Scars

My eyes widened as they met hers. She smirked and sauntered down the steps. She was clad in a skimpy top and some lounge pants.

“What do we owe to this surprise?”

I swallowed—hard. I tried my best to look somber but I failed.

“Lucius passed. Narcissa wants me to bring her son back for the funeral.”

She looked taken back before she nodded and reached out for his arm, dragging him up the stairs to the house. She glanced around the open foyer, into the sitting room and the dining room and up the stairs to the landing.

“He hasn’t been reading her letters, not a single one. I think he’s still out with Blaise, Calen and Abram. Come on, you look tired, let’s get some tea in you.”

I glanced around, at first relatively jealous of the two names I didn’t recognize, till I noticed children’s toys tossed about and messy art projects tacked carelessly on the walls. I followed her into a spacious kitchen. Overall the house looked worn in, lived in. The sound of doors closing alerted her, she stared at me before cursing and rushing to the door as it opened. I couldn’t see anything, but I heard voices.

“Boys, give those bags to Draco, he’ll take them into the kitchen, Blaise don’t you dare hang up those jackets, we’re going out. Bags, Draco; kitchen, now.”

I heard the grumbling of two young voices and then the rustling of plastic and approaching footsteps.

“Have fun!”

I tensed, she was leaving us alone. I heard bags hit the ground before I turned around. I let my eyes graze across the mess of food that now littered the tile floor. Without thinking I scrambled down to help pick them up and realized that he wasn’t moving. I glanced over at his shoes, then up his legs, his chest and then finally settled on his face.

“What are you doing here?”

He narrowed his eyes.

“She sent you didn’t she? That bloody woman cannot keep interfering with my life!”

“Your father’s dead.”

I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that, and I clenched inwards towards myself as soon as I realized what I had just said. I closed my eyes, uttering a pathetic apology. After a few moments of silence I heard more rustling and then the sounds of things hitting the counter surface. I peaked through my eyes and noticed he was putting the things he hadn’t dropped away and had come back to pick up what he had.

“But why you, why did she send you? If she thinks—“

He stopped and turned to face me. I stood weakly on my feet. His eyes roamed over my body and I noticed his eyebrow arched.

“You stopped taking care of yourself.”

He stalked over to me and grabbed my left arm, pulling up my sleeve. His gaze fell on the scars, all of which were old.

“You haven’t started in another place have you? I, I looked into what you do to yourself.”

I just shook my head.

“Good.”

He dropped my hand and turned back to putting the groceries away. He was stiff in movements; so he had heard me and it was affecting him—he just didn’t want me to know. My arm tingled from where his fingers had dug in.

“I, I can go now. She just, your mother, she, she wants you there and asked me, asked me to, to come and…I’m, I, I just—“

“Shut up!”

I blinked in surprise at his outburst. I turned and headed back towards the door, the moment my hand touched the handle I felt a hand grab my other wrist. He spun me around and looked at me, hard. As if he were trying to read everything about me. He took three steps forward, pinning me to the door.

“I don’t want you to go…I never wanted to leave you.”

The last part came out in a mere whisper but both of our eyes widened. I felt my chest tighten, so we both thought about that night, it wasn’t just me. He pressed his body closer to my own, moving his hands up my body to pin them on the side of my head, his hips against mine and I didn’t dare move.

“You know, they say those that are grieving the loss of a loved one, they’re quite easy to take advantage of. Care to take advantage of me Potter?”

He moaned my name into my ear, his warm breath causing me to shiver. I must be dreaming, I’ll wake up and I’ll be in some pub around the corner or in some dingy room at an inn. Not here, hot with him pressed against me, begging me to, to take advantage of him. I closed my eyes as his lips came into contact with my neck. He went right for my jugular, he knew my weak spot. I whimpered as his teeth bit down on the same spot. He pulled back and looked me in the eye.

“I’ll only go back if you follow me upstairs and have your way with me. Only then.”

I swallowed and kept his gaze. Without a second thought I leant forward and pressed my lips to his, wrapping my arms around him, pulling him closer to me. His hands buried themselves in my hair, pulling me closer to him. He let out a growl as I pulled away, nudging him towards the stairs. He quickly turned, grabbing my hand and pulling me after him. Up the stairs, to the right and into a spacious room; he shut the door with my body, pinning me once again. He devoured my mouth with his; forcing his tongue in, tracing it over every part of my mouth he could reach.

His hands were unzipping my jacket, and in an instant his hands were beneath my shirt, touching every inch they could get to while inconvenienced with my clothes. Following his lead I let my fingers unzip his coat and then attack the buttons on his shirt. As soon as they were both undone, I pushed him back, and shoved them off his shoulders before removing my own jacket and shirt. I was supposed to be in charge—or so was the one to be taking advantage. I pushed him backwards till he toppled onto his bed. I crawled up and over him, straddling on my knees over him.

He was staring up at me, his chest heaving with deep breaths, his hair mussed, lips swollen—I was in heaven. I let my eyes dance along the scar that ran down his chest, a scar I put there. I brought a finger up to trace down it, his breath hitched when I touched him. The scar dipped below the waistband of his pants; I let my fingers busy themselves with unfastening his pants and then I leant back on my knees to use both hands to pull down his pants—he wore nothing underneath. I slid down the bed, pulling his pants with me and tossed them to the floor.

He was aroused, thick and full, just like I remembered. I teased my fingers up his legs, stopping at his thighs, rubbing in large circles, letting his whimpers go straight to my own cock. I let my eyes trail up the prominent vein and then up his trail of hair, up his chest till I met his smoldering gaze. He was biting down on his bottom lip, trying to stifle the whimpers. With a smirk I leant down and took him in my mouth—fully. He met the back of my throat and I simply hollowed my cheeks and sucked. His hips bucked up and I just chuckled—well the best I could in current circumstances—and he yelped, his fingers finding their way into my hair.

My hands moved up his thighs to his hips, holding him down and in place. I backed off, allowing my tongue to lick lazy strokes as I removed him from my mouth. A soft pop and I was away from his head, leering up at him. I crawled up his body once more, roughly crushing my mouth to his, thrusting my tongue in and out of his mouth, very much in the fashion of what my own cock will be doing in a matter of minutes. His hands trailed down my back, digging in when I ground my jean clad hips into his naked flesh. I pulled back, letting my lips trail down his chin, then his jaw and attached myself firmly to his neck. I let one of my hands trail up to his mouth and he knew what to do. He sucked them in and lathered them with his saliva, letting his tongue dance along my fingers the same way my own danced along his neck.

I pulled them out after a few minutes of him suckling them and replaced my fingers with my tongue. I brought my wet hand down his chest, down and over his hip and grazed gently at his cock and then softly fondled his balls before I let them reach their destination. I simply teased him, rubbing my finger in a small circle; his groans did nothing but excite me more. His hands had moved from my back to between us, working at undoing my pants. The moment he had them unzipped he reached a hand in and grasped my throbbing member. At the same time I had pressed a finger inside of him. Our joint moans met in our mouths.

I rutted against his hand as I tried to keep a steady pace at probing him. My second finger entered him the moment his other hand buried itself in my hair. I twisted and curled and moved my fingers, the moment he arched off the bed I knew I had hit home.

“Now.”

He growled that out before shoving my pants down enough to free me. I removed my fingers and he moved to accommodate me. He guided me to his entrance and let go the moment my tip was inside. His hands were on my back, fingertips digging into my skin as he slowly let himself be filled with me. Once I was fully sheathed within him, I stilled, not daring to move till I knew he was ready. After a few moments he gave a slight nod and I pulled out and thrust back in. We kept a slow pace but it quickly fastened into a ravishing frenzy. Thrust for thrust and I had to angle myself once before I found his spot.

My movements were limited due to my pants, but the alignment it caused between us, his cock rubbed against my lower abdomen with every thrust we shared. Our eyes stayed locked onto the other and our breaths, moans and groans joined between us. I could myself coming to and end and as he bit his bottom lip through a whimper I knew he was close too. We quickened our pace and the moment I felt warmth spread over me, and my name escape his mouth I released inside of him, letting his own name fall from my lips. I stayed inside of him, letting our orgasms wash over us before gently removing myself from him.

I was no long in him, but I was still hovering over him, afraid to move and ruin whatever it was that was between us. The corners of his eyes pinched as a smile erupted on his face—this, this was why I stopped caring outwardly. That beautiful smile that lit up the normally cold face of the man beneath me; he was always the reason. Even in our Hogwarts days, the night of the final battle, it, it was always him. He was what kept me going—I hadn’t realized it till this moment though. That smile, I’d murder someone again just to see that smile grace his features. His fingers were tangling in my hair and I just stared at him.

“What? You looked like you disappeared for a few moments.”

I let a genuine smile shine down on him.

“I didn’t go anywhere.”

He pulled me down on top of him, wrapping his arms around me and pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“So my father’s really gone?”

I nodded against him and I felt him tense a moment before he started running one hand down my back.

“And mother wants me home for his funeral?”

I nodded again, this time he didn’t tense, but he let out a sigh. I pulled away, neither of us caring of the mess that covered us, but I did remove my pants before I turned back to him. He was just staring at me, trying to figure me out.

“You did that after every funeral you went to didn’t you?”

I followed his gaze as it drifted down my left arm to my wrist. I could only nod.

“And every time someone belittled you and blamed you, didn’t you?”

His tone wasn’t condescending, but I still felt it. I felt my cheeks flame with the shame I felt. I was ashamed now for what I had done to myself. I felt his fingers clasp my wrist and turn my arm over, ghosting his tips over the scars littered there. He brought it up to his lips and kissed every scar it seemed. I felt my eyes water; sitting in the middle of a bed, naked, with my arm stretched out towards a man, a man I once thought hated me. I felt a tear slip down my cheek and then more joined its lonely trail.

I closed my eyes, letting more fall; they shot open the moment I felt a thumb brush against my cheek. He was mere inches from me—how had I not heard him move? He put his arms around me and pulled to him, letting my head fall in the crease of his neck. He rocked us back and forth as my silent tears turned into sobs. He leant us back after a while and gently rubbed my back.

“You can talk to me Harry, I’m not going anywhere.”

So I did. I told him everything. I told him in more detail why I cared too much, why I hurt myself, and even when I started to care too much about him. I told him how Ron, Hermione and I stopped talking. How I distanced myself from the Weasley’s and how I let myself get caught up in what the Wizarding world thought of me and through it all, he just let me. He let me talk, he let my cry, he let me laugh—he let me do the one thing I had wanted to do all along—he let me forget.