honeycakehorse & yaoishonen
Author: honeycakehorse
Title: Untitled
Challenge: I never was the fantasy of what you wanted me to be - Tori Amos, Playboy Mommy
Pairing: Harry/Seamus
Dear Seamus,
I'm sorry but our relationship just isn't going to work.
We have talked about this before and decided to try for some more time, but I just can't do it anymore. Every day the pressure gets more and more, every day my heart breaks a little bit more, every day I make one more mistake that will one day perhaps cost somebody their life. I can't do that. Not to myself, not to you and not to my co-workers.
I'm sorry. We had something very special - at least for a while - but I don't think either of us really finds what he needs in the other. You want somebody who is fun and brave and likes to go out and do stuff. That's not me. I just... after a day as an Auror, I just want to cuddle up with somebody in front of the fire place and read a good book or talk. Our interests just have become too different.
I hope one day we can talk to each other again without all this coming up again.
Love, Harry
Author: yaoishonen
Title: Priorities
Rating: PG-13 or R
Summary: HP_Remix drabble expansion. Harry has a moment of self-discovering leading to a reorganizing of priorities. Begins towards the end of Seventh year.
***
It all started with a game of 'Dare.'
"'S dare, mate." Ron explained through a mouthful of chocolate bits. "The 'truth' bit is for birds."
Three hours into the game, [after Ron had his eyebrows shaved, Neville's teeth resembled walrus tusks, and Harry was starkers] Dean dared Seamus and Harry to make rounds about the corridor, taunting every portrait they were to come across. They had passed the framed image of an old man studying an amber globe when Seamus pressed him against the wall and kissed him. Their first time had been hot and rough, right there in the hallway. Their fumbling grasps and unpracticed movements attested to the other's virginity. Although that experience was limited to a few gropes, a bit of grinding, and a lot of tongue, Harry decided as he slumped against Seamus, flushed and sweaty, gasping for breath, that he just might be gay.
The portraits were whispering about it for weeks.
Two years later, the very same Harry Potter reclined in his desk chair and worried the feather end of his quill. A blank roll of parchment lay flat before him, but the words would not come to him.
Their relationship had been hot and spontaneous. They would sneak around the hallways past curfew, attempting to fulfill their secret plan to defile every corner of the castle. Even the Quidditch locker room had not been exempt from their passions, with a tube of broom polish.
Harry smiled fondly at these memories, and chuckled now at the mortifying very near-misses that their exhibitionism had put them in. So why, now, was he struggling to compose this very difficult letter? Ah. Yes.
Seamus and Harry never lost their 'flame' for one another. They were creative enough to never become bored with each other in conversation, sex, or pranks. But Harry was studying hard and training to become an auror. It required every ounce of energy he possessed, energy that Seamus and he normally squandered doing ... other things.
But it wouldn't be fair to place the blame entirely on auror training, Harry mused to himself. That period had been one full of self-discoveries. Not to say that he didn't have help coaxing them out of his subconscious.
He began to associate again with an old acquaintance. The pair would go out for coffee every other day. They would talk. Go on walks. Enjoy the calmer, less malicious aspects of life. After months of this routine [and also several occasions in which his acquaintance had to carry him back to his flat after a rough session], Harry realized that this life was what he craved. A stable, calm lifestyle. Something he'd never had before.
And now, here he sat, trying to find the least scarring words for this matter of utmost delicacy. They always said, 'honesty is the best policy', right? Harry sighed, dipped his quill, and let the truth flow onto the paper.
Dear Seamus,
I'm sorry but our relationship just isn't going to work.
We have talked about this before and decided to try for some more time, but I just can't do it anymore. Every day the pressure gets more and more, every day my heart breaks a little bit more, every day I make one more mistake that will one day perhaps cost somebody their life. I can't do that. Not to myself, not to you and not to my co-workers.
I'm sorry. We had something very special - at least for a while - but I don't think either of us really finds what he needs in the other. You want somebody who is fun and brave and likes to go out and do stuff. That's not me. I just... after a day as an Auror, I just want to cuddle up with somebody in front of the fire place and read a good book or talk. Our interests just have become too different.
I hope one day we can talk to each other again without all this coming up again.
Love, Harry
So. That was it. He slumped back into his chair and sighed again. "That's as kindly as I can put it ..." he explained to Hedwig, perched on his desk. He tied the note to her leg and sent her on her way.
He tried to tell himself that it was all for the best. That Seamus would be alright with it. After all, it's not like he went right out and said, "Seamus, I'm dumping you for someone else."
How did his acquaintance become more than just his acquaintance? It would always boggle his mind how quickly he fell for the man. Though one night, Harry agreed, was the definite turning point in the relationship. Harry and Seamus had had a spat. Harry owled his acquaintance to vent. They met at Abertre's pub to talk. Harry was certain that neither of them meant to get as smashed as they did, but it was fortunate that he didn't have training the next morning. After their unsteady trip back to his acquaintance cum drinking pal's flat, they drank even more. In retrospect, he really should have known his limit. "Your eyes are gorgeous," he'd slurred, watching the man through his own half-lidded pair.
His friend smiled. "You are infinitely more so." Had Harry not immediately pressed his lips to the man's, he would have wondered how the hell he could pronounce those words in his state. Even drunken, kissing this man felt better than kissing Seamus. He began to unbutton the man's shirt, but was stopped midway down by rough hands. "You're not thinking clearly. We should stop." His voice had sounded awfully hoarse. Harry protested and didn't wait for permission to continue. The exhilaration had gone to his head, his heart was racing, his head was spinning. He nuzzled the man's neck, and slid his hands reverently over the exposed chest before him. The last thing he remembered before passing out was a worried inquiry about his well-being.
The next morning he had awoken in a cosy, but small bed, blankets pulled to his chin. The hitch in his breath and the tugging in his belly foretold the events of the next few minutes. As his stomach purged the toxins remaining in his system, his ... -- acquaintance? Friend? Love Interest? -- rubbed his back and murmured comforting nothings to him. When he was done, he was carried back to the bed he had awoken in. He had a sudden, alarming desire to be as close as possible to his ... definitely, his love interest.
Harry smiled to himself. He could at least be happy that he had snagged the man of his dreams.
"Harry, are you alright?" His romantic interest-cum-lover interrupted his thoughts.
Harry put down his quill and gave him a quick kiss. "Yeah, Remus. I'll be right in for bed."
Title: Untitled
Challenge: I never was the fantasy of what you wanted me to be - Tori Amos, Playboy Mommy
Pairing: Harry/Seamus
Dear Seamus,
I'm sorry but our relationship just isn't going to work.
We have talked about this before and decided to try for some more time, but I just can't do it anymore. Every day the pressure gets more and more, every day my heart breaks a little bit more, every day I make one more mistake that will one day perhaps cost somebody their life. I can't do that. Not to myself, not to you and not to my co-workers.
I'm sorry. We had something very special - at least for a while - but I don't think either of us really finds what he needs in the other. You want somebody who is fun and brave and likes to go out and do stuff. That's not me. I just... after a day as an Auror, I just want to cuddle up with somebody in front of the fire place and read a good book or talk. Our interests just have become too different.
I hope one day we can talk to each other again without all this coming up again.
Love, Harry
Author: yaoishonen
Title: Priorities
Rating: PG-13 or R
Summary: HP_Remix drabble expansion. Harry has a moment of self-discovering leading to a reorganizing of priorities. Begins towards the end of Seventh year.
***
It all started with a game of 'Dare.'
"'S dare, mate." Ron explained through a mouthful of chocolate bits. "The 'truth' bit is for birds."
Three hours into the game, [after Ron had his eyebrows shaved, Neville's teeth resembled walrus tusks, and Harry was starkers] Dean dared Seamus and Harry to make rounds about the corridor, taunting every portrait they were to come across. They had passed the framed image of an old man studying an amber globe when Seamus pressed him against the wall and kissed him. Their first time had been hot and rough, right there in the hallway. Their fumbling grasps and unpracticed movements attested to the other's virginity. Although that experience was limited to a few gropes, a bit of grinding, and a lot of tongue, Harry decided as he slumped against Seamus, flushed and sweaty, gasping for breath, that he just might be gay.
The portraits were whispering about it for weeks.
Two years later, the very same Harry Potter reclined in his desk chair and worried the feather end of his quill. A blank roll of parchment lay flat before him, but the words would not come to him.
Their relationship had been hot and spontaneous. They would sneak around the hallways past curfew, attempting to fulfill their secret plan to defile every corner of the castle. Even the Quidditch locker room had not been exempt from their passions, with a tube of broom polish.
Harry smiled fondly at these memories, and chuckled now at the mortifying very near-misses that their exhibitionism had put them in. So why, now, was he struggling to compose this very difficult letter? Ah. Yes.
Seamus and Harry never lost their 'flame' for one another. They were creative enough to never become bored with each other in conversation, sex, or pranks. But Harry was studying hard and training to become an auror. It required every ounce of energy he possessed, energy that Seamus and he normally squandered doing ... other things.
But it wouldn't be fair to place the blame entirely on auror training, Harry mused to himself. That period had been one full of self-discoveries. Not to say that he didn't have help coaxing them out of his subconscious.
He began to associate again with an old acquaintance. The pair would go out for coffee every other day. They would talk. Go on walks. Enjoy the calmer, less malicious aspects of life. After months of this routine [and also several occasions in which his acquaintance had to carry him back to his flat after a rough session], Harry realized that this life was what he craved. A stable, calm lifestyle. Something he'd never had before.
And now, here he sat, trying to find the least scarring words for this matter of utmost delicacy. They always said, 'honesty is the best policy', right? Harry sighed, dipped his quill, and let the truth flow onto the paper.
Dear Seamus,
I'm sorry but our relationship just isn't going to work.
We have talked about this before and decided to try for some more time, but I just can't do it anymore. Every day the pressure gets more and more, every day my heart breaks a little bit more, every day I make one more mistake that will one day perhaps cost somebody their life. I can't do that. Not to myself, not to you and not to my co-workers.
I'm sorry. We had something very special - at least for a while - but I don't think either of us really finds what he needs in the other. You want somebody who is fun and brave and likes to go out and do stuff. That's not me. I just... after a day as an Auror, I just want to cuddle up with somebody in front of the fire place and read a good book or talk. Our interests just have become too different.
I hope one day we can talk to each other again without all this coming up again.
Love, Harry
So. That was it. He slumped back into his chair and sighed again. "That's as kindly as I can put it ..." he explained to Hedwig, perched on his desk. He tied the note to her leg and sent her on her way.
He tried to tell himself that it was all for the best. That Seamus would be alright with it. After all, it's not like he went right out and said, "Seamus, I'm dumping you for someone else."
How did his acquaintance become more than just his acquaintance? It would always boggle his mind how quickly he fell for the man. Though one night, Harry agreed, was the definite turning point in the relationship. Harry and Seamus had had a spat. Harry owled his acquaintance to vent. They met at Abertre's pub to talk. Harry was certain that neither of them meant to get as smashed as they did, but it was fortunate that he didn't have training the next morning. After their unsteady trip back to his acquaintance cum drinking pal's flat, they drank even more. In retrospect, he really should have known his limit. "Your eyes are gorgeous," he'd slurred, watching the man through his own half-lidded pair.
His friend smiled. "You are infinitely more so." Had Harry not immediately pressed his lips to the man's, he would have wondered how the hell he could pronounce those words in his state. Even drunken, kissing this man felt better than kissing Seamus. He began to unbutton the man's shirt, but was stopped midway down by rough hands. "You're not thinking clearly. We should stop." His voice had sounded awfully hoarse. Harry protested and didn't wait for permission to continue. The exhilaration had gone to his head, his heart was racing, his head was spinning. He nuzzled the man's neck, and slid his hands reverently over the exposed chest before him. The last thing he remembered before passing out was a worried inquiry about his well-being.
The next morning he had awoken in a cosy, but small bed, blankets pulled to his chin. The hitch in his breath and the tugging in his belly foretold the events of the next few minutes. As his stomach purged the toxins remaining in his system, his ... -- acquaintance? Friend? Love Interest? -- rubbed his back and murmured comforting nothings to him. When he was done, he was carried back to the bed he had awoken in. He had a sudden, alarming desire to be as close as possible to his ... definitely, his love interest.
Harry smiled to himself. He could at least be happy that he had snagged the man of his dreams.
"Harry, are you alright?" His romantic interest-cum-lover interrupted his thoughts.
Harry put down his quill and gave him a quick kiss. "Yeah, Remus. I'll be right in for bed."