Partners

A/N: Thanks for the reviews. I edited the first chapter a bit for grammar mostly. And I decided to write a second chapter, and although I don't like it as much as the first one, if this is going to go anywhere there has to be an 'after last night' chapter. So, since I wrote this chapter, I will assume that means I'll write more. -shrug- Enjoy.

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Alastor awoke to the soft warm feeling of cloth surrounding her. She breathed deeply noticing a slight musky scent in the air. Disoriented, she opened her eyes slowly, realizing that her face was buried in the plush of a pillow. Scrunching her face in confusion, she lifted herself up and gazed about.

This was decidedly NOT her room. Briefly, a flash of the previous night ran through her head. A blush graced her smooth skin and she smiled. Looking down between herself and the sheets, she affirmed that it had indeed not been a dream. She was naked and if she wasn’t mistaken, there was a certain stickiness on her legs.

Grinning, she flopped over on her back, enjoying the luxurious feel of silky softness that was Harry’s bed. She managed to resist the urge to giggle, but could not for the life of her wipe the smile off her face. The previous night had been the most amazing experience she’d ever had—and she had Harry to thank for that.

Harry who was not in bed with her at the moment.

Briefly, doubts flashed through her mind. Did he think last night was a mistake? Was she horrible? Was she just a fling? Shaking her head a little, she determinedly ignored such thoughts.

She moved to sit on the edge of the bed and winced—the soreness between her legs confirming once more that last night had not been one of her more risqué fantasies. And although it hurt a little, it was a good kind of hurt. After all, she knew exactly why it hurt…

Placing her bare feet on the cold wood floor, she shivered slightly before glancing around in hopes of finding something to wear. Off to the side, she spotted a pair of shorts and a shirt folded up on the bureau—she had no idea where her clothes from last night were.

Alastor stood and padded across the floor slightly self-conscious about being alone and naked in someone else’s room. She paused a moment to look at her reflection in the mirror. She was a mess—her hair was tousled into a wild mane of fire arranged sporadically on her shoulders. Her neck and shoulders were covered in what she was sure where hickies. And there was that suspicious sticky substance that she noted on her legs and lower abdomen. But as totally trashed as she looked, there was this glow. This amazing glow that seemed to make her look incredible.

Smiling, she grabbed the clothing on the dresser and slipped them on, noting almost immediately that they belonged to Harry. Breathing deeply, her eyes fluttered closed for a moment basking in the after-glow of the night before. Her attention was brought back to the present, however, as another delicious smell wafted in from the kitchen. Her stomach gave a quick grumble informing her that she was ravenous.

Following her nose, Al headed down the hallway to the kitchen glancing around at the sparse décor. She noted the few pictures on the wall—mostly of Harry standing next to a bushy-haired brunette woman and an overly tall redheaded man. Al recognized the woman immediately as Hermione Weasley, a Ministry official who often worked with the Minister of Magic. There were also a couple pictures of a large group of redheads, whom Alastor could only assume to be a rather huge family. A picture here and there from work or school, friends and teachers—even one Alastor identified as Harry’s long-since-dead parents—nothing that really caught her eye.

Until she spotted one lone picture, framed and sitting precariously on the corner of the table in the hall.

In it, Harry was smiling broadly. He still had his glasses and looked to be no older than Alastor was, so it had to have been a good five or six years earlier. And there, standing next to him with his arm around her shoulder, was a pretty redheaded girl about his age. She too was smiling broadly and their moving eyes kept darting back to one another.

Alastor’s heart plummeted.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe they were just friends from school. Maybe she was an old girlfriend that he’d long since forgotten about. Except that she had the nagging feeling that Harry wasn’t the type to clutter up his space with pictures of ex-girlfriends that no longer meant anything to him.

No. Whoever this girl was, she still had a place in Harry’s heart…

The sound of chopping in the kitchen and the second growling reminder of her hunger forced her back into the world and towards the kitchen, although she was considerably more nervous than she’d been only seconds earlier. The smell of breakfast was incredible, but she wasn’t sure how much of it she was going to get down.

Biting her lip, she quietly padded into the kitchen, half-hoping he wouldn’t notice she was there.

As she entered, the form of Harry facing away from her and cooking made heat rush through her body. It was amazing how the sight of him—in a white rolled up shirt and a pair of black pajama pants, no less!—could send her into overdrive.

‘No man should have this much power.’ She thought ruefully.

He must have heard her come in, because his bright green eyes flashed in her direction briefly along with a brilliant smile.

“G’morning.”

She smiled stupidly in reply, nearly tripping over her own feet as she headed farther in. She caught herself just in time and with a steadying breath went over to the seat she’d occupied the night before, once again putting the counter between herself and Harry. He finished up with breakfast quickly and placed a plate of warm pancakes in front of her accompanied by a side bowl of fruit and a glass of orange juice.

“Hope you’re hungry.” He commented.

‘Only for you.’ She thought, immediately hoping she hadn’t said it aloud. Suddenly a brief, but intense flash of Harry sending dishes flying, clearing the counter, and pinning her to it as he started to roam her body with hot hands and burning kisses, pulling up her shirt and sliding his hands down into her—

She squeaked out a tiny “yes, thank you” in answer to his question and felt her face burn. She quickly glanced down at her plate hoping to hide her embarrassment and started to pick at her breakfast, completely oblivious of the smirk growing on Harry’s face.

For a moment there was silence between them as Harry sipped at a steaming cup of coffee and Alastor pushed the fruits around in her bowl. Hunger finally getting the better of her, she picked up an appetizing looking strawberry from her bowl and took a bite from the tip, her lips wrapping around the sweet morsel before slipping off as she pulled the remainder of the strawberry from her mouth.

Had she the courage to look at him, she might have noticed the hungry look on Harry’s face—a hunger that had nothing to do with food. But as it were, she didn’t have the courage and was therefore focusing on her breakfast instead. She licked her lips. Harry did the same. She finished off the rest of the strawberry, Harry watched her intently.

“’S really sweet.” She muttered quietly.

“Yes it is.” Harry replied huskily.

At the deep tone of his voice, Alastor risked a quick glance at him. She met his heated emerald gaze and felt her breath come in short, heavy gasps. He moved from around the counter to her side. She followed him with her eyes until he was standing right in front of her.

“H-Harry…” She whispered, cursing herself silently for stuttering.

He didn’t reply, but his right hand was making its way steadily up her thigh, while his left trailed up her arm, across her shoulder and to the back of her neck.

“You’re not eating much there, Al.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but her voice was caught in her throat. She moistened her lips, trying again, but nothing came out save heavy breaths. Harry was leaning into her, pressing her gently against the edge of the counter. His left hand hiked up the edge of the shorts as it traveled farther up her thigh and his right hand moved her wild orange hair aside as he leaned forward.

“Maybe you’d like to try something else this morning, Al?” Harry whispered heavily in her ear, his breath sending chills down her spine. “After all, you did ask if you could taste me.”

‘Oh god.’ She thought silently as the familiar tingles of arousal ran through her body like a pleasurable form of shock therapy.

Would she like something else for breakfast? Sure. Would she like ‘him’ for breakfast? Hell yes! Gods, how she wanted to say yes! And she certainly would have; in fact, she was on the verge of doing so, when a feathery, impatient interruption cut her off. The knocking on the glass window to her right brought her back just enough to notice the brown owl sitting on the railing to the terrace of Harry’s apartment.

Oh how she would have loved to kill that bird.

Unfortunately, it was obviously a bird sent from the Ministry. Which meant that it was NOT to be killed. Alastor noted that she was not the only one who was extremely angry and frustrated with that little fact. Harry cursed under his breath, pulling himself reluctantly from the heated and ready form of Alastor.

“Duty calls…” She muttered as he went to the window and opened it up for the owl.

The bird fluttered in briefly, allowing Harry to take the letter in its mouth, before taking off into the bright light of morning. Harry tore open the letter and read through it quickly. His face turned serious as he headed back to the kitchen.

“What is it, Harry?” Alastor inquired, feeling the familiarity of business sinking into her.

“We’ve got to get into work.” He replied quickly, heading down the hall to his bedroom.

She groaned in a mixture of annoyance and frustration. Not only had that damned bird interrupted what had promised to be a wonderfully memorable morning, but it had also brought word that they had to go into work today. On their day off.

‘Bastards.’

“Oh, Al, if you’d like there’s a shower at the end of the hall right before the bedroom.” Harry called from the half-open door.

Again, Alastor’s mind flashed briefly to a vision of her and Harry, this time in the shower as hot water cascaded over their naked bodies, slicking their heated forms as they rubbed together, Harry’s hardness pressing into her from behind as his hands ‘washed’ her body focusing on her firm, pliant—

“I washed your cloths from last night.” Harry called again, breaking into her heated thoughts. “They should be on the couch.”

“Right.” Alastor called, her voice slightly squeaky once more. “I’ll go, er, shower then.”

Alastor grabbed her clothes from the couch and headed into the bathroom. She stripped from Harry’s borrowed clothes and ran the water a bit before jumping in. Using the soap and shampoo available to her, she washed quickly but realized that there was something she should take care of before they headed into work. If she didn’t, it was going to be a very long, frustrating day of graphically indecent flashes of Harry’s naked form… which, as delicious as that sounded, was probably not a good thing.

Her hand snaked down to her still tender core. Even with all the water, it was obvious she’d been terribly wet and when she pushed two fingers into her wet folds they slid in easily. It wasn’t the same as having Harry’s cock inside her, but with a little imagination—an imagination that had been very active since she woke up that morning—it wouldn’t take much to bring her to climax.

She began pushing her fingers in and out gently, but didn’t stay at her slow pace for long. She didn’t have the time. So as her fingers increased their speed she began to rub the swollen bundle of nerves that made a sudden moan escape her. Biting her lip to prevent any more little outbursts—Harry did NOT need to know what she was currently doing in his shower—she started rubbing a little faster and harder, remembering the hot feeling of his mouth sucking her and the quick movements of his fingers as he brought around her climax.

“Gods, he’s good with his hands!” She muttered to herself.

She increased her speed as she felt the familiar shudders of pleasure that meant she was on the edge. With a few more thrusts inside her wet core and a little more hard, fast rubbing on her clit, she felt herself clinch around her fingers and her body tremble with pleasure as cum started to flow from her pussy and down her legs only to be washed away by the streaming water.

As she clinched and released a little bit longer, it occurred to her how… good it felt to be doing this in Harry’s shower. Where his own naked body rinsed away the grime of the day. Where he probably jerked off himself to the image of fucking a beautiful woman. Maybe after last night, he would jerk off to the image of fucking ‘her’. And that was going to be her happy thought for the day.

Smiling, she finished washing up quickly before turning off the water and jumping out of the shower to dress. She slipped into her work clothes and ran a comb through her hair, desperately trying to untangle the mess. She left it down to dry and walked out of the bathroom fully prepared to apologize to Harry for taking so long. But she stopped just outside his bedroom. The sounds of heavy breathing and moaning distracted her from her task as she realized just what Harry was doing.

She grinned to herself. ‘Guess I wasn’t the only one frustrated this morning.’

Alastor briefly wondered what kind of a mess he was making as she walked back to the kitchen to eat a little of the breakfast still on the counter and wait for him to finish.

“We’ll have to discuss this later, Potter.” She muttered around bites of her pancakes, grinning about the idea of confronting him.