This is an idea I had when I read a fellow fanfiction author's story. Let us see where it leads us...
Chapter 1: Last time
He was alone again. Him, the boy who saved the world. The boy who saved them all.
No, he was the man who killed Voldemort. He was the one who died. The one who rose again. He was a God!
Yet, here he was, alone again.
He couldn't understand how they all moved on so easily. Ron and Hermione, married and living in Ireland. Neville and Luna, traveling the world. Even Hogwarts had been rebuilt. How did they forget so easily? They acted as if nothing had happened. As if it was all just a dream.
The nightmares had stopped. He was thankful, but then the loss set in. He could see all their faces. Hear them screaming for him. Grimmauld Place had become a haunted house. Lost souls wandered around him day and night. He didn't dare go into Sirius' room; it pained him just to look at the door.
There wasn't enough alcohol in the world to stop the pain. All the money in Gringotts couldn't buy him peace. What he wouldn't do to have them all back. What he wouldn't give to join them. Yes, there must be peace wherever they were. He wondered if they thought of him or were they too happy to remember the boy who couldn't die.
He threw the empty bottle into the fire. It hissed angrily at him. He grabbed a new bottle and sat back down.
Fuck them all.
/
He was drunk again, slouched down in the armchair. Cho should've just left, but they needed to talk. She needed him to listen.
"Harry."
He didn't move.
"Harry, wake up," she shook him.
He stirred, smiling at her. Cho Chang. Sexy minx.
She knelt down in front of him, "You're drunk again."
"Just a little." He twirled a strand of her dark locks around his fingers. Her hair is always so soft.
"I can smell it." She stood.
He pulled on her hair, dragging her back down. Harry buried his head in her neck, inhaling deeply. "I can smell you. I bet you smell good, everywhere."
She pushed away, "Harry, stop."
His fingers started to unbutton her shirt. He was mumbling something...
"We promised," she gasped as he bit down on her neck.
"Last time, promise," he cooed in my ear.
She knew it was a lie. Last time, had been at least 5 times now, but it was hard when he was like this. Even if she refused, he would take her and it would hurt. Not that she minded, she liked it rough. She liked to be dominated.
He pulled her onto his lap never releasing her hair. He gave it a quick pull. Her back arched giving him access to her breasts. He buried his face in her shirt, biting her through the material. She bucked against his jeans as his hands worked frantically to free her.
"Harry," she moaned.
He sucked in a nipple and she threw her head back. He was so good. He always felt so good.
"Please Harry," she begged, freeing his cock.
Harry bit down and pulled. "I want to feel that pretty little mouth of yours." He moved to the other nipple, doing the same. "I want to feel it around my dick."
Cho nodded, getting off his lap. She knelt down in front of him and stroked his dick. He bucked into her hands. She licked her bright red lips.
He grabbed her hair again and pulled her face into his lap. Oh, she was warm. He loved her mouth. He loved that she had no gag reflex. He loved ramming his dick down her throat.
She sucked him hard. He was big, long and always hard. She loved the way it tasted, sweet and salty. He was thrusting hard and fast into her. She could feel his balls start to tighten. She bit him.
"Fuck, bitch!" He pushed her off.
"My turn." She smiled and climbed back onto his lap.
He pushed her panties to the side and pulled her on top of his aching dick. She engulfed him. She was tight. She was always so tight. And so wet.
"Move." He grunted.
Cho raised her hips and slammed down. Oh, it felt so right. She wanted more. She needed more. No one felt like him. No one fucked like him.
His fingers dug into her waist, lifting her and slamming her down over and over again. "Oh fuck. Take it. Take my dick."
She bounced hard against him, her breasts slapping his face. His stubble poked at her smooth skin; creating a new sensationtion, "Fuck me. Harry, fuck me harder."
He pushed her off and bent her over the arm chair. He stepped back and stared at her throbbing cunt; juice dripped down her thighs. Harry grabbed himself and wiped it with his dick. Her cunt was begging him. He thrusted deep into her.
She screamed, "Fuck. Yes. Fuck."
The sound of their slapping bodies echoed through Grimmauld Place. It sounded like a war zone, as screams and grunts filled the halls. He pounded into her harder and faster. The chair squeaked in protest, but neither of them cared. Harry bit down on her shoulder and she screamed, tightening around him. He continued fucking her through her orgasm, until he exploded.
/
He watched her get dressed.
She didn't turn around, "Last time."
"Promise," he whispered.