An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Teddy Lupin/Harry Potter
Words: ~6,000
Additional Tags: Infidelity, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Married Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Minor Dean Thomas/Ginny Weasley, brief Teddy/OMC, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Victoire Weasley, Minor Victoire/OFC, Bisexual Harry Potter, Desi Harry Potter, Background Hermione/Ron, Family Dynamics, Divorce, Age Difference, Cross-Generation Relationship, Kitchen Sex, Office Sex, Office Blow Jobs, I mean it's a home office to be fair, but still, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Come Eating, Switching, POV First Person, POV Teddy Lupin
Summary: I notice things. I always have. I’d feel guiltier about what Harry and I are doing if I wasn’t fairly certain Ginny went first.
Or: Everybody commits angsty-hot adultery, is mostly miserable, and then finds happiness.
A/N: Lord, I was just DYING to write some Hardy, folks! I've missed them! And I got this angsty idea and went with it, even though it's probably not going to be everyone's cuppa. It really is a happy ending, I promise!
As to the age difference, they are (at the start) 39 and 22.
The title comes from the song "Bittersweet" by Big Head Todd and the Monsters
I am not the evil thing he hunts in this place. But I will aid him if I can. I am not in human form any longer, but I cling to my humanity still. My feelings, my emotions, are still strong within me. I am not filled with anger and hate like the evil spirit that haunts this place, causing agony and death. I have not been here long enough for that.
After all, I’ve only been dead for a few decades.
He is here now, a light in his hands, searching this house. I can sense his essence, his soul. Vital. Noble. Brave. Sad. He longs for something, deep inside, but he keeps it buried beneath his sense of duty, his quest to save the innocent, his anger at darkness.
I feel darkness inside him as well. He has seen evil - has been evil. He fears that part of himself.
But I do not fear him. I long for him.
The light moves across the floor, and my locket, the chain broken, sparkles in its beam. He reaches for it, lifts it into the warmth of his hand, and I am drawn to him. He tucks the necklace into his pocket, and joy floods through me. I can be with him now. He has found my anchor.
~~~~~
This place is unfamiliar. A small bedroom, faded and dim. I listen as he speaks to his brother, Sam, on a small device he holds in his hand. He tells him he’s fine, just a salt and burn, he’s sure. No big deal, he should just stay in bed until he feels better. He says he’ll be home in a couple of days.
He goes into the bathroom, and I follow. He turns on the shower, then strips down, his clothing in a heap on the floor.
He is the most beautiful man I have ever seen.
His skin is smooth and lightly tanned, dusted with galaxies of faint freckles. His back is sculpted, the swell and sway and curve of muscles formed from hard work, scars here and there telling a story of violence and pain. His shoulders are broad, magnificent, and I let myself touch him, my hands whispering down from the back of his neck to his waist, over his tight buttocks to his muscular thighs. I feel him inhale sharply – he senses my touch. He looks back over his shoulder, and my desire for him surges a little stronger at the vivid green of his eyes, the smudge of long, dark lashes, the lush curve of his lips. I want to kiss him.
He gets into the shower, and I wait impatiently. He has awakened me, and I feel need like I have not felt since my death. I have wandered the halls of the mansion for years, waiting for something, what – I did not know. But I think I now understand my purpose. I have been waiting for him.
I follow him out to the bedroom, watch as he pulls back the blankets and slips between the sheets, naked. He believes he is alone, so there is no need to cover himself. I stand beside the bed, watching him as he shifts and stretches, his eyes closing as he seeks out sleep. His lashes are shadows against his cheeks, and I reach a finger to touch them. I watch quietly as he slips into slumber, his body relaxing slowly. Then I pull back the sheet and crawl up beside him, laying my head on the pillow next to him and letting my hands roam over his warm skin.
Never have I seen such a perfect specimen of a man. I let my fingers wander over the curves and dips and planes of his body, his breathless sigh as I brush across his nipples is like oxygen to me - if I could only breathe. The muscles in his abdomen jump as I trail over them, following the light trail of hair down his lower belly to where his manhood is slowly swelling, rising. He is perfect there as well, and I caress him softly, feeling warmth flood through me. The strength of the feelings he invokes in me cause an ache inside me that I long to ease, my loneliness heavy on my heart.
He moans softly, his hips buck up into my hand, and then his eyes open wide and I feel him stop breathing. He turns his head slowly, his pupils widening, and I realize he can see me. I pull my hand back, smiling gently, wanting him to understand that I mean him no harm.
“Who are you? What are you?” he asks quietly, his eyes wary, lying still as a stone as he waits for an answer. But I cannot speak, so I just look back at him, willing him to hear my thoughts. “Are you the spirit I’m looking for?”
I shake my head, and my distress must show on my face, because I see his expression soften. “Did you come from the Spencer mansion?” This time I nod my head, and I watch the movement in his throat as he swallows. “Did you die there? Did that thing kill you?” I nod again, and I feel tears in my eyes. Something about him makes my emotions soar, making me want things I can no longer have, making me wish for him to comfort me. “How did you get here? How did you follow me?”
I glide from the bed, moving to take the locket from his jacket and bringing it back with me as I lie beside him again. He takes it from me carefully, opens it and looks at the pictures inside in the light of the glow emanating from my form. “You were beautiful.” Oh, the warmth that floods through me at his words… I smile, and his lips curve a little in answer. Then it fades, and he asks another question that takes the warmth away. “What happened? Can you tell me… or, I don’t know, show me?”
This is the thing that frightens me the most, but he seems kind, and I trust him. I reach for his hand, the one that holds my locket, and as I close my fingers around his, I close my eyes. I know he can see my thoughts, I hear his sharp breath as he sees what I see, feel his hand tighten around the pendant, and I let myself remember...
...I was with Nathaniel that night, we were lost in each other. I still remember the touch of his hands as he loved me, the feel of his body against me, within me. We brought each other to completion and I laid in his arms, content like I had never been before, our love surrounding us, euphoric. It was when I rose from the bed to attend to my needs, leaving him sleeping peacefully, that the horror came.
I returned to our bed, impatient to feel his skin next to mine as I fell back asleep. I laid down beside him, putting my hand on his chest, but I drew it back in confusion, sticky and wet. It was crimson with his life’s blood, and I screamed, terrified. Then he appeared above me, my murderer, his hand over my face, his bloodied knife at my throat. His teeth bared in a malignant grin as he whispered, “Whore.” The knife plunged into my heart, fiery pain like I have never felt, and the void closed over my vision, desolate and empty...
I look into his face as I draw back my hand, and his eyes meet mine. There is empathy there, and I know I have put my faith in him for good reason. “I’m gonna end this. I won’t let him hurt anyone else, I promise.” I feel a tear slide down my cheek – I can’t remember the last time I was able to find that release. I lean forward, slowly, prepared for him to pull away. But instead, he puts his hand to my face and touches his lips to mine.
I can feel my form becoming fully corporeal as he kisses me, the warmth of his life force washing through me, taking the chill from my body. In this moment, I feel alive again, my flesh young and blushing, my skin tingling, my body supple and young, the soft fragrance of my perfume wafting over us. His tongue touches my lips, and I open to him, a taste of fresh mint in my mouth, his breath carrying a hint of whiskey.
I let my fingers grip the flexing muscle in his bicep as he lets his hand drift down, trailing over my throat and cupping my breast. He moans into our kiss as he squeezes gently, my nipple hardening beneath his calloused palm.
He takes my shoulder and moves me to lie on my back as his lips leave mine, brushing over my ear, down my neck, to the hollow of my throat. He pauses a moment as he sees the wound in my chest, and his fingers touch it gently. Then he moves to take my nipple into the heat of his mouth, and I arch beneath him, wishing I could make a sound. His tongue teases at me, my fingers tangling in his short hair as his hand brushes over my ribs, nestles between my thighs, fondling me where I ache.
He inhales, hissing, as I stretch my hand down to touch him. He is hot, throbbing with need, velvety beneath my fingers, and I close them around him, gently stroking his length. He moves to my other breast as he thrusts into my hand, groaning.
His fingers send waves of pleasure through me that I had forgotten existed, smoothing through my folds, teasing at my entrance. He plunges them inside me, stroking in and out, his thumb brushing hard over where I am most sensitive, and I feel light welling up within me until it bursts in a wave of ecstasy.
I feel as if I shatter into a nimbus of sparkling stars, and if this is the end of my existence, it is well. But his gift to me is not complete, I come together again with his touch still there, and my soul smiles. He looks at me, soft awe and desire lighting the beautiful golden green of his eyes, and he moves over me.
“I don’t understand how...” he begins, shaking his head slightly as if to clear it. “Do you want me to...” he starts to ask, gentle, and I nod, my eyes pleading with him. He blows out an almost nervous breath, and then I feel him pressing into my center, the rigid heat of him slowly filling me as he pushes deep inside me. The sensation is overwhelming, the sense of utter completion as my body clings to him, enfolds him, pulsing around him. He lets out a soft growl, then begins to move, exquisite friction as he glides outward, then back in till our bodies meet. He kisses me again, hungry and quick, and then begins to thrust, faster and harder, and I clutch around him, bliss flooding through me in waves.
I wrap my arms around him, clinging to him as he drives himself to his end, a long, tortured moan forced from his throat as he floods me with heat, then drops his head to my chest, his hair damp with exertion. I revel in the feel of his skin beneath my fingertips, soothing him as his breathing slows, his heartbeat becoming less frantic.
After a time, he moves from me, and I feel bereft at the loss. He turns to his side and I turn as well, facing him, moving my hand to touch his face. “I will set you free. I promise,” he whispers, and I give him a gentle smile as I nod to show him I understand.
~~~~~
We stand in the graveyard, the fire bright against the night sky. He has avenged me. The evil is gone, sent on to his eternal punishment by my deliverer’s vengeful hand.
He turns to face me as I stand beside him, my locket dangling from his fingers. “Are you ready?” he asks softly.
I reach to touch his face one last time, but he can feel me no longer. He smiles at me sadly, and I nod. He holds the locket over the grave, then drops it into the flame. As I feel myself dissolving, heavenly light engulfing me in its welcoming warmth, I see tears in his eyes. My heart aches for him for one moment longer, watching him grow smaller as I rise, peace washing over me at long last. I hope the same for him, someday.
“Tell me why missing you is so easy?” You press the words into my hip, nose surprisingly cold. I don’t answer. I can’t with your fingers pushing in and out of my mouth. If you only knew how long I’ve fantasized about this… It’s delicious — the burn I feel as you press them deeper and deeper. Your other arm comes up to press across my hips, stilling me as I vainly seek friction. “I don’t want to miss you.”
I don’t want to miss you either, but somewhere between sucking you off in the locker rooms and my best friend moving in with yours, I got used to having you around. I don’t know how to tell you that I beg Pansy to invite you to pub nights and that every time I tell a joke I look for your reaction. Saliva gathers at the edge of my lips, dripping a bit when you finally pull your fingers free.
“You don’t have to miss me,” I manage, voice rough.
“And why,” you move your fingers lower. “Is that?” My breath catches. You stop suddenly, pulling away. “Potter—”
I shake my head, “Please?”
Your sigh is fond, if a bit annoyed. “Harry. Harry. Harry.” You punctuate each word with the softest of kisses to forehead, my temple, my nose. You drop your forehead to mine. I can’t tell if it’s acceptance or defeat.
