Ashes

~Ashes~

She knows he is behind her before he even speaks.

“Where’s your drink?” he asks playfully, as usual, as he leans over her shoulder.

She turns quickly, fearing that any slow movement of her head will put their faces too close together, and then she will have no choice but to kiss him – despite all her reservations, despite her fiancé, despite the fact that they are in the middle of the Three Broomsticks, surrounded by their friends. Despite the fact that her fiancé is one of his best friends.

All these thoughts race through her mind at the sound of his voice, but she turns quickly, smiles at him as she always does, and heads to the bar. This is their game; they always pair up when the group goes out drinking. James and Sirius inevitably end up at one end of the long counter, challenging each other to shots of firewhiskey. Peter nurses a single beer and watches them with a giddy grin on his face. Alice and Frank splurge on a bottle of champagne and cuddle in the corner like newlyweds.

And then she invariably ends up with him, the last two standing, in a way. Neither of them are big drinkers at any rate – him because he says he already loses control of his senses too often each month for his liking, he doesn’t need to increase that fact with alcohol; her because someone has to keep an eye on James and Sirius, who are prone to get themselves into bar brawls after a few rounds of whiskey.

They take turns buying each other rounds. And for the past few months when they’ve been out in large groups, the two of them have ended up spending most of the night at the bar together, apart from the others.

“People are starting to notice,” Molly cautiously whispered to her once, but she didn’t care. We’re good friends, she responded defensively, probably too defensively. There’s nothing between us. I’m engaged to a wonderful man. I’m happy. Yet at night, alone at home, in her mind they were more than friends, much more. The more weekends they spent together at the bar, apart from the others, the more she was falling for him. She hated it – hated herself, hated him, hated the universe for doing this to her. But she couldn’t do anything to stop it. One look from him and she was shattered.

It’s his eyes, she decided long ago. They have a haunted mist to them, almost spectral in their luminosity. Mysterious. The two of them know each other well, to a degree; they are old friends. But there are also a great many things that she does not know about him, can never know about him, will never understand about him. James is an open book – simplistic, one might even say, in his outlook. But this man is… not. When he looks at her, he always looks right into her eyes, as if he could see into the very depths of her soul if he looked hard enough, long enough, with enough intensity. She shivers at the thought.

He hands her a drink. They toast something, chat conspiratorially about the friends around them, trade jokes, watch James and Sirius get increasingly drunker at the other end of the bar. He pauses.

He looks at her.

It’s that look, the one that always knocks her down, and this time he holds it, longer than usual, longer than he ever has before. His eyes bore into her, searching her very soul, and she can’t look away. Their gazes lock for what seems like an eternity.

Her heart pounds.

He touches her arm.

She involuntarily moves closer to him, not even aware of what she’s doing.

The next thing she remembers, his hand is lightly running down her forearm, giving her goosebumps, until it meets with her hand and settles there. She watches it. He is careful. If anyone from their crowd on the other side of the room has been watching, they won\'t have seen it.

He looks deep into her eyes again, his hand still on hers. \"Do you want to get out of here?\" he asks quietly, his voice wavering slightly.

They both know what isn\'t said. It’s all in the look, all in their interactions over the past months... years, really. And they both understand that nobody can ever know. Nobody.

She doesn’t remember what she tells Alice, who walked here with her and who will worry if she disappears. But it is something good, something believable, and Alice is drunk and busy with Frank herself. She doesn’t ask questions.

They leave, stealthily, one at a time, walking the half mile to the flat he’s kept in Hogsmeade since graduation, paid for through the scraps he makes doing the odd Runes translation, though mostly through the famous Black family treasury, which Sirius is all too happy to help his friends spend.

She’s been there before, to the flat. She knows what it’s like. But not like this.

On the way, he doesn’t hold her hand. He doesn\'t touch her. Someone might walk by. Someone might see.

He unlocks the door. They stumble inside.

She’s suddenly afraid that it will get awkward, weird, ruined. She grabs his arm gently before he moves from the front doorway, before they can change their minds. He turns. His eyes are soft. He doesn\'t speak. Neither does she. What can they say? It\'s not about talking right now. It\'s about feeling. And action.

Before she can make her move, he makes his. He cups her cheek in his hand, burying his fingers deep in her auburn hair, and leans down.

His lips are soft, softer than she had ever imagined. He presses her gently to the back of the door and deepens the kiss. She runs her hands up his chest. His tongue finds hers; her hips find his. Suddenly there is an urgency, they both feel it. It\'s been too long, all this emotion stored up, illicitly, never daring to hope for an outlet.

Yet the outlet has come.

He pushes against her and his lips lower to her neck. He has the beginnings of a beard and it tickles. She loves it. She throws her head back and moans, loudly, not caring. She wraps her arms around him tightly, and he whispers her name in her ear.

He lifts his head then, cupping her face with his hands and meeting her eyes. \"Am I dreaming,\" he asks, \"or is this finally real, finally happening?\"

She raises her eyebrows in mock surprise and smiles at him. \"Finally?\" she asks. \"How long have you been waiting?\"

\"Forever,\" he answers, kissing her forehead. \"You\'re all I think about. You know that, don\'t you?\"

She nods faintly and pulls him down to her again, harder this time. His mouth crushes hers. She starts unbuttoning his shirt. \"I need you,\" she whispers. \"Right now.\"

He smiles mischievously at her and takes her hand. They pass through the kitchen. He stops and hoists her onto the counter. She laughs, and takes the opportunity to pull her t-shirt over her head. She’s suddenly glad they don’t have robes to worry about unbuttoning tonight. She’s suddenly glad she decided to wear a lacy bra.

His eyes widen and he moans softly. \"You are so sexy,\" he says, pushing up against her and wrapping her in his arms. His hands roam over her back, her shoulders, her neck. He stops and traces the outline of the lace over her breasts, and she shudders.

She can\'t help it: she grabs his belt buckle. He laughs and picks her up off the counter effortlessly. She wraps her legs around him and holds on tight as he carries her to his bedroom.

\"Are you sure?\" he asks, laying her down on the bed.

She gets impatient. \"More than sure,\" she answers, a dangerous glint in her eyes. Boldly, she reaches for his hand and guides it between her thighs. \"Touch me,” she begs. “Feel how much I want you.”

He lets his fingers revel in the dampness spreading out from the core of her, shivering with anticipation. He briefly closes his eyes and mutters a silent prayer, then pushes her gently back onto the bed. Emboldened by her assertiveness, he tugs her trousers down in seconds and straddles her. He kisses her stomach, then her thighs, till she\'s ready to scream.

“You tease,” she moans softly, writhing under his mouth. Suddenly she pushes herself up and snaps her bra off, then grabs the back of his head and forces it to her breast, sighing with relief. They tumble back onto the bed and he throws his shirt to the floor. He\'s wild now, she can see it in his eyes. And so is she.

He licks one nipple, then the other, sucking them hard until she gasps and calls his name. He likes that. He keeps it up, while one hand travels down her stomach and into her panties. Why on earth am I still wearing them? she asks herself in wonder. She reaches down and they peel them off together. He sits back on his heels, running his eyes over her naked body. Then he slides his hands up her inner thighs and spreads them open.

He lowers his head.

The second she feels his tongue, she knows she has died and gone to heaven. James doesn’t do this, has never thought to do this. She writhes under him, her hands on his head, his shoulders, moaning like a cheap whore and not caring. \"Oh gods,\" she whispers. \"Right there… just like that…\"

He runs his tongue up her clitoris and looks up at her. \"Come for me,\" he breathes, and she can\'t object. One more lick, two more darts inside, his hands everywhere at once, and suddenly she\'s coming so hard. \"Don\'t stop,\" she begs him, and he doesn\'t, and it lasts forever.

Finally she pushes him away, with the pulses still wracking her body. \"Now,\" she orders him. \"I need you inside me, right now.\" James doesn’t understand that about her, that need, but he asks no questions. He sheds the rest of his clothes and she grabs his cock in her hand. It\'s huge, bigger than she ever imagined. He knows this, and smiles apologetically.

\"Can you handle it?\" he asks, partly out of teasing, but mostly out of true concern. He leans down to kiss her and she bites at his lip.

\"Give it to me,\" she breathes, suddenly feeling all her pent-up emotions for this man come bursting out of her in a stream of lusty epithets. \"Fuck me with that giant cock,” she whispers. “Fuck me so hard I can\'t walk tomorrow. Fuck me till I scream.\"

His breath hitches in his throat at her words, words he never imagined he’d hear from her; words he never wants her to stop saying. \"Oh gods, keep talking,\" he pants. \"You are so hot I can\'t stand it.\" He hovers over her with his cock in his hand, glistening with silver drops from the tip. He kisses her again as he guides it inside her.

She gasps. He really is big, and she’s a bit out of practice. James has been gone so much lately.

He slows for a minute, wiping a wisp of coppery hair from her eyes. “Are you all right?” he asks quietly, clearly terrified she’ll say no.

But she nods quickly, a diabolical smile spreading across her face. \"Oh gods.” She exhales steadily through her mouth, her lips forming a tiny circle. “I can feel you everywhere.”

He starts to thrust, gently at first, then with increased urgency – harder and faster, but still with an indescribable calm and certainty, and she is sure that her body will explode from the pleasure. Somehow he touches every nerve inside her, every nerve that no man before him has ever touched.

She begins moaning his name over and over again, then steps up to calling his name, then finally graduates to screaming his name, her arms tight around his back. She can\'t stop; he pounds into her in a relentless rhythm. \"Harder!\" she begs him. \"Please, please, more, more, don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop!\" She doesn’t know where these words are coming from, but he obeys, moaning with her as their bodies move together, covered in sweat.

She barely notices when he pulls her up, and suddenly she’s in his lap and they\'re facing each other, and all the right parts are rubbing together. He wraps his arms around her and kisses her neck, thrusting deep. She can\'t take it anymore. She comes again, in violent spasms she can\'t control, throwing her head back with a guttural groan. She can feel the contractions of her body over his cock. So can he.

He pushes into her harder, faster, once, twice, three more times, then releases inside her with her name on his lips. She feels her body fill with warmth and she knows that she is in love with this man.

He collapses against her and they stay there, locked in each other\'s arms, for hours, years, decades. Finally, he leans back and looks into her eyes.

\"It\'s official,\" he says sadly. \"I\'m in love with you.\"

Tears sting her eyes as she nods. “How did this happen?” she whispers. “What is it about me? About you?”

He smiles faintly. “I don’t know about me, but you… you always see the beauty in others.” His fingers trace her hip as he holds her close. “Even when – no, especially when – they can’t see it in themselves. That was me, before I knew you.”

She bites her lip and can’t respond, as they fall back against the sheets and he holds her all night. And in the morning they go back to reality – the reality where she’s marrying his best friend, and they can never be together.


*********************************************

She wakes with a start, her heart hammering in her chest. She desperately tries to slow her breathing, terrified that James will wake up and ask her what’s wrong. She turns her head on the pillow and looks at her husband, sleeping soundly beside her, and sadness overwhelms her. The dream comes to her every night now; the memory of that night won’t leave her alone. It follows her; he follows her.

She reaches a hand down and runs a palm over her extended belly. It’s getting hard to sleep now, eight months along; whatever comes out of her is going to be large and feisty, that’s for certain, the way it’s been kicking. She takes long, deep breaths and rubs her stomach, trying to erase him from her memory. From her lips, her tongue, her fingers, her body.

Impossible.

She falls back into a restless sleep, black and white dreams moving like clouds through her subconscious mind. Somewhere, behind the swirling mist, she hears his voice again.

“Your mother? Oh yes, I knew her...”


THE END