Title: Night Sweats

[lorien_eve]

Bill woke Harry just a few hours later, though Harry had never actually gone back to sleep. He dressed in near darkness and breakfasted in the pale light of the new morning sun. The kitchen was warm, even at such an early hour, and smelled of eggs, toast, and the sharp scent of Bill’s aftershave.

Outside, Bill hailed a taxi for them, which took them out of the city and into the desert. There, they rented two camels and rode to the temple. Immediately, Harry knew he didn’t like camels. Not only did they smell and attract flies, but their gait was bumpy, and even though Harry did exactly what the tour guide told them, he thought he’d fall off at any moment and go headfirst into the sand.

They reached the temple at last. It couldn’t have been soon enough for Harry. He was so happy to get off the camel that he bent down and picked up two handfuls of sand and sifted them through his fingers.

Bill slid off the camel’s back easily, but he seemed a bit inconvenienced by their means of transportation.

“Sorry I can’t Apparate,” Harry apologized. He knew that if it hadn’t been for him, Bill could’ve Apparated to the temple in much less time and saved himself a lot trouble.

“It’s okay,” Bill said as he dusted the sand off his cargos. “I didn’t expect you’d know how.”

“I’ve done it before. Dumbledore taught me…” Harry began to explain, but Bill had walked on ahead and probably wasn’t listening. He knew that Bill hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings, but that didn’t stop him from being offended. Everyone thought he was just a kid who couldn’t take care of himself and who couldn’t do anything without someone there to help him. So what if he couldn’t Apparate properly? It wasn’t his fault that no one had taken him to get his license.

The temple was made of limestone, dusty and pale, with two enormous stone idols sitting in thrones guarding the entrance. One either side of the idols were tall, thin granite towers carved with figures that climbed all the way to the top.

Bill turned around to wait on Harry. “You shouldn’t have any trouble getting through,” he said when Harry caught up. “The obelisks were built for protection, but we’ve disarmed them. They only work when Muggles are about.”

“I always thought you worked in pyramids,” said Harry, falling into step beside Bill.

“We do, mostly. This is only the third temple I’ve raided. Temples are harder to get access to because a lot of Muggles still worship in them. We’ve had to put Repelling charms and Memory charms over the entire area.”

Harry followed Bill as they walked into the temple. They passed through the courtyard, then through a long hallway supported by tall columns with papyrus plants carved into the crown and small windows cut into the roof. The floor slanted slowly upwards, giving them less clearance overhead and requiring them to walk in a stooped position. As they walked deeper into the temple, Harry could hear fragmented voices, just pieces of a conversation, between the clinking and scraping of tools. Harry ducked his head to fit under the low doorway and walked into the sanctuary behind Bill.

The only light came from torches in metal brackets on the wall. A dark, stern-looking shrine with tarnished golden doors stood in the center. The walls of the sanctuary looked like stone, though they were smooth like marble except for a long, deep area that had been dug in one wall. Harry could see two people, a man and a woman, sitting on the floor in front of the jagged hole. They looked up as he and Bill entered.

“Hey, Bill, you’re late,” the guy said, though he smiled and Harry knew Bill wasn’t really in trouble.

“Sorry,” Bill said, “I couldn’t Apparate. I brought Harry along.”

“Oh, hey, Harry,” the man said, as if just noticing him.

“Nice to finally meet you,” the woman said as she stood up and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “Bill told us you were staying with him.”

“That’s Laura,” Bill told Harry, pointing at the woman, “and that’s Paul.”

Bill walked over to where Laura stood. His head disappeared into the rough opening. “I can see the hull. There, can you see it? The rock’s barely curved, but it’s different from the rest.”

Laura leaned in so close to Bill that their hair blended together, his dark red and hers light brown. “That’s nothing,” she said. “We uncovered that two days ago. Look at the end. That’s the stern.”

Harry stood back and shoved his hands deep in his pockets. He had absolutely no idea what Bill and Laura were talking about.

“We’ve uncovered a bark,” Bill said proudly as he withdrew. When Harry looked at him with a blank expression, he began to explain. “It’s a boat that the statue was carried out on during festivals. Ancient Egyptians loaded them down with treasure to entice the spirit of the god or goddess to enter. When this temple was renovated, the bark was buried. We’ve been trying to find it for ages. Come, take a look.”

Harry peered into the hole. It looked like a sheet of dusty, broken rock. He couldn’t see a boat at all.

“It’s, um, really nice,” he said, trying to sound as impressed as Bill.

Paul laughed. “We find an artifact that’s thousands of years old, and the kid says it’s ‘nice.’”

Feeling very indignant, Harry opened his mouth to protest being called a kid, but before he could say anything, a nearby commotion cut his words short.

Behind him, there was a “Damn!” followed by the dull sound of something hitting rock, then an “Ouch! For Merlin’s sake!” Harry turned and saw another man standing a few feet behind the shrine. He was rubbing his right foot with his hand, balancing on one leg like a crane. His wand was clutched between his teeth.

“That’s Luke,” Bill told Harry. Then turning to Luke, “No luck yet?”

Luke released his foot and took his wand out of his mouth. “Not one bit. The old bitch won’t budge.”

“There’s a statue locked in the shrine,” Bill explained to Harry. “Luke’s been trying to get it out for weeks now.”

“Step aside,” Paul said, twirling his wand in his fingers, “and let me show you what a real wizard can do.”

Luke grumbled, but stepped away and took a seat against the back wall of the sanctuary, watching Paul with part irritation and part interest.

Bill shrugged his shoulders at Laura. “Looks like it’s just you and me. Give us a hand, will you, Harry?”

“Yeah, all right,” replied Harry, though he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. He could defend himself against Death Eaters and fight off the Imperius curse, but he didn’t know any excavation spells.

“Here, take this,” Bill said, handing Harry a small pick with sharp silver points on either end.

Harry turned the pick over in his hands and looked at it questionably. “You don’t use spells?”

“Not for this. Just for breaking the curses. Spells aren’t always accurate, and if they’re done wrong, the finds could be damaged or destroyed.”

Harry craned his neck and looked into the hole. This shouldn’t be too hard, he thought. All he had to do was chip away at some rocks. He tapped the pick against the wall and watched as a few small pieces of rubble were loosened.

“Watch yourself,” Bill cautioned. “The curses are broken, but there’s ancient magic that even we can’t disable. Temples are more alive than you’d think, and they don’t like it when you try to take what’s theirs.”

“I’ll be fine,” said Harry, ignoring the warning. He’d been through much more dangerous things than taking treasure out of some old, crumbling temple.

“You go to Hogwarts, right?” Laura asked Harry. “Are you familiar with Egyptian history?”

Harry pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “We haven’t really studied Egypt.”

“It’s a shame, really,” Bill said. “Egyptian wizardry gets a raw deal these days.” He peeled off his white t-shirt and tossed it aside, revealing tight muscles that glistened in the orange torchlight. His drab green cargos rode low on his hips, drawing Harry’s attention to Bill’s lower torso and away from his digging assignment.

“Yes…yes, you’re, um, quite right.” From Laura’s flustered reaction, Harry knew that he wasn’t the only one who had noticed Bill.

Laura, however, seemed to recover quicker than Harry, who had almost dropped his pick.

“I Flooed to your flat over the weekend. You weren’t there,” she said almost reproachfully.

“I was at my parents’,” Bill told her quickly.

“Oh? Anything wrong?”

“Not really. They surprised me with Harry.”

Laura put down her pick and reached for some odd tool that Harry had never seen before and couldn’t even imagine what it was used for. “How long is he staying with you?” she asked.

“A month.” Bill brushed some dirt away with his fingers. “Until he goes back to school.”

“Maybe I should owl first, instead of just dropping in.”

“Maybe...”

Harry suddenly found himself not liking Laura very much. She was obviously flirting with Bill, and if Bill couldn’t see it, he was either blind or had very poor perception. Perhaps Bill knew it, but didn’t mind. Why that made Harry jealous, he didn’t know. Bill had no real obligation to him, and other than an adolescent, one-sided crush, Harry had no real involvement with Bill. Then, there was that body building magazine Bill bought at the market. From his comment about liking the pictures, Harry assumed that Bill favored men. But right now, it seemed that Bill liked Laura.

Wanting to take Bill’s attention away from Laura, Harry said the first thing he could think of. “So, um…why are we rummaging around in a temple? Wouldn’t you find more stuff in a pyramid?” It was a lame question, Harry knew, he couldn’t think of anything more profound to ask.

“Well, pyramids have more treasure,” Bill assented, “but temples have them, too, if you know where to look. Muggle archeologists and historians don’t know the treasure chambers exist in the temples, but that’s only because they don’t look for them.”

There. That was good. Get Bill talking about work. Keep his attention away from Laura. Harry smiled inwardly, feeling happy with the results. Feeling smug, he struck a piece of rock with the pick.

“Wait, it’s like this…” Bill took the pick out of Harry’s hand and Harry hoped he wasn’t the only one who noticed how Bill’s fingers lingered over his, just momentarily. “Tap down, not in. Break off small pieces at a time.”

Harry watched, though he was paying more attention to Bill’s bare, muscular arm than his technique.

“Here, you try.” Bill smiled at Harry and handed him the pick, which Harry took reluctantly because he knew now he’d have to demonstrate what Bill had just shown him.

Harry tapped at the jagged rock wall with the end of his pick, carefully, or so he thought. But a large, brown chunk came loose and hit the floor, where it crumbled. Harry stared down at it.

“I’m afraid I’m not very good at this,” he said, scrunching up his nose to keep his glasses from slipping off.

“Nonsense,” Bill encouraged. “You’re doing fine. Just be careful, don’t use too much force.” He leaned over and ran his hands over the rock, removing tiny fragments with his fingers. “Sometimes, once it’s loosened, you can knock away parts without any tools.” Harry leaned in to get a better look.

Harry hadn’t realized how close they were until Bill turned to him. Their faces were barely inches apart and Harry could feel Bill’s labored breathing falling over his lips. Bill smelled of sweat and dirt and aftershave, and Harry unconsciously took a deep breath, taking it all in. Bill stared at Harry, but he didn’t speak, only stared. Harry’s eyes traced a single bead of sweat as it ran down the side of Bill’s face and disappeared around his neckline.

“If you’re not busy tomorrow night, Bill,” Laura interrupted, “maybe we could go to the plaza. I hear there’s a really good band playing there this week. I’m sure Harry would be all right by himself for a few hours.”

“Maybe…”

“Got it!” Paul exclaimed, jumping up and tossing his wand over his shoulder. “I told you, Luke, it takes a real wizard to do this sort of thing.”

Bill and Laura dropped their picks and rushed over to where Paul and Luke were standing.

Harry stayed where he was. He didn’t care. He didn’t see what all the excitement was about. Stupid shrine. He tapped the rock. Stupid statue. He tapped the rock again. Stupid treasure. He hit the rock. Stupid temple. He hit the rock again.

There was only a second’s warning. The wall shuddered and there was a roaring sound, and suddenly the rocks started crumbling and caving in. Harry felt a strong arm circle his waist and pull him away. He watched as small pebbles started falling, then larger ones, then even bigger ones. The floor of the sanctuary shook beneath the rockslide, and before anyone had time to realize what had happened, the entire hole was filled in.

Harry’s chest was heaving as he tried to catch his breath, and he could feel Bill’s chest rising and falling against his back. Harry’s heart was pounding from the close call, and the sudden awareness that Bill was pressed up against him only increased his heart rate. He felt Bill’s heart pounding, too.

Paul and Laura started coughing.

“Close call, that,” Luke said, fanning the yellow dust out of the air.

Bill cinched his arm around Harry’s waist, jerking him closer. “I told you,” he said through gritted teeth, “to watch yourself.”

Harry tried to speak, to apologize, to offer an excuse or explanation, but the dust in the air was too thick and it settled in his throat.

Bill released Harry with more force than was necessary. “You’re not here for a vacation. You’re here so that I can watch out for you. Careless mistakes like the one you just made will kill you before the Dark Lord will.”

****

Despite the near disaster, Bill kept taking Harry to the temple with him. What little portion of the bark that had been uncovered was now completely buried again, due to Harry’s lack of restraint over his temper. Bill hardly spoke to him the next day, but Harry worked hard to prove himself, a trait that Bill found admirable, and for the rest of the week, Bill spent more time talking and helping Harry than he did flirting with Laura. Harry was very happy with those results.

Along with Harry and Bill’s friendship, the nightmares had improved also, becoming far less frequent. After digging and shoveling all day, Harry was too tired to dream. His mind seemed to shut itself off once he lay down. On the few occasions when a nightmare would start, it would either end quickly or change into something else before fading out completely. It was a far better, and less embarrassing, method of Occlumency than Snape had ever taught him.

Though it was challenging at first, Harry was adjusting to living in Egypt. The open-air markets, with their flies and stray cats, were now familiar and Harry almost always accompanied Bill when he went to buy groceries or pick up a newspaper. Working in the temple was like attending Hogwarts-tough assignments that required patience and perseverance, but something that Harry looked forward to tackling and completing.

Staying with Bill had first made Harry nervous, but after a few awkward nights and mornings, Harry found that living with Bill was almost as nice as living at the Burrow. The cooking may not have been as good, but at least things were a lot quieter.

Bill, too, was getting accustomed to having Harry around. It wasn’t nearly the inconvenience he had initially supposed. Until now, Bill had never really had an opportunity to get to know Harry, but he found that Harry was far more mature than any of his brothers had been at that age, especially the twins. When they were at home, Harry was mostly quiet, listening while Bill talked about work or the latest Quidditch scores. What most people took as brooding and inattentive, Bill recognized as Harry merely being perceptive and thoughtful. This intrigued Bill, and there were many times when he wanted to get inside Harry’s head and know what was going on behind those crooked glasses and green eyes.

Bill had hoped that by taking Harry to Egypt, the nightmares would stop. They hadn’t at first, but they did soon after. Now, Harry slept soundlessly. For the first few nights, this worried Bill and he slipped into Harry’s bedroom to check on him, relived to find him fast asleep under the thin cotton sheet. Bill watched Harry sleep sometimes, though Harry didn’t know it and Bill didn’t tell him.

****

When the end of the week came, Harry was almost disappointed. Though he was looking forward to a few days of rest, he would miss what had quickly become his daily routine, and most of all, he would miss having an excuse to work in close proximity to a sweaty, shirtless Bill.

“I say we call it quits,” Luke said at last, tossing away his trowel.

Paul readily agreed, and Laura did, too, standing up and dusting off her jeans.

“I like the way you think, Luke,” said Bill with a smile. He waved his wand, muttered a spell, and the assortment of tools that lay spread over the floor vanished.

“I’m going out for a drink. Wanna come?” Paul asked Bill.

“I think I’ll just hang out with Harry,” Bill said without thinking, surprising himself.

Harry felt a strong blush in his cheeks as he tried to conceal a very pleased smile. He caught Laura giving Bill a disapproving look, but she Disapparated without a word.

“Suit yourself,” Paul shrugged. “See you on Monday.”

****

Harry and Bill jostled back into the city on their camels. Harry may have gotten used to the camels, but the familiarity didn’t replace his dislike of them. He swore his camel gave him threatening looks and went out of the way to make the ride as uncomfortable as possible, running when Harry clearly indicated for him to walk and kicking up clouds of sand that left a film over Harry’s glasses, making it nearly impossible for him to see.

Once in the city, Bill tried four times before succeeding in getting them a cab. He complained loudly about shoddy, unreliable transportation, ignoring the disagreeable looks from the pedestrians around them. At last, a dingy yellow cab parked at the curb and Bill threw the door open.

“…a bloody bicycle would be more efficient,” he was saying to the cab driver as Harry climbed in behind him.

It smelled like urine and vomit, and the green vinyl seats were torn in several places with white tufts of stuffing peeking out. The driver began spouting off at Bill. He spoke in Arabic, and although Harry didn’t understand a word of it, he was fairly certain it was obscene.

“You don’t know a damn thing about my mum!” Bill yelled back. “Just take me to my fucking flat!”

Harry didn’t want to be caught in the potentially volatile confrontation between Bill and the cab driver, but he found the situation funny in spite of the tension. He turned away to hide the smirk on his face and looked out the window, watching the other cars as they sputtered passed. After a few minutes, the cab became quiet and Harry thought Bill had either killed the driver or the driver had gotten smart and decided to keep his mouth shut.

Harry chanced a glance at the driver through the rearview mirror. He was still alive, which Harry thought was a good sign, but by the way his eyes were slit angrily in his dark face, Harry knew he was fuming.

“He knows he won’t get a tip,” Bill explained to Harry.

Harry laughed and nodded in understanding.

“I thought,” Bill started after a pause, “we could go to a discotheque tonight. If you want, that is.” Harry noticed that Bill was picking at a tear in the seat between them.

“Oh, yeah…yeah, I’d like to,” Harry tried to say casually.

Bill seemed to relax a little, and he smiled at Harry. “Great.”

****

Harry couldn’t believe he was going out with Bill. He was smart enough not to consider it an actual date, of course; he knew Bill wasn’t interested in him that way. But Bill apparently thought Harry was interesting enough to spend time with, and that made Harry feel less like an obligation and more like a mate.

There was a small problem, though. Harry didn’t have anything suitable to wear to a club. Clothes had never been something he spent much time worrying about, as he usually had far bigger issues to concern himself with, and he never understood why women were always so fussy about them. But now, as he rummaged through his trunk and saw his meager clothing choices, he wished he’d spent more time listening to Ginny and Mrs. Weasley. At last, he decided on his best pair of jeans, faded and worn just enough to be considered trendy, and a shirt that Hermione had always said complemented his eyes.

Harry looked at his reflection in the mirror. He hoped Bill liked green.

“Ready, Harry?” Bill asked from the doorway.

When Harry caught Bill’s reflection in the mirror, his mouth dropped open. Bill was wearing his hair down, not tied back in the usual ponytail. It curled loosely as it fell over his shoulders. He was wearing a tight black shirt that looked like it was made of the same material as the fishnet stockings that women wore, showing off his tanned chest and arms. He was also wearing black leather pants that were so tight, Harry thought they were painted on, and thick-soled boots with silver buckles on the side. Harry had always thought Bill was cool. Now Harry decided that Bill was gorgeous.

“I think so…” Harry managed to squeak out.

****

“It’s a Muggle club,” Bill informed Harry as they walked down the busy sidewalk, “so watch what you say.”

“Right,” Harry replied, though he could hardly keep his eyes off Bill’s broad shoulders and muscular arms that were even more defined by the black net shirt.

They walked a few blocks and the city changed drastically. What had been high-rise apartments and locally owned markets became loud, neon clubs. They had to fight their way through the crowds, with Harry keeping very close to Bill so that he wouldn’t get separated or lost. Bill pushed through a long, slow-moving line, ignoring the angry looks thrown at him by the people who were still waiting.

The bouncer at the door seemed to recognize Bill and nodded him through, but he put out his fat hand when Harry stepped forward.

Harry looked from the chubby hand on his chest up into the man’s rigid face. “I, um, I…” he tried to say.

“He’s with me,” Bill said, and he put a strong arm around Harry’s shoulders as they walked in. Harry’s heart rate sped up.

Most of the club was dark, except for the dance floor, which was flooded with blue and purple lights. Music boomed and pounded, shaking the floor beneath their feet. Bill walked Harry over to the bar, where he ordered a beer for both of them. While they waited, Harry shuffled closer to Bill, who still hadn’t taken his arm off Harry’s shoulder. The bartender sat two brown bottles in front of them. Harry picked his beer up and took a drink, trying to look casual and at ease, as if he regularly went out with gorgeous men such as Bill. Bill took his own beer and guided Harry to a nearby table.

“Do you dance?” Bill shouted over the music as he pulled out a chair and sat down.

“No!” Harry said quickly, without thinking. The only dancing he’d ever done had been at the Yule Ball, when he’d been forced to dance with Parvati Patil. “Do you dance?”

“Sometimes,” Bill said. He picked up his bottle and took a long drink. Harry watched his throat bob as he swallowed it down.

Suddenly, Harry wished he could’ve taken back what he’d just said. Dancing with Bill would be nothing like dancing with Parvati. Why had he said no? Sure, he didn’t know anything about real dancing, but he would’ve let Bill lead. He would’ve risked the embarrassment to be pressed up against Bill and have Bill’s arms around him. Harry started to speak, to rescind what he’d just said about not dancing, but he never got the chance.

A tall, lean woman with dark skin and black hair sauntered over to their table. She wore a tight pink shirt and a patterned skirt that flared when her hips moved. She bent down to Bill’s ear, bowing low so that her breasts fell forward, almost toppling out of her shirt, and whispered something that Harry couldn’t hear over the music. Bill smiled and nodded and placed his arm around her waist, escorting her to the dance floor, leaving Harry alone at the table with his drink.

A waiter came over and asked Harry if he wanted another beer. Harry didn’t like beer and he wanted something stronger, but he knew nothing about ordering drinks. He pointed to something on the drink menu.

“I’ll take one of those,” he said miserably. He didn’t know what he’d ordered. It was blue, in a large, bowl-shaped stemmed glass, and he hoped there was enough alcohol in it to make him feel less lonely and dejected.

Bill danced with the girl in the pink shirt, then with another in a red dress, then with another in some black number that Harry hardly thought could be considered clothing.

All that dancing had apparently made Bill thirsty, because when he came back to the table half an hour later, he sat down with a tired sigh and took a long drink.

“Women are beautiful, don’t you think?” Bill said with a sly grin as he sat his beer bottle back on the table.

“I guess,” Harry shrugged. He’d never had much of an interest in women, but Bill obviously did. This disappointed Harry, though he knew it really shouldn’t. He was too young and not nearly attractive enough for Bill, anyway.

A guy with light brown hair and a pretty face came over to their table. He was obviously a tourist. Harry was instantly irritated by his sunburned face and zealous voice.

“Do you mind if I dance with your boyfriend?” he asked Harry with a mocking grin.

Harry sputtered and nearly choked on his drink. “He’s-he’s not-”

Bill shocked Harry by answering for him. “He won’t mind.”

Harry sat motionless, surprised, as Bill took the guy’s hand and they walked out onto the dance floor. Harry was even more confused now. Bill had danced with several women, and even commented about how beautiful he thought women were. But now he was dancing, in a way Mrs. Weasley would never approve of, with another man.

Harry tried not to watch Bill. He stared at his drink, picked at his napkin, and watched the bartender mix cocktails. The shiny silver tumblers that the bartender tossed about left tracers in Harry’s eyes, which he thought looked cool until it made him dizzy.

Despite his efforts to distract himself, Harry kept wondering what Bill would look like dancing with another man. He looked over at last, and he felt his cock rising in his jeans as he watched Bill, toned and tan, grinding his hips against the other guy. The guy’s hands were all over Bill, moving over his shoulders and down his back, before finally resting on his arse. From the look on Bill’s face and the way his body moved against the other guy’s, it was quite evident that Bill liked men. While the two of them together was the most arousing thing Harry had ever seen, it made him jealous and even a little angry.

The song ended, but the man didn’t let go of Bill. He kept touching him and sliding against him until the music started up again. Harry didn’t know how many songs they danced to. He lost count after four.

Harry downed the last of his drink and motioned for the waiter to bring him another. He was staring down into his empty glass, toying with the paper umbrella, and he didn’t notice that Bill had come back to the table.

When Harry looked up, he saw that Bill wasn’t alone. The other guy was standing next to him, entirely too close, with his fingers laced with Bill’s. Bill tugged on the guy’s hand and pulled him even closer. Harry could see their tongues, glistening in the club lights, just before their lips met. He wanted to watch the kiss, but no, he didn’t. Not really. Not unless he was the one kissing Bill. And he was most definitely not the one kissing Bill.

Thankfully, the waiter arrived just in time with Harry’s drink, full to the rim, with a few cold drips running down the side. Harry downed a mouthful. The waiter’s approach and retreat caught Bill’s attention.

“How many of those have you had?” he asked, pointing at Harry’s drink.

“Not many,” Harry lied.

Bill looked at him suspiciously. It was obvious by Harry’s slurred voice and slow movements that he’d had too much to drink.

To reclaim Bill’s attention, the man wrapped his arms around Bill’s neck. “Come home with me,” he said into Bill’s ear.

“I’ve got to get him back,” Bill said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Harry.

“I can get home by myself, you know,” Harry said, much too loudly.

“I know you can,” said Bill with a bit of sarcasm.

Just to show Bill how capable he was, Harry took one last drink and stood up from the table. His head started spinning faster than when he was just sitting down, and he swayed on his feet. Bill reached out to grab his arm, but Harry mumbled, “No, I’m fine,” and started towards the door.

The man watched Harry, then turned back to Bill. “Don’t waste your time. Come home with me.”

“I can’t,” Bill said, not feeling as sorry as he expected he would. “He’ll never get home by himself.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry knew that his journey to the door would’ve been a lot quicker if his feet hadn’t meandered so much. He knew Bill was behind him, but Harry was going to walk out on his own, regardless of how long it took him. He reached the door at last, and took a great, wobbling step forward. The night air was cool and helped his mind clear a bit, though his vision was just as blurred as before.

“C’mere,” Bill said, “and let me help you. You’re not going to make it back like that.”

“No, I’m fine,” Harry said again and waved Bill off. But when he started to walk, he realized his knees would no longer support the weight of the rest of his body.

Bill put one arm around Harry’s waist, then grabbed Harry’s left arm and threw it around his own shoulders. He remembered those days when he’d get pissed in bars or clubs and have to stumble home, hoping he remembered the address and how to fit the key in the door.

Though drunk, Harry was acutely aware of each place where Bill’s body touched his. He felt his cock harden and rise in his jeans, and he was afraid his physical reaction was evident. He felt Bill’s right arm around his waist and he thought if Bill moved it down, just a little, it would be on his hip, and if Bill moved down even farther, it would be…

“We’re almost there,” Bill said. “Think you’ll make it?”

“I’m fine,” Harry tried to say, but his tongue was too big for his mouth and his lips moved slower than he wanted them to.

Bill fumbled to get the door key out of his pocket while he supported Harry’s almost dead weight. Harry swayed heavily as Bill tried to get him through the door. Once inside, Bill paused to let Harry regain his footing.

“Hang on a minute, and I’ll get you to bed,” Bill said.

He pulled the keys out of the lock and tossed them on the table. Then Bill grabbed Harry tighter around the waist and tried to convince him to walk. Harry’s head lolled back and forth, despite his efforts to hold it upright. He finally gave up trying and let it fall against Bill’s shoulder. He could feel Bill’s neck against his forehead, warm and damp with sweat. Bill’s hair smelled like cigarette smoke mixed with perfume and cologne, and Harry breathed it in.

“Harry?” Bill shifted a little so that he was facing Harry. He lifted Harry’s head slowly. “Just a few more steps, all right?”

Bill’s breath was hot and smelled like alcohol, and somewhere in his hazy thoughts, Harry wondered what his mouth would taste like. So he did it. He closed his eyes. He puckered his lips. He leaned in. And he kissed Bill.

Bill pulled away almost immediately and took Harry by the wrists. Harry watched Bill’s blurred lips move up and down, but he couldn’t hear anything. What had Bill said? Harry blinked his eyes a few times, somehow thinking that would clear his hearing. Finally, he squinted up at Bill. Bill’s face was fuzzy. He had three eyes, two noses, and four lips. Harry opened his mouth to say something, he wasn’t sure what, but before any words came out, Bill’s face became shadowy, then completely black, and Harry passed out.

****

Harry woke with a throbbing in his head. It wasn’t like when his scar hurt, not the sharp, burning sensation, but more of a dull ache. When he sat up, the room started spinning, like his bed was tipping over, and he quickly lay back down again and closed his eyes.

Harry was experiencing his first hangover, and now he knew why people were so miserable after a night of drinking. His mouth held the taste of bitter alcohol and stale fruit, and he swore to himself he’d never drink again.

There was the soft sound of footsteps across the floor, and Harry opened one eye, slowly and carefully, hoping that his bed wouldn’t start tipping over again.

“Thought you might need this,” Bill said, offering Harry a glass of clear liquid.

It looked like water, and Harry made a grab for it, just now discovering how dry and sticky his mouth was. He gulped half of it down before the taste hit him and he realized it wasn’t water. It was thick and sour, like drinking syrup made with vinegar.

“What,” he winced, “is this stuff?” He looked up at Bill with his lips curled into distaste.

“A cure for a hangover. Figured you’d have one this morning.”

“I don’t know which is worse-the hangover or this supposed cure,” Harry said, but he took a deep breath and downed the rest of it. He handed the glass back to Bill.

“You should feel better soon,” Bill said, taking the glass away. Then he walked out the door and down the hall.

Harry lay back down on his pillow and closed his eyes again, hoping Bill was right about him feeling better soon. He didn’t think he could get out of bed right now, even if a swarm of doxies suddenly flew out of the curtains and started biting him. He couldn’t remember how many drinks he’d had or what kind of drinks they had been. He couldn’t remember the music that played or whether or not he’d been brave enough to get up and dance to it. He couldn’t even remember how he got home. He supposed Bill had helped him, because Harry was pretty sure he hadn’t been capable of getting home by himself. He was still in his jeans and t-shirt from the night before, which was a pretty good indication that he’d barely made it to the bed before collapsing. He couldn’t really remember, though.

But then he did remember. Not much, but enough. He remembered Bill’s arm around him and stumbling through the door and then…he remembered kissing Bill.

Oh, damn. Damn, damn. He’d kissed Bill. A drunken, inexperienced, teenaged boy, and he had kissed a man who was almost twice his age. A man that he was staying the entire summer with, and a man who was also his best friend’s oldest brother.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to kiss Bill. Once Harry thought about it, he could remember a lot of times when he wanted to kiss Bill. They had all been harmless, basically innocent thoughts that he never would’ve told anyone about. But now Harry had acted on those thoughts, and that led to a very embarrassing and potentially disastrous situation.

Feeling even worse than before he had taken the hangover cure, Harry pulled the pillow out from under his head and stuffed it over his face. He was definitely not getting out of bed today.

****

A jet of green light shot through the darkness, burrowing through Hermione’s chest. She staggered back a few feet before she went limp and fell to the floor. She was dead. Ron’s body was twisted and tangled, broken beyond mending, though it no longer mattered. He was dead. Neville lay against the wall, his chin resting on his chest like he was asleep. Only he wasn’t. He was dead. Blue light from the candles on the wall flickered over the corpses.

The room echoed with the sound of laughter, high and cold. Harry didn’t have to turn. He knew where the laughter came from. He’d heard it too many times before, clear and sharp like shattered glass. It cut through his ears, leaving jagged scars. He knew the sound and the source, but still, he turned to face it. It was an automatic reaction, not something he could refuse or run away from. Kill or be killed, and Harry was ready for the fight.

Voldemort stood before him, not as a vapor or a ghost, but as the Dark Lord, solid and strong. Harry took a step forward, the same step he’d been taking all summer. The step that inevitably led to the same ending, the same conclusion, and the same consequence. He had to change things this time, he had to rewrite the ending. He had to kill Voldemort. He’d failed so many times before. Kill or be killed, and there were no other options.

The Killing Curse. It was his only hope. He’d learned it, repeated it over and over until it was as familiar as his own name. It had become a part of him, his identity, much like the scar on his forehead. Harry found his anger, the source of his power, and drew from it. He saw the Dursleys. He saw Malfoy. He saw Snape. He saw Sirius dying. Kill or be killed, and Harry didn’t want to join Sirius yet.

Harry took a breath as his anger rolled and billowed inside him. It swirled around him, a shield, a comfort. He would use it and he would destroy Voldemort through it. Words, the Curse, bubbled up from his throat and fell on his tongue. He could taste them, bittersweet, nauseating yet delicious. The words hit his teeth, knocking against them, wanting and fighting to get out. They’d been held in too long, captive. They wanted freedom, the same freedom that Harry wanted and the same freedom he was expected to give the entire Wizarding World. The words forced Harry’s lips apart and he opened his mouth. But there was no sound. He tried again, but there was only silence. The words died as they hit the air. They fell dead, like flies, like his friends. Like himself. Kill or be killed, and Harry had failed again.

Voldemort raised his arm, slowly, lazily, like he was bored with it all. He aimed his wand at Harry’s head, directly at his scar. There was an intake of breath, a hiss. The words that had abandoned Harry flowed freely from Voldemort’s mouth, easily, almost like laughter. They had betrayed him.

Avada Kedavra. A surge of green. Done. Finished. Kill or be killed, and now it was Harry’s turn to die…

“Harry? You okay?” Bill was standing in the doorway, bare-chested, in a pale pair of boxer shorts. The moonlight streaming through the open window framed him in blue.

“I’m fine,” said Harry, rubbing his scar. “It was just a dream.”

Something inside Bill told him to go back to his own room, that he was too weak and Harry was too vulnerable and he would only complicate things if he stayed. But he ignored his sensible side, following an inherent recklessness as he allowed his physical desires to take control. He hadn’t forgotten about Harry kissing him and he hadn’t forgotten how he beat off that night to the taste of Harry on his lips. He walked over to the bed and sat down.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No…” Harry left the rest of the sentence unsaid and gave Bill a look that spoke louder than any words could.

Bill knew what Harry wanted. It was the same thing he wanted. But would it be too much? Would it go too far? Was Harry really ready? A warm breeze blew through the window, billowing the light curtain, and Bill thought it bore a whispered ‘yes.’

Harry blinked, and then Bill’s mouth was covering his, hot and wet, and even stronger than Harry had imagined. He gasped from the surprise and intensity, and Bill pulled away.

Bill had found the answers to his questions. “I’m-I’m sorry, Harry, I shouldn’t…” He went to stand, but Harry wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him close.

“Don’t leave,” Harry whispered against Bill’s lips. “Stay. Make me forget.”

Harry’s warm breath spilled over Bill’s lips and Bill suddenly forgot every reason why he shouldn’t be kissing Harry. He closed the small gap between them, pressing his lips to Harry’s so forcefully that he thought it might leave a bruise. Again, Harry was surprised by the sheer intensity in Bill’s kiss, but he wasn’t pulling away this time. He started kissing back, pressing against Bill, and when he felt Bill’s tongue brush over his lip, he opened his mouth to accept it.

Harry tasted salty, like sweat, not acidic from the alcohol like the time before. Harry’s lips were soft, but Bill felt them tense up as more pressure was applied to his own mouth. He snaked his tongue around, searching for Harry’s. Harry was timid at first, but all of Bill’s fears became meaningless when Harry wrapped his tongue around Bill’s.

Harry released his hold on Bill’s neck and slid his hands over Bill’s broad shoulders. Bill’s shoulders strained and contracted under Harry’s touch, and each ripple of muscle caused a different kind of ripple in Harry, starting with small butterflies in his stomach and flying downward to his cock where they became more like vultures, needing and wanting and hungry.

Bill put his arms around Harry and leaned into him, encouraging him to lie back. Harry complied so quickly that Bill wondered if he’d needed the encouragement after all. Harry let his head fall on his pillow, which was still damp and cool from the panic and thrashing about during the nightmare. Bill’s body, though, now draped over his like armor, like protection, was hot and Harry wanted to feel as much of him as possible.

Harry slid his knee between Bill’s legs, a move that surprised Bill by the boldness of it. What also surprised Bill was how distinct Harry’s erection was, digging into his hip. Bill could feel the heat, and the pulsing, through the thin cotton of his boxers. He shifted so that he could slide his hand through the opening in Harry’s pajamas.

Harry groaned when Bill’s strong fingers closed around his cock. It was so different from when he touched himself, more concentrated, yet markedly curious. Bill stroked him a few times to learn how it felt to have Harry’s cock in his hand. He moved down to Harry’s balls. They weighed heavy in his palm as he rubbed Harry’s swollen sac with his thumb, feeling it tighten with each touch. Harry trembled underneath him.

“You haven’t done this before, have you?” Bill asked, suddenly too aware of what he was doing.

“No,” Harry said quietly, and the word hung suspended in the night air.

Bill hung his head, a mixture of shame and disappointment. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

“I want this,” Harry said, louder and with a certainty that surprised Bill. “Please stay. I want this.”

To show Bill how truly sincere his words were, Harry took Bill’s hand and pressed his cock into Bill’s palm. Bill drew an unsteady breath, but he began stroking Harry’s cock, the smooth flesh sliding hot into his hand. The skin was soft, but underneath, it was hard, so hard, and suddenly Bill knew just how bad Harry wanted this.

“We’ll need…I’ve got some…in my room. Just let me get it.” Bill kissed Harry, then pulled away slowly, reluctant to lose the feel of Harry’s lips on his. On shaking legs and weak knees, he walked to his room and grabbed a tube of lubricant from his bedside table. He knew there was nothing to be nervous about; he’d done this hundreds of times, with men and women. But this was Harry. And that made it different.

Though the room was hot with the heat of an Egyptian night, Harry instantly felt the coolness left in Bill’s absence. The nightmare was a distant memory; the only remnants were Harry’s damp sheets and the dry, sticky streams of sweat on his back. He couldn’t believe that he was here, like this, with Bill. He’d always been attracted to Bill, and even wanked sometimes while thinking about him, but he’d never seriously entertained the thought that anything like this would ever happen between them. He was inexperienced, but he wasn’t scared. He wanted this, and he was going to have it. He slipped off his pajama pants, which were sticky in the front with pre-cum, and tossed them away. There was the soft sound of bare feet padding on a wooden floor, and Bill walked back into the bedroom.

Harry lay there, naked, his skin dark against the white of the sheets, and Bill was surprised once again by Harry’s boldness. He pulled down his boxer shorts and stepped out of them, leaving them forgotten on the floor. He knelt on the bed and spread Harry’s legs, then moved between them. Flipping the cap on the tube, he looked down at Harry for reassurance. Harry had shown him he was ready, but Bill wanted to make sure Harry wasn’t mistaking his intentions.

Harry gave him that look again, the look he’d given him just before Bill lost all rationality, and no words were necessary. A warm breeze carried Bill’s breath away just before he bent forward and claimed Harry’s lips. Harry thrust upwards and his erection slid against Bill’s stomach. Harry moaned, a sensual sound that provoked a moan from Bill as well. Harry began thrusting against Bill’s slick stomach, his breath coming in quick pants.

Bill’s own erection was momentarily forgotten. If Harry was going to come, he wanted to feel it, he wanted to hold his cock while he came and feel it pulsing in his hand. Bill dropped the lube and reached for Harry’s cock, but Harry quickly grabbed his wrist to stop him.

Harry leaned up and kissed Bill softly. “Not yet,” he whispered. “I want more out of this than a wank.”

Bill breathed a thankful sigh of relief and ran a soothing hand along the inside of Harry’s thigh. “I’ll stop whenever you want. Just say so.”

Bill reached for the discarded lubricant and squeezed a generous amount onto his fingers. Harry spread his legs and took a deep breath. The touch was cold at first and Harry jerked involuntarily, but Bill’s fingers soon heated up as he rubbed across Harry’s entrance, over and over and over. Harry had barely gotten comfortable with someone touching him in such an unlikely place when Bill slipped a finger in. Harry gasped from surprise and slight discomfort, but Bill moved slowly and easily, and soon Harry relaxed.

Bill added another finger and moved it around carefully, stretching Harry properly. Harry was so tight, and although Bill wanted nothing more than to slide his cock inside, he knew the impending pain was unavoidable and he wanted to alleviate as much of it as possible.

After a few minutes of shallow thrusts and small twists, Harry began squirming around Bill’s fingers, moving down on them and pushing them in farther. Having his fingers buried so deeply inside Harry made Bill’s cock twitch with anticipation. If Harry felt this good around his fingers, he could only imagine what it would feel like to have Harry’s constricting muscles surrounding his cock.

Bill leaned forward and placed a few light kisses around Harry’s dry, parted lips. He licked over them with his tongue, wetting them, as he pushed his fingers in deeper. Harry lifted his hips off the bed.

“I’m ready, I’m ready,” Harry chanted between pants.

Bill kissed Harry gently again, and then sat up. With added lubricant, he stroked his stiff cock, making it slick and shiny in his hands. He guided himself to Harry’s entrance and pushed, slowly, until the head of his cock slipped in. Harry was tight, so tight, and Bill felt his cock being sucked in and enveloped by that compacted heat. Harry was biting his lip, though whether it was from pain or pleasure, Bill couldn’t tell. He leaned over and kissed Harry’s cheek.

“Am I hurting you?” Bill whispered in Harry’s ear.

“No,” breathed Harry, though it was hardly audible between his quick gasps.

With that assurance, Bill pushed deeper. After a few moments of adjustment, Harry began moving and Bill knew the pain had ebbed. He pulled out and pushed back in without hesitation, barely allowing Harry time to catch his breath. Harry was moaning loudly, almost continually, his breath coming quickly from his lips, as Bill pushed deeper and faster. Trails of sweat ran down Harry’s face and neck, and Bill bent forward to lick them away. He licked at Harry’s face, then at his neck, and then at his throat, running his tongue along the wet, salty skin. Both their bodies were wet with perspiration, slick, and sliding together as easily as Bill was sliding in and out of Harry. Suddenly, Bill hit a place deep inside Harry and Harry cried out.

“Please…” Harry gasped, “do that again.”

Bill readily complied with Harry’s request, raising his hips and driving into Harry at just the right angle. Bill rested his forehead on Harry’s shoulder, the mixture of their sweat making his hair cling to the side of Harry’s face. Harry’s breathing quickened and came in hot wisps over Bill’s ear.

Bill’s senses were filled, the taste of Harry’s sweat on his tongue and lips, the feel of Harry’s slick body underneath his, the scent of Harry’s youth, the sound of their skin slapping together. It was erotic.

He thrust his hips forward again and again, being sure he hit Harry’s prostate each time. Harry began writhing under him, whimpering, and Bill reached down and took Harry’s cock in his hand. Pre-cum was leaking from the head, dripping onto Harry’s stomach in thick, white drops. Bill dipped his fingers in it, then started stroking him, slow at first, then building up speed until the force of the strokes matched the force of his thrusts.

Harry closed his eyes. A kaleidoscope of light. A deep groan. Harry’s mouth. Bill’s throat. A slick hand. A sure grip. Steady. Pumping. Rhythmic. Faster. Needing. Faster. Craving. Faster. Aching. Close. Closer, closer, closer. And then...

Harry came. He found his voice and cried out, and his body ached and shuddered with the memory of the orgasm.

tbc