It was surreal. He could have said no. He should have said no. Because it would have been so easy. Just a simple, one syllable word. It would have been the right thing to do. It's what James and Lily would have wanted. No, demanded. And all it would have taken was a slight inflection of his voice. No.
But those vivid green eyes had looked up at him. Wanting, no, demanding his full and undivided attention. And beneath that aggression and the confidence, there was a vulnerability that was kept hidden away. And he could feel it, sense it, maybe even touch it. And it was those vivid green eyes that kept him from saying no.
He felt trapped by the fifteen year old boy, but maybe that was because said boy had him backed against the wall. With only a split second's hesitation, the boy leaned up on his toes and pressed his lips against the older man's. And he should have said no. He should have pushed back instead of kissing back. Instead of pushing back, he placed his elbows on the teen's shoulders and cradled his head, ensuring that the kiss he was going to hell for was at least a kiss worth going to hell for. And it was.
And so was the kiss after that, the one that happened while they were going up the stairs. And when that one stopped the next one started with him backed against his own door. And then the next one when he was in bed on his back, the green eyed teen straddling his waist. And it was all so hot, heavy, intense. And he felt the teen's hips roll against his, followed quickly by a peck to his lips. Sweet. Innocent. He really should have stopped it there because it was so wrong, but then those hips rolled again and it was so right. And within an embarrassingly short amount of time, the friction and heat and pressure coming from the small frame on top of him got to be too much. And before he knew it, he was watching the younger man's face contort into one of torment and ecstasy. His toes curled and then it was over.
He felt the teen slump next to him on the bed, one leg thrown carelessly, possessively, across his. It was all so surreal. The boy, the winter moon, the sex. The steady breath coming from the head next to him on the shared pillow, tickling his ear as he tried to sleep. The fact that he actually thought that he would be getting sleep. None of it seemed real. And then the moon was shining in and lighting up his face, that face that belonged to the strange, sweet, innocent boy that was sleeping peacefully next to him. And he thought the boy beautiful.
The crisp winter wind blew through the house, waking him up to find himself half buried beneath the smaller teen who was currently clutching his shirt. He watched the boy's face as it crumpled before those green eyes shot open. And he thought that maybe he had seen tears swimming, but maybe it was just the moonlight. He watched the boy sit up quickly, gathering the scattered clothes, pulling on a jumper and a pair of thick, wool socks. He watched as the teen's hands shook the entire time. And he said nothing.
He waited twenty minutes before getting up to find the boy. And it took him another ten minutes before he found what he was looking for, sitting on the roof top. He watched as the teen performed a muggle magic trick, palming a silver coin and then "taking" it from the moon, as though the boy were actually taking the moon from the sky. He would have given him the moon if he could.
"You'll catch a cold, you know," he started, unsure of how one talks to their godson after sharing a bed together. "And Molly will probably have my head if you do."
The cold wind nipped at his skin, just like the boy sitting before him had, as he went to sit next to him. He watched as the teen practiced his trick again, this time mastering it flawlessly.
Their arms were barely grazing. Silence. The silver moon reflected in those green eyes. Those goddamned green eyes that were fiery and angry and passionate and far too old for such a young face. He heard silence, and then a small voice.
"It's funny, you know. That I can use my wand to do this dumb old trick. And yet it seems far more magical to do it the muggle way. It kind of makes you wonder, doesn't it?"
But it wasn't a question that needed to be answered. And he knew that.
The teen ran a hand through the older man's hair, smiley fondly down upon him. A chaste kiss was bestowed on his lips with a definite promise of more to come, and then he watched the teen crawl back inside through the window. And he was alone again.
And yet, despite the harsh wind that whipped his hair around like an angry lover, he knew that this alone was only temporary. And that there was a beautiful young man in his bed, waiting to be ravished, to love, to be loved. Waiting to make their lives more bearable, more live-able. Perhaps, waiting to make the two of them happier. And he knew that he should have said no. That he still should say no. But he doesn't. And he knew that he never would. Because maybe they deserved each other, with their suffering and caring and accepting of all the cruel, horrible things in the world. It was perfectly wrong and perfectly surreal that in the end, it just ended up being perfect.
It was like plucking coins from the sky: seemingly impossible, but when he believed in it, something truly magical.