Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Love is patient, Love is fierce	By : CrimsonLilly Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 28525 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: This humble author does not own Harry Potter, any of its characters or situations depicted in the books/movies. There is no monetary gain made from this work of fanfiction, either.

Chapter List
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A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I loved your comments and appreciate them a lot! Sorry for being late with this. For more info on the next update, please read the author’s note at the bottom of this chapter!

  The glimpse of Truth
Ten days later, Harry’s situation—every single bloody part of it—was becoming more tedious, driving him mad; slowly but surely.
First of all, he was absolutely unsuccessful in finding even the tiniest clue about what the magic that had been cast on his relatives could have been in any of his books. Which, in turn, made him lash out in frustration and push the last book—the one that had been his last hope—away from him. Unfortunately, that only served to make it tumble off the bed. The sound of it thumping softly on the new, plush and incredibly soft rug only made him more aware of his failure to identify what was wrong with his relatives and ultimately, his failure of finding a way to fix it.
Meanwhile, the Dursley’s were getting progressively worse.
Or, well, better, depending on where you were standing. All in all, it was starting to freak Harry out.
Not only did they buy him clothes that actually fit and everything and anything a still growing boy—a teenager—could need, they were honestly treating him like a loved one. The first time they invited him to eat with them, he almost got a stroke from sheer shock of those words passing not his aunt’s, but his uncle’s lips.
After the initial shock of that first invitation, the invitations simply continued coming—wining, dining, talking and simply spending time with them; all of it, he’d been allowed—even encouraged—to participate in.
The first argument, though, that had to be the weirdest of it all. The fact it didn’t end in blows was quite mind-blowing; the fact that they all sat down to eat as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened not twenty minutes later seemed too surreal to be actually true and not a mere illusion.
Harry’s number one suspect was still the Imperius Curse, but somehow his gut made him doubt the validity of that assumption.
The second situation that was threatening to drive him to an early grave, were the people around him. Starting with the Dursley’s neighbours and going all the way to the entirety of Little Whinging, including even their mailman and milkman, the people around Harry seemed to have been hit with a Confundus spell, as far as he could tell.
At least, that was the only way he could even fathom to explain the increased interest in his person from absolutely every single individual in Little Whinging.
And the attention was not only weird, but often times quite unwanted as well.
Especially if it consisted of aunt Petunia’s lady friends from church ogling him like he was a piece of meat they could get on discount at their local bazaar!
Not only that, but being the center of attention of both male and female, young and old, straight and not so straight people was becoming a little bit too much.
He couldn’t even go to the bloody market without someone being there to casually tell him what gorgeous eyes he had or letting him know he had a killer smile; one guy even noted that he believed Harry to be “packing a snake” in his trousers.
Which, in turn, made him cringe at the most graphic visual of that statement that his shocked mind was much obliged to provide him with.
When he was being more calm and collected and less dramatic than he was right then, Harry did admit to himself that most probably the different treatment he received from people who’d, until then, all but shunned him, had probably quite a bit to do with the diametrically different treatment he’d been given by his relatives.
It was as if, now that he was being treated right by the people who’d used to tell stories of his awful behaviour and character, it gave leeway to others to do a one-eighty and…drive Harry bonkers.
Still, all that put aside, his Confundus theory was simply more fun and he chose not to give up on it if only just for that childish reasoning.
And honestly, he could use a little bit of fun, because, frankly, this situation he’d found himself thrown head-first into was no fun at all.
Harry couldn’t really help it even if he’d wanted to; he was feeling awfully guilty.
He was quite certain that he was the one and only reason his relatives had been bewitched as they were and that thought simply didn’t sit well with him.
He was shocked, in all honesty, that he found himself feeling like this.
If anything, before this had happened, he was absolutely bloody positive that he’d feel good—ecstatic, even—knowing the Dursley’s had been hexed or cursed, no matter the spell used.
In fact, he had felt vindicated, elated, positively brilliant when Hagrid had hexed Dudley with a pig tail, hadn’t he? So what was different this time around?
Why did he feel so guilty all of a sudden? Where was this strange empathy coming from? He should not have any empathy left for his dear relatives and he was well aware of that.
But, for some reason, seeing them like this—smiling, happy, content with their lot in life—he felt like they were completely different.
They were not the Dursley’s, not really.
These people he had no relations to at all. They were complete strangers.
And that, more than anything, was what freaked him out.
These people were gentle, kind and loving and if this ruddy situation continued for much longer, Harry feared he may actually start to care for them. And that was not the most horrible part of it all, no. The most horrible part would be that he would care for an illusion, a mirage that will disappear in a single breath when he utters the words “Finite Incatatem” on his seventeenth birthday in slightly more than a month.
He was afraid he’d get to that point where he won’t be willing to undo the curse the Dursley’s were under. He was positively petrified that he’d have a taste of an actual family and he won’t want to give it all up, therefore sentencing the Dursley’s to a half life; living out the rest of their days with a pre-programmed behaviour so different from their original one, that they would be living a lie.
Not that they would be aware of that, but Harry would be.
And he would feel wretched seeing them like that; no better than trained monkeys, their actual personalities—no matter how awful they were—gone up in smoke, never to be seen again.
Lastly, the problem that had set out to make the rest of his problems seem like veritable child’s play—his libido.
And even for a teenager who was supposed to be horny all the time, it was becoming absolutely ridiculous!
Harry felt as if his mind was trying its hardest to make his life even more tedious than it already was, as it seemed to have decided that every wanking session Harry partook in had to be accompanied by mental images of Jack.
Sometimes, Harry even imagined what it would be like, going out there, looking for the man and maybe even experiencing once more the night they’d had. Thankfully, those kinds of thoughts were driven soundly away by each orgasm Harry had. Not that all of it stopped him from fantasizing about going to Jack’s flat, knocking on his door in the late evening and pushing the man back inside the very moment he opened the door open wide enough and—yep, his imagination was completely intact.
So, yes, his libido was on par with a rabbit’s. A mad, horny, it’s-progeny-making-time rabbit’s.
Occasionally, Harry wondered if he was perhaps worrying too much over nothing. But, all of these things piled up together—the things happening not only to him, but also around him—were a good sign of how strange Harry’s life had become.
Not only that, but that uncomfortable feeling of tension in his chest seemed to have returned with full force; or, if Harry was honest with himself, even stronger than before.
He could feel it inside him; that tension slowly forming into a tight ball of anxiety in his chest, squeezing his heart, holding it in a vice grip and making him gasp at such a realistic physical manifestation of his anguish.
Jumping up from his bed, an apology to Hedwig who he’d startled not only once when he pushed the book to the floor, but also again right now, flowing lightly from his slightly parted lips right before he rushed out of his room and out of the house; the worried questions from his aunt going unanswered.

  *****
Walking in the fresh air of the night, Harry relaxed with each breath he took; the cool air a balm to his aching lungs and worried mind. Still, no matter how many breaths he took, Harry still felt as if he was drowning in a cup of water; he knew it was ridiculous, but he also knew he was utterly unable to help himself even though his heart was calm and his mind slowly, but surely quieting down.
The more he walked, the tighter the ball inside his chest got; he even tried to take deep breaths of the beautiful, fresh air in hopes of dispelling that strange feeling of unease, but nothing really helped.
And that was when it happened, that’s the exact moment Harry saw them; a group of five guys walking slowly toward him, their steps purposeful and measured. For a moment, Harry felt like he was some kind of prey and they his hunters; measuring him up from the very tip of his unruly hair to the bottom of his toes, their eyes roving along his body with undisguised hunger overflowing in them.
The closer they got, the more Harry realized the strangeness of the situation. Instead of fleeing in horror, or even just feeling that tiny, little, short moment of fright from these five burly guys seemingly coming out of nowhere and immediately zeroing in on him, he felt almost ecstatic; as if this was what he’d been waiting for all along.
But that was not even the strangest part about this admittedly bizarre situation, of course not. He is Harry Potter, after all and as such, bizarre doesn’t even begin to cover the events in the life of one Harry Potter.
The most ridiculous part about this situation was not that the men seemed to be advancing in on him like a pack of hungry dogs, no; it was the fact that Harry could clearly see, even from a distance, the more than slightly prominent tents in their trousers. Now, if Harry was in any way arrogant as many of his fellow wizards and witches believed him to be, he’d think that all of this was some sort of a dastardly plan created by those five men just so they could ravish him.
He could even go further than that simple explanation and say that they must have seen him somewhere before and had liked what they’d seen which in turn made them decide to follow him, and that then turned into stalking and had now advanced to actual confrontation with the one they desired.
Thankfully, Harry was no such ponce and was very well aware of his shortcomings and ordinary appearance; all of which meant that the mere thought that these men would be coming right here and right now just for him was not just arrogant, but also in a realm of fantasy so elaborate that it would never have a chance of coming true. Ever.
But then again, why was he not afraid? Better yet, why was he not turning around and going back to the safety of Number four, Privet Drive? Why was he, for all intents and purposes, willingly walking into a trap when he knew very well that he was not allowed to use his magic for more than a month still and had no other way to fight off these five possible attackers?
No, not possible attackers; possible rapists seemed more like it, if the way they licked their lips and readjusted their dicks while looking straight at him was any indication.
As if his brain had short-circuited, Harry stopped moving right there, in the middle of the empty street, only a couple of meters left between him and the men.
The moment he stopped all hell seemed to break loose. The men were suddenly right there, in his space, surrounding him, boxing him in with their muscled bodies emanating almost fevered heat, their hands moving over every inch of his body, caressing, squeezing and fondling.
Without a single thought spared to Harry running away or possibly fighting against these men, the last conscious thought of his mind was that they were out in the open, in the middle of the street where just anyone could see them, but it was soon pushed away, locked in some distant recess of his mind as a talented, hot tongue entered his mouth; seeking, inviting his own out to play.
The electrifying feeling of tongues tangling together in the most erotic ways imaginable was enough to make that dreadful ball of tension burst within Harry. It had gone, and it had done so with a magnificent bang that Harry swore he could feel reverberate throughout his body as he felt tremors flow through him the exact moment it had burst.
The moment he felt another pair of lips on his throat and another on the back of his neck, Harry felt his mind slip away from him, detaching in a way from his body; making him feel as if he was experiencing a sort of out-of-body experience.
He tried to fight it, that feeling of being there but not completely present, receiving and giving pleasure in equal measure but feeling as if it was a detached experience; almost as if it was not really him doing these things with five complete strangers.
And had he not felt those teeth scrape over his Adam’s apple, he’d have sworn up and down that it wasn’t really him, because this was simply not like him. He doesn’t do stuff like this, never even entertained the thought farther than some late night fantasies that he was certain had no business in the real world.
And yet, here he was.
His shirt lifted up to his armpits, pushed out of the way so that two gorgeous men could attack a nipple each while their hands roamed the taut planes of Harry’s chest and stomach, his trousers’ fly open so that the man whose hard, chiseled body was tightly pressed against his back could take his hard cock out and jerk him off while he diligently marked Harry’s neck with love bites and two pairs of hands holding on to him as he had their stiff pricks in both his hands, moving tortuously slowly over their heated flesh as he brought them off; all of it happening in the middle of the street.
Yes, it was night and yes, it was completely devoid of souls except for the six of them, but still.
Harry was tempted to call out with something along the lines of “I know you’re there!” to see if there were people around, hiding with their cameras, because honestly, this could only be explained by a hidden camera prank gone wild or some sort of new fashion in filming of gay porn that he knew nothing of.
Well, that explained the men, but him?
Nothing explained Harry or his particularly abnormal reaction to this situation.
All remaining thought was gone from his mind as he felt the oncoming wave of completion; his hips buckling urgently into the tightly closed fist around his rigid, silky soft hot flesh. He could hear moans all around him; could even feel them as they tickled his nipples and neck where the men had fastened their lips, never intending to let go, it seemed.
As if on cue, all six men stiffened as their completion washed over them, white, milky fluid splattered on the ground, a not inconsequential part of it covering Harry’s hands and trousers where the men didn’t manage to move away from Harry’s intoxicating form on time.
The moment Harry came down from his high, his mind cleared up, he felt his cheeks heat up in shame and mortification.
Never in his whole life would he imagine doing something so daring, so reckless like this.
Going against a troll? No problem.
Facing a fire-breathing, human-hating, furious mom-dragon whose eggs were put in danger just for Wizarding World’s entertainment? Sure, why not.
Facing the bane of his existence and a second half of a prophecy he had only recently learned about each year without a fault? Piece of cake.
Doing unspeakable, embarrassing things of sexual nature with five complete strangers in the middle of a street? Never in a million years.
Outside of his dreams, that is.
Untangling himself from the men proved to be a bit harder than he’d anticipated; they just didn’t want to let go of him.
He tried, he really did; he’d fought valiantly against their insistent hands that never seemed to stop roaming his body, had tried to avoid contact with their seeking lips and glinting white teeth intent on marking him as theirs, but to no avail.
Getting annoyed with the absurd situation, Harry growled through clenched teeth,
“Stop it. Stop right now.”
To Harry’s surprise, they did.
Not only did they stop groping him, they also moved away from him, giving him space to breathe, to think rationally once again.
Harry threw his head back; his eyes turned to the almost completely starless sky and the glowing full moon and took a deep breath, exhaling all of his tension and worry in a single breath, before making eye contact with his paramours, an apology and weak excuses already forming on his lips.
The moment he saw their eyes, Harry’s words died on his tongue and his world seemed to stop revolving. Everything around them faded away to nothing, no sound breaking through the little bubble they were suddenly trapped inside as Harry stared, unseeingly, into their red-tinged eyes.
For a moment, Harry believed they were under a curse of some sort, or maybe even under Voldemort’s control for all he knew, but both those thoughts were dashed immediately and he knew. He knew it like he knew his name was Harry that they were not under a simple curse; they were under his curse, under his spell, bewitched by Harry.
He couldn't even begin to explain where this knowledge came from or where the certainty of the fact that it was indeed him who had them under a spell stemmed from, but there was not a single doubt in his mind that he was the one to blame.
The only thread of sanity he still had left to hold on to was the thought that he’d been cursed in some way. Cursed for whatever reason to attract attention of every single human being wherever he went and boy, didn’t that explain just about everything that had been getting progressively stranger in his life day by day?
He doesn’t listen to that traitorous voice inside his mind that tells him there is no curse; it’s him, only him doing all of this, all of it.
He took a single step back and looked at each man surrounding him; their faces forlorn at his apparent rejection of them, their eyes still shining a faint red and their wide shoulders slumped in what Harry could only say looked like defeat.
He sighed as he roughly rubbed his face, dislodging his glasses, almost making them fall to their demise; a heavy sigh breaking from him at this colossally mad situation he found himself in.
“Oh sweet Merlin,” Harry whispered, his hands starting to shake and his face draining of all colour as the implications of his guilt asserted themselves in his exhausted mind. He made them do it. He forced these men to act the way they did. Was he so arrogant, something he always believed to be untrue, that he just went at these men’s pace and never doubted for a moment something was wrong? Was he so blind that he didn’t notice the strangeness of it all the moment he saw them?
But, no, that wasn’t right.
Harry clearly remembered feeling off; feeling strangely calm and accepting of the strange happenings.
“So, the curse affects me as well,” he surmised, a small ray of hope shining in his heart.
He was affected as well. And if he was affected just as much as the men were, that meant he couldn’t be held responsible, either.
“Wrong, all wrong,” the voice seemed to whisper inside Harry’s mind, making him lash out in fear and guilt, grabbing his head with both hands, his head lowered as he shouted,
“Go away! Just bloody go away and leave me alone!”
His agony was shattered as he heard the sound of shuffling steps moving away. As he looked up, he saw the men, their eyes shining an even more briliant red than before, backing stiffly away from him, as if they weren’t in control of their own limbs but were forced to move either way.
Something sparked in Harry’s mind and, quickly, urgently—before he could change his mind—he shouted at them,
“Go! Go to your homes! Forget this ever happened. Forget I ever happened to you and have a great life. Have a fantastic life! And just…just be happy!” Harry’s voice broke on a hiccup as a tear flowed down his cheek; his mind, body and soul exhausted by what had happened, by what he’d seen, done and inadvertently learned about himself.
The men all seemed to smile at him as one, the smile reaching their eyes as they slowly lost the red tint and returned to their original colours. The men slowly turned away from him, one by one, their posture straightening, their heads held high and a suspicious looking spring in their step that seemed to proclaim without words “Something great just happened to me and I feel like a million pounds!”
Harry smiled at their backs, a feeling of calm and peace washing over him as he was certain that his order—and he was positive what he’d told them had been taken as an order—would be fulfilled.
Turning his back on the slowly disappearing silhouettes of the five men, Harry trudged back to Number four, Privet Drive, all the while cataloguing all the strange things that had been going around him; determined to find out if his curse had anything to do with it and then finding a way to fix whatever he could.
However, in the forefront of his mind were neither his relatives, nor the strange behaviour of their neighbours, but the one man that had plagued his thoughts all this time. Jack. The swirling thoughts made him stop in his tracks and turn back around, changing his direction once again and starting for where he was hoping Jack’s flat was, counting on his vague memories to not lead him astray.
“I’m coming for you Jack, just wait for me,” Harry promised solemnly; his hands folding into fists at the thought that he’d in some way—in any way—hurt Jack.
“I’m so sorry, Jack. I’ll make it better, I’ll make everything better, I swear,” Harry whispered to the dark night, the moon and a few stars his only witnesses.

A/N: So, due to some health issues that I'll be dealing with for the next two weeks or so, the next chapter will be up in two to four weeks. I hope to make quite a bit of progress on the storyline during the next two weeks as this story seems to have decided to be a badass mofo that will not fit into the previously drafted 7-8 chapters. So, expect a medium length multi-chaptered story. That's all from me for now and thank you for reading, (hopefully) enjoying and reviewing!
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Love is patient, Love is fierce