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Vera )1952( "I am not going to do this." He said softly as he clutched the highly illegal potion in its inconspicuous glass vial. A passing witch stared at him and shook her head softly before turning her head to whisper to their companion, "Poor thing. Such a good looking chap, too, standing out here in the snow. Probably hasn't a place to go home to do." I don't, he wanted to tell them, not really. You see, I'm not crazy. At least not in the conventional sense. I'm just sick. Sick to the soul. There is one person in the world that truly loves me, you see. Purely and without conditions, he took me into his home and centered his life around me. I never wanted for anything. And I am not content. I want to own him utterly. I want him to own every particle of my being. And for that I should be kept as far from him as possible. The witches went on their business, oblivious to these thoughts. Tom clenched the bottle tighter to him until it threatened to shatter uselessly in his hand. It had taken him a year to gather the ingredients. Most of them were esoteric and bizarre, so he had to order them one at a time, cooking up excuses as he went. The brewing had taken two days of careful vigilance and fighting his own conscience the whole time. But he wouldn't use it. It was a test of his strength really, to possess it and not use it. "Tom! Whatever are you doing out in the snow. Get in here!" Minerva appeared out of the shop depths to drag him amid the sweet sound of the bells that hung on the door. "You're just lucky I was about to leave and saw you standing about there like a stunned crup. What were you thinking about?" "Oh stop going on, Minnie. It's just a little snow. I was hardly going to freeze to death." He shrugged off her hand and moved into the warmth of the shop. "What were you doing here anyway?" "Haggling with Harry over some of the broken wands. I'm doing some research on the effects of fractures in the wood on transfigurations." She patted her satchel contently. "I got what I wanted." "Good, good." He took off his gloves and flexed his reddened fingers, ignoring her worried expression. "Tell everyone back at school hello for me." "I will." She went back to the door and glanced at him. "Harry's in the back." The bells chimed again and Tom found himself alone in the store front, breathing in the musty air. The vial was cool and alien in his hands as he slipped into the back. The tiny room looked well lived in and Tom wouldn't be surprised if Harry was going through another period of living in it exclusively. Their cottage remained well maintained, but occasionally Harry stopped going home. Usually after one of his affairs ended in a mess. There wasn't much back here. A small kitchen nook with a two-person table, a cluttered desk and full size bed that never quite looked like it should fit in the room. It probably didn't, but a little space saving magic never did anyone too much harm. There was a small bathroom hardly big enough to turn around in the miniscule shower. All the comforts of home for a perennial bachelor. The man himself was seated at the table, sipping at a hot cup of tea, his back to him. "Hello, Tom." He turned, a bright grin on his face. "I thought I heard you come in." "You're looking well." Sliding easily into the other chair, he plucked at the book-splayed open on the table. "Werewolves?" "I'm looking for something." The older man shrugged. "But I don't think itŐs been invented yet." "That would depend on what it is. You know the Ministry research department is moving forward in leaps and bounds." Harry regarded the younger man with a soft contentment. Age was mellowing him, he realized, maybe both of us. I'm a little over forty now. No great age for a wizard, but twenty years ago I didn't think I'd live to see the day. And the boy will be turning twenty-five soon. I'll have to see about getting him that watch Avarus said he was interested in. Maybe get in engraved. "You aren't listening to me are you?" Tom noted, bemused. Caught. "I've had a long day. I was about to have a nap when you arrived." "Don't let me stop you. The Ministry closed for the weekend and they're not even letting us die-hards back in. I can keep the shop open if you'd like?" "No need." A yawn cracked at his jaw. "Wake me in an hour? I would like to have a nice visit." "All right." Under heavy lids he watched the older man take off his glasses and climb into the old bed. It sighed under his weight then settled on his back. Pretending to leaf through the book, he waited until he was absolutely sure that Harry was asleep. Then waited another five minutes. Gingerly, he crept along the creaking boards and set himself carefully on the edge of the bed. It felt oddly familiar. He vaguely remembered doing this when he was very small. Wondering into the Harry's bedroom late at night to look at him and make sure he hadn't gone off somewhere. The older man had never woken up then and didn't look like he would now. Hesitantly, Tom reached forward to brush wayward hair off Harry's forehead. The regular rise and fall of the other man's chest against his jumper was reassuring and he almost resolved to do nothing more then this. Enjoy the moment and then let it pass into the wind. Almost. Instead he took out the vial and very carefully unstopped it. He'd originally thought to dissolve it in a glass of tea or something, but a direct dose would require fewer drops. With all the precision he'd used in the brewing, he tipped a few drops into the slightly opened mouth. They hit the tongue and slid back. According to the texts it would start working in seconds. The plan was simple. The potion would destroy all of Harry's inhabitations, all his morals and enhance his libido. It would leave him little better then a lusty animal, which would fuck the first thing that came across his path. The potion would only last a few hours there was no worries about intrusions. The shop was closed and the streets deserted with the snow coming down in trips. When it was over, he would Oblivate Harry and Tom would finally be able to breath right around him. When he was sure the dose had taken effect, judging by the slightly elevated body temperature. He rose and stripped himself then turned his attention to Harry's clothing. He managed his pants, but when he pulled off the jumper he found brilliant green eyes blinking up at him. "Tom?" He froze. For the first time he had a doubt about the quality of the potion. And then the air was being sucked from his lungs and he forgot all of that. Now. It was going to happen now. It was warm and wet and it was unstoppable. Harry was shorter then him by a few inches, but he still flew on a regular basis for the Hogsmeade shopkeeper team. The man was pining to him the bed and he felt utterly consumed. Hands roved aggressively until Tom was wondering just what he had unleashed. In fantasy, he had acknowledged that Harry would be a skilled lover or he wouldn't be able to keep populating his bed with winsome beauties of all ages, but this raw consummation had not entered into it. He would have wondered if it was the potion or something integral in Harry when a sucking, greedy mouth was engulfing him and he was too busy grasping for purchase on the sheets. A flurry of motion and he was rolled on his side and suddenly an angry looking cock pulsed near his mouth. Taking the demand, he grasped at slender hips to suck hard. A deep groan shuddered from the delicious torturous mouth and he fought to keep pace. Harry's fevered mind struggled to keep up with his own actions. He was sure something was wrong, but he couldn't imagine what and the rushing waves of pleasure turned the mountains of reservation to a sandy smooth beach. He kissed the head of the flushed cock he had been sucking at and reluctantly pulled away from Tom's mouth. He crawled to the reddened lips and tried to climb in. "You taste..." He trailed off, unable to find words to describe his scattered thoughts. Instead, he pressed a dry fingertip to the hungry entrance of the younger man's body. "Sweet Merlin, yes." Tom gasped. Harry moved back to grab up the jar of unguent. When he turned back he found Tom spread wanton before him, legs open in a decadent invitation. Unconsciously, licking his lips, he covered that sparse body with his own, petting Tom's hole with slicked fingers, watching the younger man's face. The careful caresses drove Tom wild, bucking up, trying to coax a more substantial touch. "Please." The younger man whimpered and Harry finally plowed mercilessly forward, wresting a cry. Balancing on an elbow, Harry delved deeper, adding a second finger with no warning. The expression that flitted over the usually cool mask would later remind him of more innocent times, but at the moment they only made him more merciless, adding a third finger. A look of joyous anguish tightened the skin around green eyes until Harry changed the angle of his hand. The gland pressed hard against his fingers turning Tom into a flurry of ecstatic whimpers. "Turn over." He ordered, keeping his fingers firmly locked as Tom scrambled to obey with the intrusion scraped within him. Only when he was on his hands and knees did Harry free his hands, stretching and shaking the joints loose as he moved behind Tom and drew him up to his own chest. He nuzzled his face on the milk pale skin, lavishing sucking kisses on juncture of shoulder and neck. Reaching down, he positioned himself and thrust home. Tom's hearty groan stilled him for only a moment. Curious, he felt around to the beautiful flushed cock and found it still hard and eager in his hand. "My beautiful boy." He murmured and pulled out almost entirely before thrusting in again. Seeking and finding a harsh, delicate rhythm, he stroked the proud column of flesh as Tom trembled and spoke in tongues. Harry said nothing as the potion robbed him of the least of coherent thoughts. Sweat covered, heaving, they were dyed orange by the setting sun. Unable to take any more, he squeezed the straining flesh that was weeping precum and Tom cascaded into a series of jerking shoulders that captured Harry deep within him. Slowly, the younger man collapsed forward, catching himself of his arms, but Harry wasn't finished and held his hips in place, leaving behind all semblance of civility. Harry pounded into the quivering body lying prone beneath him. When he finally came, it seemed that they had always been locked in this moment, soldered together on faded paisley sheets, their fluids mixed and stinking. Harry rolled off Tom and listened dully to the litany of cleansing spells, before collapsing into darkness. Cleansed, shaking and aching, Tom wasn't sure he could move, let alone cast a decent spell. Not that he had a choice. Resignedly, he moved from his jelly state against the mattress, wincing as muscles ached and throbbed. The other man had obviously simply passed out and Tom toyed with the idea of leaving the memory in place and hope that Harry would pass it off as an odd dream. But no, it was far too dangerous. With no little tenderness, he aimed his wand, "Obliviate!" But nothing happened. No fissure of a spell done right, not even the fizzle of one done wrong. Puzzled, he turned to the table. "Accio cup." It flew into his waiting hand. He stared down into the sleeping face. "Obliviate!" Still nothing. He sat back. There was only one thing he could think of, but it wasn't possible. Occlumency. Why would his guardian, a shop keeper, hobby Quidditch player...why would he become such an advanced Occulmencer that he could keep out unwelcome spells while in a deep, drugged sleep. Tom knew some of course, had to for his subtle work. So with careful movements he crept into Harry's mind. Within fractions of a second he knew he was in trouble. He had thought his own defensive forces formidable, but they made his traps and walls look like cardboard box propped up with a stick. This was an armed fort. He only had time to observe this before he blacked out as those mental machine guns automatically turned on and blasted him out of Harry's head. The sun woke him, cracking under his lids and rubbing his aching head all the wrong way. Fear filled him instantly for there could be no good outcome. He had been fearless for so long that the emotion felt foreign, like it belonged to someone else. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and winced. Harry was sitting in the deep windowsill, holding a steaming mug and staring at the bed. Swiftly, he shut his eyes again. "I know you're awake. Your eyelids always twitch too much when you're faking." For the first time, Tom thought Harry sounded old. Old and tired. Gutted. With sinking guilt, he rose, the sheet falling back to reveal his well used body. He expected Harry to look away, to yell at him, anything, but to stare at him with a perfect, unreadable mask settled on his features. A flash of memory of cold eyes and a glint of steel in the dark assaulted him meaninglessly then faded. "I..." He began, but there seemed nothing could be said to fill the awful silence. "You have always shown me parts of myself that I didn't know existed. Until this day I thought them joyful happy things. Not until last night did I know I had that ugliness locked inside of me." "I..." "Now all that was ugly and dirty that I have worked so hard to prevent. That I thought I had salvaged... it was in me too all this time." "I..." "Get out." It wasn't particularly angry or even sad. Pure ice, brittle and fragile. Longing for any of the easy words that should come to his tongue, he reached for his clothes, gathering them. Instead of waiting to dress, he apparated away. Harry sat on the windowsill long after his tea had gone cold and the sun rose full in the sky. )*( "I don't understand it, Albus." The young witch flopped down on the huge bed, her thick black hair spreading like a cloak over her naked chest. "He won't return my owls or open the floo. The Slytherins won't tell me a thing about him, but I can see they're worried." "You're the one always assuring me that he can take care of himself." Albus slid into bed, beside her. "He can. That's what I'm worried about. His work is unaffected and his other friends are closing in around him like an iron curtain." She sighed, sliding under the sheets. He rolled to meet her, brushing a kiss on her furrowed brow and another over her lips. "You cannot take on the weight of the world, my dear." "Tom is not the world. He's one of my best friends and somethingŐs gone wrong." "If he's not talking to you about it, maybe he doesn't want you to get involved." "I don't recall that ever stopping you. If you want information, you stop at nothing. That's what I've always admired about you." She pressed a kiss onto his arm and then chuckled. "That sounds dangerous." "It is. I know how to get the information I want." "Oh?" "I have to go to the source. " Of course, she couldn't go right then and Albus had cut such a fine figure today in his newest scarlet robes... In the morning, she packed a satchel and set out off for Hogsmeade. The shop was open, but she found the listless girl that Harry hired for his occasional days off. "Where's Harry this morning?" "Dunno." "Thank you." She snapped and did a quick locating spell. "That's weird." She apparated to coordinates and found herself in a soggy meadow several miles away. "Bugger all! For Merlin's sake, Minnie." Harry's tousle head rouse out of the brush. "I almost had it." "Had what?" "Never mind." He spelled a clear space and sat. She transfigured a flower into a reasonable enough cushion and took the space next to him. Dark circles weighed heavily under his eyes. Curiouser and curiouser. "Harry.." "I know. You're worried about Tom." The tone was cool, but the look troubled and she stared at him. "What's going on, Harry?" "Ask him." "I tried. He's not talking to me. When I tried Avarus, he gave me the cold shoulder. So did Vermillion." "They're protecting him." "Should they not be?" Her eyes widened a little in alarm. "I'm sure they don't know what's going on." "And if they did?" There was a long pause. "He made a mistake. A rather grave one. We're both suffering for it." "He told you, didn't he?" "Told me what?" When he didn't meet her gaze, she plowed ahead. "That he loved you. Merlin, men are stupid. I mean Tom's always loved you." "Of course he does. I raised him." "You know what I mean." "I don't." "He once loved you as a boy loves a father figure, but that's changed. He loves you like a man loves another man." "And that's all right with you?" "Of course not! It's...disturbing. But I'm hardly in a position to judge. Albus is old enough to be my grandfather after all." "But he isn't." "No." They sat in silence. "So what you have to decide is, do you love him back?" "It's not that simple." He rose, dusting off the back of his jeans. "Go home, Minnie. Try to figure out where you end and Albus begins." This time when he apparated the location spell couldn't get a fix on him, but that could have been because she was too angry and distracted to think. )*( next part last part << |