Part One: Desperate Measures
He knew he should have been concerned that he was doing things he would never have considered doing in front of anyone he considered a friend---with some people he considered friends---but desperate times called for desperate measures, and Anita's ardeur rising before a very important zombie raising was definitely a desperate time.
He could see Hermione's startled, wide eyes and her flushed cheeks. Her expression was an interesting contrast to Ron's expression. His eyes were downcast and his face was so pale that his freckles stood out like tiny, dark pebbles on a white sand beach. Remus looked depressed, as if he was thinking 'the Boy Who Lived has been reduced to nothing but disposable plumbing.' Snape was the only one who looked intrigued by the events unfolding in front of him, in the graveyard of Godric's Hollow.
He dropped his head and pressed his lips to Cherry's, tasting her dark lipstick when his tongue brushed out and caressed her. Her whimper was low, sexy but still eager sounding; she had become a vessel for her Nimir-Ra's metaphysical desire and Harry had become the spoon that was stirring it.
"Close," she purred, her dark eyes turning from human eyes to her leopard eyes. "God, so close..."
Damian crawled closer to them, his free hand reaching for Cherry's hand. His other hand was busy holding onto Anita's hand; while he usually calmed her, the ardeur had raised unexpectedly, and they were too concerned with creating links back to Anita so she could feed as fully as possible.
Harry knew the plan. Asher was underneath Anita and he would bite her when their pleasure reached its apex, creating a fresh wave of pleasure with his bite. Damian would hold Cherry's hand while he fed from Harry's shoulder. They hoped, while formulating their quickly-put-together plan, that the pleasure and feeding would satisfy the metaphysical plague that she and Jean-Claude carried.
Damian's bite hurt, but it didn't bother Harry. A part of him knew that he liked a little pain mixed with pleasure; with the ardeur riding them all, a little of pain wouldn't have slowed his desire down anyway.
His cry filled the air and joined the others' pleasurable sounds.
The metaphysical warmth receded from his body. Cherry guided him down to his body and held him close while Damian lapped at the bite mark on his neck.
"You okay?" she asked, her voice still low as a quiet purr settled into her throat.
Harry nodded and kissed her jaw. "Yes... you?"
"Very," she whispered huskily.
"Ma cherie?" Asher whispered near Anita's ear. "Has it passed?"
The black-haired woman was slumped against his body, her hand still in Damian's hand. She nodded and tucked her forehead against Asher's shoulder.
"Yeah," she breathed, "I'm okay." She released Damian's hand and reached for Harry's shoulder. "Hey," she said, her dark eyes focused upon him.
He looked up into her eyes, her eyes that were asking a lot of questions. He had been Asher's pomme de sang while he was studying in St. Louis, he had been Anita's blood sacrifice for several of her Animators, Inc. zombie raisings, and he had helped out behind the scenes at Guilty Pleasures---so he had a good idea of what questions were forming in Anita's mind.
Instead of waiting for her to talk, he smiled lazily at her. "I'm fine," he assured her.
"Your friends aren't," Cherry whispered.
"You guys are my friends, too," he replied. He tried to push himself up, but he was still too drugged from the afterglow to succeed. Cherry chuckled at his antics until he nipped at the underside of her jaw. "God, I can't move," he moaned.
Asher's chuckle was deeper than the female wereleopard's laugh, and it made Harry shiver. "Ma cherie is a very passionate lover, even at a distance," he said teasingly.
Anita nudged his shoulder. "Why do I put up with you?"
"Because you love me," he reminded her.
Harry smiled at them and then he turned his attention to Cherry. She smiled at him. He thought she looked sexier than she did earlier in the evening---with her black makeup smudged around her eyes, and her dark lipstick blurred around her lips---but he didn't say anything about that.
Instead, he brushed his fingers through her short, blonde hair, and whispered, "I'm gonna lie here for another minute, and then I'm gonna look for my trousers."
She laughed and nodded. "Okay," she whispered back.
"And then... maybe we could start the ritual?" Nathaniel asked as he approached the group of people, carrying Anita's zombie raising bag.
&&&&
Part Two: The Aftermath
When he heard the door open, he looked up immediately towards the sound.
Everyone else from the Wizarding World had been celebrating Lord Voldemort's demise; Number Twelve Grimmauld Place had never seen such excitement.
Harry wanted to do nothing but sleep since his nightmare was finally over. Luckily for him, Cherry, Nathaniel, and Anita had been thinking similar thoughts. So, when the vampires went to their coffins, Harry, Anita, and the wereleopards curled up in bed.
He was used to sharing a bed with Jason, since the werewolf had practically taken Harry under his wing once he moved into the space underneath the Circus of the Damned, once he had earned the trust of everyone important in St. Louis. Wolf smelled differently than leopard even though he couldn't explain what the difference was; however, it was still familiar and still very comforting. Perfect for conjuring up a deep sleep that lasted hours and hours.
Ron's eyes widened when Harry propped himself up, rising from in between Nathaniel and Cherry. No one was wearing clothes; everyone was touching. Apparently, it was too much for the redhead to process.
Harry lifted a hand and mouthed 'One minute.' Ron nodded and disappeared.
He sighed. He had had trouble accepting the weird and wonderful ways of the vampires and lycanthropes at first. But, he wanted to study magical power and he wanted to convince Anita to help him destroy Voldemort; he didn't expect that he would find a home as well.
No one accused him of being different in St. Louis. (Well, the cops did, once, when he had been with Jason and Nathaniel when a convenience store just happened to be robbed. But, Anita rescued them, and everything had been fine. Since then, he avoided law enforcement whenever he could; being at the Circus for Asher helped with that.) He had always believed that Hogwarts was his home. But, students and professors had treated him differently than the other students; he always stood out to some degree. Even Ron and Hermione contributed to that at times. In St. Louis, with his new circle of friends, no one thought he was odd because there was always someone odder. Oddness seemed to be embraced in that city. There were vampires and lycanthropes and witches and... and everything. And Anita's circle had accepted him.
He learned that sleeping naked in a group of people wasn't about sex---although he had had a few improper thoughts about Nathaniel, and feeding Anita's ardeur with Cherry had been almost like having one of his fantasies fulfilled---but about comfort. He learned that practicality could come in many forms---so what's a little blood or sex?---and he stopped worrying about what others thought about him.
"You okay?"
He looked down into Cherry's eyes. He sighed again and nodded. "Ron---"
"Needs to talk to you," she finished. "I can smell him outside the door." She rubbed her face against Harry's arm. "He smells afraid."
"Of you?"
"Of you," she murmured.
"Well... that's ridiculous."
"You raised a lot of power last night," she said, referring to the final battle, "and he's wary of that. And other things."
"Other things," Harry echoed, while motioning over the bed with one hand.
She chuckled softly. Nathaniel growled. "Be quiet," he mumbled, not opening his lilac eyes.
"Sorry," Harry whispered, reaching down and petting the top of his auburn head. "I'm leaving soon."
"Kay," the sleepy male replied as he snuggled up to Anita.
Cherry smiled at Harry. "Go talk to him," she insisted. "They'll be more awake later... to feed, and we can talk then."
Harry impulsively leaned down and kissed her forehead. He liked Cherry, especially as a friend and 'sounding board.' Once they shared another smile, he slowly made his way off of the bed and grabbed some clothes.
A few seconds later, he was stepping out into the hall and tugging a button-up shirt on over his shoulders. Ron was staring at him with serious eyes.
"What's up?"
"Just like that?" Ron asked. "'What's up?'"
Harry shrugged. "Yeah," he replied. "You want to talk?"
"We haven't seen you since we left Godric's Hollow," Ron said, shrugging, too, as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "You missed a lot of the party."
"I'm knackered," he explained. "All I want to do is sleep, Ron."
"With three other people?"
"It's comfortable," Harry said quietly. "It's not about shagging. It's about comfort. Lycanthropes sleep together and touch a lot because they like to comfort each other, because they're socially structured in packs."
"Are you... a werewolf?"
Harry smiled and shook his head. "No, but I've been around 'em enough to get used to how they do things."
"You just left... and you're like a different person," Ron said quietly, in an accusatory tone of voice. "A completely different person, Harry. We were supposed to go off together. And you just bolted. No one knew where you were. And now, you shag in public and sleep in piles and---"
"That was an emergency," Harry muttered in a dismissive tone of voice. "Anita has this thing... she got it from Jean-Claude. A vampire. And when she doesn't take care of it... it flares up. Badly."
Ron didn't say anything at first. He studied Harry carefully with his eyes for a few minutes and then he said, "You've been vampire-food. For this John Clod guy?"
"Asher."
"Merlin..." Ron breathed and shook his head. "What's wrong with you?"
"For the first time, in a long time, nothing," Harry replied, smiling and shrugging. He sighed when he saw Ron's disgusted facial expression. "Look, I can't explain my new life to you, except to say that it works for me. My magic is under control and I have a safe place to live, and... and I don't mind doing the things I'm doing. I wish I could explain to you what changed and when it changed, but... I don't have those answers for you." Any trace of a smile disappeared when he reached out to touch Ron, when Ron flinched in reaction to the contact. "I wanted to write letters to you and Hermione every day, but I didn't want anyone intercepting the owls."
"Like who? My mum?" Ron asked.
Harry shrugged again. "Like... anyone. If a Death Eater got a hold of it, Voldemort would've known where I was and what I was up to. And, I don't know what would have happened if your mum or dad read the letters... but I'm afraid they would have tried to get me to leave St. Louis."
"And that would've been so bad?"
"It was Anita Blake's zombies that helped us turn the tide against them," Harry reminded his friend.
Ron ducked his head slightly. "Yeah... fair enough," the redhead admitted. He blushed as he lifted his head up. "You... you're not wearing your kit, y'know?"
Harry looked down at what he was wearing. He saw that he had grabbed Nathaniel's clothes on his way to the bedroom door. He didn't blush or make excuses; he and Jason shared a room, their clothes, and their lives for months. Sharing clothes---except for the items that had been tailored for each of them, gifts from the vampires---was commonplace.
"Oh." He shrugged. "Oh well... I'm gonna lie down again, so they won't be on long. Nathaniel won't mind."
Ron's laugh was tight and nervous. "You hang out with a weird crew."
"I'm pretty weird, too, Ron," Harry said, smiling before he ducked back inside the bedroom.
With the door closed, he started taking the clothes off as he made his way towards the bed. Cherry opened her eyes and reached out for him, before Nathaniel opened his eyes and brushed a few long strands of hair out of his eyes.
"Purple looks good on you," Nathaniel commented. "Makes your eyes brighter or something."
Harry snorted softly and padded over to the bed, eager to slide back into his spot between the two warm bodies. Once he was settled, Nathaniel lifted one leg over both of his; Cherry draped her arm over his torso. He sighed happily and snuggled up to his friends.
"Feel better?" Cherry asked.
He nodded, keeping his eyes open to look at the wereleopard. "I don't think Ron does... but I do."
She smiled and brushed her nose and lips over his shoulder. "Go back to sleep," she whispered, "and we'll talk after everything settles in your mind."
"Thanks," Harry whispered before closing his eyes.
&&&&
Part Three: Pleasure
Asher and Jean-Claude liked to feed together. Jason and Harry preferred that; they preferred to hold hands and let the different types of pleasure wash over them as the vampires fed off of their blood.
Sometimes, Harry heard Hermione's frustrated voice in his head---before he took his emerald green robe off, before he crawled onto the large bed.
"Honestly, Harry... you can't be someone's food forever! What will you do? How are you going to support yourself? Will this Asher guy just pay for your flat until you grow old and die?"
It had been two years since Voldemort's death, since he left Number Twelve Grimmauld Place with the others on Jean-Claude's private jet. In those two years, he became Asher's permanent pomme de sang and a resident of the space under the Circus of the Damned. He was cherished; then, he was loved when his relationship with Jason developed to a point that consumed them both.
Just looking at Jason made his temperature spike. He opened his eyes during their evening feeding and felt a surge of lust that wasn't Asher's doing. It was his own for the young werewolf. He moaned and rocked against Asher; he tightened his grip on Jason's hand.
And the pleasure of it all washed over him.
