A/N - this is not reallly a sequel, but a faux drabble written as part of a challenge for the old Beloved Enemies yah-hell group back in 2003. Found it floating on my drive. I had just finished Scarification, so stuck with that story. Enjoy!
Sometimes Harry can believe that he's just an ordinary person, when he lies in the brass bed, with the indigo twilight filtering through the curtain's veil, the sweat on his skin drying to salt. The worst of the heatwave is gone, the summer storm to break it already passed over, the weather quiescent and cool.
It pleases him to hear the voices of the Cauldron's clientele below his room. A cheerio from a hapless drunk thrown out early, the random squeals of barmaids suffering a lecherous grope from an old man by the fireplace. The crowd is boisterous. There will be whispered bedtime endearments among the couples later, but for now the musicians weave their unearthly tunes in a reeling jig of tin-whistle and drum, the violinist having snapped his unicorn-hair fiddlestick during some nefarious devil's-waltz an hour previously.
"Well, this is a lovely deception."
Although Harry's new lover pretends to look around the little room as if it is beneath him and his station, Harry can hear the catch and yearn under Lucius' voice. They have both risked so much to come here.
Truthfully, Harry would rather have been down in the crowd, among friends and in the open, trying to dance to that puzzling kittle of a tune that the lone piper was now playing, discarding the butterbeer for proper thistle-head moonshine. Their rented room will have to do for now.
One day. He thinks. One day. He'll discard his mask and show everyone just how in love he is.
He can feel his stomach muscles judder in anticipation as Lucius removes his clothes. Despite the delicious thought that comes to his mind in this shabby environment, Harry decides not to perplex Lucius any further tonight by asking by to act out rent-boy fantasies. Their relationship is too new, too fragile. There is no need to amplify this undercurrent of trepidation and shyness. For now they will just make love, like ordinary people, and go downstairs late in the night, when the spells of discretion have been lit in the braziers, the time when all secret lovers meet.
He arranges himself in such a way as to entice Lucius to take him quick and hard, as he is in the mood for physical sex.
Something in Lucius' eyes still say, *are you sure, are you sure this is what you want?*
The thought echoes far too loudly for Harry's liking.
"For Merlin's sake Lucius, just zip it and fuck me!" Harry cries out, laughing, pulling the man down on top of him.
Lucius' thoughts smear into the blunt colours of arousal, and he obliges Harry in the best way he knows how.