A Change of Feeling

The Chance Meeting

He tried to shake the feeling off and quickly moved on. At one point he turned into an alleyway, which looked cozy with several lanterns and pots of ever-blooming plants. He strolled slowly down the street, stopping now and then to look at a separate building or a strange cat.

Suddenly a hand was slapped over his mouth and he was pulled against a hard chest. "Be still, and walk with me," he growled in his ear.

Harry nodded and let himself be carried away by his assailant. After a few moments, he was pushed into a dark alley, where no doors or windows were visible. Before he could ask what was going on, he was pushed hard against the wall. His hands were pinned to the wall above his head, and a firm mouth was pressed against his.

"Hmph!" Harry exclaimed before his mouth was roughly claimed. It wasn't until he felt the tip of a tongue against his lips that his other senses started working again. The first thing he smelled was the dark, spicy, musky scent he associated with Rabastan. He tried to pull his hands free so he could feel too; he wanted to run his hands through the dark curls of his older lover.

A low growl made him stop, and he meekly opened his mouth slightly so that Rabastan could slip his tongue in. He moaned as their mouths did the ancient mating dance. He felt Rabastan's wet lips and enjoyed the way their lips rubbed together. He whimpered softly as Rabastan's sinful mouth disappeared.

"Three fucking weeks, Harry!" growled Rabastan angrily. "Three weeks without a letter from my fiancé. Do you have any idea how worried I was!"

Harry narrowed his eyes and pushed Rabastan away from him. "By Circe! What are you talking about! I sent you five fuckin' letters, I even asked Draco to send a letter to Lucius, for you. So don't lash out at me like a Neanderthal! You didn't answer, not the other way around."

Rabastan stepped forward again and pressed Harry controlled against the wall. "You sent me letters?" he asked more calmly than before.

Harry nodded. "I desperately needed you! First, it was that run-in with Umbridge, then those Gryffindors, and then Albus, fuckin', Dumbledore stepped in!"

Harry pressed himself against Rabastan's firm chest and inhaled his familiar scent. The smell of his lover calmed him, for the first time in weeks Harry felt more stable as if he had an anchor that bound him to reality.

"Darling... Harry... What happened?" asked Rabastan in a broken voice.

Harry didn't look up from the chest he lay nestled against but began talking into the soft curls of Rabastan's hair. He told him everything. He told about Ron, who had met him at the station. He told of Umbridge's disastrous first lesson. He talked about Seamus, about his own madness... about Snape, and about Dumbledore. He tried to explain how he had been on edge for weeks as if there was an itch under his skin that he couldn't scratch away.

When he finished his story, Rabastan took hold of his hand. First, he looked at the top of his hand, which had the words, "I must not tell lies," engraved on it. Then he turned the hand and looked furiously at the blistered skin in the palm of his hand. Very gently he stroked the red skin and the small blisters that bordered the round spot.

"I'm going to fucking kill him!" he growled. "My pretty boy... That old senile man, why can't he keep his crooked nose out of other people's business! And that pink toad, she will soon find her end," he swore with a grim expression.

Harry felt his heart skip at these words. "Fuck, that's so hot ," he whispered.

Rabastan snarled at Harry and grabbed his black hair. Once they started, there was no stopping them. Harry kissed him as if he thought he'd never get another chance, desperate and yearning. It was dizzying and thrilling in equal measure, to finally touch that mouth he had longed for three weeks. Rabastan surged forward and took Harry's tongue in his mouth as the benediction that it was. Rabastan was like Fiendfyre clashing Harry's carefully constructed walls, all-encompassing and inescapable. With a simple touch of lips, Harry surrendered to the heat, burning up contentedly.