Posted: 27 December, 2009
Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this story that is recognisable from the Harry Potter books, movies, etc. Everything else however (eg. story plot, original characters, etc.) stems from my own imagination and belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not profiting financially from this story in any way.
Chapter 8 - Passions
August - December, 1997
The months that followed were as close to perfect for the boy-who-lived as anything he recalled experiencing. Perhaps it was discourteous to him to be so deliriously happy, when all around the war raged. He couldn't seem to help himself though, being in first flush of such a wonderful relationship. Others had noticed his newfound lightness as well and whilst confused at first, they were mostly relieved that he seemed to be less stressed and strained.
His training continued to advance and his trainers continued to be impressed with his progress. He and Tonks were now almost equal fighters, duels between them splitting wins fifty-fifty. He was excelling rapidly in warding. So much so in fact, that Bill said he'd soon run out of things to teach him. The redhead even suggested that he was good enough to be apprenticed to a Master Warder, if he so wished. As for Medimagic, it continued to be a challenge, but one that he was happy to face. He'd already become Gryffindor Tower's unofficial Mediwizard. Students came to him for minor cuts, scrapes, bruises and anything else not serious enough to justify travelling all the way to the Hospital Wing. It reassured him to know that if his friends were hurt in battle, he wouldn't be useless to them.
The D.A. also continued to meet, and Harry was proud of the progress they were making. Stand out duellers included: Neville, who was a defensive powerhouse; Hermione, whose spell repertoire seemed endless; Luna, who was so agile she looked like she was dancing as she dodged curses and hexes; Susan Bones, who was very strategic minded and freely incorporated illusions and concealment charms to outsmart her attackers; Fred and George, whose teamwork was outstanding, and whose pranking style of combat could disconcert even the most composed of opponents; and surprisingly Lavender, who after Parvati left had become determined to learn all she could, and was actually rather scarily brutal in her offensive spells.
Defence teachings aside, the D.A. also continued to work dedicatedly on the 'Love's Power' spell. They were actually making some progress and the spell's effects looked promising.
"Well," Hermione had told him one day, "I know you were worried the spell might be something else entirely, but we're certain it's not a- you know, an adult spell."
"What?" He gaped. "I was not worried about- who said I was worried about that?"
"Bill", she'd replied, confused at his reaction.
"Oh, I'll kill him. I was not worried about that."
Hermione didn't seem certain she believed him, and only the witch's assurances that she was the only one the redhead had confessed Harry's 'concerns' to, stopped him from carrying out his avowed murder. Though he did happily manage to catch Bill with a hidden ward their next lesson, which turned him bright pink for twenty-four hours. He felt much better after that.
..ooOOoo..
Saturday, December 20, 1997
The relationship between he and Bill continued to flourish and develop, though still in secret because neither were willing to share the other just yet. Before Bill, the extent of Harry's experience had been a single awkward kiss from Cho, but the older man never pressed, willing to let Harry take things at his own pace. And whenever Harry wanted to take a step forward, the redhead was there to guide him, eager and gentle and never making Harry feel lesser for his inexperience.
It was a Friday evening in late December that their physical relationship finally reached the ultimate level. Harry and Bill had met up early in their classroom as usual. Before too long, conversation had turned to kisses and wandering hands. Things were getting hot and heavy when Bill suddenly pulled back, much to Harry's displeasure.
"Bill? Wha-"
But the redhead just got to his feet and pulled Harry up too.
"Come on," he said, entwining their fingers and tugging the younger wizard from the room.
He followed as Bill led them up the Room of Requirement, and paced three times till a door appeared. The redhead opened it up and pulled Harry inside. He had but a moment to see a bedroom with a large, decadent looking bed, but then Bill was pulling him into another kiss and he lost himself.
Harry grasped desperately at the front of Bill's shirt as the other man's mouth attacked his, again and again. Long fingered hands were threaded through his hair, tilting his head to just the right angle. Finally, just when he was worried that oxygen was becoming an issue, those wonderful lips dragged away from his, trailing across his jaw line and then down his throat, to the crook of which where they began to lick and suckle.
"You'll leave a mark," he said but his protest rather was weakened by his breathless panting and moaning.
"Good," Bill murmured and he could feel the redhead's lips pull into a smirk against his neck.
The hands released his hair and trailed down his back, pressing him close to the older wizard's body, and he could feel a hardness to match his own pressing into his stomach. Harry released his grip to tug open the buttons on Bill's shirt, and then ran his hands wantonly across the newly bared chest.
The next moment he was stumbling, his boyfriend dragging them across the room till the older man was backed up beside the door. The redhead took advantage of his new position to bend his knees, leaning back to let the wall balance his weight. Then hands were grasping Harry's hips, pulling his closer and up, with his legs straddling one of Bill's own. He gasped, throwing his head back, and rocked his hips. The new position pressed his erection to Bill's thigh, the pressure taunting and not quite enough.
"Bill," he pleaded.
"Do you want me Harry?" the man asked huskily, mouth trailing upwards now, till he nipped at the younger wizard's earlobe.
"Yes," he hissed.
"How far? How far d'you want this to go? How much do you want tonight?"
"All. Everything." He could only manage single-word sentences.
Then, to his distress, Bill was pulling back, and he moaned in objection. But the redhead just nudged his face with his till he was looking into his blue eyes. Bill's pupils were wide and dark and his skin flushed and Harry was sure he looked the same.
"Are you sure? I know you've never… And this isn't exactly…"
"Merlin Bill," he said, somehow managing some coherency. "I'm not some girl. I don't need flowers and wine and music and, and poetry and all that crap."
"Poetry?" The other man chuckled.
"You know, soppy girl stuff."
"But it is your first time-"
"And that only matters to girls."
"Bullshit. Even for guys, you always look back and remember your first time as something significant. It's one of those rights of passage."
"Maybe. But I don't need you to set a cutesy, romantic scene for it."
"Then what do you need?"
Harry looked him deep in the eyes.
"You," he said softly. "Just you."
Bill's gaze softened and he leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. Then he pulled back and a laughing light entered his eyes.
"And you said you weren't a girl. 'You, just you' – could you be any more sappy?"
"Oh, shut up and kiss me."
"As you wish."
And then they were kissing and touching and feeling. They stumbled their way to the bed, tumbling down onto the blanketed covers, and clothing melted away until there was nothing but pleasure. The never did get to training that night.
..ooOOoo..
Sunday, December 21, 1997
Harry awoke slowly, feeling snug and sated. There was a hand tracing pleasantly up and down his spine in lazy swipes from base to tip. He hummed in approval, arching his back into the pleasant feeling. The hand stopped, flattening at the curve of his spine, warm and solid.
"Good morning," a familiar voice spoke, making him smile.
"G'morning," he mumbled in return, voice husky from sleep.
He was lying naked beneath the covers of the bed, half lying across Bill who was equally bare. One of his legs and most of his upper body were thrown over the other man, and his head was pillowed on a firm chest.
"How are you?"
"M'good."
"Not sore?"
He shifted a bit and then winced.
"A little," he said. "Not too bad."
The bed shifted then, as though Bill were reaching for something off to the side.
"Here," the redhead said, and a potions vial came into view.
He reached up to take the vial, recognising it as a pain potion.
"Were'd you get this?" He turned to look up at Bill, raising a suggestive eyebrow. "Mr Weasley," he said with a faux scandalised tone, "did you plan last night?"
"No," he the man said, though an amused smile quirked his lips. "I left to get it an hour ago when I woke up."
"Oh, I didn't notice you leave."
"I know; you were pretty deeply asleep. You just snuggled right back up when I came back."
"I do not snuggle," he objected, uncorking the vial with his teeth and swallowing the potion. "That sounds so unmanly."
"Apologies lovely," Bill smiled, taking the vial and putting it back on the bedside table. "I meant to say you 'nestled' against me."
"Better I suppose," he sniffed, but couldn't stop the smile on his lips – he was just too happy.
A hand reached under his chin tilting his head up and a soft kiss was pressed to his lips.
"Hmm, what was that for?"
"Just because I love you," Bill replied, and Harry froze. "What?"
"You love me?" he asked, voice strange.
"I thought it was rather obvious even if I've never said it before. Is it really that surprising?"
"No- I mean yes- I mean-" He bit his lip and looked away. "No one's ever said that before."
He looked back up to see Bill's eyes darken.
"You know," the redhead stated in a seemingly casual tone, "I really don't like your relatives, and hope that when they die they burn in a fiery hell of eternal torment."
Harry snorted in amusement, relaxing.
"Thanks, I think." Then he tucked his head back down on Bill's chest, gathered his courage and murmured. "And you know, I love you too."
He couldn't see but he could almost feel Bill's smile.
"Good," was all he said, and resumed tracing up and down his back.
They lay there in silence for a while till suddenly, Bill lightly slapped his rear. He made an indignant sound looking up with wide eyes. Bill just smiled, not looking at all guilty.
"Come on," he said. "You'd better get up. You have a D.A. lesson to prepare for this afternoon – last one before holidays. And you'll have to start packing your trunk for the train back to London tomorrow."
"No," he moaned, and burrowed further into the redhead. "Don't wanna go yet."
"You have to."
He huffed and sighed, and then tried pouting, but all that did was earn him a kiss and then another order to get up and dressed.
"Fine," he finally relented.
He rolled over out of bed, then stood up and stretched. As he bent over to pick up his pants there was a moan from behind him. He spun around to see that Bill had been staring rather intently at his rear, and blushed, just now realising he was naked and on display.
"Stop it," he said, hurriedly yanking on his pants and reaching for his trousers.
"Stop what?"
"Staring. It's creepy."
"Well I have said that you've a really nice arse. It's hard not to stare."
Harry just scowled to cover his embarrassed but pleased smile at the compliment, yanking his shirt over his head, then pulling on his robe. He headed for the door before pausing and doubling back for one last kiss.
"Hmm," he hummed in pleasure, finally pulling back. "Okay, I'm going now. I'll see you at Grimmauld on Monday."
"I'll see you then. And in the meantime," Bill said, then lowered his tone till it was dark and sultry, ripe with innuendo, "think about me."
Harry flushed, spun around and hurried from the room, Bill's husky chuckles echoing behind him.
..ooOOoo..
Sunday, December 28, 1997
"Ahh!" Harry screamed.
Immediately his hand clapped over his eyes and he spun around, fleeing the room. The door slammed shut behind him and he just stood the corridor, not lowering his hand, focussed on trying to scrub the mental images from his mind. After a few seconds, during which he heard hurried rustling from within the library behind him, he heard the door open.
"Ah, Harry?" a male voice said quietly. "You can come in now."
He shook his head. "I don't know that that's a good idea."
There was a huff of breath.
"Just come in, would you?"
Keeping his eyes closed he turned and used his hands to guide him back into the room, closing the door behind him and leaning back against it.
"You can open your eyes Harry." A feminine voice this time. "We're decent."
Hesitantly, he lifted his lids one at a time. He sighed in relief as he saw Tonks, her face blushing and hair red to match, sitting on the worn leather lounge. Remus was standing by her side, also looking vaguely embarrassed. The most important aspect of the scene however, was that both were fully clothed.
"We're sorry about that," Remus said.
"Sorry? Sorry?" Harry repeated, peripherally aware that his voice was a half register too high. "Remus, I've just seen much more of you and Tonks that I have ever wanted to. I think I'll need to bleach my brain to get rid of the mental images." He shuddered. "And you're sorry?"
"Yes, well. We forgot the locking charms."
Just as he was about to go off on another rant, this one along the lines of 'my god I'll need therapy, and you two better be paying for it', he stopped and his jaw dropped. He looked between the two, who were confused at his change in behaviour, and a smile spread over his face.
"You two are together!" he said cheerfully, grinning even wider at the bashful looks they threw one another. "Finally, this is brilliant." He looked at Tonks. "I knew you were after him and he was secretly interested. Did it take much to convince him?"
"He led me on a merry chase," she chirped happily, "but I caught him in the end."
"But how do you keep him caught? Oh wait, he is a werewolf and so partially canine." He grinned teasingly. "Is there a collar involved perhaps?"
As Harry took in the reactions of the pair before him, he reflected that Tonks and Bill had really been a bad influence on him when it came to teasing. Tonks was clearly amused by his comment, though Remus frowned chidingly at him. Until that is, the Metamorphmagus's laughter changed to considering looks. That had Remus looking a tad worried and Harry biting back laughter of his own.
"You know," Harry continued, "I have a joke about wolves and doggy style, but," he bit his lip uncertainly even as he snickered, "I don't know that I'm brave enough to make it."
Remus turned to him then, expression stern but with a hint of something 'Marauder-ish' in his eye that put the younger wizard immediately on edge.
"I think it better you don't cub," he said. "Or else I may just have to mention your own lover when everyone gathers for lunch in an hour."
Tonks' jaw dropped. "Our little Harry has a lover?" she exclaimed incredulously, then demanded, "Who?"
"I- wha-" Harry spluttered then tried to deny it. "I do not!"
"Yes, you do," Remus said with such calm and certainly that he admitted defeated.
"How did you know?"
"Being a werewolf means more than a monthly transformation. My senses are also heightened."
"I don't get it? You-" His eyes went wide as it suddenly clicked. "Wait, you can smell it?"
Harry's mortified expression caused the pair to chuckle, Remus with a smirk on his face. Tonks still looked eager to know just who this mystery lover was.
"So, will you keep the jokes to yourself, young Harry? And what you walked in on as well. We're not ready to go public either."
Harry hastily agreed. He kept their secret, Remus kept his and Bill's. A fair trade. Besides, he really wanted to get out of there, before he thought more on the fact that Remus could smell everything he and Bill did to each other. He shivered. Talk about an invasion of privacy.
..ooOOoo..
Wednesday, March 11, 1998
Harry was in the room of requirement, practicing a spell that could preserve severed limbs till a Healer could reattach then, when the message came. A bright silvery phoenix flew through the wall, coming to a halt before Healer Vance.
"Emmeline, there's been an attack on Hogsmeade," Dumbledore's voice sounded, "The battle is over, but there are many wounded and St Mungo's is at capacity. I've asked Poppy to head down once she's gathered enough potions, but if you could head down now and get things set up, it would be much appreciated."
Immediately Vance rose to her feet, picking up the bulky healer's bag she brought to every lesson. She turned toward the door before hesitating and giving Harry a considering look. Finally she nodded.
"Up Mr Potter, and follow me." Then she strode from the room, Harry hurrying to follow.
"Healer Vance?" he asked. "Why am I following?"
"Because you're a good student Mr Potter, and I expect I will need all the help with the wounded I can get."
He gaped. "You're bringing me along to help with the healing?" he asked disbelievingly as they descended into the entrance hall.
"Yes," was all she said.
The rest of the journey went in silence. They pushed through the entrance door of Hogwarts and out into the sunshine, then strode toward the gates at a brisk pace, almost a jog. Within ten minutes they reached the edges of Hogsmeade and made their way to the main square. Once there, Vance wasted no time in waving her wand and conjuring a great white tent. She cast various spell which Harry knew where to sanitise the area and ward out dirt and disease. Inside she conjured up low pallets, before returning to the front of the tent. There, she waved her wand once more, and a sign appeared up near the canopy of a crossed wand and bone; the symbol of healing.
The moment the villagers spotted and recognised the sign they began approaching, bringing forth the wounded. Most of the critically injured people had been taken to St Mungo's, but there were still quite a few needing medical attention.
"Alright Mr Potter," Vance said crisply, "you attend to any cuts, bruises or broken bones – clean breaks only mind, leave anything more complex alone."
And then the villagers were upon them, and the healing started. All the simple injuries were directed to him, whist the more complex ones – complicated breaks, internal injuries, burns and such – were attended to by Healer Vance, as well as Madam Pomfrey when she finally arrived. Eventually he was entirely immersed his healing. Mend that cut, salve that bruise, spell that bone, a comforting word here, stern orders no to overexert there. A comforting smile for the children and sometimes a lollypop went a long way. Occasionally he was even called to Healer Vance's side to help with more complex procedures, and before he knew it hours had passed and the wounded were almost all seen to.
Waving his wand so that the wound in a young wizard's calf knitted together, Harry sent the man (the last in line) on his way. He then stood up, blinking as he stared around the healing tent at all the patients who remained abed, some of whom he had helped, and felt a rush of pleasure. With the war there was always so much death and dying, and now here he was, helping people; healing hurts and saving lives. There was that rush of pleasure again, and he realised something quite suddenly. He had found his calling.
Like he had told Bill some months ago, he'd considered being an Auror, but ultimately didn't think he'd want to keep fighting once he finally took out Voldemort. And he was a natural at Quidditch and warding, but that meant it wouldn't always be a challenge. But healing was. A challenge, that is to say. He was in no way a natural at the subject, but rather had to work hard for it. And being able to heal and help was… it was a bit of a buzz really. He grinned widely, ignoring the strange looks he got (he was surrounded by the wounded after all – hardly the place for levity). Yes, he now knew what he wanted to do with his life. He couldn't wait to tell Bill.
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