall slack at his side. "Why is it always you, Potter?" he whispered before his eyes closed and his head lolled back.