Perfect

Title: Perfect
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Harry/Charlie
Warnings: Little bit of angst, whole lotta fluff, and (hopefully you think so) hot guy on guy action of the explicit kind ^_^
Summary: Harry’s not sure what perfection is, but he knows for sure that it’s not what he already has.
Disclaimer: Not mine, JKR and the publishers own everything but the plot, sadly.
Beta: Sexy Tigger of LJ
Word Count: 10,171

A/N - Obviously my first fic, kinda insipid and cliche, but everybody's gotta start somewhere, right?!

Perfect

International floo always made Harry’s head spin. Not to mention having the slightly embarrassing effect of spitting him out the other side to stagger in an ungainly manner, until he either managed to catch his balance, got caught by somebody or fell flat on his face. This occasion was no different, only there was no-one to catch him since no-one knew he was arriving here. His holdall and backpack added weight that made it impossible for him to get his balance, and so the third option it was. He let loose an undignified yelp and toppled over, his knees hitting the wooden floor hard enough to bruise. “Bugger,” he growled, shaking his head to clear it before struggling to his feet.

“You all right?” Harry looked up to see a short, grizzled looking man behind the bar looking at him, paused in the action of polishing a pint glass.

His cheeks flushing with embarrassment Harry nodded. “Fine, thanks.” He said politely, hauling his holdall over his shoulder and wincing as his bruised knees throbbed a bit to make their displeasure at his clumsiness known. He settled his shoulders and strode across the bar towards the man. “Er… I wonder if you can help me. I need to get to the Dragon Reserve?”

The barkeep didn’t even bat an eyelid, resuming his polishing while giving Harry directions in a thick accent that was a little hard to follow. Harry thanked the man and after making another attempt to settle his bags a little more comfortably, strode out of the bar and on his way.

An hour later he wished that he had asked for written directions. “Only twenty minute walk, can’t miss the wards, the big tree is easy to spot from miles away,” Harry grumbled as he slogged on. “Yeah right! Oh bloody great!” He shouted to the sky as his luck got worse and large spatters of rain began to descend. “What next, a fucking storm?” He flinched when he heard a distant rumble of thunder and sighed. “Good one Harry, tempt fate why don’t you.”

Gritting his teeth and trying to shift the holdall into a more comfortable position he strode on, scowling. Visiting Charlie seemed like such a good idea, he thought to himself as he gamely kept walking, wishing that he had thought to cast an imperturbable charm on his glasses before leaving England, knowing what the weather in Romania was like. After all, what better place to go to escape from all of the attention and reporters? Even the fact that Ginny had been furious at him for deciding to take this trip alone hadn’t made him feel that this was any less of a good idea. A loud clap on thunder made him jump and he sighed again. “Bloody fucking weather.” He complained, shaking his head in a vain attempted to dispel some of the water that was clouding his vision.

Lightening rent the sky in an alarming fashion and Harry frowned, looking around to see if there was anywhere in view that he might shelter from the increasingly dubious looking weather. He almost didn’t hear the shout over the loud rumble of thunder. He glanced up to see a tall man with very dark hair striding towards him, and was instantly filled with relief when he noticed the clothes that he wore, identical to what he thought of as Charlie’s ‘uniform’. The man spoke to him in what he thought was probably Romanian and Harry shrugged, trying to make it known that he didn’t understand. “Charlie Weasley?” He asked, hoping that the man would know Charlie, or at least recognise his name.

“Charlie?” The man asked, frowning. And then another indecipherable tirade that Harry couldn’t follow. “Who you?” The man demanded after a few minutes of Harry looking blank.

Harry seized on the words and smiled faintly. “Harry. Harry P…” He stopped short of saying his surname, frowning. “Just Harry,” He finished firmly.

“Come,” The man said, holding out a hand. Harry frowned at the hand, until the man rolled his eyes and reached out further, grabbing the holdall in impressively large hands. Harry staggered as his load was suddenly lightened, and then smiled widely at the man.

“Thanks,” he said, his smile not even fading when the man rolled his eyes again and turned on his heel, setting off along the path at a brisk pace that Harry just knew he was going to have to jog to match.

*

Roughly fifteen minutes later, by Harry’s reckoning, the arrived at what appeared to be the Keeper’s cottages, and Harry sighed in relief. The man strode straight over to one of the larger cottages and knocked smartly on the door, before opening it and entering, gesturing for Harry to follow. He looked at the doorway for a second, and then quickly shook himself off to rid himself of the worst of the wet, before following and shutting the door on the awful weather.

The warmth hit him immediately and he sighed in part relief part pain as the heat made his icy fingers throb a little. From a little further into the cottage he heard voices speaking rapidly in that same indecipherable language and he followed the sounds, emerging in a kitchen where the large man was stood apparently ranting at –

“Charlie.”

The tall redhead’s gaze immediately darted towards the voice and he blinked incredulously, taking in his appearance. “Harry?”

He grinned sheepishly and shrugged. “Yep. ‘s me.” Obviously, he thought disparagingly, mentally rolling his eyes as his own social ineptitude.

“Bloody hell, what are you doing here?”

Harry shrugged again. “You said I could visit…”

Charlie made a choked sound that was half laughter half disbelieving snort, and shook his head. “Well yeah, but I did think you might let me know you were coming first,” he said, grinning nonetheless.

Harry flushed and looked at the ground as the dark haired man impatiently spoke again, and Charlie answered. The man dumped his dripping (though thankfully waterproof) holdall on the floor and ranted for a moment before turning on his heel and stomping out, leaving Charlie looking at Harry in alarm.

“You walked through the *reserve*?” He asked.

“What?”

“Jan just told me that he found you wandering through the reserve!” Charlie said, shaking his head. “Are you bloody *nuts*?”

Flushing again Harry bit his lip. “I didn’t know, I was walking through… I got lost all right!” He snapped defensively, sniffing and then sneezing explosively.

The noise apparently shocked Charlie into action because immediately he drew his wand and cast a drying spell on Harry’s dripping wet person and summoned a blanket from the sparse living room, grabbing it out of midair and striding across to Harry, chivvying him out of the backpack and wrapping him in the comfortingly warm wool. “Bloody idiot, why didn’t you let me know you were coming? I’d have met you at the floo and Apparated you here.” He scolded, shoving Harry lightly towards the kitchen table and pushing him into a chair. Still muttering under his breath about idiot blokes who took their lives into their hands, he set about making tea while Harry shivered in the confines of the blanket, still sniffling every now and then.

“Thanks,” he said as Charlie plonked the chipped mug full of hot sweet tea before him, reaching out and wrapping both chilled hands around the hot cup and inhaling the fragrant brew, before drawing in a deep breath. “I only… Visiting was kind of a, spur of the moment thing,” he said falteringly, looking intently at his cup to avoid Charlie’s gaze.

“That so?” The older Weasley asked in deeply sarcastic tones. “Last minute as in, ‘I swiftly planned it and left with little warning’, or last minute, ‘I left in the dead of night and told no-one of my plans to abscond the country alone with my worldly possessions in a holdall and a backpack’?”

Harry sighed and sipped his tea. “The second one. Only I told a few people.”

“Right.” Harry risked a peek at Charlie over his mug and then darted his eyes back down when he saw the mild look of amusement that curled the corner of Charlie’s lip up. “So you’re on the run then?”

Harry’s head shot up and he glared indignantly at Charlie. “No!” He snapped. “I’m not –“

“Relax, Harry, I was just kidding.” Taking in the smile that had spread from one corner of Charlie’s mouth to his whole mouth, Harry had to admit that it did look like Charlie was indeed joking.

“Sorry.” He muttered. “I’m just… It’s a bit of a sore subject.”

“Ginny?” Charlie guessed accurately, and Harry nodded morosely. “Thought it might be something like that. So what is it then, she nagging you to take more advantage of your fame, or bugging you about –“

“She wants to get back together and get married and have a huge public wedding and then kids and for me to be an Auror and I’m just not…” Harry trailed off, shaking his head as the spill of words just as abruptly as they had started, dried up.

“’Just not’ what?”

He sighed. “Not ready.” He murmured. “I’m just not ready. And I’m not even sure that I want to be an Auror anymore. And I’m sure as hell not ready to get married, and even if I was then I wouldn’t want a huge affair with the entire wizarding world and his mate invited.” Charlie chuckled and Harry glowered at him across the table. “’s all right for you to laugh; she’s been on about inviting Rita Skeeter to the do! Rita bloody Skeeter!”

Charlie’s chuckles increased for a moment, and then with an effort he calmed down, clearing his throat, his lips still twitching. “Sorry mate,” he apologised. “I’m not laughing at you, honest.”

Harry sighed overdramatically and lowered his forehead to the wooden table with a soft ‘thud’. “I would,” he muttered. “I’m bloody pathetic.” Charlie chuckled again. “I mean, most blokes would kill for what I’ve got, or rather what I could have, but me?” He shrugged and left it all unsaid.

“So you’re hiding out then?”

“Not hiding out, per se,” Harry said, raising his head just enough to see Charlie grinning down at him. “Just… Temporarily burying my head in the sand.”

“OK. So you’re staying then?”

“For a while? If you don’t mind?”

Charlie grinned and shook his head. “You’re welcome to stay anytime Harry, I already told you that.”

Harry smiled his first real smile in weeks. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

*

Used to the bustle of the Burrow in the morning, Harry slept a lot later than normal and woke to the absolute peace and quiet of the reserve. A loud guttural roar made Harry adjust that to almost peace and quiet with a small grin, and he sighed snuggling deeper into the borrowed bedding, replaying the easy camaraderie from the night before in his head. Charlie had been good company, distracting him from his thoughts with anecdotes from his work and easy to follow gossip. He’d retired to bed late and infinitely warmer, and slept the best night’s sleep in months.

Eventually he couldn’t stand lying in bed any longer and he got up, showered and dressed, checking his watch before heating some water for tea and toasting some bread. He was sat at the table eating buttered toast and tea when Charlie came in, his cheeks flushed ruddily from the cold air outdoors and a cheerful smile spreading his lips. “Finally up then,” He said teasingly, ruffling Harry’s hair playfully as he passed.

“Oi, hands off the hair, it’s messy enough as it is!” Harry complained, grinning nonetheless.

“You mean you don’t style it that way?” Charlie asked in mock surprise. “I thought you youngun’s deliberately cultivated the ‘just-been-shagged’ look.”

Harry rolled his eyes and flushed a little. “It’s called ‘bed-head’.” He corrected with a small grin.

Charlie’s grin got wider. “I like my version better,” he said with a cheeky wink as he poured himself a cup of tea.

Harry grinned and immediately they delved into conversation.

*

“I think it’s about time that you got off of your arse and came outside,” Charlie said a week later as Harry yawned over his tea and breakfast.

“What?”

“You’ve been hiding indoors for too long Harry Potter; time to get off of your bottom and come do some work for a bit,”

“But I’m on holiday!” Harry protested, slurping his tea noisily.

Charlie snorted. “If you’re burying your head in the sand then it’s easier to do if you’ve plenty to keep you busy.” He said sagely, nabbing a rasher of bacon from Harry’s plate as he straddled one of the kitchen chairs, facing Harry.

“I’ve been keeping busy,”

“You’ve been wallowing, and even worse, brooding.” Charlie corrected. “And it’s stopping now. Finish your breakfast and then follow me.”

Harry sighed, but smiled as he looked at the table, secretly pleased that Charlie cared enough to stop him from moping around his house.

The wind was biting and Harry was thankful that Charlie had leant him a charmed jacket that he had resized from his own wardrobe. He also wore fingerless gloves that had seen better days and thick jeans which cut out most of the chill air, and keeping pace with Charlie’s longer legs was enough to get his heart pumping and warmth flowing as they strode across the reserve towards wherever the hell they were going.

“C’mon Harry, time to earn your keep,” Charlie said with a small grin that looked distinctly wicked, now that Harry thought on it.

“Doing what?” He asked suspiciously.

Charlie’s eyes twinkled with barely restrained mirth. “Oh, this and that,” he said airily.

Harry’s eyes narrowed and he followed warily, just knowing that the job was going to be either messy, hard work or both.

*

“I knew it, I just bloody *knew* it!” He cursed as he shovelled great piles of steaming smelly dragon turds. “Bloody dragon shite; why me?”

He had been tasked with shovelling the revoltingly strong-smelling faecal matter into bags ready for export into various other countries for use as fertiliser. “Bloody Charlie.” He groused as he finished filling yet another bag and paused, sticking his spade into the piles of dung to tie up the bag and heft it across to the pile that he had already filled. He got another sack ready and - complaining the whole time - started work on filling that one.

When Charlie stopped him for a bite of lunch he laughingly cast a scourgifying spell on Harry, and Harry mock-growled at him before reluctantly joining in the laughter and sitting to eat. Smelly hard work or not, he had to admit that he felt a damned sight better for not shutting himself indoors all day.

*

They quickly settled into a routine, with Harry helping out with odd jobs (usually extremely disgusting ones too) during the day, and then the two retiring to Charlie’s cottage for dinner. Sometimes they would join the other Keepers at the local pub for a drink in the evening, but more often than not they would stay at home and chatter into the small hours of the evening, to then shuffle off to bed and sleep deeply.

His friendship with the older Weasley grew closer each day, and Harry felt a tiny glow in his chest every time that Charlie hugged him lightly, or complimented him on his work, or ruffled his hair as he passed, loving the familiar feel of those fingers gently sifting through his hair, ever more gentle now than it had been at first.

He was spending such a lot of time with Charlie that when he started dreaming about him he wasn’t overly surprised. Besides, he reasoned when he woke up after a surprisingly vivid dream wherein Charlie had given him a hug after Harry’d spilled his guts about the horcrux hunt, it’s not like the content was anything unusual. Just things that they talked about already, and the hugs that warmed him from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Nothing out of the ordinary there.


*

He’d been staying with Charlie for almost three months when the dreams changed from innocent to not so. It was nothing clear, just the lingering images of smooth freckled skin interrupted by the occasional burn scar, of dark red hair mingling with black, of rumbling moans that made his toes curl with pleasure at the sound, and hothardwetgood that left him panting when he awoke with the sticky remnants of his pleasure gluing his pyjama bottoms to his stomach.

At first he ignored everything but the red hair and pretended that it was Ginny that he was dreaming about, but after one spectacular dream where he remembered vague images of sucking a hard, thick erection, he couldn’t pretend anymore.

Unable to reconcile this massive change, Harry panicked and as was his wont when he needed to think, he wandered off alone for a full day, Apparating to the pub and walking a route recommended by the barkeep leaving a brief note for Charlie so that he didn’t worry.

He spent a full day alone wandering and trying to methodically sort through his thoughts and feelings, until finally it began to grow dark and he knew that he couldn’t avoid Charlie any longer.

He Apparated back to the reserve and made his slow way back to Charlie’s cottage, biting his lip hard and drawing in a deep breath. He knew three things incontrovertibly; one, that he obviously liked men, two that he definitely liked Charlie, and three that there was no way that he was ready to tell Charlie that.

Opening the door to Charlie’s cottage he knew that there was only one way he could deal with this, and it wasn’t an option that he was particularly looking forward to.

*

“You’re leaving?”

Harry was taken-aback at how disappointed Charlie seemed to hear that, and he frowned slightly as he nodded. “I think it’s time to go back. I’ve avoided it all for as long as I can really.” He said, not bothering to add that he didn’t honestly think that he could keep living with Charlie without inadvertently giving away the fact that he was lusting over the man.

Charlie lowered his blue eyes to the table top and nodded. “Oh.”

“You OK?” Harry asked, licking his lips as a particularly vivid image of seeing Charlie’s head bent like that over his lap from one of his dreams entered his head.

“Yeah. I just,” Charlie shrugged and then looked up, smiling at Harry. “I suppose that I’m just used to having you here. Place won’t be the same without you.”

Harry smiled past the lump in his throat and nodded. “I know what you mean,” he whispered.

*

Harry hated International floo. With a fiery burning vengeance he hated it, he reflected on that hatred as he once again landed on his knees painfully, this time on the slightly harder floor of the International Floo-port in London.

With a great sigh he got to his feet, wincing at the ache in his poor abused knees, and slowly made his way through the checkpoint where he was scanned by two wizards and then hand his holdall and backpack to be searched before he was declared ‘clean’ and allowed to leave.

London was grimy and smelt bad, and Harry missed Romania with a poignant ache that almost bought tears to his eyes. At least, that was what he told himself, firmly, that he missed.

He made his way through the Leaky Cauldron to Diagon Alley, and then walked swiftly to the Apparition point, spinning on the spot and focussing on Grimmauld Place. When he arrived with a loud CRACK! he was greeted by Kreature’s bullfrog croak and ushered to his room for a shower and nap while the House Elf prepared a meal for him.

He gratefully let the elf mother him and slipping free of his clothing once in his bathroom, tossing the seemingly-grimy articles onto the floor before slipping into the shower stall and charming it onto a warm setting. The needles of water that cascaded down onto him bought forth a sigh of pleasure and he closed his eyes and gave himself over to the comfort of cleaning the smog of London from his skin.

He point-blank refused to think of anything while in the shower, forcing away thoughts of Charlie and the last time that he had stood under this much falling water while Charlie laughed uproariously at his efforts to remain upright while shovelling yet more dragon shit in the pouring rain. He certainly didn’t linger on remembered images of Charlie’s shirt plastered to his torso, the white fabric going transparent and moulding to the broad shoulders and muscled abdomen that Harry dreamt of worshipping with his hands, lips, tongue…

He groaned as the memory made him harden and braced his hands against the tiled wall of the shower, bowing his head as he fought to dismiss the images from his mind. “I’m straight, I’m straight, I don’t like men and I sure as hell don’t fancy Charlie…” Who the fuck do I think I’m kidding? He asked himself as reluctantly he slid a hand down his body to his pulsing cock, whimpering as he enclosed the sensitive flesh in his fist and slowly slid his hand along his length. Half remembered images of his dreams fuelled him and he squeezed a little harder, thrusting into the ring of his hand and moaning.

He took a firmer grip on his erection and sank his teeth into his lips to prevent himself from moaning any names as he wanked himself at a leisurely pace. Flashes of Charlie laughing and the way he looked in the dim firelight at night made his breathing come faster and he bit harder on his lip, the pounding of the shower mostly masking the slick sounds of his masturbation.

As his hand moved faster, adding a little twist at the head, he felt his balls beginning to draw up and shifted his feet restlessly on the wet shower floor, the images in his mind coming faster now. As the memory of his dream-self sucking Charlie’s thick cock into his mouth slammed into his brain he released a moan that was definitely *not* Charlie’s name and spurted all over the tiles, his trembling legs refusing to hold him aloft any longer as he sank to the floor.

He watched as the water swept away the white globs of his come and sighed, resting his head back against the wall. I am so screwed.

*

He spent a sum total of three days mulling over his options and trying to figure out just what it was that he wanted from his life. And then, decisions made and his jaw set, he went to the desk in the study and withdrew a piece of parchment and a quill, dipping the nib into a pot of ink.

Dear Sir

I write to officially withdraw from Auror training, effective immediately.

I thank you for offering me this opportunity, but I find myself unwilling to spend anymore time in the pursuit of Dark Wizards; I believe that I’ve spent enough of my life fighting.

Yours respectfully,

Harry James Potter

He smiled as he sealed the letter and posted it via floo.

*

England seemed small and claustrophobic after the wide open spaces of the Romanian reserve and Harry missed Charlie’s companionship more than he cared to admit. It was missing that companionship that forced him from his self-imposed exile three days after his return, and with a deep sense of foreboding he Apparated to Ottery St Catchpole to let the Weasleys know that he’d returned.

The Burrow hadn’t changed a bit, and he felt a small smile welling up as he saw the rickety house and heard the dulcet tones of the chickens clucking gently in the garden.

It was just his luck, he mused, that Ginny was the first one that he ran into. Though she was who he was here to see, he had wanted a chance to say hello to the rest of the Weasleys before they no longer wanted to speak to him without hexing him. “Harry!” she exclaimed, running across the garden and throwing her arms around him tightly. He hugged her briefly, but with a sigh admitted that her lithe feminine form in his arms did absolutely nothing to his libido, whereas thinking about being on his knees before her brother…

“I missed you so much,” she whispered brokenly, and Harry felt guilt welling up inside of him as he thought 'I didn’t miss you at all'. “When did you get back?”

He cleared his throat of the frog that he hadn’t even known was there and set Ginny aside gently. “A few days ago.”

The bright smile instantly disappeared and she scowled at him. “You got back days ago and you’re only just coming to see me?”

I’m not here to see you, he thought instantly, but quelled the response. “I needed some time, Gin.” Time to figure things out.

She sighed and then smiled. “But you’re here now,” she said, pushing close to him again. “Does that mean…” She trailed off delicately, and Harry sighed.

“Gin,” he began, licking his lips. Her smile faded again, and he felt like a complete bastard as he spoke the next words. “We need to talk.”

*

Unsurprisingly, she didn’t take the news that he’d realised that he didn’t love her after all very well. Not very well at all, in fact.

“So you just came back to *break up* with me?” She demanded shrilly, her eyes filling with angry tears.

Harry, bit his lip, and then nodded. “I’m sorry Gin. It… I really thought that you were it,” he said honestly, wincing as her tears overflowed and coursed down her cheeks, and he felt like the biggest shit ever. “But the thing is…” And much as he didn’t want to tell her, he knew that if she found out later from someone else it’d be much, much worse. “Thing is, I think I like blokes.”

Her face crumpled further, and he ached to take away that hurt. “You *bastard*,” she breathed, shaking her head. “You’re gay?”

Harry swallowed hard and shrugged. “Dunno. Please don’t be mad Gin, I thought I liked girls, but…”

“But what?” She snapped furiously. “You disappear for three months Harry and then come back and you’re *gay*? How the hell do you expect me to take this?”

Harry licked his lips again and sighed. “I really am sorry.” He said softly.

Ginny’s lower lip trembled and she shook her head. She drew herself up to her full height, which wasn’t much shorter than Harry, and turned on her heel, stalking away from Harry. He watched her go and then drew in a deep breath, before turning sadly around and trudging back down the way he had came, Apparating back home once he was far enough away.

*

Once safely ensconced in Grimmauld Place, Harry closed the floo and threw up the strongest Anti-Apparition ward that he knew, before dragging out a bottle of firewhisky that Ron had bought him to celebrate his eighteenth and setting about getting as pissed as a coot.

He sat morosely before the fire in the drawing room, looking at the ugly old Black family tapestry and trying not to remember the look on Ginny’s face when he had told her. He tried even harder not to remember anything at all about Charlie.

It was late when he reached for the bottle of Ogden’s only to find that it was completely empty, and with a small depressed sigh Harry plonked it back onto the table and unsteadily stood, making his way across the room to stare at the loathed tapestry. He carefully fingered the small scorch-mark where Sirius’ name had been, and felt bitter anger and sadness well up inside of him. Before he could question his motions he yanked his wand out of his pocket and stood back, casting the strongest burning spell that he knew on the tapestry and watching with a violent glee as the awful thing went up in flames, which he only extinguished once it was smoking remains.

A sense of extremely drunken determination struck him and he strode out of the drawing room to the stairs, and stomped up them, unmindful of waking Kreacher as he stamped towards the curtains that flew back as he noisily approached. Walbruga Black screeched and shrieked abuse at him that he didn’t even hear, and when he stood back and aimed his wand at her she cackled cruelly, taunting him with the knowledge that there was no way to remove her portrait from the wall.

“No need to remove the portrait,” he slurred, grinning crookedly at her. She stopped screaming as he spoke, glaring at him. “No wall, no portrait,” he said, and then cast a blasting curse at the wall, aiming it just beside the portrait so that it couldn’t be deflected and feeling an immense sense of satisfaction as the curse blew out that entire section of wall and ripped the portrait to shreds, the sound of Walburga shrieking mingling with the rumble of mortar. He stood back to admire the brand spanking new hole in his house wall, and then with a happy sigh and ignoring Kreacher’s wails of horror from behind him, he staggered up the stairs to his bed, collapsing into a drunken stupor.

*

He woke with the mother of all hangovers and groaned as he rolled onto his back. “I hate this fucking house,” he whispered through a dry throat. “I hate this fucking city. I hate this fucking country.” He swallowed a lump in his throat as his head throbbed and closed his eyes as he felt tears prickling in them. “I want to go home.”

*

He was feeling a bit better after a shower and an aspirin and made his way to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Kreacher was nowhere to be seen and he sighed as he saw the mess that had been made of the kitchen; plates smashed, food thrown about the place and what appeared to be eggs thrown on the tabletop and then smeared over it. Apparently the house elf had thrown a little hissy fit.

He made his tea and drank it out of a cup that he repaired and then sat in a chair that he cleaned, pondering what to do with himself. He had no girlfriend, no job, no commitments. “I guess,” he said quietly to himself. “It all comes down to what you want, Harry me lad.”

He sipped his tea and smiled for the first time that day.

*

He still hated International floo, even more than ever, and he cursed himself as he landed once again on his poor knees on the hard wooden floor. This time no-one asked if he was all right, and he got up quicker and Apparated at once to the reserve. He hefted his backpack into a more comfortable position on his shoulders and strode towards Charlie’s cottage before he could lose the nerve.

He knocked and waited for the shouted summons before opening the door slowly and entering. It smelt exactly the same as he remembered and he inhaled the scent that he associated with Charlie deep, before straightening his shoulders and striding into the kitchen, where he was sure Charlie would be.

The redhead looked shocked to see Harry, and he stood up quickly, knocking over his chair. “Bloody hell Harry, are you all right?” He demanded, covering the distance between them in three strides and grabbing Harry’s biceps, shaking him lightly. “I’ve been trying to get hold of you since yesterday afternoon!”

Harry frowned; this wasn’t what he’d expected at all. “Why?” He squeaked, flushing and then clearing his throat to repeat the question.

“We’ve all been worried sick about you; after Ginny told mum and she flooed everyone to tell us that you’d split up with her.” Harry cast his eyes to the floor and instantly dismissed his initial plan to tell Charlie how he felt. After all, there was no chance that he’d want Harry now that he’d broken his little sister’s heart.

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “I blocked my floo. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. And I didn’t really think anyone’d want to talk to me either.”

Charlie shook him again, and then dragged him forward into a tight hug that made Harry’s throat ache. “You little idiot,” he chided. “You’re family Harry, no matter what happens between you and Ginny.”

Harry’s heart fell further and he sighed in Charlie’s embrace, pulling back from the contact. “I just… I wanted to come and tell you thank you for letting me stay here. It really helped.” He murmured.

“You… You’re off somewhere then?”

Harry shrugged. “Travelling.” He said. “I decided I want to see the world a bit.”

Charlie removed his hand from Harry’s arms and nodded. “Alone?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Sure that’s a good idea?”

He felt irritation flare at that obvious display of brotherly concern and glared. “Yes, it’s a brilliant idea.” He said defensively.

Charlie raised his hand and stepped back. “Sorry for being worried,” he said in a gravely voice that sent an imperceptible shiver through Harry.

He sighed. “I’m sorry.” He said. “I really didn’t come here to fight, I just wanted to say thanks.”

Gods how he adored the way that the corner of Charlie’s lip curled up into a half smile. “’s all right.”

Harry smiled back and then swallowed hard again. “Well.” He settled his backpack on his shoulders again.

“Do I get a hug goodbye?” Charlie asked. His smile fading a little Harry stepped closer again and stepped into Charlie’s welcoming arms, licking his lips and trying not to think about his bloody dirty dreams. “I expect postcards.” He joked as he squeezed Harry lightly.

“I’ll send one every place I go,” Harry promised, hugging him back.

“You’ll tell me where you’re going next?”

Harry shrugged. “I guess.”

“For safety.” Charlie added, squeezing him again.

Harry smiled. “Yeah, all right then.” Those brawny arms finally let him go and Harry stepped back, smiling weakly up at Charlie. “I’ll see you around,” He said.

“You better.”

He nodded once, and then turned and paced across the room to the door, his body jerking to a stop as he got part way down the corridor. “I just wanted to say…” He trailed off and looked at Charlie, who was frowning. “You’re fucking sexy as hell, Charlie.” He said, and then turned and hurried out of the house as quickly as he could, Apparating as soon as he was able and feeling as though he’d just done something incredibly stupid.

*

Australia was amazing; he learnt to surf, went into the Outback with his Aboriginal guide who called himself Mick, “After Crocodile Dundee mate,” ate snake, saw several kangaroos and wallabys and cuddled a koala. As promised he sent Charlie postcards of each place he visited, via a pygmy owl that he bought when he got to Sydney. Charlie never wrote back.

When he left Australia he had a good tan and a hankering to visit somewhere with a few less spiders. He headed for America.

He spent an entire year touring the country there, and still didn’t manage to go everywhere that he wanted. He got to see the Statue of Liberty, went to Washington D.C. to visit the White House, went to California and did more surfing. He rode across the Plains with a Native American Guide whose name Harry couldn’t pronounce, and even picked up a little of the native language. He visited more places than he had thought possible, what with his restricted up-bringing in Surrey, and even had a whirlwind affair with a beautiful Native man called Joseph. He wasn’t Charlie, didn’t even look like him with his long dark hair, bronze skin and deep brown eyes, but he was kind and handsome, and his mannerisms reminded Harry of the older Weasley brother. It wasn’t going to last, what with Harry moving on all the time, but he lost his virginity and had a good time. He owled postcards filled with his exploits to Charlie, and this time received a few back. On his birthday at midnight he received a bunch of cards and presents and was immediately taken back to his summer holidays at the Dursleys. He ate the food Mrs Weasley sent and carefully packed away each gift in his backpack, smiling as he remembered that he still had friends in England, even if he hadn’t seen them in a while.

Ron and Hermione got married then, and so he flooed back to the UK briefly to be Ron’s best man, to toast the bride and groom and drink at their reception. He avoided Charlie because he remembered only too well what he’d said when he’d saw him last, and then he jetted off to Africa.

He saw more endangered species than he cared to count there, on his many safaris, and the best part of all was when he and a group of other wizards and witches trekked into the jungle to meet gorillas. He was astonished to find that they were incredibly gentle and he was even able to get a few pictures. He sent one to Charlie that a witch called Amanda had taken, of him holding the hand of one of the smaller gorillas and beaming at the camera, and received a letter back asking where he was headed next.

Next was China. He walked the Great Wall and explored the countryside that reminded him of England, and then headed for Japan, where he was approached by a wizard who made katana in the old way and wanted to make one for the famous Harry Potter. He gladly bought one of the swords and then spent six months trying to find someone who could teach him to use it. He spent the longest time in Japan, finding a sense of peace in the country that he’d never known anywhere else in the world but Romania, and when he left he had many new skills and a serenity that carried him back to England for the birth of his godchild, Rose and smiling as Ginny and Neville awkwardly announced their engagement.

He stayed for a few months this time, planning to leave immediately after Rose’s Christening, headed for Europe this time. He almost fluffed his lines in the Christening when he spotted Charlie watching him; he looked even better than he had last Harry had seen him, and it was only the fact that he was sure Charlie wasn’t gay that stopped him from going over and snogging him silly.

Italy was his first stop and here he found Luca, who was ten years his senior and taught him everything that he could want to know about sex and his body. In the four months that they spent together Harry learnt a lot about himself and revelled in his renewed sexuality. He owled several postcards of the country to Charlie, and even told him about Luca this time, and didn’t receive anything back.

Spain was next and Harry spent a couple of months touring the country, before moving on to France and Germany. By this time though, he was getting tired of travelling and living out of his bag. Four years had passed since he had last been in Romania, and he wondered if it was enough time for Charlie to have forgotten, or at least glossed over, his parting words.

*

Harry had gotten used to International floo by now, and he didn’t stumble when he stepped out this time. The same barkeep was stood behind the bar, polishing a mug this time. Harry smiled, nodded and left immediately, Apparating to the reserve.

He’d been travelling for so long that he’d forgotten what it was like to feel that a place was home. As he walked the short distance to Charlie’s cottage he breathed in the Romanian air with its faint underlying smell of dragon crap, and smiled.

He knocked on the door and waited outside this time, for Charlie to answer, and when the door was pulled open he set a wide smile on his face. “Hi Charlie.”

Charlie stared for a minute and then the corner of his mouth curved in that oh-so familiar smile. “Got your postcards.” He said gruffly, shoving a hand through his dark red hair, that over the years had gotten so dark it was almost brown.

Harry smiled. “I promised I’d send them.”

The red head smiled wider and then reached out and enveloped Harry in a hug, and Harry went, resting his head against Charlie’s broad chest and inhaling deep the scent that he remembered with fondness and the faintest sense of arousal. “It’s good to see you, Harry.”

*

“So what brings the intrepid explorer back here then?” Charlie asked as he lazily flicked his wand to make the tea.

Harry shrugged out of his backpack and sighed. “Got tired of travelling I guess,” he said, sitting down at the familiar kitchen table. “Felt it was about time to see some familiar faces.”

Charlie nodded. “Going back home then?” he asked casually, pouring the tea into mugs.

Harry shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe.” He said nonchalantly. The truth was that Romania, and more specifically Charlie’s cottage, was the first place that had ever felt like home to him, and he wasn’t overeager to leave.

“Well, I’m sure Mum and Dad would be glad to see you.”

Harry shrugged again and took the mug that Charlie handed him. “I don’t know that I really want to go back to England.”

“England.” Charlie repeated, sitting down with a small frown. “England, not home?”

He shook his head slowly. “It’s not.” Harry replied honestly, smiling. “England hasn’t been home for a long time.” It doesn’t have you there, he added in his head.

Charlie smiled back. “I suppose not.”

They drank tea and Harry told Charlie about his travels, the people he met and the things that he had done, until Charlie finally interrupted. “Why’d you leave Italy?”

Harry paused in his story-telling and blinked, looking up at Charlie and frowning. “What d’you mean?”

Charlie cleared his throat and then looked frankly at Harry. “Well, in your postcard you told me about your boyfriend. Why’d you leave him?”

“Oh.” Harry chewed on his lower lip for a moment and then sighed, reaching up to lightly tug on a hank of his hair. “Well… Luca wasn’t… I mean, we had fun together, and I learnt a lot from him, but it was never… I didn’t love him or anything. It was never going to be a long term thing.”

“Why not?”

Harry shrugged. “Like I said, I didn’t love him. I liked him, and I was attracted to him, but beyond that…” He let the sentence hang and then smiled weakly at Charlie. “It was fun while it lasted though.”

Charlie nodded and then carefully put him mug down on the tabletop. “Harry,” he began slowly. “About what you said before you left that last time…“

Harry panicked; he’d hoped that Charlie had decided not to talk about that!

“I was wondering… Did you mean it?”

The brunette licked his lips and echoed Charlie’s earlier care in placing his mug on the table. “Er…” He chewed on his lip again, wondering how the hell he was going to get himself out of this one. “Well… I mean -”

“Because, thing is, I think you’re fucking sexy too.”

Harry blinked. “Excuse me?” He asked, his eyebrows reaching his hairline in astonishment.

Charlie grinned at Harry and shrugged. “I said -“

“I heard what you said,” Harry interrupted, shaking his head impatiently. “I just… You think I’m… *sexy*?” He whispered the word, feeling a flush that he thought he’d gotten rid of start to creep up from his neck and into his cheeks.

The grin widened and Harry gulped as the sight of it made his cock stir. “I do,” Charlie said in a low voice, and Harry’s prick twitched and began to swell as Charlie slowly pushed his chair back and stood, pacing in a predatory manner around the table towards him, tugging Harry to his feet and walking him backwards with every word. “I’ve thought so for years. Ever since I saw your pert little arse sat on a broom as you out-flew that Horntail, I’ve thought that you’re sexy as hell. And then you came here and stayed, working the odd jobs at the reserve and sleeping in one of my beds, coming down every morning tousled from sleep and looking so fucking gorgeous I just wanted to haul you to your feet and pin you against the wall, take your mouth and fuck you ‘til you scream my name.”

Harry moaned faintly as the words raced to his cock and had it twitching against his belly. “Charlie,” he whispered and then his back met the wall of the kitchen and Charlie pressed against him, holding Harry against the wall and lightly thrusting his own hardness against Harry’s belly.

“You’re so fucking hot Harry,” Charlie breathed, and then his mouth found Harry’s and his tongue forced its way inside and it was teeth and tongue and shared breath and moaning and panting and Harry’s cock felt so hard he thought it might burst as Charlie fucked Harry’s mouth with his tongue, his large hands, shiny with burn scars, running from Harry’s waist down to clutch at his arse, dragging Harry forward until he was pressed so closely to Charlie that not even the thinnest sheet of parchment could be passed between them.

Harry reached up and twined his hands in Charlie’s thick red hair, his eyelids fluttering half closed as he moaned in the back of his throat, thrusting his cock against Charlie’s muscled thigh and seeing sparks behind his eyelids as one of those large hands left his arse to slide around and cup the bulge in his jeans, rubbing it lightly, and then less lightly. “Fuck,” he hissed into Charlie’s mouth, moaning and then moaning again as the tiny sounds were swallowed by Charlie.

“Want to,” Charlie rasped into the recesses of Harry’s mouth, and he ground his hips against Harry, grunting as one of Harry’s hands left Charlie’s hair and wormed its way between their bodies to rub Charlie as intimately as he was being rubbed, fingers stretching over the generous bulge and squeezing it as their tongues slid past one another in an erotic dance that stole thought from Harry’s mind and breath from his body.

“Please!” Harry gasped, arching against Charlie and tugging lightly on his hair as the redhead’s lips trailed from Harry’s lips to his neck, and started sucking on his pulse point, teeth sinking into the soft flesh hard enough to leave a vivid mark. “Oh please, fuck me,”

With a muffled curse Charlie dragged his mouth away from Harry’s neck and in a move that drove a squeak from Harry he hauled the shorter man up by his arse and staggered across to the kitchen table, sweeping it clear with one arm and then plonking him down on its surface, devouring his mouth again at once while his hands busied themselves burrowing under Harry’s jumper and wrenching the hem of his t shirt from the waistband of his trousers. He drew back his mouth long enough to whip both jumper and t shirt over Harry’s head and then his tongue was back, mating with Harry’s own as callused fingers found sensitive nipples and tweaked them mercilessly.

Harry groaned Charlie’s name like a benediction and arched up against the matching hardness of the redhead’s groin, rubbing their two erections together all too briefly as Charlie wrenched his mouth away from Harry’s to explore the lightly tanned skin of the brunette’s upper body with lips and tongue and teeth, even as his work-roughened hands slipped down between their hips to wrench open the fly of Harry’s jeans. “Fuck!” Harry exclaimed as that hand wormed its way into his jeans and under the waistband of his boxers to touch the soft skin of his prick.

“Harry,” Charlie grated, biting down gently, and then less gently on Harry’s nipple and then soothing it with the flat of his tongue as his hand curled around Harry’s erection and slowly smoothing up his length, swiping the pad of his thumb over the slit and smearing the precome that was leaking there across the head. Harry thrust into the circle of Charlie’s hand and dug short fingernails into the cloth of Charlie’s shirt, dying to feel skin under his fingertips.

He slowly inched the shirt up Charlie’s back and then as he wrapped his legs around his hips his hands smoothed across the soft skin of Charlie’s lower back, grazing the faintly red-fuzzed skin lightly with his nails.

Charlie’s lips trailed down from Harry’s nipples across his finely muscled abdomen, his tongue tracing the line of each muscle reverently as his other hand unhooked Harry’s legs from his hips and then began to tug Harry’s jeans and boxers down.

Harry’s fingers found Charlie’s hair again as Charlie dropped to a chair and having finally rid Harry of the clothing that impeded him swiped his tongue along the fat vein that ran the length of the underside of the turgid cock that he held, before using the point of his tongue to collect the pre-come that was oozing from the slit and drawing it into his mouth with a guttural sound that made Harry’s cock jerk.

Charlie’s name slipped from Harry’s parted lips, followed by ‘fuck’ as the other man slowly took the head of Harry’s cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue and sucking down the copious amounts of pre-come that leaked onto his taste buds. Teasingly Charlie slid his mouth back up Harry’s length, and then took him in a little deeper, repeating this move until his nose touched the unruly curls at the base of Harry’s prick, inhaling the musk as he swallowed and made Harry moan his name again.

Harry’s fingers tugged on Charlie’s hair, creating a pleasant tingle that made the redhead groan, and then chuckle as Harry swore and his hips jerked at the vibrations that caused. “Charlie please!” Harry gasped, trying to tug Charlie’s mouth off of his cock. “Fuck, please, want you.”

Charlie slowly, teasingly slid his mouth up Harry’s erection and placed a tiny kiss on the head as his withdrew, looking up into wide emerald green eyes, noticing with a smug smile that his pupils were dilated so much that only a sliver of colour remained to be seen. “*Accio* lubricant.” He said huskily, grinning when Harry moaned at his words and his cock jerked against his stomach.

After a moment or two the tub that he kept in his bedside drawer appeared and slapped into his hand with a pleasing sound, and he looked up at Harry. “Please,” Harry whined, spreading his legs apart a little further for him. Charlie swallowed hard; it was the most fucking arousing thing he’d seen in a long time, Harry sprawled on his kitchen table buck naked with his legs spread and his cock hard and flushed against his stomach.

With hands that trembled a little he unscrewed that lid of the lube and coated his fingers as Harry watched through pleasure-slitted eyes. He listened to Harry’s tiny moan as his finger found the tiny pink entrance and rubbed a lubed finger around it a few times, watching as Harry clenched and released the muscle involuntarily, making the little hole wink at him. “That’s fucking sexy as hell,” Charlie murmured to himself, thinking lustfully of what that clenching would feel like around his cock.

“In me, in me,” Harry was mumbling, and when Charlie looked up his hand was on his prick, stroking the length slowly as copious amounts of pre-come leaked onto his stomach.

Obeying Harry’s request, Charlie slowly teased the tip of his finger into the reclining brunette, licking his suddenly dry lips as he felt how hot he was inside, and how tight. “Fuck,” He breathed, reaching down with his other hand to squeeze his still clothed cock, which was twitching wildly at the sight of a debauched and wildly sexy Harry.

“Please!” Harry gasped, arching his hips against Charlie’s hand suddenly and taking in his finger in one smooth move that drew twin moans from their lips. “Fuck me Charlie,” Harry managed to groan, and then he swore again as Charlie drew out his forefinger and slowly wiggled two into Harry’s arse, crooking them until he found the little nub of nerves that lay inside and probing it. Harry’s begging lost coherency and his back arched dramatically before he began pushing down frantically on Charlie’s fingers, his hand moving more swiftly on his swollen and flushed cock.

“Ah,” Charlie scolded, laying a warning slap onto Harry’s arse cheek. “You’re not coming until I’m inside you.”

“Then fucking get inside me already!” Harry demanded, slowing the speed of his hand anyway.

“Patience, Harry.” Charlie teased with a grin.

“Sod patience, fuck me!”

Charlie chuckled and withdrew his fingers, standing up to lean over Harry until their lips were almost touching. “I do love a demanding bottom.” He whispered mischievously, before tracing Harry’s bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, moaning when the younger man drew Charlie’s tongue into his mouth and began to rhythmically suck on it. He reached blindly for the pot of lube and fumbled a coating onto three of his fingers, and then still kissing Harry, reached down and slowly inveigled the fingers into the tight hole that he was panting to fuck.

When he decided that Harry was loose enough he gently pulled his fingers free and with his sticky hand unbuttoned his trousers, sighing into Harry’s mouth as his cock sprang free from the tight confines of the material. He released the fabric and it slid down his legs to pool around his ankles, but he was too busy positioning the mushroom head of his erection at Harry’s entrance to give a damn. With his cock tapping at Harry’s arsehole, Charlie drew back from the kiss to look at Harry, taking in the flushed cheeks, the plump kiss-bruised lips and the wild, shining green eyes. “You’re fucking gorgeous,” he whispered, and then he started to push forwards into Harry’s body, swallowing the loud gasp as he took the other man’s lips again.

He’d fucked a lot of people, male and female, starting with a girl whose name he couldn’t even recall when he was fourteen, in the astronomy tower at Hogwarts. But he’d never felt with any of the others, the way he felt when his cock slowly slid into the tight, hot confines of Harry’s body. He couldn’t speak, not even a word, for the emerald-eyed man had stolen the very breath from his body with that first slick glide, and Charlie knew then that if Harry would let him, he was keeping him.

When he was completely sheathed he stilled, breathing shallowly and feeling Harry’s muscles twitching around him in a bid to adjust to the invasion of his cock. “*Gods* Charlie,” Harry moaned, clenching hard around the erection inside of him, and then Charlie was lost. With a loud animalistic sound Charlie withdrew from Harry and drove back in, delighting in the feel of Harry’s fingernails scratching his lower back under his shirt and the gasping cry that spilled from the plump, inherently kissable lips. He set a fast pace that he knew would have him spilling into Harry within minutes, but couldn’t force his hips to slow anymore than he could stop breathing.

Harry didn’t seem to mind that Charlie was already far too close to coming, in fact he was loudly urging Charlie to fuck him ‘harder, faster dammit!’. The brunette’s legs were wrapped around Charlie’s hips, tugging him back in every time he withdrew. A slim hand wiggled between their bodies and Charlie felt Harry grasp his leaking cock, fisting it at an almost brutal pace. He groaned aloud at that thought and his fingers tightened on Harry’s hips as his balls drew up tight to his body and he shot ropes of warm, white come into Harry’s spasming arse.

His name was wailed from red lips and he felt warm wetness pulse against his stomach as Harry joined him in orgasm, and then he slumped limply onto the younger man’s body, trying to take some weight off of his trembling legs.

“Harry,” he managed to pant between planting sucking kisses onto the brunettes neck. “Oh Merlin *Harry*.”

*

“When did you realise that you fancied me?”

Harry made a tiny sound that was very much like an ‘urk’ at the unexpected question, and then flushed as Charlie chuckled and lazily laved a long strip up the side of his neck. “Errrr… It was… I – Charlie, how the hell am I supposed to answer the question with you doing, *oh Gods*… Doing *that*?” Harry stuttered, tilting his head to the side anyway to give Charlie room to continue sucking a large bruise onto his neck.

Charlie released his neck and then blew a cool stream of air onto the wet flesh, making Harry shudder pleasurably at the sensation. “Sorry,” The redhead said, grinning and not looking as though he was even the tiniest bit sorry. “Do carry on.”

Harry sent him a look that tried to be a glare but fell several marks short, so filled with affectionate humour was it, and rolled his eyes, before licking his lips and going back to his answer. “It was about three months into my stay.” Harry said, his cheeks flushing a little as he recalled the exact circumstances of his realisation that he desperately wanted the older Weasley brother.

“And then you went back to London and split up with Ginny.” Charlie said softly, lifting an errant lock of Harry’s hair from the spot next to his faded scar and carefully tucking it behind his ear.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, nodding. “She wasn’t too pleased about that, especially when I told her why.”

“You told her you were breaking up with her because you fancied her older brother?” Charlie spluttered, eyes wide.

“No!” Harry’s cheeks flushed a darker shade of red and he punched Charlie’s shoulder gently. “You idiot, I just told her I was gay. I didn’t mention the fact that the reason I knew it was ‘cuz I was lusting after you. I think she might have hexed me if I’d said that!”

Charlie laughed outright at this and his blue eyes sparkled so much so that Harry decided then and there that he was going to make it his business to make Charlie laugh as often as possible, if that was what he looked like doing it.

They chatted about a few other inconsequential things for a while then, including Luca and what Harry had learnt from him, until Harry yawned and Charlie scooped him up in brawny arms and, having extinguished the fire with a flick of his wand, carried the smaller man to bed.

Tucked into the plain but warm and oh-so Charlie bed, Harry sighed happily as Charlie drew him into a warm embrace and extinguished the light from his wand with a whispered *Nox*.

In the womb-like darkness of Charlie’s bedroom they lay together until Charlie pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead and squeezed him lightly. “What now?” He asked softly.

Harry shrugged. “Don’t know.” He said, his throat tightening at the thought that this might just have been a one off.

“Have you got plans to head off to some other exotic location?” Charlie’s voice was teasing, but Harry could head the undertone of uncertainty.

“Not really.” Harry denied, shaking his head.

Silence. Then – “You could stay here.”

Harry stopped breathing for a second; those were the words he had been waiting, *longing* for, he just hadn’t actually expected to hear them. “What… What would I do though?” He whispered, his heart racing with delight as he wriggled to get a little closer to Charlie.

“Well,” Charlie began, and Harry just knew by the tone of his voice that more teasing was headed his way. “We could always use another hand to shovel the shit.”

Harry laughed, and then thought that it might not be so bad, so long as he had Charlie. He sighed and smiled, closing his eyes and listening to Charlie’s steady heartbeat. “Sounds perfect.”