[From Samhain to the Solstice]: Shards of the Mirror, Harry/Harry, R, 5/5

[lomonaaeren]

Thank you again for all the reviews! This is the end of the current story arc, but I’ll be continuing it in the future.

Part Five

“Oh, this is…warm.”

Hadrian chuckled a little, and Harry squirmed and reached out his arms in the sheets, arching his back. He was listening to hear if Hadrian would laugh at him with something like condescension, but Harry didn’t think so.

This was…it was warm.

Harry opened his eyes to find Hadrian staring down at him, not with any condescension but with a ravenous look that made Harry blush. He sat up and took off his shirt, and noticed the way that Hadrian’s eyes immediately traced over his muscles and widened.

“Yeah, I have a lot of scars,” Harry muttered, embarrassed. The ones on his chest were mostly from Dudley beating him up.

“You look beautiful.”

“Isn’t that the same as saying that you’re beautiful?” Harry tried to joke, but he fell silent and stared as Hadrian took a long stride towards him.

“So what if it is?” Hadrian smiled and took off his own shirt, and Harry caught his breath at the sun-darkened sheen of his skin, the muscles and the lack of scars on his torso. “We’re here, Harry. We’re beautiful.”

Harry swallowed and nodded slowly. He had never thought about how beautiful another bloke could be before. Well, he’d never really thought about girls being beautiful, either. Cho had been pretty, and Hermione had become pretty when she’d dressed up for the Yule Ball, but it wasn’t really…

It wasn’t the same thing.

Hadrian sat down on the edge of the bed and reached out to run his fingers gently over one of Harry’s puckered scars. As far as it could remember, it came from when Dudley had slammed him into the edge of a door. “We can go as slow or as fast as you want,” Hadrian whispered, his voice hypnotic.

“Uh,” Harry said, and gave up on holding his eyes open. They fluttered shut as Hadrian’s fingertips continued to roam. “What does that mean?”

“I mean that we can fuck if you want. Or we can get each other off with our hands. Or we can just wank in front of each other.” Harry’s cock jumped at that, and Hadrian must have seen, because he laughed softly. “Or I can suck you off.”

Harry caught his breath so sharply that he coughed. “I—want that.”

“For me to suck you off?”

There was a rustling noise Harry didn’t understand, until he opened his eyes and saw that Hadrian had got down on his knees. But his eyes were still just as taunting as ever.

Harry’s cock jumped again, and he wanted to take it in his hand and make himself come. But if he could just last a little longer, then Hadrian’s mouth would be better than anything he’d imagined. He shuffled forwards on his knees on the bed, already panting as though he’d had someone touch him.

Hadrian reached out and gently feathered his fingers over Harry’s cock.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m going to come if you keep doing that,” he croaked.

“And we both want you to come down my throat. All right.”

There was another rustle of sheets, and Harry knew Hadrian had withdrawn his hand. He opened his eyes, slowly, and saw Hadrian kneel back down in front of him, eyes on Harry’s face as he opened his mouth wide.

Harry thrust forwards. Hadrian leaned in at the same moment, and swallowed him down.

It was the best Harry had ever felt.

He sobbed and tossed his head back, thrusting erratically and sloppily. Hadrian rode the thrusts, and his warm hand came to rest on Harry’s knee, fingers stroking hard circles. Harry reached out and grabbed the back of Hadrian’s head, pulling him closer.

“None of that.”

Harry whimpered, both because the warmth had disappeared, and because Hadrian speaking that way meant he had done something wrong. “I’m sorry,” Harry gasped, flopping back and spreading his legs, arching his hips. “I won’t do it again. I just—please, damn it—”

“Just don’t try to treat me like your personal toy,” Hadrian muttered, and went back to it.

The heat poured along Harry’s bones and seemed to melt them into soup. He found himself floating high above the problems that surrounded him, his mouth open as he gasped soundlessly. His hips lifted and fell, and the sucking went on and on, and the center of his universe was Hadrian’s mouth.

Hadrian finally gave a loud suck that seemed to echo in Harry’s ears, and Harry came all over himself and the blankets and the sheets and—

Or at least it felt like that. Harry, when he finally blinked his eyes drowsily open and turned his head, was in time to see Hadrian industriously licking his lips clean and smiling at him, a smile that seemed wiped clean of shadows.

“You swallowed all of it?” Harry whispered.

Hadrian’s smile turned yet brighter and warmer, which Harry hadn’t known was possible. “I know it feels overwhelming, Harry, but your come isn’t the most copious I’ve ever seen.”

Harry rolled over and buried his flushing face in a pillow. Hadrian promptly climbed after him and pulled the pillow away, tangling his fingers in Harry’s hair. Harry let his eyelids flutter shut again. No one had ever touched him like this. He’d had no idea what it would be like.

“No hiding,” Hadrian murmured, bending down to touch the tip of his tongue to the edge of Harry’s earlobe. “I want you to feel fucking fantastic, not like you have to hide.”

Harry arched and rolled over. “I suppose you want me to do you now?” He tried to keep his voice as sophisticated and flirtatious as possible, but it fell flat when he stared down and saw Hadrian’s cock. He was sure his wasn’t that big, or that flushed. And he had no idea how Hadrian would fit it down Harry’s throat.

Or up his arse, either, if it came to that.

Hadrian laughed a little. “I don’t think you’re ready for that much. But you can watch as I get myself off.” And he sat back on the bed, legs splayed and knees lifted, and reached out to cup his hand around himself.

Harry had shied away from looking at other blokes’ cocks in the past, politely averting his eyes when he showered with the other Gryffindor boys or the Quidditch team. Right now, he found himself scooting closer, rapt. Hadrian’s smile acquired a shadow again as he stroked up and down, then raised his fingers and cast a wandless charm.

“I didn’t know you could do wandless magic,” Harry whispered. His voice seemed too heavy for the air in the bedroom.

“I had lots of practice, during the months when I decided that sex wasn’t for me anymore, and I was alone.” Hadrian’s eyes fluttered as he reached back, and Harry jolted. He had been so overwhelmed by the thought of wandless magic that he hadn’t even fully absorbed what the charm was for.

It had conjured a pale liquid on Hadrian’s fingers, and now—

Now he was—

Harry fought down his flush, fought down the temptation to stay right where he was, where he wouldn’t see, and rolled to the side. He was in time to see Hadrian forcing two fingers into his hole, far harder than Harry would ever dare do something like that.

“Doesn’t it hurt?” he whispered. His voice still sounded too small.

“Feels fantastic,” Hadrian said, and groaned, and stretched his neck. “Besides, I loosened myself up with wandless magic before this—ah—I like it sort of rough—ah—”

He rolled his head back and forth, his mouth half-open, and Harry watched in total silence and stillness as Hadrian’s hand drove in and out of himself. Hadrian was grunting, his mouth still a little open when Harry looked, his eyes shut. His hand was a flying blur on his cock.

And when he came, Harry had to admit that his orgasm hadn’t been so big, after all.

Hadrian sagged forwards and sighed as he took his hand out of his arse, rolling his fingers a bit as if they hurt. Casually, he reached for the yew wand and cleaned himself up, hand and sheets alike. Then he looked at Harry and began to laugh, low and warm, in a way that Harry amazingly didn’t find insulting at all. “If you could see your face.”

“Is there—something wrong—with it?” Harry was staring at the spot that had been wet and wasn’t now, and then at Hadrian’s flaccid cock. He shifted a little, wondering if Hadrian would miss the fact that Harry was hard again, with his pulse pounding through him. If he wanted Hadrian to miss it.

“No, just that you’re so in need of this,” Hadrian said, and he sounded a little breathless as he reached out, grasped Harry’s chin, and pulled his head up so that they were staring into each other’s eyes. “I know that you don’t want to do it tonight, and that’s fine, but sooner or later, you’ll need to be fucked, Harry. To understand what it’s like to have something inside you.”

Harry shuddered and thrust, and Hadrian’s eyes dropped back to his cock. He smiled a little as he pulled Harry towards him, until Harry was straddling his lap. Harry shifted to feel Hadrian’s cock hanging against him, but it remained flaccid, and Hadrian didn’t act as though he wanted Harry to touch it. He just slid his hands up Harry’s hips, pausing while his fingers made circles there.

“You want to come?” Hadrian asked softly.

“Yes,” Harry said, and gave in to the conflicting, clashing impulses in him, sagging forwards and looping his hands over Hadrian’s shoulders. “I want to—I want to feel the way you felt when you had your fingers inside you. Touch me.”

Hadrian laughed, and did.

*

“Are you all right, sir?”

Miss Granger’s eyes were perceptive. Albus did his best to smile, but he had the feeling that he hadn’t fooled these two intelligent children. “As well as I can be with the news that Mr. Weasley has brought us, Miss Granger,” he said softly.

“What are Horcruxes, sir?” Miss Granger asked, sitting on the very edge of her chair in front of Albus’s desk and seeming to vibrate. “Why are they important? Why would Harry need to destroy them? And what prophecy is he subject to?”

“Alas, Miss Granger, I cannot share all that information with you yet. You are not capable of protecting it.”

Miss Granger began to bristle, but then stopped and thought about it. Albus did appreciate that, accustomed as he was to dealing with brash and impulsive people.

He glanced at Mr. Weasley, who was sitting on his own chair with his head bowed, looking defeated. Albus wished he could soothe that feeling somehow, but it was likely to increase rather than decrease for a while.

Harry had left, and there seemed no immediate way of retrieving him.

“Because I can’t protect the information with Occlumency?” Miss Granger asked, drawing Albus’s attention back to her.

Albus nodded and reached out to pick up his cup of tea, which was going cold on the edge of the desk. “Yes, Miss Granger. You may wish to start lessons. But of course, some of this is also Harry’s private business, and he is the one who should hear it first.”

Albus hadn’t wanted to tell him. He was well-aware of how Harry’s life would need to end, now that he understood the shard of Voldemort that Harry carried in his mind, and he had wanted to spare the poor boy the truth, give him some hope for life, as long as possible. But now that the secret had come out, it was not right that Miss Granger should hear all the details before Harry did. Or Mr. Weasley, either.

By the time that Miss Granger learned Occlumency, Albus should have located Harry.

This Hadrian Black is not Voldemort, no matter how much he might know about him, no matter how dangerous he may be. I will find them.

“Can we please just know about the prophecy?” Mr. Weasley asked quietly, leaning forwards. “It seemed like—it really upset Harry, to the point that he went to the Room of Requirement and asked for this Hadrian bloke. Can we know what it is?”

Albus sighed. He was fully aware that he would have encouraged Harry to tell Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger more strongly in the future, which made it feel like cheating to try and keep the knowledge of it from them now. “Of course.”

He watched their eyes widen as he recited the words, and sighed again, internally. He should have had them here when he told Harry the prophecy. Harry wouldn’t have run away like that, or demanded the company of someone who understood him from the Room, if he’d had the company of his friends.

They understood him. They would support him. Albus still did not know what had made Harry so desperate in particular after hearing the prophecy.

If he had waited. If I had managed to stop him before he left the school.

But he had not, and Albus would have to live with the consequences of that decision. Among other things, he would have to put off his search for the artifact he believed to be hidden in the Gaunt shack at Little Hangleton, and undertake the quest for Harry and Hadrian right away.

A new idea had begun to stir in the back of his mind the moment he had seen Mr. Weasley’s memory, although he would not voice that in front of these children he had already caused enough distress to.

Perhaps Hadrian can ease some of the burden of the prophecy for Harry.

*

“Good morning.”

Hadrian made sure to speak the words in a low tone into Harry’s ear, and to cradle him in his arms when Harry tried to break away out of what looked like sheer nervousness. Harry half-struggled for a moment, and then turned the movement into lying back down and looking up at Hadrian with wide eyes.

“Good morning,” Harry squeaked.

Hadrian smiled at him in sheer affection and ran a hand through his hair. Harry closed his eyes and sighed, seemingly overjoyed. Hadrian imagined the way he might have responded himself if someone had shown up years ago to touch him and hold him and say that nothing was his fault, and swallowed.

He was rediscovering some of his own vulnerability with Harry. He wasn’t sure that was a good thing. He had to be the strong one, to protect Harry.

“Shall we, um, go down to breakfast?” Harry asked, face still averted, as if he could hide the flush mantling his cheeks.

“Would you leave your lover alone in bed?” Hadrian asked, and Harry shivered and rolled closer again. Hadrian smiled to feel the hardness pressing against his. He reached down and curled his hand around them both.

Harry reached down and snatched his wrist.

“No?” Hadrian asked quietly, holding their cocks together and watching the way that Harry’s eyes and cheeks both grew darker and darker.

“I—yes,” Harry said, and then rolled so that they were pressed closer together than ever and Hadrian’s wrist ached the way it only ever had when he’d had his fingers up his own arse.

Hadrian smiled into his eyes and set about making sure that Harry felt as good as it was possible to make him feel. His own heart pounded with something like contentment, and he kissed Harry’s brow and scar, unable to stop himself.

He felt more at home here than he ever had in his own world.

*

“Ron, it’s Hedwig!”

Ron stood halfway up at the Gryffindor table, ignoring the stares from other people. He and Hermione had managed to conceal Harry’s absence by spreading the word that he’d gone home early to his family, and today was the morning they would leave on the Hogwarts Express. But he was incapable of not reaching for the letter that Hedwig carried.

Hedwig landed on the table and stole his bacon, something that usually irritated Ron. Not today. He ripped the letter open.

Dear Ron and Hermione,

I’m sorry for leaving without a word to you. But I learned something that made me really upset, and I had to be on my own to think about it. I promise that I’m safe. And I’m not going back to the Dursleys, which I think Professor Dumbledore would want me to do. I need to be by myself to think for a while.

Sincerely,
Harry.

Ron shook his head slowly. Not a word about the bloke that had come from the Room of Requirement—although Ron supposed that would be a little difficult to explain in a letter, but Harry hadn’t tried. If Ron hadn’t asked the Room to show him what had happened, none of them would have had any idea about Hadrian Black.

“What does he say? Is he all right?”

Ron handed the letter to Hermione, all the while frowning deeply. He had intended to write back to Harry, whenever they finally heard from him, saying they knew about Hadrian and asking Harry to come back. Ron didn’t like the way Hadrian’s magic or expression had felt in the memory.

Now, though…

Maybe Hadrian had some kind of outsize influence on Harry, to make him lie to his best friends. Hell, maybe he was even the one who had written this letter. It wasn’t like his handwriting would probably be different from Harry’s, when he was a version of Harry.

Maybe they should keep silent a little longer, and not tell Harry that Professor Dumbledore was searching for him and Hadrian.

Maybe.

*

Harry leaned against Hadrian’s side and closed his eyes. They were in the large room with all the enchanted windows and the symbol of the Peverell family in the middle of the floor again. In fact, Hadrian was reading to Harry from The Tales of Beedle the Bard, the story that talked about the Deathly Hallows and what that symbol meant.

“And Death spoke…”

Harry had never been this warm in his life, even though they weren’t in bed at the moment and the sun wasn’t shining through the enchanted windows. Joy rose through his chest in an intense spiral, beaming out to his toes and fingers.

He was happy.

Hadrian paused to stroke his hair, fingers feathering over Harry’s temple and down his throat in a casually possessive way, and kept reading on.

Harry listened.

*

Hermione bit her lip as she watched Hedwig depart with the letter she and Ron had written. In it, they told Harry they understood why he had been so upset after Sirius’s death, and begged him to come back. They said that they knew he was safe, but he would be safer at the Burrow with Ron’s family, if he couldn’t stay with the Dursleys. They asked him to meet them in a week in Diagon Alley.

The terrible thing was that Hermione didn’t know if it would work. If Harry had just run away on his own out of impulse and grief, it probably would have, but he had Hadrian Black with him, and Harry was hiding him.

Or, as Ron said, Hadrian had just written the entire letter, because he was in control of Harry somehow.

Hermione hadn’t wanted to believe that. Harry was too stubborn to be controlled by anyone. But the more she thought about it, the more she inclined to that view of things. Why hadn’t Harry at least mentioned that he wasn’t alone? Or mentioned the prophecy and Horcruxes? Their best friend would want to tell them.

She knew that Harry probably wouldn’t meet them in Diagon Alley in a week, and also that the Tracking Charms they’d put on the letter probably wouldn’t get through whatever Dark Arts Hadrian was likely to use. But they had to try.

To get Harry away from someone influencing him the way he is.

*

“What was that?” Harry asked, flinching back from the sharp explosion of white light as the letter came to a stop on the table between them.

“The wards destroying the Tracking Charms on the letter.”

“They—they put charms on it?”

Hadrian nodded and handed Harry the letter. He had already checked to make sure there was no poison or any other kind of charm on it. He didn’t really think that Harry’s friends would do something like that, but, well, Dumbledore might. Hadrian didn’t know him well enough to say, but he would take no chances.

Harry was worth eliminating all the chances that he would be hurt.

Harry took the letter with a devastated expression, which slowly hardened and cooled like lava as he read through it. Then he looked up at Hadrian with eyes too hard for tears.

“I’m not going back.”

Hadrian leaned forwards and kissed him, hard, over the breakfast table. Harry reached out and clung fervently to his shirt.

The two of us, As it should be, Hadrian thought, and cupped his hand around the back of Harry’s neck, fingers stroking up and down his vulnerable nape.

I’ll prove that I’m all you need.

The End.