Black and White

Umm, I forgot to put this in the part ^^. This is where the slash starts, just a handjob between Charlie and Harry, who are my minor pairing throughout the story.

Chapter Two:


Grimmauld Place was a flurry of activity as they awaited the return of The-Boy-Who-Lived. Mrs. Weasley was in the kitchen preparing dinner for her brood; Mr. Weasley was in the midst of a conversation with Hermione; Bill and Fleur were in one corner talking quietly. The only one absent from the room was Charlie, who had portkeyed in from Romania, who had elected to ignore the noise and remain in the room he had once shared with Bill.

So, of course, because Fate loves playing games, Harry managed to portkey himself onto Charlie’s lap.

Charlie reacted with a soft shout, not wanting to alert the rest of the house to Harry’s return.

“Harry. Long time, no see.” he said, laughter in his voice. He leaned up a kissed Harry softly, then pulled back. “Having troubles with the portkeys, now are we?” Harry shrugged sheepishly, a light blush touching his cheeks.

“When did you get back from Romania?”

“Yesterday. It was a long trip. I’ve spent the better part of today resting. Frankly, I’m getting bored. You sure took your sweet time in getting here.”

“Well, I’m here now. How ‘bout I entertain you, since you’re so bored and I really don’t want to make my way downstairs just yet.” Charlie grinned and pulled Harry down to meet him. The kiss was rough, exactly what you’d expect from a man who trained dragons. The two weren’t dating, but they had always met randomly like this, delighting in what each gave to the other, loving the release from their everyday lives. Harry felt Charlie’s hand slip up his shirt, lightly tweaking his nipple. He leaned into his hand, and felt Charlie grin against his mouth.

He skated his fingers down Harry’s chest, pausing momentarily at the waist band of his jeans. He flicked the button open and pulled down the zip.

“Commando, Harry?” Harry hissed as Charlie palmed his cock and brought him to complete hardness.

From downstairs came frenzied discussions, and Harry stilled. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but he could tell they were beginning to panic.

“Charlie –”

“I know, I know.” He quickly stroked Harry’s length, applying equal pressure to bring him off. Harry did, a few moments later, hard and silent. He collapsed onto Charlie’s chest, listening to his heartbeat, as his own pulse slowed.

He sat up, picking up his wand from where it lay on the bed beside them. He flicked it quickly, cleaning up the mess and pulling his jeans back up. He gave Charlie a swift kiss and climbed off the bed, leaving Charlie to deal with his problem by himself.

He made a quick pit stop on his way down after exiting Bill and Charlie’s room, tossing his shrunken trunk onto the unclaimed bed in the room he and Ron shared.

Going swiftly and quietly down the stairs, the voices from the living room grew louder. He could hear Bill and Ron trying to placate their mum, Hermione and Ginny were fretting, and Mr. Weasley was pacing the floor.

He opened the door slowly and stepped. It took a moment for everyone to notice he was there, but the second they did, a brown blur hurtled at him and tackled him. That seemed to be the cue for everyone else, for he soon surrounded.

Their voices were jumbled, so he decided to explain to them what happened. He gently pushed them away and motioned for them to be quiet. The room went quiet, and it was disconcerting to see them all staring at him in awe. He realized it was the small glamour, and ignored it, knowing it would wear away soon.

“The portkey went wonky, and I landed somewhere upstairs. I stopped off at my room to drop off my trunk.”

“Well, that doesn’t explain what took you so lone to get down here. Your portkey was set to go off at 730. It’s almost quarter to now.” Hermione cut in, arms crossed in front of her chest. Apparently, the glamour had worn off already.

“I found Charlie, and I sat and talked to him for a bit. Nobody told me he was coming in.” Hermione shrugged, seemingly accepting his answer. He waited patiently as Mrs. Weasley looked him over and clucked her tongue.

“Well, dinner’s ready, so come and get it.” She turned away and headed in the direction of the kitchen. Without her turning around to check, everybody followed her down, seating themselves at the long, wooden table.

Once everyone was seated, the table was quiet as they settled in with their food.

It wasn’t until plates were half-empty when Hermione brought up Dumbledore and Harry’s letter.

“Professor Dumbledore said he would leave the explanations to you. He didn’t tell us much.”

“Well, I don’t know the whole story myself. I will tell you what I do know.” Harry took a deep breath and sat back in his chair. “So, apparently, I get this thing from my mother. At about midnight, I guess is when it started , I’m not sure, seeing as how I was asleep. So I woke up this morning, and felt a bit sore and such. Walked to the bathroom, and things were looking a bit clearer, and the I noticed I didn’t happen to have my glasses on. So by then, I was a bit freaked, but it was okay. My muscles were a bit sore, so I stretched and there’s this sudden pain. My back right now is covered in scabs, and my shoulder blades are gashed up. I pretty much hightailed it back to my room and in a small pile in the middle of my bed, were a bunch of these.” He pulled the lone black feather from his pocket and watched as simultaneously each face dropped.

“Where are they from?” asked Hermione, chocolate brown eyes wide.

“Well, my back. Apparently I have wings. Big, black, fully-feathered wings.” The kitchen sat in shocked silence and Harry twiddled his thumbs. “I think that’s about it. I’m tired, I’m gonna head up and go to bed. He pushed his chair back and stood. He strode out of the kitchen and turned onto the darkened stairwell.

His and Ron’s room was on the second floor. It wasn’t very big, which was regrettable as Ron seemed to have grown another foot in the month they hadn’t seen each other. Stepping in, his mind registered the fact that something was missing from the room.

His eyes raked the tiny room, not able to pinpoint what was different about it.

“Your trunk is gone.” Harry whipped around to find Ron standing in the doorway.

“What do you mean, my trunk is gone?” he demanded, emerald eyes growing darker in anger, glaring at the taller boy.

“Mum decided it was time for you to have your own room here, as it’s your house. She got Dobby to take it upstairs to the master bedroom.” Ron replied, shuffling nervously under his best friend’s stare. He watched as Harry’s face gradually calmed down, and he nodded slightly. He turned out of the doorway, and Harry could hear him stumping down the hallway and onto the stairs. When he could no longer hear him, he sighed softly and dragged his hand through his raven hair.

Stepping lightly out of the room, Harry made his way up to the top floor, where the master bedroom was situated. The corridor seemed forever long, but at last Harry came to a stop outside the double doors and took a breath. The door handles were silver serpents, marking the house as pure Slytherin. The doors itself were a dark wood, most of the varnish having worn away over the years.

Steeling himself, he turned the handles and gently pushed the doors wide open.