FIC: Escape (Harry/George - 1600 - NC-17)
Dec. 10th, 2016 12:26 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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mini_festTitle: Escape
Author/Artist: ANON
Pairing(s): Harry Potter/George Weasley
Prompt: 2015 – line 48
Word Count: 1,600
Rating: NC-17
Contains (Highlight to view): *Hurt/Comfort, mentions of canon!character death, talk about the war*
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Many, many thanks and a recommendation letter to Santa go to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
enchanted_jae for beta-reading this fic!
Summary: Harry is in no mood to celebrate Christmas Eve at the crowded Burrow. He takes up the chance to go check up on George, who isn't too keen on joining the festivities either.
The lights were still on in the joke shop when Harry Apparated to Diagon Alley. It was the night before Christmas and it was quiet in London. For the first time in hours, Harry felt like he could breathe. He spotted George talking to a customer at the counter. While most other businesses on the street had already closed down for the night, George's shop was still open, helping out those last, probably desperate customers.
When Harry entered the shop, laughter instead of a chime announced him. George looked up briefly and frowned at him, before turning back to his customer. Harry rolled his shoulders and opened his coat to welcome the warmth of the shop. It had become cold these last few days. He hoped it would start snowing soon—the world was always a calmer place when covered in white. He strolled along the shelves that had become remarkably emptier since he'd visited the shop in early December. Business was going well, it seemed. He stopped to look at a new range of products, including an improved variant of the famously successful Skiving Snackboxes, and wondered whether he'd be able to use these to get a day or two off from work.
When the customer, a harangued looking man, finally left, Harry turned towards the counter and found George staring at him with his arms crossed. "I'm not coming to dinner."
Harry raised his hands in defence. "I'm not here to make you come."
George's frown deepened. "Are you saying Mum didn't send you?"
"No, of course she sent me," Harry said and walked up the counter. "But I only came because it gave me an excuse to leave the party."
George relaxed a bit at that. "You're telling me you're not keen on Mum's Christmas dinner?"
"I wouldn't mind the food." Harry shrugged lightly and looked back the shelves. "But there are so many people at the Burrow." It wasn't a surprise, of course, that the Burrow would be crowded at this time of year. But that didn't make things any easier, either.
George grunted and raised his wand. With a swish, he locked the shop's door and an additional wave closed the blinds. Apparently, he was done with Christmas sales. "And they all want to talk."
"Everyone just wants things to be okay." It was understandable, of course. The war had been over for almost two years now. People longed for things to go back to normal. They wanted to forget the atrocities, the deaths. At least on Christmas. Harry couldn't see how they could.
"But they aren't okay," George said quietly, then cleared his throat. "Come on, I have a bottle of whisky that needs to be opened." He led the way up towards his flat above the shop. Once in the flat's hallway, Harry's eyes wandered to the door that led to Fred's bedroom. He wondered if George had been inside since his twin's death. He didn't doubt that his friend had not changed a single thing inside.
Once in the living room, Harry lit a fire in the fireplace while George got the bottle and the glasses. "Are you sure you won't be missed?" George asked as he poured.
Harry threw his coat over the back of an armchair and sat down. "Hermione and Ginny will probably guess what's up and will be most compassionate." He loved them dearly, but sometimes their understanding gazes and soft-spoken voices were a little hard to take. Even Ginny did this and she used to box his ears when he was moody. But that had been before the war, before everything changed.
"And they won't send another emissary?"
"I doubt it. If neither of us will show up tomorrow, though, they might send Bill and Charlie to break down the door."
"Figures." George handed Harry his glass of whisky, then clinked his own glass against it and took a sip. Harry's eyes were immediately drawn to George's throat—he watched his Adam's apple bob as he drank. In the summer, there had been more freckles when he'd kissed it. They had been sitting at a secluded spot during a family picnic at a small lake not far from the Burrow. George had smelled of grass and the sun. A kiss on the neck, a kiss on his lips—the moment had been brief, but had been theirs alone. After that, Harry had gone away on a research trip to learn about healing methods in Peru and George had worked on his new line of products that had started selling by the start of this Christmas season.
"You okay there?" George asked, amusement evident in his voice.
Harry shook himself and blushed. "Yes, I—sure." He cleared his throat for good measure and pretended he wasn't embarrassed about having been caught staring. "I take it business has gone well this season?"
George raised his eyebrow, but complied in the change of topic. "Yes, pretty much. I wouldn't have minded being sold out completely, but I've made a nice chunk of profit, I think, even after subtracting personnel and production costs."
Harry nodded and sipped on his whisky. It tasted peaty and felt smooth on his tongue. No doubt, George had got out the good stuff.
"Since we're doing small talk: How are your studies going?"
"Could be better. I like that I can do my work independently and don't have to sit in crowded halls. Plus, there's the benefit of nobody trying to kill me."
"That you know of."
Harry snorted. "If you put it that way."
"If you like all that, what don't you like?"
"The studying part." Harry rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. "I know, it's what I signed up for. But after everything I just wanted something that was calm, you know? Something where I'm not constantly surrounded by people. And I kind of forgot that I really, really don't enjoy leafing through this many books."
"If I remember correctly, you quite sucked at it."
Harry huffed. "Look who's talking."
"Hey, we've always known where our talents lie." For a moment, the used plural hang in the air like a Bludger about to hit its target. Then the moment was over as suddenly as it had appeared, no matter that both of them swallowed a bigger gulp of whisky than needed.
"Harry—"
"Look, it's snowing!" Harry got up and walked towards the window. Thick snowflakes had started floating down from the night sky. Soon they would cover the streets of London with their thick, white coat, engulfing the city in silence. "There's always something magical about snow, don't you think?" he asked George, who had come to stand next to him. Their shoulders almost touched and Harry felt his warmth radiate towards him. He was wondering if he should reach out and touch George or if he could dare to lean his head against George's shoulder, when George put his arm around him.
"Are we done making small talk?"
Harry's heart beat hard against his chest and he turned and wedged himself between George and the window. He tried to think of something smooth to say, but what wit he had had left him five seconds ago. Instead, he pulled George close and kissed him. Whisky, lemon drops, and coffee. He could get lost in this. Wouldn't mind, either.
George pulled Harry towards the sofa and pushed him down onto the cushions, getting on top. He moved his lips to Harry's neck, then kissed along the path towards his ear. "I've thought about this since summer."
"Have you?" Harry mumbled and tugged on George's shirt until his lips returned to Harry's. "I wasn't sure if you wanted—"
"Oh, I want." George wiggled his hand beneath Harry's pullover and Harry laughed. "Ticklish?"
Harry grinned. "A bit." He waved his fingers around and the buttons on George's jeans popped out of their holes one by one.
"Wandless magic? Nice." Going back to kissing Harry, George pushed Harry's pullover up, then made short work of his trousers, too. "What do you—"
"I want you naked," Harry said, suddenly feeling brave. "I want to feel you."
George grinned and pulled Harry up. "Bedroom, then." They shed their on the way, not hurrying, kissing between each piece of clothing. Finally, when both of them were naked, they embraced almost tenderly, kissing and touching and stumbling slowly towards the bed. They lay down on their sides, facing each other, and caressed each other slowly, before George scooted in closer and took both their dicks in his hand.
Harry rocked against him, breathing heavily and closed his eyes. "Merlin, yes."
George started stroking them slowly, then increased his pace when Harry's hand snaked between them started rolling George's balls.
"Fuck, Harry, don't stop!"
Feeling George pressed up against him, his cock against his own, sent Harry's nerves into overdrive. The callouses on George's hand, the slickness of their pre-cum, George's gasps against his skin—as his orgasm built up, his hands started tingling and he stiffened all over, grunting his release. George kept up his strokes and followed soon after.
Harry gave a little laugh as soon as he had caught his breath and kissed George hard on the lips. "That was—" He laughed again and Summoned a towel from the bathroom. They cleaned themselves up and kissed again, caught between contentment and embarrassment.
"You're staying?" George asked, looking a bit unsure of himself.
Harry smiled. "Wouldn't want to be anywhere but here."
"Good." George switched off the light and covered both of them with the blanket, pressing close to Harry. Harry kissed his shoulder and closed his eyes. Before he drifted off to sleep, he heard George say, "Because of you, life becomes bearable", and he fell asleep smiling.
Author/Artist: ANON
Pairing(s): Harry Potter/George Weasley
Prompt: 2015 – line 48
Word Count: 1,600
Rating: NC-17
Contains (Highlight to view): *Hurt/Comfort, mentions of canon!character death, talk about the war*
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Many, many thanks and a recommendation letter to Santa go to
enchanted_jae for beta-reading this fic!Summary: Harry is in no mood to celebrate Christmas Eve at the crowded Burrow. He takes up the chance to go check up on George, who isn't too keen on joining the festivities either.
The lights were still on in the joke shop when Harry Apparated to Diagon Alley. It was the night before Christmas and it was quiet in London. For the first time in hours, Harry felt like he could breathe. He spotted George talking to a customer at the counter. While most other businesses on the street had already closed down for the night, George's shop was still open, helping out those last, probably desperate customers.
When Harry entered the shop, laughter instead of a chime announced him. George looked up briefly and frowned at him, before turning back to his customer. Harry rolled his shoulders and opened his coat to welcome the warmth of the shop. It had become cold these last few days. He hoped it would start snowing soon—the world was always a calmer place when covered in white. He strolled along the shelves that had become remarkably emptier since he'd visited the shop in early December. Business was going well, it seemed. He stopped to look at a new range of products, including an improved variant of the famously successful Skiving Snackboxes, and wondered whether he'd be able to use these to get a day or two off from work.
When the customer, a harangued looking man, finally left, Harry turned towards the counter and found George staring at him with his arms crossed. "I'm not coming to dinner."
Harry raised his hands in defence. "I'm not here to make you come."
George's frown deepened. "Are you saying Mum didn't send you?"
"No, of course she sent me," Harry said and walked up the counter. "But I only came because it gave me an excuse to leave the party."
George relaxed a bit at that. "You're telling me you're not keen on Mum's Christmas dinner?"
"I wouldn't mind the food." Harry shrugged lightly and looked back the shelves. "But there are so many people at the Burrow." It wasn't a surprise, of course, that the Burrow would be crowded at this time of year. But that didn't make things any easier, either.
George grunted and raised his wand. With a swish, he locked the shop's door and an additional wave closed the blinds. Apparently, he was done with Christmas sales. "And they all want to talk."
"Everyone just wants things to be okay." It was understandable, of course. The war had been over for almost two years now. People longed for things to go back to normal. They wanted to forget the atrocities, the deaths. At least on Christmas. Harry couldn't see how they could.
"But they aren't okay," George said quietly, then cleared his throat. "Come on, I have a bottle of whisky that needs to be opened." He led the way up towards his flat above the shop. Once in the flat's hallway, Harry's eyes wandered to the door that led to Fred's bedroom. He wondered if George had been inside since his twin's death. He didn't doubt that his friend had not changed a single thing inside.
Once in the living room, Harry lit a fire in the fireplace while George got the bottle and the glasses. "Are you sure you won't be missed?" George asked as he poured.
Harry threw his coat over the back of an armchair and sat down. "Hermione and Ginny will probably guess what's up and will be most compassionate." He loved them dearly, but sometimes their understanding gazes and soft-spoken voices were a little hard to take. Even Ginny did this and she used to box his ears when he was moody. But that had been before the war, before everything changed.
"And they won't send another emissary?"
"I doubt it. If neither of us will show up tomorrow, though, they might send Bill and Charlie to break down the door."
"Figures." George handed Harry his glass of whisky, then clinked his own glass against it and took a sip. Harry's eyes were immediately drawn to George's throat—he watched his Adam's apple bob as he drank. In the summer, there had been more freckles when he'd kissed it. They had been sitting at a secluded spot during a family picnic at a small lake not far from the Burrow. George had smelled of grass and the sun. A kiss on the neck, a kiss on his lips—the moment had been brief, but had been theirs alone. After that, Harry had gone away on a research trip to learn about healing methods in Peru and George had worked on his new line of products that had started selling by the start of this Christmas season.
"You okay there?" George asked, amusement evident in his voice.
Harry shook himself and blushed. "Yes, I—sure." He cleared his throat for good measure and pretended he wasn't embarrassed about having been caught staring. "I take it business has gone well this season?"
George raised his eyebrow, but complied in the change of topic. "Yes, pretty much. I wouldn't have minded being sold out completely, but I've made a nice chunk of profit, I think, even after subtracting personnel and production costs."
Harry nodded and sipped on his whisky. It tasted peaty and felt smooth on his tongue. No doubt, George had got out the good stuff.
"Since we're doing small talk: How are your studies going?"
"Could be better. I like that I can do my work independently and don't have to sit in crowded halls. Plus, there's the benefit of nobody trying to kill me."
"That you know of."
Harry snorted. "If you put it that way."
"If you like all that, what don't you like?"
"The studying part." Harry rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. "I know, it's what I signed up for. But after everything I just wanted something that was calm, you know? Something where I'm not constantly surrounded by people. And I kind of forgot that I really, really don't enjoy leafing through this many books."
"If I remember correctly, you quite sucked at it."
Harry huffed. "Look who's talking."
"Hey, we've always known where our talents lie." For a moment, the used plural hang in the air like a Bludger about to hit its target. Then the moment was over as suddenly as it had appeared, no matter that both of them swallowed a bigger gulp of whisky than needed.
"Harry—"
"Look, it's snowing!" Harry got up and walked towards the window. Thick snowflakes had started floating down from the night sky. Soon they would cover the streets of London with their thick, white coat, engulfing the city in silence. "There's always something magical about snow, don't you think?" he asked George, who had come to stand next to him. Their shoulders almost touched and Harry felt his warmth radiate towards him. He was wondering if he should reach out and touch George or if he could dare to lean his head against George's shoulder, when George put his arm around him.
"Are we done making small talk?"
Harry's heart beat hard against his chest and he turned and wedged himself between George and the window. He tried to think of something smooth to say, but what wit he had had left him five seconds ago. Instead, he pulled George close and kissed him. Whisky, lemon drops, and coffee. He could get lost in this. Wouldn't mind, either.
George pulled Harry towards the sofa and pushed him down onto the cushions, getting on top. He moved his lips to Harry's neck, then kissed along the path towards his ear. "I've thought about this since summer."
"Have you?" Harry mumbled and tugged on George's shirt until his lips returned to Harry's. "I wasn't sure if you wanted—"
"Oh, I want." George wiggled his hand beneath Harry's pullover and Harry laughed. "Ticklish?"
Harry grinned. "A bit." He waved his fingers around and the buttons on George's jeans popped out of their holes one by one.
"Wandless magic? Nice." Going back to kissing Harry, George pushed Harry's pullover up, then made short work of his trousers, too. "What do you—"
"I want you naked," Harry said, suddenly feeling brave. "I want to feel you."
George grinned and pulled Harry up. "Bedroom, then." They shed their on the way, not hurrying, kissing between each piece of clothing. Finally, when both of them were naked, they embraced almost tenderly, kissing and touching and stumbling slowly towards the bed. They lay down on their sides, facing each other, and caressed each other slowly, before George scooted in closer and took both their dicks in his hand.
Harry rocked against him, breathing heavily and closed his eyes. "Merlin, yes."
George started stroking them slowly, then increased his pace when Harry's hand snaked between them started rolling George's balls.
"Fuck, Harry, don't stop!"
Feeling George pressed up against him, his cock against his own, sent Harry's nerves into overdrive. The callouses on George's hand, the slickness of their pre-cum, George's gasps against his skin—as his orgasm built up, his hands started tingling and he stiffened all over, grunting his release. George kept up his strokes and followed soon after.
Harry gave a little laugh as soon as he had caught his breath and kissed George hard on the lips. "That was—" He laughed again and Summoned a towel from the bathroom. They cleaned themselves up and kissed again, caught between contentment and embarrassment.
"You're staying?" George asked, looking a bit unsure of himself.
Harry smiled. "Wouldn't want to be anywhere but here."
"Good." George switched off the light and covered both of them with the blanket, pressing close to Harry. Harry kissed his shoulder and closed his eyes. Before he drifted off to sleep, he heard George say, "Because of you, life becomes bearable", and he fell asleep smiling.
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Date: 2016-12-10 01:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-12-10 11:09 pm (UTC):D
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Date: 2016-12-11 02:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-12-11 07:57 am (UTC)I like the angst about Fred's death lingering through the story. And the hot sex of course!
Amazing story!❤
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Date: 2016-12-12 01:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-12-12 01:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-12-13 07:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-12-15 02:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-12-16 05:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-12 04:26 am (UTC)I can see them bonding like this.
Nice job!