Chapter One

It was a hot night, the hottest and stickiest in August so far. It was the kind of night that made a man feel like the world around him was melting. The kind of night that brought about a heavy silence over the outside world. No animal dared to step foot or paw outside of its dwelling, for they all possessed the knowledge of the consequence of such a foolish act. All families in the area remained inert inside their homes, for fear of further overheating themselves. Any passersby would have thought them to be stupefied. Plants that once stood bright and erect on windowsills and tables now hung flaccid and limp, rendered weak from the once benevolent sun's gradual sucking out of their life forces.

The sweltering heat pressed heavily upon Harry Potter's chest as he lay sprawled out across the mold scented mattress of his bed at Grimmauld Place, producing beads of sweat on his skin that saturated nearly every inch of his cotton pajamas and the sheets now hanging haphazardly about him. His breaths were slow, and his eyes were shut tight as he drifted back and forth between the realm of dreams and the land of the waking. This cerebral unrest gave the world around him a delirium like haziness. Though he saw nothing, he heard and felt everything around him. In the dark void of his half sleeping mind, he heard his breaths echoing in the distance; he felt the August heat threatening to choke him.

He wanted an escape, a release, anything to get him out of this crushing heat. His body craved it, needed it. Sleeping or not, he wasn't sure if he would be able to last much longer in this torrid weather. Every part of him stuck to something else, moist with his body's strong but failed attempt to cool itself. The air he inhaled, so slowly and deeply, was so thick it felt more like mud than air. It was more than he or anybody else in London could take. Then, like an answer to his call, his wish, his prayer, he felt it—cool and refreshing against his fiery cheek, the brief touch of ice cold…fingernails?

Eyes closed, he frowned. Was someone here? Was someone with him, in his room? He waited for a moment. When he felt nothing, he relaxed. Then he felt it again, just as cool and just as brief, on his other cheek. His face twitched and he made a little noise. He was awake now, listening, waiting.

From somewhere above him, he heard a long breath being let out. He was about to open his eyes but he soon felt something else, a tugging at his pyjama top. It wasn't until the tented fabric fell onto his chest and the tugging moved lower that he realized the buttons were being undone. He wanted to open his eyes, now, to see who or what it was that was apparently undressing him, but he found himself held back. When the fabric fell for the last time, the two flaps were pushed to either side of his chest and abdomen, leaving them completely exposed.

A palm was placed upon his chest, at the point where his sternum and clavicle met. The touch sent a chill throughout his entire upper body, raising the thin hairs on his arms and on the back of his neck. It didn't linger, though, the hand. Before he could exhale the deep breath he'd sucked in as a result of the unexpected contact, the hand was on the move, trailing down the center of his body. His back arched into it, welcoming the cool sensation, begging for it to continue. It followed the medial line down to the path of thin black hairs just below his navel.

He let out a small, breathy, whimper.

On either side of him, the mattress sagged with the weight of another body, lowering itself onto the bed. Thin lips pressed against the left side of his collar bone. His own dry lips parted slightly and he let out a barely audible, "Ah." The others lifted and he felt them again inches below, on his left pectoral. A tongue slithered out from between them and began to snake down his flesh, leaving a frigid path in its wake. There was something different about this tongue, Harry noticed, as it danced over and around his already hardened nipple, something strange. He couldn't put his finger on it, and the fact that it was already moving to the other side, most likely to perform the same actions, did not help to clear his mind.

Before long, the lips returned, kissing down the same path that the hand had first made. They went farther, though, surpassing his navel and following his treasure trail to the waistband of his pajama bottoms. The hand, joined by its pair, didn't hesitate to seize the elastic band and ease it down. Without pausing to think, Harry lifted his hips, allowing the garment to be pulled down his thighs, past his knees, around his ankles, and over his feet. Then, they were gone, and Harry felt nothing but the night air on his bare flesh, his aching arousal.

The knees on either side of him repositioned themselves, moving to the area of mattress between his legs. Harry spread his legs willingly, eagerly, making his want—his need—known. Fingertips brushed lightly over his feet…his ankles…his calves...retracing the path made by the pajama bottoms. Hands grasped his knees, slid down his thighs with unnerving torpidity, sending more chills through him with their icy touch. Each hand's grip tightened around his thigh as the body between his legs lowered itself. Harry felt a tingle run through his lower region when the motion stopped; the face was close, he knew it was. Finally, he felt the cool kiss of his mystery lover's exhaled breath wash over his hardened member. A hand left his thigh and wrapped around it, guiding it into an oral cavity. He sucked in a deep breath as thin lips closed around the tight flesh. Then he felt that tongue, that—wicked tongue…

His fingers tightened around the sheets covering his mattress as the tongue that he still hadn't quite figured out coursed up the underside of his cock, slicking it up from base to tip. It slithered over the head, lapping up the sticky precum that had already accumulated.

Harry let out his breath in a long ragged sighing moan. There was a name on his lips, the name of the one he'd yearned to have this sort of encounter with. But that would have been impossible, wouldn't it?

"S…" he hissed.

A thumb and an index finger wrapped around the base of his cock and began to slide slowly up and down the length, stroking him in time with the gentle suction that the mouth around the head provided. He rolled his hips, pushing himself deeper into the chasm of carnal pleasure. The mouth made no protestation so he continued, propelling himself further forward with each gentle thrust, deep enough, at times, that he connected with the back of his mystery lover's throat.

He moaned again. "Siri…" he whispered desperately, feeling the tension building within him begin to beg for release. "Sirius…"

A low moan erupted from deep within the stranger's throat, sending sweet vibrations up Harry's prick. Harry's thrusts began to hasten as his need increased; the mouth sucked harder and faster, sensing his urgency; and with a couple more strokes he was lost in orgasmic ecstasy as his body suddenly stilled and he spilled into the depths of his mystery lover's mouth. Then, his muscles relaxed and he fell back into a post-climactic stupor. His eyes finally opened of their own accord and for a long time, he stared into the cracked ceiling above him. Just as before, he could hear himself breathing; he could feel his heartbeat, now slowing down as fatigue began to take him over. He quickly realized that he still felt the presence of another. Very sluggishly, he brought himself up onto his elbows. His gaze began to lower from the ceiling.

Who was it that had been pleasuring him in such ways? Could it be the one his heart really wanted it to be, the one he had lost seemingly so long ago? He would soon find out.

His eyes traveled down the decaying wallpaper of the wall opposite him until they finally fell upon the figure in the mattress. His heart stopped. Looming just above his nakedness was a long, ghostly white face. A forked pink tongue flicked out over thin lips, pulled into a twisted smile. Deep scarlet eyes pierced into his own emerald orbs and, all at once, the scar on his forehead burned white-hot.

Harry's eyes jerked open as he threw his torso forward with a grunt of shock. He looked frantically about himself. He was…alone. It was…a dream? He looked down at his body. His pajamas were still on, just the way they had been when he put them on the night before. He let out a sigh of relief. Yes, it was all a dream. He placed a hand on his chest in attempt to steady his racing heart. The sun was coming up, he noticed, taking deep breaths to calm himself down.

Suddenly, the door of his bedroom burst open. He jumped, nearly falling out of his bed. His head jerked to the door, where he found the blurred figure of Hermione standing in the doorway, fully dressed with her bushy hair pulled back into a fuzzy ponytail.

"Rise and shine, sleepy head! It's nearly—" She stopped herself, seeing the look on his face. "Is something wrong, Harry?" she asked him.

He took a moment to calm himself further before answering. "No, Hermione," he said, between breaths, "I'm fine. You just…startled me is all."

"Oh." He saw her cheeks suddenlyflush with embarassment. "I'm sorry, Harry. Um, Mrs. Weasley told me to come up and get you. She says breakfast is ready."

Harry nodded. "Tell her I'll be down in a few minutes."

"Alright," Hermione answered. "See you in a bit, then."

And she left, pulling the door shut behind her. Harry waited until he could no longer hear her footsteps going down the hall. Then he dropped his head into his hands. "Sweet mother of Merlin," he muttered to himself. What an incredible way to start a journey.

o-o-o-o-o

Feech's Note: Well? What'd you think? Do you want to know what happens next? Was it a waste of your time? Let me know! Leave a review! Ooh, and look!> No outside influences! If you recognize anything in this story as being from something that might have influenced me, be sure to keep that to yourself. I pride myself on my originality, even if it's completely nonexistent. And also, I don't believe in proofreading, as I'm sure I've already stated elsewhere, so if you find any errors in spelling, grammar, consistency, let me know. The prize for consistency errors is the same as in "Falling" though I'm not sure if there's room for new characters in this story yet. I'll figure something out. Review me! Peaches!