Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Unexpected Side Effect of Draught No. 9	By : lovetoseverus Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 25605 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 21
- 22
- 23
Chapter 22: The Wedding

It was the most magnificent thing Harry could ever remember seeing.

He had barely been in Australia for twenty minutes and already he was standing on the secluded beach that stretched out before their cluster of cottages. Behind him, towering cliffs of jagged, layered rocks lined the far perimeter of the beach, creating a small cove that felt distinctly like a ‘down under’ embrace of welcome.

The waves lapped gently against the shore, and as he walked through them, the smooth sand shifted under his bare feet and slid between his toes. He watched as the water swirled around his ankles and then retreated back into the ocean, only to surge forward again on its next push inland. He watched it ebb and flow around him for a few minutes, mesmerized.

It was then that flashes of his dreamscape came to mind. Yet where that had only been a potion-induced manifestation, this place – Australia – was as real as it was possible to get. If he thought no one would see him, he might have dropped to his knees right then and kissed the sand he was walking on. Sure, there were coastal regions in Britain (one he had even seen when he was eleven, despite the dour circumstances at the time) but this was not that kind of beach, nor that kind of ocean.

Only sunshine and magic could create something like this, he decided, looking up and off into the distance. The soft bite of the ocean air tickled at his nose and he inhaled a lung-full, closing his eyes at the pure pleasure of it all. The sunshine – also so unlike the type he was used to in Britain – warmed his shoulders, already hinting at a temperature that was sure to be sweltering by midday.

“Hi, Harry,” Ginny called, smiling as she approached. She was wearing a deep blue, two-piece swim suit with some sort of flowing wrap draped around her waist. As she walked, the breeze kicked up her hair, whipping it around her shoulders in a thick tangle of red. She was barefoot, and carried a wide-brimmed hat in her hand.

Harry was struck by her beauty in that moment, and wondered, not for the first time, why he wasn’t attracted to her anymore. Was it possible to fall out of attraction with someone? Or was this just further proof he had realized his true sexuality? He turned back to the ocean, squinting as it filled his entire field of vision. He felt her gaze as she came to a stop next to him.

“Here,” she said after a moment, giggling. “Let me help. You’re going to wrinkle your face if you keep doing that.”

As he turned to look at her, she tapped her wand against his glasses, which made him flinch and draw his head back. Before he could question what she was doing, his lenses darkened to a smoky black, and for the first time since he’d arrived, his eyes relaxed in the sunlight.

“Oh. Thanks. Dunno why I didn’t think of that!” He took off his glasses to inspect the change and then promptly replaced them after being reminded how bright it was. He smiled at her.

Just then, Michael Corner walked over, carrying a beer in one hand and a couple of large towels in the other. He gently bussed Ginny’s cheek and then nodded amicably at Harry.

“Hey, Michael,” Harry said, reaching over to briefly shake hands with him. Ginny had pulled Harry aside the day before, amidst their final preparations, to let him know she and Michael had been dating for a couple months and wanted him to be her guest at the wedding – but only if it wouldn’t be awkward. Harry’d agreed easily, seeing no reason why Ginny should be alone just because he didn’t have a date. He really wished everyone would stop tip-toeing around him.

As Ginny and Michael situated themselves on the beach, flipping open large towels atop the sand, Ron walked over and clapped Harry on the back. “So, where’s the Professor?”

“What?” Harry said with a start, his heart jumping into his throat.

“Relax, mate, no need to get your knickers in a twist. Hermione mentioned you have been working with Snape on something, and had this crazy idea he might come with you.” He reached into the bag he was holding and popped a couple of crisps into his mouth.

“Oh.” Harry chuckled uneasily, feeling some of the tension leave his body. Part of him wondered what everyone’s reactions would’ve been if he had brought Severus with him. “Yeah… I mean, no, it’s just me.”

“What are you two doing, anyway?” Ron asked as he chewed.

Harry turned back towards the ocean, unsure of what, or how much, to share. Sometimes he longed for the days when he could tell Ron anything, but something seemed different now. Maybe it was just Harry that had changed. “Can we talk about it later?” He gestured his hand discreetly, hoping to indicate that the others – while probably out of earshot – were not the ideal audience.

“Yeah, sure. Hey, did you see the shorts George’s wearing?” Ron’s grin widened as he looked around for his brother, and Harry knew he’d made the right decision to divert the conversation for another time. Ron was in a giddy, pre-wedding mode, not a heavy, post-war mode. “When the sun hits the back of them, they turn transparent and George ends up mooning everyone!” He started laughing.

Harry offered his best smile, but in truth his thoughts were already pulling him elsewhere. From a short distance away, he heard Mrs. Weasley’s cry of, “Oh, honestly, George!” followed by another chorus of laughter. Ron trotted over to join them.

Harry watched the Weasleys for a moment, feeling oddly separate from their camaraderie, and then turned away to walk along the beach. He had only gone a few paces when Hermione approached and sidled up next to him. “Harry, are you all right?”

He was staring at the impression of his foot in the sand, and how the water washed it into abstraction. “Yeah, just thinking,” he finally answered.

She nodded sagely. “Australia will do that to you.”

“I just can’t believe how different this is from home and Hogwarts... from everything. And how much I like it. I know I just arrived, but I think I could live here.”

Hermione looped her arm through Harry’s, her smile wistful. “I know the feeling.” Then, after a beat, “So what’s got you so deep in thought? Anything you want to talk about?”

Harry looked over at her and then glanced around to be sure they were alone. He wasn’t sure how many other opportunities he’d have to get Hermione by herself this week, and so decided it would be a good time to finally ask what he’d most wanted to know since the dinner with her and Ron nearly a month ago. “I do have a question – something I’m curious about.”

She nodded eagerly and he swallowed.

“How much do you know about Wizarding law? Specifically…” He lowered his voice out of habit. “Gay marriage.”

Hermione blinked at him a few times before a knowing smile graced her lips.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m only asking for Mrs. Whitby. Well, I mean for her son. She was talking to me about it after our dinner that one night, after you and Ron left.”

“And you’re trying to figure out how it applies to you, too.”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding absently. “I mean no! I was just…” He sighed, painfully aware his cards had just been laid bare. He really must work on his brain-to-mouth filter.

She smiled gently at him. “It’s okay, Harry, I’ve known for a while now.”

“What – you have? How?”

They stopped walking and Hermione turned to stand in front of him. She chuckled. “Well, first off, you’re a terrible liar. And second, I’m not sure I could explain it if I tried. I just… knew.” At the slightly wild look in his eye, she rubbed his arm reassuringly. “I won’t tell anyone, Harry, don’t worry. It’s your information to share if you choose. And it doesn’t make any difference to me whether you’re attracted to men or women, only that you find someone who makes you happy. You deserve that.”

He couldn’t help the smile that stole onto his face and he let his shoulders relax.

“What about Ron, though? Do you think he knows?”

“I really doubt it – this is Ron we’re talking about.” They shared a conspiratorial snigger. “But I know why you’re asking. You want to know if he’ll mind; if it will change how he acts around you. Am I right?”

Harry bit his lip and nodded.

“Ron may be a lot of things, Harry, but he is a good man and a loyal friend. Your news may take him a little time to adjust to, but it’s only because he’s slow to acclimate to new things. I’m pretty sure Charlie is gay, so it’s not as though he’s never been confronted with it before. If anything, it might help him resolve his feelings about you and Ginny, and maybe he’ll finally let go of the idea that one day you two will be brothers-in-law.”

“Wait, that’s what he was so upset about?” Harry asked, agog.

“I think that was part of it, yes. He is also really protective of Ginny, so I think you got a bit of the big brother coming out, too.”

“I’ve practically been his brother for the last seven years. Isn’t that enough?”

Hermione smiled. “That is logical to your mind, Harry, but for his whole life, Ron has been the youngest boy in a long line of children. His robes, his books, his wand – even his familiar – were all hand-me-downs. He rarely got anything new, something that was just for him, until you came along. You were sort of his ‘thing’. I think on some level, he was looking forward to making that link official.”

“It’s not like I’m going anywhere, even if I’m not with Ginny.”

“He knows that, but… this was just his way of being sentimental, I suppose. Then again, maybe he’ll just transfer that hope over to you and Charlie.” She giggled. “He’ll be at the wedding, you know. Charlie. He arrives tomorrow.”

“You wouldn’t…”

“No, I already told you I won’t say anything, but I just thought, you know…” She waggled her eyebrows at him.

Harry gave a nervous chuckle and slipped his arm around her shoulders companionably, hoping she wouldn’t notice the blush creeping up his ears and neck. As they continued on down the beach, he pulled her in closer until her head rested against him. They walked like that for a while before Harry slowed their pace and resumed their conversation.

“Well, now that you know about me,” he hedged, “I suppose I should tell you about something else, too.”

“Oh?” Hermione lifted her head to look at him.

Harry dropped his arm and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his shorts. “Yeah.” He swallowed, feeling Hermione’s gaze on him. He knew he’d never get this out if he turned to look at her, so he kept his eyes focused on the waves in the distance. “Before I left, I was working with Severus on something. In his lab.” He cast his mind about for a way to describe what they were doing without actually saying what they were doing. He wasn’t sure he was quite ready to divulge the particulars of Evochi yet, or what he’d experienced while using it, and so settled on something suitably generic. “And, well… finishing it was kind of a big deal.”

“Okay…” she encouraged.

Harry took a deep breath. “And after we were done, there was this moment… I’m not exactly sure what happened, but Severus kissed me. Or we kissed each other, I dunno.” Harry was gesturing helplessly, and knew his face must be scarlet by now. Braving a look at Hermione, he took in her expression: eyebrows dancing near her hairline, mouth open in an ‘o’ shape (but rapidly dissolving into a wide smile) and, for the moment, speechless.

“What?” he asked, feeling suddenly discomfited by his admission.

“Harry!” she exclaimed, having found her voice again. “That’s wonderful!”

Puzzled by her reaction (not that he’d known what to expect) he found all he could do was look back at her, his brows pinched together.

“Sorry, it’s just... I didn’t think it’d happen so… I mean–” She cleared her throat. “This is just such a big step for you! Severus is your first kiss after Ginny, and he’s a man!”

“Well spotted,” Harry said sarcastically, causing her to giggle.

“Oh, shut up, you know what I mean. It’s great that you – oh, never mind!” She squealed and hugged him tightly. “I’m just so happy for you!”

Easing out of her embrace, he said, “It was just a kiss, Hermione, we’re not picking out china patterns.”

He ducked the swat she aimed at his arm and they grinned at each other. Then Hermione suddenly leaned closer, a cheeky smile on her face. “So, how was it?”

The question caught Harry a little off guard. “I’m not sure – I don’t even know what I think about it yet.” Watching her face fall a little, he quickly regrouped. “I mean, it was nice. Good. A little weird, I suppose. It just happened so fast, and our work was kind of intense and disorienting, so I’m not sure if it was just to do with that or if it was… something else.”

Hermione briefly pursed her lips. “Would you be okay with it if it was ‘something else’?”

Harry thought on that a moment. Admittedly, he hadn’t had much time to think about what’d happened after his sixth draught, as once he’d left Severus’, he helped Ginny with the final wedding preparations, packed his own bag, and then departed for Australia the following morning. The whole thing had been a bit of a blur, really.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

“Well, how did you two leave things?”

Harry laughed darkly. “Oh, probably the same way we leave everything. The kiss ended about as fast as it started and we both just sort of stared at each other for a second, and then I said I had to go, and left.”

“Did you tell him you were going to be gone all week?”

“Yeah, he knows about the wedding.”

“That’s something, at least.” Hermione looked like she wanted to slap her forehead – or his – but only just managed to resist. She shook her head. “What are we going to do with you?”

Harry grinned hopefully and shrugged, which caused her to mutter, “Boys!” under her breath. They both laughed.

“Come on, you,” she said finally, tugging his arm. “I want you to try the appetizers we brought for the reception.”

“But you haven’t answered my question!”

“Which question? Oh, about gay marriage?” At Harry’s nod, she turned thoughtful. “Right, we wouldn’t want to leave Mrs. Whitby’s son in the lurch.”

Harry cleared his throat. “Of course not.”

On their walk back to the main cottage, Harry listened with interest as Hermione explained that gay marriage was allowed; that marriage in Wizarding culture was, in fact, simply defined as a legal commitment between two people, but that no other personal characteristics (aside from both parties being the age of majority) were relevant. A bonding was a bonding, no matter the combination of genders.

Mrs. Whitby would be so relieved.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

The next afternoon found Harry standing waist deep in the ocean, wearing nothing but a pair of dark blue swim trunks. He had felt the power of the undertow even at this depth, and decided not to venture out any farther in the water. Wizard or not, he was no match for Mother Nature.

From somewhere behind him, he heard a familiar laugh. When he turned, he saw Ginny standing on the shore, pointing, caught in a fit of giggles.

“What?” he asked, feeling suddenly paranoid, sweeping his gaze down his body to see if something was amiss.

“Sorry, it’s just…” She paused for a moment to compose herself, then grinned. “Did you know your tattoo is nearly on top of your head at this point?”

“It… what?” Harry started patting the top of his head and the back of his neck. He didn’t know what he was looking for, exactly, as the tattoo had no discernible texture to speak of. His actions spurred another bout of laughter from Ginny and he scowled. “What’s it doing?”

Her grin widened. “Let’s just say I don’t think your phoenix likes the cold water.”

“It’s not the only part of me,” Harry muttered to himself.

“When did Harry get a tattoo?” At the sound of Charlie’s voice, Harry couldn’t help turning around again, but then immediately realized his mistake. Charlie, the brother Harry had first met in fourth year and hadn’t seen since the end of the war, was now standing next to Ginny. He had on a pair of the same loud board shorts Ron favored, and he was shirtless; his broad, muscular chest and arms were covered in a smattering of tattoos and scars – large and unmistakably dragon-like. On both counts.

Despite the jarring temperature of the water, Harry’s cock twitched. There had always been something about Charlie he had found appealing, even before sexuality had entered the equation. Perhaps it was just the rugged, masculine air that followed him, or his fearlessness with dragons. Or maybe it was those warm brown eyes of his, unfailingly kind but always seeming alight with adventure and mischief. Or maybe it was all of it.

It was also then he noticed Charlie had slung an arm casually around Ginny, and the pair of them were eyeing him appreciatively, though each in their own way. To her credit, Ginny was more subtle about it, whereas Charlie was just unabashedly flirtatious.

“Oi!” he called, grinning. “Are you going to come here so I can say hello, or what?”

Harry felt his cheeks pink as he waded back out of the water, suddenly never more thankful for the cold temperature to keep his body in check. Charlie wasted no time wrapping him in a warm hug, and if it was a little cozier than he remembered experiencing before, he pretended not to notice.

“Walk with me, Harry.” Charlie waved at Ginny as he steered Harry in the opposite direction. They headed towards the rocky outcroppings that peppered the shoreline, and Harry noticed they’d soon be out of the line of sight of the cottages.

“How’ve you been?”

“What? Oh, good,” Harry answered, resisting the urge to look back over his shoulder at the disappearing landscape.

“Did I hear right that you have been working with Professor Snape?”

Harry marveled at the speed with which information traveled through the Weasley family. “Um, yeah.”

“Lucky you.”

“Sorry?”

Charlie shrugged slightly. “I’m not sure if you know this, but I sort of had a thing for him when I was at Hogwarts.”

Harry’s eyebrows lifted towards his hairline. “Really? Did anything… I mean, did he know?”

“Oh, he knew. I suppose you could say I’m not really known for my subtlety.” Charlie chuckled in spite of himself.

“What did you do?” Harry had half-turned towards Charlie while they walked, finding that he was inexplicably interested in what had happened. Perhaps it was because of his own recent experiences – and yes, the kiss, too – but there was something in hearing about Severus from other people’s points of view that he liked.

“I flirted shamelessly with him after class, and once even visited him during office hours to see if I could entice him further. He turned me down, the sexy bastard. But all that pent-up angst?” Charlie shook his head. “Man, he’d’ve been a great fuck.”

Harry coughed slightly, embarrassed that his body had reacted to Charlie’s assessment. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to think about Severus in that context, but couldn’t help wondering if there was any truth to it.

“You’re probably more his type, anyway.” Charlie swept his gaze briefly up and down Harry’s body as he spoke.

“Wh-what? Why would you say that?”

Charlie pulled gently on Harry’s elbow to steer him inside one of the alcoves. Sunlight streamed in from above, though its rays were interrupted in several places by heavy outcroppings of rock. The surf was subdued, but still echoed around them, and the sand was cooler under their feet. When he turned to face Harry again, he tipped his head to the side, his mouth spread in a wry smile.

“You really have no concept of your own appeal, do you? I mean, take this tattoo of yours, for instance.”

“My… tattoo?”

“Yes. Ink, particularly on you, is… well, it’s damned near irresistible, is what it is. Do you mind… can I take a closer look?” Charlie looked at him expectantly, his mouth set in that familiar Weasley grin.

“Um, sure. Yeah,” Harry answered, obediently lifting his right arm to allow for a better view.

“This is beautiful work…” Charlie enthused as he made a slow circle around Harry’s body. “The detail alone. I see I missed out by having one of my mates do all mine. Where’d you go for yours?”

“A shop in London – a Muggle one,” Harry added. “Rian was her name.”

“And a woman, too, very nice. This must have taken her a while to do.”

“Yeah. Four appointments. She was always impressed with how fast I healed in between visits.” They both grinned at that. Then Harry felt a warm finger trailing along his skin. He was fighting the urge to wiggle out of the way when Charlie sucked in a breath.

“Blimey, you even animated it!”

Harry couldn’t help grinning at that. “Yeah, George did it for me, actually.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Charlie said sarcastically. “It’s sensitive to touch, too. It keeps trying to skirt my finger!” He laughed.

“It… it’s what?” Harry turned his head and rotated his body, trying to get a look at what it was doing.

Charlie pointed. “It’s on your other side, now, I think.”

Confused, Harry turned and smoothed a palm over his left side, watching as the phoenix rippled contentedly under his touch. That was odd – it had never shied away from touch before. He wondered what that meant, or what it said about Charlie. True, the number of people who had come in direct contact with it so far was small – okay, nonexistent – but still, he couldn’t help wondering why it hadn’t let Charlie touch it. Maybe it had something to do with a person’s magical signature? He made a mental note to ask George about it after the wedding. When he looked up again, Charlie was regarding him curiously.

“I think it’s just being shy,” Harry offered with a small shrug.

“No harm done.” Charlie smiled. “You know, there was a time when I thought about animating some of mine, but I was afraid they would spook the dragons.” He pursed his lips for a moment. “Turns out dragons are a bit twitchy when it comes to unexpected movement.”

They both shared a knowing laugh over that. Then Harry walked closer to one of the jagged stone walls, inspecting their surroundings a bit. He was tracing a finger along a sediment pattern when Charlie spoke next.

“So, are all the boys from Hogwarts clamoring over you yet?”

“What?” Harry spluttered. “Did… did Hermione tell you?”

“Hermione? No. But she needn’t’ve bothered – it’s written all over you, love.”

Harry blushed.

“Sweet Merlin,” Charlie breathed, smiling gently. “If you keep doing that adorable blushing thing, you will be the undoing of me yet.”

“Sorry,” Harry said, then proceeded to blush even further at the attention. Charlie laughed, deep and hearty, and stepped closer to pull Harry into a friendly embrace.

When they parted, both of them caught the other’s gaze, their smiles slowly fading as a heated moment began to grow between them. They mapped each other’s faces with their eyes, both seeming to seek the same confirmation.

Then Harry looked directly at Charlie’s lips, and that proved to be his undoing. With his heart hammering in his ears, Harry leaned forward and pressed his mouth against those full lips, kissing lightly, as though asking a question.

Not surprisingly, Charlie answered.

Instantly, a warm body was pressed up against Harry’s and two hands found purchase in his hair, cradling his head. A tongue slipped along his lips and he opened his mouth, inviting Charlie in while they tangled and tasted each other. When his lower lip was captured between Charlie’s teeth, he gasped, and returned the kiss as best he was able. His tentativeness didn’t seem to matter to Charlie, who was focused on directing Harry’s head back and forth so his lips could rhythmically suck and nibble, occasionally darting a tongue in to explore Harry’s mouth.

Harry tried to focus on the kiss, he really did, but the soft tickle of breath from Charlie’s nose distracted him, and a moment later, his mind began to fill with academic thoughts.

How was he supposed to feel when kissing someone? Weak in the knees? Fiery tingles shooting down his spine? Immediate physical arousal? He wasn’t sure. He’d never felt that with Cho or Ginny, and had little else to compare it to given it was only his second kiss with a man (third, if he included his dreamscape lover, although once again he suspected that didn’t count – nor, probably, did the one with Severus, as that one had been born of, well, he didn’t know what exactly, but certainly not this same in-the-moment, proximity-attraction thing).

Right?

Confused, Harry pressed his palms against the solid chest before him and pushed Charlie away. “I… I can’t do this,” Harry whispered. “I’m sorry, I… I shouldn’t have kissed you.” He looked down at his feet and the sand – anywhere but at the man before him.

“It’s okay, Harry.” There was a touch to his chin. “Hey.”

Harry looked up slowly.

“You did nothing wrong,” Charlie explained. “It was just a moment; I felt it too. Truth be told, if you wouldn’t have kissed me, I would have kissed you.” He moved his hand to Harry’s shoulder. “It’s okay to be curious.”

Harry nodded, a grateful smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“I wouldn’t have let it get too far, anyway – I know you aren’t interested in a quick shag.”

“It’s not that, it’s—”

“You don’t have to explain,” Charlie interrupted. “You owe me nothing. I’m not good for you, anyway. My life is in Romania and my work… well, it’s pretty much my life. It wouldn’t be fair to drag you into that, especially when I know enough about you to know you’ll want a partner. And you deserve that, Harry, please believe you do. It’ll be a lucky man indeed who gets your heart.”

Before Harry could respond – not that he knew what to say to any of that, anyway – Charlie grinned. “…as well as this tight little arse of yours,” he added with an appreciative grunt, punctuating his statement by sliding his palms over the buttocks in question and giving them a firm squeeze.

Harry gasped, his eyes going wide, and Charlie chuckled.

“What? Just because I would never take advantage of the situation doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate your… assets.” He winked.

Harry flushed again. Somehow, whenever he was around Charlie, he felt as though he reverted to the fourteen-year-old he’d been when they first met, despite the passage of four years and one war. He made a face he hoped was passable as a grin.

Charlie turned and flung an arm around Harry’s shoulders, then leaned in to nuzzle and lick his cheek. “Besides, if we don’t turn up at the cottages soon, everyone will think I’ve run off and had my wicked way with you.”

“Th-they would actually think that?” Harry squeaked, wiping off his cheek with the back of his hand.

“God, you’re so adorable.” Charlie laughed. “I’m just messing with you. No, they’re all so busy running around, charming magnolias in glass jars or some damn thing, I doubt they’d notice if a fucking dragon swooped in and landed on the wedding cake.”

For the first time since his interlude with Charlie began, Harry began to feel his body relax, and he laughed, the sound warm and familiar to his ears as it echoed around the small alcove.

“Though… it’s not too late, if you’d rather prove them right…” Charlie’s eyes very nearly glittered as his eyebrows bounced.

“Um,” Harry coughed, hoping he covered it well enough by clearing his throat. “I say let them wonder.”

Charlie nodded. “You got it, love,” he said, though Harry thought he could detect a twinge of disappointment in the tone.

For a moment they just looked at each other, smile matching smile, until an unspoken challenge skittered across their gazes. Simultaneously, they broke into a run, exiting the alcove and racing each other back along the coastline to the beachfront cottages.

Harry won.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

That evening, alone atop the coastline cliffs, Harry reflected on the kiss he had shared with Charlie. Truth be told, he’d been unable to think of much else all day. It was such a strange thing, and so unlike the others he had experienced. Kissing Charlie had been pleasant enough, even comfortable. But something had been missing. It wasn’t that Charlie felt like a brother – kissing Ron or the twins, sure – but he didn’t really know Charlie all that well, and there was sufficient distance in their relationship to make it decidedly not weird. So that wasn’t it.

And then there was the thing with his tattoo, how it seemed intent to get away from Charlie’s touch. At the time Harry had passed it off casually, citing the phoenix’s shyness, but instinctively he knew that was not true. Yet he wasn’t sure what it meant, exactly.

He briefly considered gender as a reason but dismissed that quickly. His dreamscape lover was a man and had given him a near-instant erection from the intensity of their kiss – something he had also never experienced with Ginny or Cho. And there seemed to have been a different kind of connection in the dreamscape, too, something he hadn’t felt with Charlie. In fact, he had only felt it one other time, brief though it was: when Severus had kissed him.

He remembered the way the moment seemed so charged, the surge of adrenaline and emotion arcing between them. He didn’t know if it had come from him, or from Severus, or from the aftermath of their session. Or even what it meant. Hell, he’d barely had time to process what was happening and then it was over almost before it’d begun. It was only in reflecting upon it later that he realized it had stirred a reaction deep within him; had ignited something he’d never felt before.

When the sun began to sink into the horizon, Harry wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his chin on his knees. Maybe it was all in his head. Maybe it had just been a one-time thing with Severus; a fluke. Maybe he should try again with Charlie.

Maybe.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

“Hello, Best Man.” Hermione smiled from where she sat in front of a mirror, applying something to her face with a small brush.

Harry closed the door softly behind him and walked into the room. He had half expected to find Ginny in here as well, but the room was empty except for the two of them. “Mrs. Weasley said you were looking for m—” he started, but cut himself off with a gasp as Hermione stood and turned towards him.

As she approached, the long, gathered layers of her white dress whished about her body. Her hair was pulled back into a loose bun, a few soft curls framing her face and a white flower tucked behind one ear. She turned once to show Harry the reverse, its elegantly-draped opening revealing the softly bronzed skin of her upper back, and then turned around to face him again. She looked like one of those goddess statues at The Grecian, the gown flattering every curve of her body and reflecting every watt of her glow. Harry had never seen her look more beautiful.

But perhaps more than her dress, it was the way she was carrying herself; her presence. Standing there in her wedding gown, a nervous-excited smile on her face, it occurred to Harry that she was exactly where she wanted to be. There was a certain contentment about her, a confidence in her decisions that she’d always had. This was no exception. She had a path, a purpose. A place. Harry felt a thrum of anxiety in his body as his restlessness resurfaced, and he wondered if he’d ever get to that point in his own life. Voldemort may not have been something he chose for himself, but at least it had given him a purpose. Now that it might finally be over, what else was there for him? What should he do now?

Hermione captured him in a hug and they squeezed each other firmly. When she pulled back from their embrace, she was practically beaming. “Thank you,” she said.

“For what?” he managed.

“For telling me how I look.” At his confusion, she clarified. “It was written all over your face, Harry, you didn’t need to say a word. Thank you,” she repeated. “Do you think that’s how Ron will react?”

“I dunno, but he’d better. Do you want me to Charm him, just in case?”

Hermione laughed deeply, sliding her hands around to the front of her dress. “Oh, thank you, I needed that,” she said, and Harry grinned.

A knock at the door interrupted them, followed by the voice of the minister announcing the ceremony was about to begin. Harry took that as his cue to leave the bride in favor of his place under the outdoor canopy. He leaned over and gently bussed Hermione’s cheek.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yes,” she affirmed, her smile warm and bright. “And look at you, too! My God, Harry, you look amazing in those robes!” She stood back a bit and sized him up. The lightweight khaki attire Hermione had selected for him came with linen trousers and a matching shirt, both tailored to fit him perfectly, and around his shoulders was a white, linen scarf, draped in a ceremonial fashion.

He thanked her with a sly smile and got as far as the door when she spoke again.

“Harry?”

He stopped and looked back at her.

“It’ll happen for you, too. You’ll see.” She smiled softly, her fondness never more apparent.

It caused Harry’s throat to tighten and he pressed his lips into a thin line, blinking back the sting in the corners of his eyes. He nodded, but was unable to say anything else just then.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

As Harry stood under the canopy, idly watching the last few guests take their seats, he began wondering about his own wedding. Would he wear a tuxedo? If so, would it be black or white? Or would he opt for robes? Or maybe neither of those? Would he conduct it outdoors or inside a church? Or perhaps he’d have it at Hogwarts?

He sighed. He might be getting a little ahead of himself; last time he checked, he didn’t even have someone to marry.

A hand on his back stirred him from his thoughts and he looked at Ron, who appeared a bit pale and nervous, but otherwise happy. Harry smiled reassuringly at him. He could always tell when Ron was happy – there was an eagerness behind his eyes, as though he couldn’t wait to get on with whatever was next. In that instant, Harry knew Hermione needn’t worry about Ron’s reaction to seeing her walk down the aisle and towards their future. It’d be a miracle if either of them got through it without crying, really.

Moments later, soft music swelled around them and Harry looked towards the back of their impromptu venue to see Hermione standing there, her arm looped through her father’s on one side and her mother’s on the other. A quick glance at Ron confirmed Harry’s suspicion: Ron’s jaw was clenched and he was attempting to jut out his chin, which meant only one thing: he was trying to stave off the surge of emotion at seeing Hermione standing before him in this place, in that dress, finally realizing a moment he was afraid he’d never see. Even Mrs. Weasley was already dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. Harry smiled to himself.

The ceremony turned out to be a picture of subdued elegance and romance. The wedding party – which consisted of only himself and Ginny – flanked Ron and Hermione underneath a trellis made from native, Australian wood. Thousands of tiny, sparkling lights spiraled their way up the pillars and onto the beams overhead. A sheer, white fabric was draped around them, fluttering in the ocean breeze, and on each corner of the canopy was a bouquet of peach and red flowers amid a backdrop of greenery.

Stretched out before them were two wide aisles of chairs, all covered in white fabric. The smiling, expectant faces of the guests looked on with interest. Everyone was barefoot and dressed in smart, casual attire that ranged from Wizarding to Muggle fashion. George, he noticed, had found one of those Muggle t-shirts with the fake tuxedo artwork, and even mimicked straightening his bow-tie when Harry caught his eye. Harry stifled a smirk, and had to look away before he laughed.

It wasn’t until midway through the ceremony, while his back was to the guests, that Harry’s neck began to prickle. He guessed someone was looking at him, and rather intently, too. He had been doing the shade charm on his glasses every day, now that Ginny had turned him onto it, and he found that darkening them a bit more than she had done allowed the direction of his gaze to go unnoticed. This was particularly helpful when he wanted to look – at things, people, anything – without being noticed.

When he got a chance to turn around again, he let his gaze roam lazily over the seated guests, seeking out the source of that focus. He found it quickly, and wasn’t surprised when that person turned out to be Charlie. The redhead seemed to be alternating his view between Harry and the bride and groom, and as far as Harry could tell, Charlie wasn’t aware he was being watched in return.

Only two rows back from the front, Charlie’s handsome, rugged face was set into an easy grin – so reminiscent of all the other Weasley men, yet with enough of a twist in the corner to be uniquely Charlie. He had pulled his long hair back into a ponytail, and even shaved the stubble off his face. Dropping his eyes lower, Harry took in the white shirt he wore. The top few buttons were undone, and the fabric was semi-opaque. The shape and color of his broad, muscular chest could be seen underneath it, and it caused Harry’s cock to twitch at the memory of being pressed up against that body. He had to quickly force himself to look away and think about something else, lest he have an embarrassing and inconvenient development in the middle of the ceremony.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

The wedding reception was made all the more bittersweet by the fact it was the first big family event post-war, although it’s a point no one seemed to speak of directly. Mrs. Weasley spent most of the night wrapping everyone she could fit into a group hug, bouncing from one group to the next as if to confirm to herself that they were all still there, safe and happy and alive.

After she had released Harry and the others who had been near him, he turned around to find a smirking Charlie in front of him.

“Hi,” Harry said, a sly smile blooming on his lips.

“Hi, love,” Charlie answered, and then nodded his head to the right. “Mind if I show you something?”

There was something about the undercurrent of Charlie’s tone that sent a zip of electricity right to Harry’s groin. He then made the mistake of looking at Charlie’s shirt again, and swallowed thickly. He shot a quick glance over both shoulders.

“Don’t worry,” Charlie said, sweeping his eyes around at the guests busying themselves with food and merriment, “I doubt we’ll be missed for a few minutes.”

Harry followed Charlie’s gaze around the party and found he was inclined to agree – everyone seemed to be preoccupied with the festivities. He grinned when he spotted George and Angelina dancing with silly, exaggerated movements, laughing together, and then decided to let himself be swept off to the alcove he and Charlie had visited earlier in the week, for he knew that’s where they were headed even though Charlie hadn’t specified.

A surge of anticipation and excitement swept over him, and he discreetly adjusted himself in his trousers as he swelled against the fabric, knowing they weren’t going to hide anything. They were barely inside the rocky entrance and Charlie’s hands were on him.

“I couldn’t keep my eyes off you in this damn outfit, the way the setting sun cast a golden hue to your skin…” He growled. “God, you looked positively edible. And now you’re reducing me to poetic declarations, for Circe’s sake! Is this okay, can I kiss you?” he asked, though it was mostly rhetorical given that his tongue was already probing Harry’s mouth.

Harry just nodded his head and pulled Charlie closer, hoping that if the nod was missed, his tongue sliding out to tangle with Charlie’s would answer the question. Charlie moaned, canting his hips against Harry’s interested cock.

“Could you… I mean, do you want…” Harry managed mid-kiss, then stopped. He didn’t think his helpless gesturing and babbling was working until he saw the heat and recognition ignite behind Charlie’s eyes.

Charlie took a step closer, gently pushing Harry back against the rocky wall, an aroused gleam in his eyes. “You want me to taste you, Harry, is that it?” he whispered, his tongue flicking against the shell of Harry’s ear.

Harry could not find his voice so he merely nodded his head fervently. Charlie nibbled his way down Harry’s neck and jaw, smoothing his hands down over the front of Harry’s shirt. Unfastening Harry’s trousers with one hand, he nipped at Harry’s ear again, his voice a low, seductive purr. “Will you let me suck your cock, Harry?”

Harry closed his eyes, a desperate whimper escaping as he nodded again. He wondered how his idle gazing during the ceremony had brought him to this point, so wanton and desperate; though, as Charlie slid to his knees, drawing Harry’s trousers down with him as we went, he realized he couldn’t be arsed to care.

One of Charlie’s hands rubbed Harry’s prick while the other cupped and squeezed his arse, negotiating Harry to full hardness. It didn’t take long, and then suddenly Charlie dove onto him, grasping the base of his cock with one hand while his mouth sucked in the head, mewling around it appreciatively.

Harry moaned, digging his fingers into the rocks behind him, barely registering Charlie’s murmured words.

“Mmm, gorgeous,” the redhead enthused. It was more reverence than Harry ever expected to hear with regards to a cock, but when a firm tongue traced the underside of his head and then swiped through the slit, he lost all ability to think coherently. His eyes nearly rolled back a moment later when he swore the head bumped the back of Charlie’s throat.

Yet despite his muzzy awareness, a thought still managed to thread through his mind. This was the first time he’d ever let a man do this for him. Even accounting for Ginny’s skill in this area, there was just something to be said for having a man do it; a man who understood exactly how every flick of the tongue felt, why the combination of pressure and suction and texture – oh, God, yes, just there – worked, and if they happened to add a little vibration or a particular fondle of the balls, then…

The more Harry thought about it, the more it aroused him, and suddenly he was overcome with the desire to see it, too.

Chancing a glance at the head bobbing below him, Harry’s world suddenly began to tilt, and instead of seeing the ginger hair and freckled face of Charlie, the visual was replaced with his dark-haired dreamscape lover. He closed his eyes, the remembered scene flooding his senses. Okay, so this wasn’t the grass in the middle of a downpour, but the rocky alcove of a secluded Australian beach was a damn good replacement.

Then, too soon, he felt the electrical surge in his body signaling the inevitable, and he mourned his ability to savor this, to draw it out longer. Perhaps it was because his lover was just that good, or maybe he needed to indulge himself more frequently to dampen his over-excitement; either way, he found himself tapping the shoulder below him, hoping it was enough of a signal. He wasn’t sure what the proper etiquette was.

It must have been okay, for the grip on his hips tightened suddenly, pinning him against the wall. There was a new urgency and feeling in the way that mouth worked him – coupled with the fact he couldn’t move – that meant not even the sight of Dolores Umbridge at that moment would have prevented his orgasm.

Harry’s eyes rolled back for real as he came and he had to bite his lip to stifle the groan. He may have been out of sight of the party, but he was not necessarily out of earshot. Vaguely, somewhere beyond the edges of his mind, he heard a low moan, almost a growl, and realized Charlie was attempting to milk every last drop from him.

Harry thought it was a miracle he was even still standing. He leaned heavily against the wall for support, panting, knowing what a picture he must make standing there, completely exposed from the waist down. He swallowed, wetting his lips with his tongue, and drew in several deep breaths. When his mind finally caught up with him, he opened his eyes.

“Just as delicious as I thought you’d be,” Charlie murmured, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction. His gaze swept up Harry’s body as he wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ll go out first and you can follow whenever you’re ready. Might want to straighten your clothes and cast a cleansing charm, though.” Charlie made a move to leave, but paused at the entrance to the alcove and turned slightly. With a last look, he grinned, then slipped out to rejoin the throng of revelers.

Harry just stood there, his legs and arms very slowly regaining their feeling. He’d just had another interlude with his dreamscape lover, only… not. What did it mean that he had just been with a willing, flesh-and-blood man, and still he couldn’t stop his mind from automatically drifting to a figment of his imagination? Frustrated and still oddly aroused, Harry pulled up his trousers, took a moment to straighten himself, and then walked out of the alcove.

He decided he’d clean himself up later. For now, he wanted the reminder.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

All told, Harry’s time in Australia proved to be – at least to that point in his life – an unparalleled experience.

Surrounded by an ocean of blue waves on one side, and a sea of red hair from his adopted family on the other, Harry felt he had somehow fallen into one of those sublime moments of life where everything had seemed just right. Not that he’d had a lot of those in his eighteen years, but maybe that’s what made them easier to spot – and appreciate.

The entire week had been a relaxed, jovial affair. Every morning had been filled with exploration and hiking to nearby towns, where they all spent time enjoying fresh fruits and breads and talking with locals. The evenings consisted of bonfires with roasted marshmallows and reminiscing – and, for Harry, watching the sunset alone while perched atop the surrounding cliffs.

The in-between times (those that didn’t involve wedding preparations, of course) were filled with swimming and sun-bathing, or pick-up games of Quidditch on the beach – an easy task considering most of the Weasley family played, as well as many of the guests. Those who didn’t cheered them on from the makeshift, sandy sidelines.

Yet despite the contentment he felt at being in Australia, he also knew one big thing was missing: someone to share it with. And what did it say that the one person he most wanted that to be was Severus? Harry was surprised how much he missed him; how much he was craving Severus’ presence. Even though they generally only saw one another on Sundays, Harry’s week away had felt much longer somehow. There had been several occasions during his stay when Harry had wanted to remark on something to Severus, only to remember he wasn’t there. It was those moments especially when Harry wished he would have at least extended an invite, or found some way to convince Severus to go, other people’s opinions (and school schedules) be damned.

Settling his pack on his shoulder, the rest of his belongings already shrunk into his pocket, Harry stepped up to the Portkey Mr. Weasley had prepared for him. Turning briefly, he gave farewell hugs to the remaining Weasleys and to Hermione (who was now a Weasley, he reminded himself) and thanked them all for everything.

As he took one last look at Australia, he couldn’t help think of Severus again. Severus had become such a prominent fixture in his life in such a short time, despite an association that had spanned nearly a decade, and the realization of that caused a now-familiar warmth to spread through his body. He didn’t know why he seemed to feel that more and more now when he thought of Severus, but he decided he very much liked it.

It was that thought he held in his mind as he grabbed the tatty old hairbrush, smiling as the pull behind his navel whisked him away.
- 21
- 22
- 23
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Unexpected Side Effect of Draught No. 9