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In Love and War	By : TheLadyFeylene Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 1489 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-In Love and War
- 2-II
- 3-III
- 4-IV
- 5-V
- 6-VI
- 1
- 2
Disclaimer: Characters herein are not mine, they belong to JK Rowling. I *wish* they were mine, but...ah well. No money is being made off of this.
Author: Lady Feylene
Archive: Sure, just ask.
Title: In Love and War
Warning: Male on male situations. Mild bad language. Intense sexual situations.
Pairing: ??/??
Rating: NC-17 version
Spoilers: Er....GoF, I guess....maybe....
Summary: Love is a difficult and oftentimes painful thing...
Author's Note: I've left the identity of both characters in this story a mystery on purpose. I'm not sure why I did it, I just enjoyed it. Eventually, in the second half, names and situations *will* be revealed. So far, only one person has guessed the identities of the characters, and that's because she's my wife and she knows me too damn well. If you can guess though, trust me, you deserve to be worshiped. Well, if you guess the narrator, anyway...

In Love and War

It's hard to be me.

I've come to that conclusion. Yes, I'm wealthy. Yes I come from one of the oldest wizarding bloodlines out there. Yes I'm one of the best bloody Keepers Britain has seen in years. Yes I'm a major part in a war effort, and responsible for more then a few small victories. But I've got this nagging problem that makes all of those things completely obsolete. See, I'm madly in love with my best friend, and I've no idea what to do about it.

You'd love him too, if you saw him the way I did. I'd watch him at night, sometimes, when he'd be sprawled out on his bed studying. I loved the way his hair sort of fell over his face, so it would be all in shadow. And the way he sort of waved his quill around and mumbled to himself when he'd be working something out. And the way his eyes got very bright, when he'd figured something out. His quill would scribble over the parchment like it was on fire, and his lips would curve up into what I guess had to be called a smile. I loved it.

But therein lies the problem. We've been best friends for how long now? Since we started school. Since we ended up in the same compartment on the train, in the same House. I can still remember the first time I laid eyes on him...

He was so small. That was the first thing I noticed about him. How small he was. Not underfed or anything, just...petite. And he had this wide-eyed expression as he wandered around the platform. Something about him caught me, even though at age eleven I had no use for words like 'love' and 'lust' and 'desire'. I just knew I really liked that small boy with the big eyes and all the books.

We spoke on the train. He was...amazing. He talked quickly, the words just tumbling out of his mouth. He talked about everything he wanted to learn, and what a wonderful school we were going to, and how grand and exciting it was all going to be!

Well, it was certainly exciting. Never a dull moment, no matter what. Me, I liked my fun. I still do, makes me good at what I do. And we sure had fun in school. Me more then him, I think. He went along with me, but never for the fun.

He was always a little too serious for it. Oh, he tried, and he was definitely creative enough for it. He was just...a little too mean. Not that I blame him. I don't, in the least. So he had a mean streak in him, so what? Plenty of kids did. And maybe some of the things he came up with to pull were a little...dangerous. Call it training. We're fighting a war here. And you can't stop to wonder if what you're doing is mean or cruel.

These are bad times. Real bad times. We've already lost too many of our number to count. At least as far as I'm concerned. They're damn strong, and I don't know about him, but I'm damn scared.

Wait, no. I do know about him. He's not scared at all. He's never been scared, since this whole thing started. He's been perfectly calm and confident. He claims we're going to win this, hands down. We shouldn't even be worried. No matter how bad things look right now, we're going to come out on top. And all of us chums from school, well we'll be fine.

I wish I could believe him. I really wish I could. But...call me a pessimist. I just hope he makes it. No. I don't hope, I wish with every fiber of my being. He's too...beautiful, not to. He's perfection, in everything he does. The way he moves, the way he walks, the way he talks...

Why did I have to fall in love with him? Why couldn't I fall in love with some girl and marry her and have hundreds of children? Because I had to spend seven years of my life sleeping in the bed next to his, sitting in the seat next to his, talking and scheming and plotting with him...

It was always him and me, you see. Oh no, of course we weren't alone in the dorm. But even amongst our other friends, it was him and me. After class, walking in the halls. In the library, in the common room. Maybe it's because we were together from the start. Even before the sorting, we had this special bond. And it's never faded. On my end, it's only gotten stronger.

I don't think that's a good thing. I don't know where he stands on...well, anything. He's never had a girlfriend or a boyfriend, that I know of. And I'd know. He told me everything. He still does.

"What?"

He's watching me. He's sitting in a chair, legs tucked up under him, book in his hands.

"Nothing." I say, an easy lie. I've always lied to him. Some friend I am, I suppose.

"You're lying." But he's looking at his book now, not me. "I can tell when you are, you know."

"I'm just worried." I give a shrug.

"You've no reason to be." He assures me. "We're going to come out on top, I promise you that. No matter what it takes..."

"Oh?" He's always so damn serious. It drives me nuts, because I'm not serious in the least.

"Of course. Good always triumphs over evil." He tells me, flipping a page idly.

"But who says what's what?" I push, and he just rolls his eyes. I want to kiss him.

He doesn't know what he means to me. He's stood by me, through it all. I'm here, because of him. I'm not a fighter, but I will be for him. This isn't my cause, it's his. But I'll wave my banner and my sword, if in his name and no other.

"You need to focus your attention on your efforts." He says. "You've been getting lax. You nearly got yourself killed the other day."

"Only because that daft git who's supposedly spying for us is a moron." It hadn't been my fault. Our supposed 'spy' hadn't exactly had the right information. Me, I'm not so sure he's on our side, but oh well. I'm not running things around here.

"You still have to watch yourself." He puts down his book and looks at me really intently. He has the most amazing eyes. I can lose myself in them. They're haunted and they're deep and they look right through me. It's like he's reading my mind, sometimes.

"Hey, I'll be fine." I tell him. I want so badly to kiss him.

"Remember...we have that raid tomorrow." He frowns, and I decide I never want to see him frown again.

"That's a piece of cake." I tell him. And it will be. We both know exactly what we have to do. We've gone over it hundreds of times, and nothing's going to go wrong.

"You're exceedingly confident." His lips twitch up in a half smile. "Don't get too cocky...pride goes before a fall, you know."

'Oh come on...I'm as humble as they come!"

We both laugh at this, because I'm anything but. He's the humble one. But he's the better of us, I think.

"What are you really thinking?" He asks me, and his hands are folded over his book as he watches me.

"Really?" I repeat. "I'm thinking about you."

"Me?" One eyebrow shoots up, and I've never seen him taken aback like that. I like it.

"Yeah, you." I say.

"What, pray tell, are you thinking about me?"

Well I'm thinking about how much I want to kiss him, and hold him close, and take him away from war and death and danger. But I can't say that. He'll laugh, maybe, or tell me I'm being foolish. Or he'll be angry. The oddest things anger him, really.

"Just about how much you’ve changed, since we first met." I say, and it's true. In a way.

"We've both changed." He says, and he rests his chin in his hand. "We've come quite far, from the awkward first years we were. Honestly, I'm amazed i even survived my school years."

His voice get's breathy, and I can't read his eyes. He always does this. I mean, I want to tell him that he's overreacting, he didn't have it *that* bad. And for every shot he took, he got one back. Or I did for him.

But I'll never forget that night, when he came into the dorm room so late. I waited up for him, what else could I do? He had said he had something important to do, nothing more. And to this day I don't what it was, but I know it was bad.

He was shaking, and he wouldn't say a word. He just crawled into bed, white as a ghost. I climbed in next to him, and he curled up to me, and he was cold as ice. I held him close, and I asked him what was wrong, but he just shook his head. It's the only time, I think, that I've ever seen him scared. He let me hold him, and rub his back, and talk him softly until he finally fell asleep.

I've never touched him like that before or since.

He's never talked about it since, neither of us have. Except weird little allusions like that. He has his secret, and I have mine.

"Well you did." I say, cheekily. "And I'm happy for it."

"Well of course you are. If I were dead, who would put up with you?"

"Ah, there's some." I say, but I wouldn't want anyone but him.

"No, there aren't." He says. "You're a prat and an ignorant and an egotist, and there isn't another soul on this earth that would put up with what I have. And honestly, I’ve no idea why I have."

But his eyes are sort of sparkling. Like diamonds. He's joking. He always does. He doesn't have the best sense of humor...he's more sarcasm and whit then I'll ever understand.

"Because you love me." I say, and he groans.

"I most certainly do not." But he's smiling as much as he ever does.

"Well, sorry, cause I love you." Even in jesting, it feels good to say it. He tilts his head to the side though, and he purses his lips together and regards me very carefully. Now it's my turn to be put off. "What?"

"Nothing." He shrugs. "I suppose I'm thinking of you, as well."

"Oh? What about?" I don't have his way with words, I never will.

"That I am not a man much given over to bouts of emotional prose." He shrugs.

"I know *that*. When my mum hugged you at graduation, you looked like you were gonna be ." ."

"I don't like being touched." He says, with a half shrug. "But..." He trails off, and sighs heavily. "You must be aware, that after all of these years, I feel...towards you."

"I know." It's as good as I'm ever going to get, out of him.

"Good. I simply wished to make that clear."

"And you have."

There's a silence. What now? I want to cross the distance between us, and lay my head in his lap and simply be close to him. But he doesn't allow touching, not like that.

"Did you..." He trails off, and he looks away. I'm intrigued.

"Did I what?" I press. He gives a great sigh, and he's not looking at me while he talks.

"Did you ever...wish to be...like them?"

I don't need to ask who 'they' are. I know exactly who 'they' are. And..I guess that yeah, in a way I wanted to be like them. Though only in the dead of night in the darkest corners of my mind.

"Sometimes.' I admit. "But...we have everything they d

"Do we?" He looks at me now, and i know this is really bothering him. "Do we really?"

"Course we do. We're no different then them. We just....got *looked* at different."

"I believe that's the most profound thing I've ever heard you say." And he's looking at me like it's the first time he's ever seen me.

"I have my moments. But it's true. We've got each other, same as any of them did."

"I suppose you're right." He rubs the bridge of his nose. He has a headache. I've learned to tell these things. And I don't know why he suffers through them, when he has a million and one solutions for every ache and pain the human body prone to. It's like he likes them, or something. And he's been getting them a lot lately.

"Don't worry about stuff like that. I told you back in school, and I'll tell you now: they're going to get what they deserve. We all do, in the end."

"Do we now?" He asks. He's getting all heavy and philosophical.

"Yea, we do. Come on...you're getting weird. Let's hit the hay, huh?"

"I am not getting weird, I'm serious." He says. "What is it about them that made them so...so..."

"Adored? Loved? Worshiped? Idolized..."

"You *can* shut up now." He snaps.

"I know what you mean." He has a point. "We're no different...well, we were better then them. We knew when to draw the line. They never did. As far as grades go, you should have come out on top. You're smarter then any of them ever were. And hell, we had a better team but....luck was never with us."

"And you're certainly better looking then any of them." He adds. I grin a little.

"Aw, you're handsome too." I tell him, and he just glares at me.

"I'm afraid the rest of the world is not of your opinion."

"They don't matter." I say. "You've never cared what the world thinks of you."

"Of course not, the world doesn't matter. Come...you're right, it's late and we have an important task ahead of us tomorrow." He gets up, and I stand up too, and I feel like this is an important moment. Like something's about to change.

"I meant what I said." I tell him softly.

"You said many things tonight."

"That I love you."

"Ah." He nods. "Yes, I meant that as well."

We're staring at each other now. I close the distance between us, and I find my lips are pressed against his, my hands on his shoulders. And he doesn't push me away. He returns my kiss, and we climb the stairs tangled togther and we fall to bed wrapped in each other's arms.

He's beautiful as I strip him, feel every inch of him. He shivers under my touch, and his eyes are darker then I ever thought possible. He arches into my touch, into my lips, and even into my teeth. I feel him growing hard, feel him thrusting against me, into my hand, into my mouth...

I swallow his climax, and he looks so undone. His hair is a mess, he's bathed in sweat, and he looks like some sort of Greek god laid out before me. His legs are spread, and he's panting, and I can't help myself. I have to have him.

He is unlike himself, in the throes of passion. And he claims to be an innocent, claims no one's ever touched him *quite* like this. I don't know if he means at all, or just the way I'm doing it. Intense and everything. But when I feel how tight he is with my finger, I realize he means it. He's a virgin, and that makes this so...perfect. I mean, I knew, I guess, since he never told me he ever had sex. But he doesn't have to tell me everything, even though he does.

He let's me make love to him. It's beautiful, it really is, the way he sighs and tightens when I first enter him. He's ready and all, and if it hurts him any he doesn't let on. He never lets on. And then it's indescribably. The way he moans my name, the way he shudders and thrashes in a way that is completely not him. The way he claws at my back, and urges me on. His voice is really husky, and he clings to me as I come inside of him.

We lay together afterwards, and he's warm in my arms. Not like the only other time I held him, when he was so damn cold and frightened.

I hold him, and he's pressed tight against me and everything feels right. I'll tell you, I've had my doubts through thing. I've wondered if I've made the right choice, if I'm on the right side. But now, with him, here beside me, I stand by my choice. And I'll stand by it till the day I die.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This piece was inspired by these song lyrics:

Remember when you were young,
you shone like the sun.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
Now there's a look in your eyes, like black holes in the sky.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
You were caught on the crossfire of childhood and stardom,
blown on the steel breeze.
Come on you target for faraway laughter, come on you stranger, you legend, you martyr, and shine!
You reached for the secret too soon, you cried for the moon.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
Threatened by shadows at night, and exposed in the light.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
Well you wore out your welcome with random precision, rode on the steel breeze.
Come on you raver, you seer of visions, come on you painter, you piper, you prisoner, and shine!
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In Love and War