A note about this before we begin. I started this 2011/2012 and it's been a slow trudge and slog to the end. This is mostly due to my terrible habit of dropping it when I don't have any motivation/inspiration/time/ideas or simply don't want to.
This is the longest thing I've ever written, and its in chapter form simply for ease of reading. It was not supposed to be in chapters; it was supposed to be a mammoth one-shot of pining and smut but it was 'suggested' that I put it up in chapter form, so here it is.
So read on, and let me know if you've enjoyed these emotionally constipated idiots fall in love.
The air was hot and thick, oppressive in the dark room that Harry shared with Ron. There was no fan and apparently, the adult wizards hadn't thought to use climate control charms on the rooms. He sighed and tried to go to sleep, but couldn't. Ron's snoring was too loud and it practically rattled his bed frame, and unlike in Hogwarts, Harry couldn't cast a silenceio.
Harry grunted, and got up to turn Ron onto his side, his friend, still asleep, was instantly silent and breathing quietly. Harry went back to his bed and tried to go back to sleep, but then the mattress was lumpy. Harry squirmed until he got into a comfortable position; grunted slightly then ripped off the choking pyjamas, stripping down until he was going commando. Harry sighed in relief, moved to a cooler part of his pillow, and closed his eyes.
Ten minutes later, he was awake with a muffled yell, struggling for oxygen in the heavy air of the room. It was Cedric again, his once-boyfriend, eyes blank and dead on the floor, his face maggot ridden and rotting away, as thousands of insects bit chunks out of Harry's flesh. Harry gasped and ran his hands over his face, feeling the sweat under his fingers. A heavy noise thwumped in the darkness as he flung himself back on his pillow. Ron grunted and began to snore again.
At least it wasn't Sirius this time, thought Harry hopelessly.
He stared up at the dark ceiling, and then gave sleep up as a bad job, deciding instead to seek the cool. He was thirsty anyway. As he groped for his glasses on the bedside table, he checked his watch; 12:00 it read on the slim glowing hands. Harry pulled on the pair of black pyjama pants, for modesty's sake, and left the room.
The hallways were dark, but there was enough light coming in through the dingy, dirty windows for Harry to make his way without killing himself in the night.
He slipped silently down the stairs, and sighed with instant relief. The kitchen level of Grimmauld Place was one of the coolest in the house, freezing in winter, but reasonably okay in the oppressive heat of summer, even though it was a little dank and clammy. He entered the kitchen with the intention of getting himself a drink and found that someone had beaten him to it, a figure sitting before the still smouldering fire. Harry hesitated, but decided that he was thirsty enough to brave any questions of 'are you okay Harry, do you want to talk, it's okay to feel upset for Sirius, how do you feel, do you want to talk about Sirius?' He clenched a fist in annoyance before shoving the badgering questions to the back of his mind.
Harry padded into the kitchen; the smouldering fire gave a little heat off, enough to dry the room but not enough to make the kitchen uncomfortably hot.
And anyway, thought Harry, it was better than his room.
Harry could now see that the figure staring thoughtfully into the fire and taking the occasional swig from a tall bottle had bright red hair, which could only mean that they were a Weasley. They were too big to be Molly or Ginny, Ron was asleep, the Twins were at their shop, he didn't think they were Arthur or Percy either. However, the figure was vaguely familiar, so it was either one of Ron's oldest brothers, Bill or Charlie.
'Hi.' Harry said as he poured himself a glass of water.
The man turned in his seat, startled, obviously not having noticed Harry coming in. When Harry saw the man's face, he was able to put a name and remember where he'd seen the man.
"Oh. Hey Harry." Charlie said, twisting his neck to get a better look at Harry.
"Sorry to disturb you." Harry said to the man that he'd only met a couple of times earlier, once at the quidditch world cup and another at the ill-fated tri-wizard tournament.
'Nah, that's alright. '' said Charlie.
"Cheers. Nice to see you again." he said, taking a sip of his water. "Ron and Ginny will be happy."
Charlie nodded amiably. "Nice to see you too Harry. And yes." He added with a fond smile, "No doubt mum will be too."
Harry nodded in return and continued to drink his water. He'd just put his cup away and was about to walk out when Charlie said, "Want some?" and gestured to the bottle and motioned with his head to the chair beside him.
Harry hesitated, teetering on the brink of what he knew he should and should not do. His friends would tell to go back to bed. Sirius would say...
"Why the hell not?" Harry said, shrugging lightly in a devil-may-care manner, and took the offered bottle. He sat down into the chair before the low fire, pouring some into the conjured glass that Charlie passed him.
"Just don't tell my mother." Charlie said seriously, "She'd flip if she knew that I'd let someone underage drink."
Harry could feel his lips twitch into a grin, the first he had given in a long time. "I like her screaming as much as you do. I'd rather not have my eardrums suffer the abuse, if it's all the same to you." He passed the bottle back.
Charlie grinned wryly at this and took a swig of his drink, "Good enough for me."
Harry sniffed cautiously at his drink, trying to see if he could tell what it was made of. The liquid in his glass was a clear pinkish-gold that shimmered slightly, Harry could smell mint and strawberries. He frowned and took a sip, raising his eyebrows at the taste. It was bubbly, deliciously so, and it danced on his tongue, delightfully cool. He didn't know how it was possible, but he could taste or was it feel; autumn stars, crisp winter snow, mint, strawberries, summer fruits, a spring breeze, the sun and something else. The something else that remained Harry of things that, that - of things he couldn't name, but knew, vaguely that he'd had before. It tasted like happiness, if that was what happiness tasted like. It was deliciously fruity. He rolled the taste around his tongue and swallowed, his throat a comet tail of burning. The effect was instantaneous; the alcohol lit a gold glow in his stomach, which travelled to fill every fire of his being with a kind of sparkling fire, bubbly and buoyant.
After he'd gotten over the taste and the fact that he felt as if someone had filled him full of gold and bubbles, he asked, "What is this stuff?"
Charlie grinned at him. "It's good isn't it? I got a taste for it in Australia, when I was with a team looking for Bunyips; we had found what we were looking for early, so we spent a few days in Sydney. It's too hot to drink Firewhisky or Butterbeer there, and the group I was with were massive party animals, so they all drank this.' He shrugged; reached for his wand and summoned himself a glass like the one he had given Harry. He poured himself a drink before setting the bottle down on the floor.
"Really, don't tell my mother I let you drink this. This stuff may seem lightweight, but it's not. A mate once likened it to an overpowered cheering charm in bottle form."
Harry nodded in understanding. "What's it called?" he said, taking another sip and leaning back in his chair, relaxing in the companionable air the Charlie seemed create without thinking.
"Liquid Season." Said Charlie. "You noticed how it glitters, well, an interesting side effect is that if you have lot of it, you begin to sparkle. It's really quite pretty, but also very funny if you and someone else are drunk, and you're both glittering and sparkling like a muggle disco ball covered in fairy dust with an internal Lumos applied. Of course, that only happens when you have way too much to drink, otherwise the effects rather subtle. Like this, see." Here Charlie held up his arm to the fire light and Harry could see that he indeed did sparkle lightly. He supposed that it came along with that gold, bubbly, glow.
"One time," Charlie grinned widely with fond reminiscence, "We'd been at a Wizarding club, and one of the girls, an Australian called Amy, had drunk way too much Liquid Season. And of course, drunk and cheery as hell, we decided that it would be a really good idea to walk back to the apartment. We thought, yeah, it'd be all right, it's late, no muggles will see us and it's a bad idea to apperate anyway. So we decided to walk. There we were, two in the morning, still dark, walking in the city, her glowing and glittering insanely, when we come across these muggles, our age and I swear the look on their faces." Charlie laughed gaily, "Course they was drunk, but that only made it funnier. They take one look at her and burst out laughing as if it's the funniest thing they've seen in ages, and then one of them goes, 'Shit man! I'm so high right now! I swear the sun's coming out of her fucking skin! Best trip ever!' Then he collapses on top of his friends while their drunker than drunk and we're laughing hysterically and hightailing it up the road when the drunken guy is being supported by his friends and going 'Come back shiny girl! I love you! Best trip ever! Sparkly come back here!' and their all pissing themselves as their all high as hell, and we're going up the road laughing our arses off. Amy didn't stop sparkling for two days." Charlie was laughing and by then, Harry couldn't help laughing along with him.
He couldn't help it, the story was funny, funnier with the buoyant effects of the Liquid Season and Charlie's laugh was as infectious as he'd ever heard.
"Hey Charlie?' Harry said after he'd recovered and poured himself another glass, morning hangover be damned; happiness and careless laughter was rare at the moment, he'd take what he could get. "You got any more interesting stories?"
Charlie laughed and knocked back another drink. "I've forgotten more stories than you can remember! Okay, there was this one time when I was in Romania..."
By the time the clock rolled to one in the morning, Harry and Charlies were now quite drunk, both obviously glowing, rolling in their chairs and laughing. It was quite a miracle that they hadn't woken anyone up, let alone Mrs Black's crazy portrait.
"I suppose." Said Harry suddenly, 'That I've got to thank You-Know-Who, for giving' me this." Here he leaned forward to reveal the lighting scar on his forehead. "It means that I can pull all the birds, because I've got a scar, and chicks love scars."
Charlie pulled himself up and laughed. "You call that a scar? That's a scratch, barely a mark. These, my friend, are scars." Charlie stood and pulled off his shirt and dropped it on the floor, to reveal the mess of scars that covered his body from all the times he'd been burnt, bitten, or harmed by his dragons. "And if that's not enough to satisfy you, check these out, but don't tell my mother."
He turned to show Harry the pair of tattooed silver dragon wings that spanned his back; they shifted on his skin and unfurled, flapping about in an ungainly manner, mimicking their owners' drunk state. As they flapped, a mess of sparkles erupted like little dust clouds. The tattoo's themselves did not sparkle and Harry found it amusing, chortling at the state of Charlie's back.
Charlie then moved show off the Griffin and Dragon that shifted on his chest in a circle and then collapsed in a heap, apparently fast asleep. He pointed out the tree of life on his shoulder nestled between the widely spaced claw scars from a young baby dragon, which shifted and waved its branches in a wind visible only by the gusts of sparkles that it blew about. Charlie grinned and pulled his faded jeans down lower on his hips to revel the fiery phoenix that flew there.
"Wizarding Tattoo's." Charlie explained, "They're a bit like Wizarding photographs except some of have their own personality," here he pointed to the griffin, and the dragon, "while others mimic their owners, like the wings or my phoenix. Others just copy natural movements, such as the tree. Depends on how many Galleons you pay. I freeze them if I'm around muggles or mum, but otherwise, aside from the wings and the tree, they're pretty much allowed to go where ever. You know how chicks feel about scars and tattoos, and if that isn't enough, I'm packing muscle, and Bitches love muscle." Charlie grinned broadly and stretched, emphasising his point.
Harry looked at Charlie with drunken respect in his eyes. "Charlie Weasley, let it be said that I am experiencing a severe case of man-envy. You beast."
"Yeah. I know." Said Charlie, ego sufficiently boosted, as he sat down and took another swig of his drink.
"But you want to know something?" Said Harry, as he leaned closer and his drink tilted in his glass. "The most entertaining thing is that chicks can throw themselves naked and covered in chocolate sauce, but it won't do a thing for me because I play for an entirely different Quidditch team."
There was a sudden intensity in Charlie's blue eyes; they sharpened dangerously as he began to grin like the Cheshire cat.
"Well Harry," Said Charlie, leaning forward towards the wickedly smiling teen, "You want to know something really, really interesting?"
"Yeah." Said Harry, leaning a little closer, drink now seriously endangered.
"I'll take anyone's players, and apparently, wizards love what I've got just as much as witches. Do you?"
Harry laughed. His bright green eyes were mischievous as he placed a finger on Charlie's collarbone and whispered in his ear. "I think you'd look really good with a stag there. Really, really good."
Charlie stilled, breathing low and rough, and Harry pulled back, wondering, as much as he could in his cheerfully drunken state, whether he'd gone too far.
"Fuck." Breathed Charlie, his blue eyes were as intense as they'd ever been. "You are too much, Harry Potter. Far too much."
Harry swallowed dryly, a shot of unease shooting through him and licked his lips nervously as Charlie started to slowly and deliberately lean closer to him. Harry couldn't move; he was frozen to the spot, his mind now racing with the liquid Season running in his veins and under his skin. The smell of Charlie was about him; Broomstick polish, treacle tart, and something else that he couldn't put his finger on, and all the while Charlie was leaning closer.
And then Charlies mouth was on Harry's lips with a fire that made Harry respond instinctively, his arms coming up to encircle Charlie's neck and his hands pushing in Charlie's thick red hair. Charlie's strong hands were caressing Harry's face, his thumb rubbing up and down Harry's jaw firmly. Charlie tasted like the drink, summer and strawberries, winter, autumn, spring. He tasted of happiness and that something. The something Harry couldn't name and couldn't really remember when or where he'd had it before, but he thought that he was getting close. He reciprocated the kiss eagerly, parting his lips to allow Charlie access and let their tongues twine together.
The kitchen fire, built up since they'd started drinking, gilded their skin golden, highlighting the shimmer and opalescent swirls of gold glitter moving under their skin.
Harry was pushed up against to wall, gasping breathily as Charlie ran his hands with over Harry's body with abandon. His mouth was on Harry's neck, nipping, biting, sucking, and Harry was powerless, moaning, gasping. He was a firestorm of emotion, an animal of lust; hands fisted in Charlie's hair, neck tilted back, hissing and gasping with every changing sensation.
Somewhere between attacking nips, sucks and kisses, Charlie gasped out, barely coherent, "We should stop, I should stop."
"I don't want to stop." Said Harry, his voice low and unsteady as he bent his head to Charlie's collarbone, "Do you?" he asked, before sucking firmly on the spot he pointed out before.
The deep, animal groan that Charlie issued shot straight to Harry's groin.
"No." Charlie growled, lifting Harry up and mashing him against the wall. Harry's back hurt from this treatment, but he didn't care, he was too busy, legs around Charlie's waist and mouth being firmly and fiercely attacked, to complain.
Then suddenly, the wall was gone from behind Harry's back as Charlie supported Harry's full weight in his arms, Harry's legs clasped firmly around Charlie's waist. They were moaning, hissing, groaning, into each other's mouths, necks and skin. Harry's hands were crawling over Charlie's back and shoulders, tracing the lines where his tattooed wings flapped and shifted, half spread. Charlie's arms wrapped around Harry, supporting him, hands burning with heat.
Charlie stumbled up stairs, still supporting Harry, shoving his way into the guest room that he'd been given.
It was only until he'd flung Harry onto the bed after casting a wandless muffliato, and locking the doors with magic, did some clarity return to him as he realised the insane and dangerous thing that he, they, were doing.
"Shit Harry." He panted, trapping the teen on the bed beneath him, trying to pull away while at the same time being so reluctant to do so. "We shouldn't be doing this. You're not of age. We're both drunk. This is a bad idea. We should stop." Charlie attempted to regain some sanity, to try and a control the situation, to stop his self from doing what he wanted most of all, but knew he shouldn't do.
Harry reached up and clasped both his hands around the man's neck, pulling himself up a little. He stared up at Charlie seriously, green eye's clear despite the pupils blown with lust. "I'm hardly a child Charlie, not after everything. I know what I want even drunk, perhaps even more when I'm drunk. And I want this, and I'll take this for myself, not for you, not for anyone." He leaned forward even more, and gently, oh so gently, let his lips caress Charlie's. Charlie still tasted like something Harry didn't know, but was so, so close to naming and remembering. "I want you Charlie. I want this. And I'll take it, for me."
There was a warring light in Charlie's eyes; the internal struggle between doing the correct thing by stopping what they were doing, and doing something that the teen might regret in the morning – something that Charlie, personally, would regret only from the repercussions. Whatever he was, Charlie was not a paedophile. But what they were doing didn't have a taint of wrong, the feeling of repulse that Charlie would get after hearing stories of paedophilia on the news. Perhaps Harry was right, he may be underage, but he was not a child. And want was nagging at Charlie because Harry's eyes were so green. Perhaps it had been the drink that played across Harry's skin with its shimmer and the light glowing from their bodies, but Harry was beautiful in the low light, so beautiful, and the need in the depths of his green eyes made the decision for Charlie.
Charlie swallowed heavily and looked into Harry's clear green eyes, "Okay. But you will tell me if you want to stop and I'll back off right away. Understand?"
"Yes. I will, I do."
"Good. If I'm too rough, tell me. I'll try to be gentle as I can, but I... make no promises."
A single nod of acceptance was all Charlie got before he allowed himself to lay Harry back on the bed, carefully remove his glasses and slowly, oh so slowly, but with an intensity that showed in every breath and move, began to kiss, lick and touch; Harry reciprocating where he could in kind, although his position made it difficult.
The heat had been building and the tango beginning to climb back to its previous tempo, but still Charlie refused to do anything more than teasing compared to what they'd been doing in the kitchen. Charlie was being careful, he was being gentle. Nevertheless, his lust, so like the dragons he tamed (wild, fierce and tinged with fire), had begun to climb again and it growled deeply for more. It was the flush of red over Harry's body, his breathy moans as Charlie ran his hands down Harry's side, the way he wrapped his arms around Charlie's body and gripped when Charlie nibbled on his earlobe, the way his lips parted wantonly all pink and willing. Charlie found himself moving faster, biting harder, nipping and sucking hard enough to bruise, mark and hurt. But every time he did, there was no yelp of pain, just low moans, and groans, breathy pants and "God, Charlie. Fuck. Ah!" as Harry took what Charlie gave.
"Fuck Harry." Charlie growled. "You. Are too fucking much." He bit down on one of Harry's nipples and sucked harshly, the shot of pain-pleasure that ran through Harry made him gasp breathily and arch into Charlie, bumping their cocks together in a way that left Charlie in no doubt about how hard his companion was.
"Shit." Charlie breathed, as the animal lust in him so thinly restrained, broke. "Enough fucking foreplay." He shoved Harry's pyjama pants down and flung them off the bed, pleased by the lack of briefs or boxers there. Harry gave a shiver of delight at the sensation as Charlie twirled his fingers around the tight ring of muscle. Despite the heat between his legs and the desire that raged through him, Charlie took the time to cast a preventative charm that would stop the transmitting of any disease and to stretch Harry properly with the aid of a preparation charm. It would still hurt, just not as much.
When Charlie finally slid into Harry, he hissed a cuss through his teeth as Harry gave an echoing groan.
Fuck. He was so tight.
The heat around him and a base desire shouted for him to pound the teen into the mattress and have Harry come screaming Charlie's name. But Charlie knew that he couldn't do that, knew that he was already hurting Harry. Hell, he'd barely taken the time to use the preparation spell and to stretch Harry out, and he was usually such an attentive lover. Charlie forced himself to slow down, to set a rhythm that would be a burning salsa that licked the pair with waves of all consuming heat. He'd wanted pleasure, pure selfish pleasure; but he also took pride in his attentiveness as a partner and wanted for Harry to enjoy the experience as well. But he knew it would only happen if he made it into a passionate dance of fucking and movement, heat, fire, lust; infernos of the most intense pleasure.
But damn if the youth was tight as fuck, and this heat was getting to him, and the pressure was burning. Still he forced himself to drag out agonisingly slow and drive in deep and deliberate, making sure to hit that knot of nerves every time even as he curled his hand around Harry's cock. Judging from the way that Harry had been making increasingly frenzied sounds and movements of gratification, it was obvious that the Charlie Weasley prowess was working its magic. He could hear the stuttering breaths as Harry came closer and closer to coming. Charlie began to lose the rhythm he'd built because he needed this pleasure now. He began to thrust faster and harder, hard enough to hurt, because the thought of Harry coming undone because of Charlie was too damn much.
There was a yell, muffled by Charlie's flesh as Harry sunk his teeth into the man's shoulder and raked his nails across Charlie's broad back in an effort to ride the waves upon waves of pleasure. It was all Harry could do to hold himself together; live wire was running under his skin, undoing him, and he shuddered violently. Pleasure made him an animal, a creature of emotion. For one moment, one moment where he had lost his self in ecstasy, he felt free, joyful, unburdened by everything. Unworried by thoughts of Voldemort, of Sirius, of Cedric, of all the things that happened and were about to happen. His mind was a blinding, white noise of rapturous sensation. He was alive in that moment.
For Charlie – there was a roar caught up in his chest, and as always in that moment, he felt like the king of everything. He was the one who has given such pleasure, he was the one who has turned his partner into a moaning animal of emotion, he has done this, and Charlie felt powerful. For a moment, a single moment, he'd made Harry forget his fears and worries; given Harry such an intense shot, a body, full of pleasure. He, Charlie, is the dragon roaring fiercely; overcome by the wild and heady feeling of being able to make Harry create such sweet sounds, to give and surrender everything in a single moment. Mine, Charlie thought as he collapsed, spent, this stag is mine.
They lay where they were for a moment, before Charlie pulled out of Harry with trembling limbs. He took Harry's lips in his own, kissing him so sweetly, it was like chocolate and mangos in the middle of the night. Charlie still tasted like that something, the something that Harry thought he could remember and now name. The after-glow bathed them in a tangible gold light. Although that may have been just the drink, but whatever it was, it was warm, it was sweet, and it was right.
Sleep called to the pair gently with its siren song, and for a moment in that afterglow, Harry was terrified about dreaming of Cedric, or Sirius, or Voldemort. But by then, Charlie had gathered him up and pulled the duvet over them, Harry drawn into the warm, solid, circle of Charlie's body. It was then that Harry knew that for tonight, the dreams would not come. It wasn't long before they were both asleep, breaths evened out to the long and steady inhale exhale of slumber.
It is probably just as well that no one saw a slightly limping Harry sneak out of Charlie's room in the morning, leaving the still softly sleeping man, to have a shower and go to breakfast.
"Hey Harry." Ron mumbled with his head down over his bacon and eggs. "You weren't in our room this morning."
"I'd gotten up early to go to have a shower before everyone else." Harry lied and slid gratefully into his chair, helping himself to the food on the table.
"Hey Harry." Ron said, finally looking up, "You do realise that you're sparkling right?"
"Um, Yes." Said Harry, and quickly began to invent a lie. "I was, err, thirsty last night, so I went down to the kitchen to get a glass of water, but err, there was on already on the counter, so I drank that one, and um, the twins must have left that because it, well, urr, it made me sparkly." The lie, as choppy as it was, seemed to be believable to Ron, as he accepted it without question.
"Fred and George are always leaving their test products around. I wonder how long it'll last, and when it will be out. 'Cuse I want some if they're selling it. I'd love to get the Ferret with some of that. Just imagine. Draco Malfoy, the amazing sparkling git." Ron laughed, and Harry joined in half-heartedly. "Anyway. Mum's told us that my brother Charlie arrived late last night, apparently he had some news for the Order, so he's here today." Ron grinned happily. As much as he felt overshadowed by his brothers at some times, he still loved them, and it was rare that he could see Charlie due to his devotion to his job and the cost of the international portkey.
Harry tried to seem a little surprised and interested by this. "Cool. I wonder what the message is."
Ron shrugged again and shovelled more food into his mouth. "I dunno."
Ginny and Hermione soon joined them and they ate their food in a relatively peaceful quiet. After one or two questions about why Harry was sparkling, to which he reiterated the excuse he gave Ron, which was given a disapproving shake of the head by Hermione and a smile and a laugh by Ginny. They were nearly finished when a bare-chested Charlie walked down the stairs and he was gleefully greeted by Ron and Ginny. Hermione had her head buried in a small novel and only looked up once to see who it was, smiled to be polite, then buried her head in the pages again.
"But Charlie," Said Ginny, confused. "Why are you sparkling too?"
Harry had to hide his grin with a hasty gulp of pumpkin juice. "Fred and George got to you too?" He said, the laugh in his voice barely concealed. "It must have been something we drank."
There was a hint of mischief in Harry's green eyes and Charlie grinned crookedly, acknowledging the shared and hidden joke. "Yeah, must have been something we drank." He said, running a hand through his damp hair, unintentionally showing off his muscles, scars and shifting tattoos. Charlie must have used a glamour charm on the marks that had been inflicted on him, as Harry couldn't see anything that pointed to a night of wild sex.
"Mum around?" Charlie asked.
Ron shook his head and took a mouthful of eggs. "Nopf- shesh out. Shopfhing."
"Cool." Charlie said, taking a seat at the table. "I don't really want her yelling at me at nine in the morning. 'Tattoos! Charlie, you look so uncivilized. Oh! I can understand the dragons, and the scars, but, Tattoos! I never raised you like that! You are going to get those spelled off right this instant young man! I never – In all my years!' " Charlie snorted as he mimicked his mother's voice and shook his head. "Pass the mushrooms Ginny."
"I can't wait 'till I'm old enough to get one." Ron said enviously.
Charlie smirked. "Hurt like hell through. Actually," he said, looking straight at Harry. "I'm thinking of getting another one. A stag. Right on my collar bone, just here." He tapped the place where Harry had touched the night before. "I'd think that'd look good. What do you think Harry?" he asked, with a mimic of his Cheshire cat grin he'd sported the night before.
Harry could feel a red flush burn over his cheeks as he ducked his head and hid his crooked grin behind a glass of pumpkin juice. "I think that would look really good."
Charlie threw back his head and laughed joyfully; Ron, Hermione and Ginny were left feeling as if they'd missed something rather important as Harry and Charlie busied their selves with food, both sporting crooked smiles.
Later when more of the residents of the house had come down for breakfast, Harry muttered something about feeding Buckbeak and disappeared up the stairs, with a slight unconscious glance in Charlie's direction. Charlie, with an excuse of his own and a tiny frown on his face, followed.
It took Charlie a few lucky guesses to find Harry, who was indeed feeding Buckbeak. The Hippogriff turned a hot eye on Charlie when the man entered the room. Charlie bowed respectfully the creature and after a moment, Buckbeak did the same. The Hippogriff turned back to Harry who continued to throw rats until they were all gone. Charlie took a seat and waited for Harry to finish, stretching his legs out before him. His bare feet sparkled slightly, glowing gold, although the effect was fading slightly, for which Charlie could only be glad. For while Ron, Ginny, Hermione and some of the older wizards, including his mother and father, did not know the effects of the alcohol, there were certainly those who did. Plus, he couldn't count on the Twins not accidently blowing the cover story Harry had created, although they were good at catching such things. It was well enough that the effect of the Liquid Season was abating.
Harry took a seat next to Charlie when he was done feeding Buckbeak rats. Charlie did not miss Harry's slight limp and was remorseful for it.
"I'm sorry if I was too hard on you last night. I didn't mean to lose control; I didn't mean to hurt you as much as I did."
Harry shrugged one shoulder, "It was what I needed; I doubt you could have been any less rough with me than if you'd made a wizarding oath."
Charlie hesitated, opening his mouth to apologise again when Harry stopped him, saying flatly, "It was what I wanted, it was what I needed."
"Still..." Charlie said as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees and hands clasped loosely, guilt still tugging at him.
Harry shook his head, saying softly, "You did me a favour last night; you gave me the chance to forget about being the Boy-Who-Lived, about Sirius, about everything. You didn't treat me like a child and afterwards I felt ... at peace. I haven't felt like that in a long time. You gave me a gift Charlie, don't apologise for it."
Charlie glanced at the young man beside him out of the corner of his eye. Harry was looking up at the ceiling, leaning back on his hands.
Charlie hesitated slightly, wondering if he should ask his next question, there was something about the way Harry said 'It was what I needed' that niggled at him. "Harry, about ... last night..." Harry glanced at Charlie inquiringly as the man licked dry lips and continued, "Last night... it... it wasn't your first was it?" It was not a question but a statement. Harry looked at him considering, then eventually shook his head.
"No." He said, "You weren't my first."
There was silence in the room, punctuated by Buckbeak as he noisily began to disembowel and behead a cushion, feathers exploding in small puffs. At first it seemed like Harry was not going to be any more forthcoming, but Charlie waited in silence, well versed in the art of listening. Finally Harry continued, the words tumbling out as if they'd been damned behind wards and concrete walls for a long time.
"No one knew about it, about us. It's not exactly the type of thing you tell people, not if you're a fourth year and they're a seventh year. Not if you're both male. Not if you're The Boy Who Lived and he's Hufflepuff's poster boy. Not if you're both Tri-Wizard contestants - especially not if you're both Tri-wizard contestants."
Charlie frowned lightly to himself, working out who Harry was talking about: Hufflepuff, Tri-wizard champion... "Cedric Diggory?" He asked, with a slight twinge of disbelief that Harry didn't notice.
The teen nodded and continued. "Cedric showed me parts of myself that I had never known before. He was the one who opened my eyes and made me realise part of who I was. He saw it in me before I even knew it myself. To this day, I've still no idea how. The first time was in the prefect's bathroom, he'd asked to meet me there, to say thank you for telling him about the dragons. I think he only intended to say 'thank you', and leave it at that. Of course, things are never that simple. Next thing I knew, we were interchanging saliva and his hand was around our cocks. And perhaps I shouldn't have let it happen so fast, the day after I was kicking myself; I was embarrassed and angry that I done that. It wasn't sex, sure, but it was sexual – hell, I'd never even kissed a girl before- and I was uneasy about my sexuality - even through the night in the prefect's bathroom had made a few things confusingly clear. The fact it felt good, the fact it felt right and the fact that I wanted to do it again. I wanted Cedric to do it again. "
Charlie bit his lip as Harry gave a small laugh, only slightly bitter, shook his head and continued. "I shouldn't have worried about the first part through; Ced was a Hufflepuff to the bone. He wasn't the type to have one-night flings, when he did things, he thought about it and he meant it. He wasn't the type to do something without first having meant it. He tried to find me the day after; I avoided him. A day later, he sent me a note asking me to me him in the room of requirement. He wrote, Please, before his name. What could I do but obey? When I walked in, he kissed me-. It wasn't the kind of kiss you give when you only wanted a scratched itch. Although he'd only wanted to talk at first, we ended up repeating what we'd done in the bathroom." Harry hesitated and continued, "We had sex for the first time after the second task."
Charlie was struck by a bitter thread of jealously as Harry frowned and said, "It was probably just as well that I had the tournament to use a shield as to why I was so distracted, and as to why I went to so many 'practice sessions'. "
Harry sighed and Charlie could hear the loss in that sigh. "Even though there was the tournament, and Ron wasn't speaking to me, and half the school was against me, I was still happy, because Cedric was there for me, and I for him. I know that I was young for it; I was, after all, only fourteen while Ced was seventeen, but I was happy." There was a long and stretched silence, heavy and weighty in the room. When Harry spoke again, his voice was rough and unsteady.
"On the night before the third task, Cedric came to me, he sent a patronus into my room when all of my roommates were asleep – I was awake. Couldn't sleep. The patronus, it was a badger, and it asked me come to him in the room of requirement, Please. We had sex for the final time that night, and there was a raw desperation in him, when he kissed there was this intensity, even after we had both climaxed. He'd hugged me, held me tight to him, so tight it had almost hurt. I was tired, sleepy, I said. Yeah, I love you too. Go to sleep. We'll have tonight to cuddle, after the task is over." Harry laughed bitterly, and Charlie flinched at the sound of it. "I think he knew that there wasn't going to be a 'tonight' not for him, not for us. He came to me just before the task, kissed me so fiercely, so desperately. I said Ced, I love you, but let's do this later, after the task. Tonight. Cedric had shaken his head and said No. There is no tonight. But before I could ask what he meant we were called to the start. And then, there was no chance. In the maze... we agreed to not be anything other than competitors, I would have left him to the vines... but he yelled my name. He looked so scared that I just couldn't. We decided to take the cup for the school, to both win it. But the cup was a portkey. In that graveyard, my scar started hurting; I knew that it couldn't mean anything good. It meant that Voldemort was there, so I told him to get back to the cup, but he wouldn't leave me. He wouldn't have died, but he kept glancing at me, worried for me. He'd been looking at me when Wormtail killed him. The last thing he'd seen was me, that final grip of his eyes; they were as green as mine."
A gasp rasps from Harry, and Charlie was locked in place at the sound of it. "When the Priori Incantatem happened, the ghosts of all the people Voldemort had killed started coming out of his wands. Cedric was first. He said Hold on Harry, don't let go. I love you. My father had been next, then my mother. They told me to hold on, that they would buy me some time. The last thing that Cedric said to me before I broke the connection was Take my body back to my parents. I love you Harry. I love you. Live Harry." Harry gave another gasp, an heave of air, "And then – and then he said Please."
Sobs wracked him, ugly heaving sobs of a wound lanced for the first time and Harry let himself breakdown completely.
He felt himself gathered into Charlie's soothing embrace, something only Cedric had ever done. At first, he resisted, but Charlie was crooning gently into his hair, and Charlie felt safe in that moment. He melted into the warmth, to the muscles of Charlie's chest and the strength in his arms, the way his hands ran up and down the curve of Harry's back in a movement that was like phoenix song.
After a while, Harry's breathing evened out and he said, "I've always thought that he knew that he was going to die that day." Charlie said nothing but continued to hum softly into Harry's black hair. There was a moment's pause then Harry said softly, "I've never told anyone all of that before. I told Dumbledore and Sirius about what happened in the graveyard, but not all of it, not about Cedric and I, I didn't tell them what he really told me. No one knows about us either, no one that is, but you." There was a hiccup of breath, the Harry said, "After the tournament, all I wanted was to hide in my bed and sleep for what seemed like a hundred years – gave all my winnings to Fred and George for their joke shop. I didn't want to breathe, to speak, to laugh – to move on. But Cedric had told me to live. Not just survive, but to live. Please." Harry shrugged slightly bitterly, "And so I did. I could never refuse Ced when he asked me like that."
Harry twitched a small smile of bitter loss and fond remembrance. "You helped me live last night, you gave me a gift. I can't ask you to apologise for that."
There was another silence, one more comfortable than the stretched silence of before.
Charlie paused, ran his hand over Harry's back again - almost unwilling to stop, and then said, "Thank you Harry, for telling me. " Charlie could feel Harry shrug against him.
"It's okay," said Harry, "It's just sometimes I fear that I'm going to forget him, forget what he did for me. Forget who he was. I don't want that."
Charlie hesitated, aware of what he was about to offer, and glanced down at his and Harry's skin. The glitter and glow had faded to an imperceptible level and it made up his mind for him. "Come with me Harry." He said suddenly, "I know of a way in which you'll never forget him. We'll just have to find a way to keep people from being suspicious while we're gone."
Harry, curious beside himself, struggled up and looked at Charlie inquiringly through his round glasses.
Charlie gave a small grin as an idea, a small devilish idea, landed lightly in his mind like a butterfly and sent his thoughts pin wheeling as a wild mood settled on his shoulders, infectious. "I wonder Harry, those glasses... Have you ever seen a wizarding eye healer?"
Harry looked at Charlie like the man had lost his mind, but as Charlie began to explain, a small smile started growing on Harry's lips. It was a reckless idea, more than slightly stupid, but he liked it. He liked it almost as much as Charlie's easy grin and the steady broad set of his shoulders.
Charlie's insane ideas were going to become a theme here, that much Harry could tell.