Fic: Aviophobia (Harry/Cho)
Jan. 8th, 2016 06:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lightofdayeTis the season for Xmas Reposts. Tralalala-la-la-la.
Title: Aviophobia
Rating: Nc-17
Characters & Pairings: Harry/Cho
Word Count: ~6K
Content: Mild angst. Some Fluff. Sex.
Disclaimer: The characters, settings and HP Franchise as a whole are owned by JKR and not by me. I make no profit from writing this piece of fanfiction.
Summary: Or How Harry Stopped Worrying And Learned To Love The Broom
A/n:Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mayorhaggar for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
smutty_claus I Hope you didn't mind me writing for you again MH!
-
The excitement of the crowd was palpable, even to Harry Potter who was skulking at the very top of the Quidditch stadium. The shouts, the cheers, groans and waving of hands and the emotion, rolling about the sports field like a thundercloud, Harry remembered what that had been like back when he’d been a player himself, back when he’d been young.
It was quite different being in the stands of course, but nevertheless it was still a very intense experience. The Tutshill Tornados, their sky blue robes just visible against the greyish late autumn sky, zoomed about easily evading Bludgers and the less agile Appleby Arrows’ players. They were doing well, their Chasers had scored several times in last quarter of an hour despite some very good work from the Appleby Beaters, not well enough of course, that they could afford to for the Arrows to catch the Snitch but then that was a very rare event in Quidditch.
Still, the game should be good, Harry thought, after all he’d had to fork over a handful of silver for tickets, even after trading in his Harpies’ season ticket. It was certainly lasting a long time; if one of the Seekers didn’t pull their act together soon it would be dark and they’d likely play through the night.
Harry frowned, if that happened he’d have to miss the end: he was on duty with the Aurors tonight. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d walked out of something to go on shift though, and even as the thought bubbled to the forefront of his mind, the two Seekers went into a tremendous dive, the Appleby Seeker pulled up, far too soon in Harry’s opinion, the Tornado’s player did not and plucked the Snitch from the air and avoided slamming into the ground by the narrowest of narrow margins.
Just like that the match was over. The noise from the crowd wavered and fell quiet as they registered the Arrows’ sudden victory. The stillness spread out from the pitch as if there was an actual wave of disappointment, miffedness and slight anticlimax washing over them.
The noise slowly picked up again as the players traipsed off the field but it was only the regular hustle and bustle of a large crowd of people heading for the exit. Harry didn’t move from his position high up in the stadium, and despite long practise as a law-enforcement official, he shifted and fidgeted as he waited. His hand moved to his head and tugged the baseball cap he was wearing more firmly down over his head as the nails of his other hand scratched at a couple of day’s worth of stubble that just getting the annoyingly itchy part of beard-growth.
Not everyone had left when Harry ran out of patience and headed for the exit. In fact, he started moving at quite a clip. He had work to do after all, he couldn’t lounge around having fun, and his disguise was quite sufficient to keep attention off of him until he went out of the door.
His mind when to his case load, which was ever increasing and the various leads, clues and dead ends he had to sort through-
“Harry?” A voice broke through his reveries and brought him crashing back to reality.
Harry turned his head to see an Asian woman a head shorter than he was approaching him with an uncertain smile on her face. He felt a slight jolt in the region of his stomach that he didn’t think had anything to do with nerves as he realised he recognised her.
“Cho!” He said, surprise in his voice. “It’s been a while. How’d you recognise me?”
Cho Chang’s delicate eyebrows descended into a frown. Then her dark eyes flickered over him, taking in the cap pulled low to hide his mop of untidy hair, the bristle of stubble concealing his features and the brown contact lenses that had replaced his spectacles for the moment.
“Oh, you’re in disguise!” Cho exclaimed. “I didn’t even notice.”
“Huh.” Harry grunted. “Great. And I thought I passed Concealment and Disguise for Auror Training.”
They both set off towards the exit at a more measured pace still talking.
“Well, I always wondered how you liked being Auror,” Cho said. “I mean, we all thought you’d end up here.”
“Here?” Harry glanced about, confused.
“Not here precisely. Just... I thought you’d have flown professionally. You know played Quidditch for a living.”
“Oh, no. I couldn’t do that,” Harry said firmly. Cho looked taken aback.
“No, need be modest, Harry,” she said. “I remember how well you flew.”
The sound of a roaring motorbike filled Harry’s ears. The sight of a spell-strewn sky leapt to mind. Him clutching at a rucksack as his Firebolt spun away from him, falling to shatter on the streets far below. He blinked and swallowed back the thought.
“I lost my broomstick, ages ago,” he said thickly.
Cho looked confused, as if this shouldn’t be a problem.
“Can’t fly without a broomstick,” Harry said. Thankfully they had reached the front doors. “It was nice meeting you again, Cho. We’ll have to catch up properly some time soon. But I really have to go. Work, you know?”
Cho smiled uncertainly again and nodded.
“Of course, Harry. See you around then.”
Harry Disapparated and reappeared in front of the Auror office. He hurried inside and blamed the strange feeling in his stomach and the odd restless energy that filled him up on his work worries.
--
It was a few days later that he saw Cho again. At the time he hadn’t thought much about their previous conversation and, anyway, he was late for work. He hardly had the boundless energy of youth anymore and hit the snooze button on his alarm one too many times.
He hurried through Diagon Alley, and he made quick progress as everyone seemed to be very eager to stay out of his way, perhaps his very dark, grumpy expression had something to do with it, he thought. He took a shorter route to work than normal and was just passing by Quality Quidditch Supplies when for the second time in as many weeks he heard a voice calling his name.
“Harry!”
Cho darted out of the shop doorway, smiling warmly. Harry felt a genuine smile crease across his face in response. Just seeing a friendly face seemed to do him a world of good.
“Hi Cho, how nice to you see you again,” he said airily.
“You too,” she replied, “feels like ran into you just the other day.”
“Other week perhaps.”
“You keeping count?” Cho raised an eyebrow. “Maybe running into each other like this isn’t such a coincidence?”
Harry chuckled for the first time in weeks.
“If only,” he said without thinking and glanced away with sudden embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I’ve really got to go I’m...”
“Work?”
“Yeah, yes... sorry,” Harry trailed away.
“No problem,” Cho said, though she looked glum for a second before her face lit up. “But still I’ve got a present for you, Harry. Latest issue, we just got it... Hang on.”
She popped back inside the shop and game out clutching a glossy magazine. Harry took it before looking at the cover and only saw the title when it was in his possession. He looked up at Cho, confused.
“Which Broomstick??” he asked.
“Well last time, you’d said you’d lost your broomstick. That’ll help you pick out a new one.”
“I’m not looking for a new one.”
“Don’t be silly, Harry.”
“I’m not!” Harry growled. Cho blinked. “Flying... Flying’s a game for the young.”
“What are you saying? That you’re not ‘young’?” Cho said, frowning.
“Yes,” Harry said flatly. Cho glared.
“Right. Fine. Right. Well, you’re not the only one with work to get to.”
She headed back into the Quidditch shop and slammed the door. The incongruently cheerful sound of its bell jangled for quite some time while Harry stood on the street, the magazine still clutched in one hand.
It remained there all the way to work. Then, safely ensconced in his office, Harry took one look at the magazine and dumped it straight in the bin. Harry did his best to ignore it and ignore the shocked, betrayed expressions of the photographic people on the cover. And then he threw himself into the paper work of his job. Into reading reports and approving plans, of reviewing evidence photos and witness statements, of balancing budgets and authorising his juniors‘ holidays.
He avoided looking at his wastepaper basket. Just dropping crumpled up paper in its general location. Perhaps owing to this hap-handedness the periodical was not covered up as quickly as it might otherwise have been. One brightly coloured corner of the glossy protruded and caught Harry’s eye whenever he was obligated to look in that general direction.
A strange niggling feeling came over Harry; he was entirely sure had no interest in Which Broomstick? and yet he still felt guilty. As he had been behaving badly or childishly after all the magazine had been a gift and of course Cho had been well meaning. And she was so easy to upset. He should have been nicer...
Harry heaved a great sigh and pulled the magazine out of the bin just before he went to lunch. Leaving it flattened down on a rare empty portion of his desk. (To the visible relief of the people on the cover.)
Taking a moment’s break after lunch, Harry thoughtlessly picked up the magazine and started to flick through it, learning that the Firebolt had become the old faithful broom the second tier teams still used while those on the cutting edge of Quidditch used the Comet One or something called a Blue Thunder. Harry snorted in derision and spent the rest of the afternoon piling file folders on the magazine.
By the end of the day, only the edge was visible to annoy Harry. He extracted Which Broomstick? from underneath his files, the cover people now shaking their fists at him and resolved himself. He was just going to have to return this to Cho. Well-meaning it may have been but it was far too distracting.
When Cho closed up shop, Harry was waiting for her and fidgeting as he leant on the lamppost outside her door.
“Err... Hi,” he said.
“Hello,” she replied, stiffly.
“I feel like I owe you an apology.” Though I’m not sure why.
“That’s not the same as actually saying sorry.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, proffering the magazine. “Here. Thanks for thinking of me but I’d rather you had it.”
“You don’t have to give it back,” Cho said quietly. “If you didn’t want it. You could have just passed it on or thrown it away.”
“But it was a gift!”
Cho looked touched despite herself, her hand moving to brush her long dark hair away from her face.
“Well, I can’t take it back now. I’ve already logged it as being taken in my stock counts. It’d be all wrong and the supervisor wouldn’t like it. You’d be doing me a favour if you kept it.”
Harry’s investigative instincts noted the change in tone of the conversation, until they got distracted by Cho’s large dark eyes, her soulful expression. They had just time to say ‘she’s batting her eyelids for goodness sake’ before they shut down.
“Well... I... okay then,” Harry said, off guard.
“And to thank you maybe I could buy you a hot drink this weekend,” Cho pushed her advantage. “I know a lovely little place near the park in Mudford Sock. ”
“In where?” Harry spluttered before the name connected. It was a Muggle hamlet and (unbeknownst to the Muggle occupants) a Wizard Village. The Park was famed for its high trees especially valued for...
“This wouldn’t be anything to do with the Ministry-approved flying area there would it?” he continued.
“Now Harry! I’m shocked. You’ve made your feelings clear,” Cho said, her eyes gleaming and her voice playful. “No, no flying for you. Just delicious rich hot cocoa.”
“Well, okay then,” he said stubbornly.
“Okay then,” Cho echoed. “Two o’clock. Get the Floo to The Goblin’s Smithy and I’ll meet you outside.”
Smiling, she turned on her heels and vanished.
“Wait...” Harry said, after a second, to the thin air. “What just happened?”
---
Even up to the day itself, Harry wasn’t sure if he was actually going to attend his meeting with Cho. He dithered and dallied and changed his mind at least three times a day. But when it came down to it, he remembered Cho’s bright, eager expression and he found himself at his wardrobe on Saturday morning, trying to pick out an outfit. Then he realised than any clothes he did wear would end up ruined by Floo travel.
He wished he’d been to Mudford Sock before, and then he’d have been able to Apparate there. He’d always disliked travelling by Floo and, not only was it unpleasant on a personal level, but he didn’t want to turn up to a first date in motion-swept, sooty set of clothes.
Harry frowned and mentally rewound, stepping away from the phrase ‘first date’. That was ludicrous of course. He was just going to catch up with an old friend. An old friend he’d fancied, yes, but he’d hardly call her an ex. They’d had one abortive date... where they’d gone to a teashop for hot drinks, he seemed to recall.
He shook himself and pulled out a practical unglamorous set of clothes to wear and stomped his way to the fireplace he’d had to have added to his London flat. He lit the fire with a muttered spell, took some Floo powder from a dusty pot on the sill and, turning his head away from the blaze said;
“The Goblin’s Smithy!”
He stepped through the fire into an old-fashioned pub. An actually old-fashioned pub not an imitation of one Muggles often had. There were tapped wooden kegs and rows of dusty bottles on shelves behind a bar. Not a pump in sight. It was dim even for winter, the windows were tiny narrow slits and there were tapers burning here and there. The rafters were not low enough to give Harry a problem but anyone less vertically challenged would have had to try to not bump their head.
All in all, it was quite a pleasure to brush himself off and head out of the door into the afternoon sun. Mudford Park stretched out below him. It was in a low valley and the hills around it with covered in tall trees. Half of which were completely bare of leaves now that winter was coming. The other half were ever-green pine trees so there was not only some natural cover to work with but the Ministry had enchanted them further with Muggle repelling charms, meaning any Muggle looking that direction saw thick overcast clouds and not a couple of dozen witches and wizards on broomsticks.
Harry looked around and didn’t see anyone. He looked up and saw the fliers zooming about. There were fliers of all ages and experiences from the teenage wizard wobbling back and forth at low altitude to a trio of silver haired witches who seemed to be playing a high speed game of aerial tag.
What struck Harry was the look of excitement and fun the point of giddiness plastered on every flier’s face. He glowered.
One particular witch was whooping in enjoyment, black hair streaming out behind her as she seemed to dance through the sky in a particularly spectacular series of loops and barrel rolls. Harry’s gaze sharpened as the figure took one last swooping turn and came to a landing a score of paces away from him.
Cho shouldered her broom and sauntered towards him, though not entirely in a straight line.
“Harry!” she said. “You’re early.”
Harry resisted the urge to look at his watch.
“You said there wasn’t going to be any flying,” he said mulishly.
“No, I didn’t,” Cho replied. “I said you didn’t have to fly. I happened to enjoy it. So I thought I’d pass the time before you arrived getting in some practise before my class tomorrow.”
“Class?”
“I don’t just sell brooms at the shop, Harry. I do flight lessons on the side.”
“Oh, that’s cool.”
“Thanks.” She smiled.
“I’m still not flying though,” Harry continued bluntly.
“That’s a shame.” She stopped smiling.
“And I don’t appreciate you pressuring me into it.”
“Pressuring, I’m not press-” Harry cut over her.
“Of course you are. Dragging me out here. Oh look, Harry, at all the fliers. Aren’t they having fun? Why aren’t you flying too?”
“Well, I don’t know when you decided you weren’t allowed any fun,” Cho said tightly.
“I decided?” Harry growled, dangerously. “I decided? I never decided. The whole bloody world decided for me. No fun for you. No flying. No, you just sit there and have things try to kill you all year long. No time for games, there are people who going to die in front of your face instead. Dumbledore! Sirius! Cedric!”
His jaw clamped shut and shut off his rant there. What an idiot, bringing him up. That was a sure fire way to set off a flood of tears. Had he learnt absolutely nothing in ten years?
But there was no explosion from Cho; he risked a quick glance at her face. She didn’t look happy, her face was a strange mixture of anger and concern and yet there not a hint of tears. He thought back to their recent meetings; they had disagreed but she had never escalated things, remained calm and reasonable.
She’d grown up, he realised. Have I not? Harry thought.
“Sorry,” he apologised.
“Don’t be,” Cho said. “I’ve already forgiven you. You had it tough, Harry, no one’s ever denied that but that’s no reason to deny yourself things.”
“I... It just never seemed the same. After... after he came back. Flying seemed less important. Sure, Umbridge kicked me off the team the next year. But I was Captain my last year and yet it hardly seem to matter. I skipped practises, matches even, chasing down Malfoy. Then after it was over, I just seemed to drift into Auror work. I was so used to fighting, there didn’t seem to be anything else. And I am good at it you know. ”
“You were a good flier as well. Still are, I bet.” Cho said quietly, proffering her broom, a Comet, to him. Harry stared at it.
“I rather doubt it,” he said.
“Show me.”
Harry took the broom from her, just to get it over and done with. The Comet felt like a dead stick even as he walked away from her couple of places and threw a leg over it. He clutched to it tightly. The ground was soft under foot; it had probably rained the night before. Uncertain with his footing Harry kicked off far too hard and shoot up into the air, five, ten, twenty feet before he realised it.
Sounds of a long finished battle echoed in Harry’s ears, the leathery flap of Thestrals’ wings, the roar of a motorbike engine belching dragonfire and the panicked hoots of a snowy owl. The broom in his hand was worse than dead, it seemed to shake and twist in his grip.
Harry pushed the handle down and shot down towards the ground again. He landed hard, staggering, only the soft mud cushioning his landing stopped him going head over heels entirely and twisting an ankle or breaking a wrist.
Shakily, he straightened up and extracted the broom from between his legs.
“See?” he said to Cho, who just looked back thoughtfully.
“I think you’re just out of practise.”
Harry snorted. “It’s more than that.”
“It is not. You just need to correct your grip a bit, that’s all.”
“My grip is perfect, thank you,” Harry said automatically.
“Show me then.”
Harry moved back into a flying position just because it seemed simpler to do it than continue arguing.
“Ah! See all wrong,” Cho said more to herself than him and reached out to make adjustments. The soft warmth of her fingertips brushed against the back of his, moving his grip into to what she considered a ‘proper’ grip. But for every change she made to one hand, she became dissatisfied with the other. Until with a noise of frustration she hoisted herself over the broom behind him.
“Hey, what are you...” Harry started.
Cho’s hands flowed down the lines of his arms and settled over his own on the grip, peering down over his shoulder to see. His hands shifted under hers, moulding to her way of holding the broomstick.
“There we go,” Cho said softly. The position she was in meant her mouth was very close to the back of his ear. He felt the warmth of her breath. “Perfect.”
“That’s exactly like it was before,” Harry complained.
“No, it is not.”
“It’s not going to help.”
“Harry... we’ve been off the ground for the last ten seconds.”
Harry looked down. They were five... six... seven feet off the ground. He let out a cry and the broomstick wobbled and swerved dangerously.
Cho’s hands pressed down on his just slightly harder and their flight stabilised and ever-so-slowly so did Harry’s breathing.
“Easy now. Gently now. That’s the key.”
They drifted through the sky at barely above head height. Cho’s gentle pressure on the handle directed them left and right and incredibly gradually she increased their altitude until the faces of the people below became mere flesh-coloured pinpricks.
“Enjoying the view?” Harry asked.
“There’s more to enjoy up here than the view.” She took her arms off of the broom and wrapped them around Harry’s waist instead, clinging tightly to his back.
They dived about three feet, picking up speed before Harry realised he was in control of their flight. He pulled up but the speed remained. The wind whipped though their hair, washing over his face. Cho cried out behind him, and he leant forward slightly picking up even more speed.
They turned in a great lap around the edge of the park and Harry felt something amazing: the wind was not only blowing away his hair but his fears and anxieties as well. The broom responded to his lightest touch and they zig-zagged back the way they’d came. Harry was overcome by a feeling of exhilaration, of freedom, like he was where he was meant to be.
He dived in a tight spiralling descent, laughing and Cho laughed as well, but then he pulled up to land with safe precision. Even as they disentangled themselves from the stick, Harry still felt like he was flying. Felt giddy with adrenaline. Giddy enough to pull Cho into his arms and kiss her on the lips.
Harry was tensing for the inevitable slap, when Cho’s arms snaked their away around his neck and her body pressed against his. Her lips were ridiculously soft, her breath was sweet and her dark eyes fluttered closed with contentment.
When they separated, Harry realised Cho was on her tiptoes. She settled down to her feet again but didn’t retreat. She looked up at him, eyes bright.
“Forget coffee,” she said, breathlessly. “Dinner, my house, tonight.”
-*
The rest of the day passed in a bit of a blur for Harry. Even later, he couldn’t account for how he’d spent it. He must have gone home, because he’d found a new outfit from somewhere and been shopping because he’d turned up with wine and flowers. He assumed Cho must have been picking out a dress and getting something to cook. They both knew exactly where this evening was going to take them, but it seemed the formalities had to be obeyed.
Harry only really snapped out of it when they were finishing their absolutely delicious dinner.
“No dessert?” he asked.
“I think you know exactly what you’re having for dessert,” Cho teased, advancing on him around the table.
“Oh Cho,” Harry said with a wince. “That’s such a terrible line.”
“A line, huh? You think I’m trying to seduce you?” She was very close now. Harry could count her eyelashes if he cared to.
“I think you already did this afternoon.”
Harry tilted his head upwards and pressed his lips to Cho’s. It was a longer, lingering kiss. Cho’s fingers trailed lightly through Harry’s hair as she sucked gently on his lips.
Cho lived in a cottage. It was small and cosy but it was remarkable how long it took them to traverse their way out of the kitchen, up one narrow, steep flight of stairs to her bedroom. Their progress was impeded by their complete inability to take their hands or lips off of each other.
By the time they tumbled into Cho’s bed, their shoes have vanished, Harry’s shirt had several buttons undone and was half untucked, and one shoulder of Cho’s dress was dangling by her elbow and her round breasts were threatening to spill out of it.
Harry lay flat on his back in her bed with Cho half on top of him as they snogged, one of her hands wandering vaguely over his chest in search for buttons. Harry groaned when her lips left his and whimpered when they attached themselves under his jaw line. Cho sucked on his neck and worked her way downwards, kissing at his chest and she pulled his shirt open.
Her tongue circled his nipple and Harry’s breath caught in his chest. Cho noticed and grinned as she moved to the other one and sucked on it. Harry squirmed as he felt it harden under her attentions.
“Didn’t you know you like that?” Cho teased. “What other sensitive spots do you have for me to learn?”
“I can think of one,” Harry said, arching his hips upwards slightly.
“Now there’s an idea.”
Cho straddled him. Her dress, not long to begin with, rode up so her knickers pressed against Harry’s bulging trouser front. He was probably kidding himself to think he could feel the wetness of it. She started to rock back and forth, grinding herself over him. She squirmed as if trying to find a comfortable seat but really rubbing her covered pussy all over his still clothed cock. If the sensation was maddening for Harry, that was nothing compared to what it seemed to do to Cho. Her breathing deepened, her face flushed. She leaned over Harry; her arms braced to either side of his chest.
To distract himself from the tension in his cock as much as anything, Harry reached up. His hands pulled down her dress to reveal perfect, round, swaying breasts topped with broad dark nipples that looked temptingly suckable. Harry cupped them, their smooth soft skin feeling superb in his grip. He played with them, fondling and squeezing them and working them in circles. Cho squealed when his fingers found the dark nipples.
“Easy now,” Harry reminded himself. “Gently now. That’s the key. Isn’t that right, Cho?”
Cho did not seem to want to take it easy or gently. Her pace picked up, her moans and whimpers seemed to get more and edge to them, her skin glistened in the lamp light. With a cry, Cho threw her head back and slumped down flat to Harry’s chest.
In the sudden stillness, Harry wrapped his arms around Cho.
“Shit,” Cho said, after a second. “That’s embarrassing.”
“Cho, did you just...”
“Yeah, and I didn’t even get your pants off first,” she said. “Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologise. That was hot.”
“That was terribly selfish of me.”
“Oh, nonsense. Maybe you just need more practise.”
Cho lifted her head up enough to give him A Look.
“You like doing that, don’t you?”
“I rather do.” Harry smiled at her. “Look. It’s not like we have to stop just because you came already. Come here.”
Harry cupped her face with his hands and kissed her again. Her lips were still wonderfully soft. He sucked on them awhile before bringing his tongue into play, deepening their kiss and toying and playing over hers until she grabbed his head and pulled him close.
He rolled them over so Cho was in her back and kissed her everywhere: on her forehead and cheeks and hair. He moved downwards to her neck and lower; fulfilling his early fantasy of sucking her breasts, his tongue swirling over her tits until they were shiny and hard and Cho squirmed and gasped in breathless pleasure.
They discarded the rest of their clothing, gently running their hands over each other’s bodies, peeling the cloth away. Cho groaned and wrapped her hand around his shaft, murmuring over his thickness.
“Is that going to be okay?” Harry worried.
“I think I’ll cope,” Cho shot back, managing a grin.
Their positions had reversed. Cho sprawled out across her bed with Harry kneeling between her spread legs, his cock in hand, pressed against her entrance, rubbing the head between her lips. It was as much a moment to try and regain some control for himself as to tease Cho. He failed. He saw her cunt spreading wide to wrap around his cock and he couldn’t help but slide it forward into her with a groan.
Cho was both tight and wet; slick and clinging. Harry’s body swung back and forth pushing and pulling his cock in and out of her. He would have been slow. He would have been gentle, he thought if not for the way she wrapped her limbs around him. One leg hoisted over his hip, the other crossed at his ankle. One arm clutched as his back pulling him down on top of her, with the other’s fingers dug into his bum urging him on.
“Oh fuck. Oh God. Harry,” she gasped, nuzzling at his neck.
Harry was even less coherent. He couldn’t get out more than scattered gasps and grunts. All that seemed to matter was the heat of her body, her ecstatic moans, and the tension brewing inside him until he was helpless to resist the urge to spill himself deep inside her.
They both panted for a while afterwards, curled up close together on top of Cho’s quilt. Exhausted afterglow and its hazy self-consciousness possibly slipped over into genuine sleep for Harry.
Next thing he knew, it was the small hours and Cho was shaking him awake, and asking, blushing and uncertain, whether he’d like another round.
“You have to ask?” Harry said with a sleepy chuckle.
“It seemed polite,” Cho said with answering smile, wrapping a hand about his shaft and starting a jacking motion.
When he was hard again, she moved to straddle him once more, this time facing away from him.
She rode him, her hips moving in slow sinuous motions as she lowered herself down so he was buried to the hilt in her. She tossed her head and rolled her hips, the combined effect of flowing black locks and wiggling round arse caused Harry to murmur his appreciation.
“Enjoying the view?” Cho asked, tossing a bright grin over her shoulder at him.
Harry only answered by placing his hand on her hips to urge her on. Her hips began to rise and fall more quickly, each drop punctuated by the wet noise of her body impacting his.
Cho came first that time as well but took it in her stride, wrapping her full lips around Harry’s cock and sucking eagerly to finish him off.
“I take it,” Harry said, not long afterward as she moved up alongside him, “you didn’t go to all this trouble just for this one night.”
“Oh no. I expect many more nights of this to come,” Cho said, resting her head on his shoulder.
Harry didn’t bother to hide his relief.
*
Christmas Day, several weeks later, found Harry lying in for a change. Morning light filtered through the gauzy window veils because Harry wasn’t sleeping in his own bed in his little London flat but instead the larger, softer bed in Cho’s country cottage.
Cho made a sleepy contented noise and shifted a bit. The glow was getting brighter quickly; Harry suspected it was not just the sun rising but a thick layer of snow reflecting the light as well.
They lay together on their sides, a spooning position they’d been in for most of the night, while sleeping and, Harry thought, smiling at the recollection, before that as well. They’d taken their time as well with Cho nestled in the curve of his body. His arm reaching around her to play with her clit while he slowly pushed into her from behind, her round arse pressed up against his hips.
His arm was still around her but, as she stirred into full wakefulness, it seemed that taking it was slow was not what Cho felt like this morning.
“Merry Christmas, Harry!” she said, throwing back the covers to Harry’s horror.
“Aagh!” he exclaimed as cold air washed over him. “That’s nippy, Cho, why don’t you come back and warm me up?”
“None of that now, Harry,” Cho said, in tones of mock severity. Though Harry noticed she wasted no time in wrapping herself in up a thick fluffy dressing down. “Come along.”
She rummaged around in ‘his’ draw in her dresser and threw some clothes at him. He almost had as many of his things in her place as she did at his. Whenever one of them officially moved in with the other there was going to be a hell of a mess to sort out.
Harry pulled on his clothing, and lost no time in fetching extra clothing from the drawer, pulling on a very worn, very comfortable Weasley jumper and following her downstairs.
Seeing the tree he’d got Cho again, Harry was inclined to admit he might have overdone it a bit. It was at least six foot tall and the golden star on top was an angle as it pressed against the ceiling, the wide branches at the bottom dropped low enough to brush the thick carpet, they were so heavy with tinsel and baubles.
The presents they’d received were arranged around it. Harry worried about them. He didn’t think it was possible to overdo that. He’d got her some silver jewellery, some perfume and quite a lot of books. Size-wise they were nothing compared to what Cho seemed to have got him. A long thin package dominated the display.
Harry’s mouth had gone numb as he gazed at it.
“I-is that what I think it is?”
“I hope it’s okay.” Cho blushed, and fiddled with a strand of black hair. “It’s nothing new or expensive or anything.”
Harry’s hands trembled as he undid the package. He didn’t tear at the paper as he sometimes did. Instead he carefully peeled off the Spellotape, holding back the moment. He unfolded the paper and the object rolled out of its confines and hung in the air, a foot from the ground.
As Cho has said, it wasn’t a new broom. It was not a Blue Thunder or a Cleansweep or any kind of Comet. It wasn’t even a Firebolt.
It was a Nimbus 2000.
Looking as sleek and trim and perfect as his had on the very day he’d got it as it lay on the Gryffindor House table in his first year. He reached out and touched the sleek mahogany handle. The broom quivered and felt warm to the touch.
Harry smiled down upon it, he felt... felt young again. Eyes gleaming he turned to Cho, but words failed him.
Cho smiled back. She understood.
Title: Aviophobia
Rating: Nc-17
Characters & Pairings: Harry/Cho
Word Count: ~6K
Content: Mild angst. Some Fluff. Sex.
Disclaimer: The characters, settings and HP Franchise as a whole are owned by JKR and not by me. I make no profit from writing this piece of fanfiction.
Summary: Or How Harry Stopped Worrying And Learned To Love The Broom
A/n:Written for
mayorhaggar for smutty_claus I Hope you didn't mind me writing for you again MH!-
The excitement of the crowd was palpable, even to Harry Potter who was skulking at the very top of the Quidditch stadium. The shouts, the cheers, groans and waving of hands and the emotion, rolling about the sports field like a thundercloud, Harry remembered what that had been like back when he’d been a player himself, back when he’d been young.
It was quite different being in the stands of course, but nevertheless it was still a very intense experience. The Tutshill Tornados, their sky blue robes just visible against the greyish late autumn sky, zoomed about easily evading Bludgers and the less agile Appleby Arrows’ players. They were doing well, their Chasers had scored several times in last quarter of an hour despite some very good work from the Appleby Beaters, not well enough of course, that they could afford to for the Arrows to catch the Snitch but then that was a very rare event in Quidditch.
Still, the game should be good, Harry thought, after all he’d had to fork over a handful of silver for tickets, even after trading in his Harpies’ season ticket. It was certainly lasting a long time; if one of the Seekers didn’t pull their act together soon it would be dark and they’d likely play through the night.
Harry frowned, if that happened he’d have to miss the end: he was on duty with the Aurors tonight. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d walked out of something to go on shift though, and even as the thought bubbled to the forefront of his mind, the two Seekers went into a tremendous dive, the Appleby Seeker pulled up, far too soon in Harry’s opinion, the Tornado’s player did not and plucked the Snitch from the air and avoided slamming into the ground by the narrowest of narrow margins.
Just like that the match was over. The noise from the crowd wavered and fell quiet as they registered the Arrows’ sudden victory. The stillness spread out from the pitch as if there was an actual wave of disappointment, miffedness and slight anticlimax washing over them.
The noise slowly picked up again as the players traipsed off the field but it was only the regular hustle and bustle of a large crowd of people heading for the exit. Harry didn’t move from his position high up in the stadium, and despite long practise as a law-enforcement official, he shifted and fidgeted as he waited. His hand moved to his head and tugged the baseball cap he was wearing more firmly down over his head as the nails of his other hand scratched at a couple of day’s worth of stubble that just getting the annoyingly itchy part of beard-growth.
Not everyone had left when Harry ran out of patience and headed for the exit. In fact, he started moving at quite a clip. He had work to do after all, he couldn’t lounge around having fun, and his disguise was quite sufficient to keep attention off of him until he went out of the door.
His mind when to his case load, which was ever increasing and the various leads, clues and dead ends he had to sort through-
“Harry?” A voice broke through his reveries and brought him crashing back to reality.
Harry turned his head to see an Asian woman a head shorter than he was approaching him with an uncertain smile on her face. He felt a slight jolt in the region of his stomach that he didn’t think had anything to do with nerves as he realised he recognised her.
“Cho!” He said, surprise in his voice. “It’s been a while. How’d you recognise me?”
Cho Chang’s delicate eyebrows descended into a frown. Then her dark eyes flickered over him, taking in the cap pulled low to hide his mop of untidy hair, the bristle of stubble concealing his features and the brown contact lenses that had replaced his spectacles for the moment.
“Oh, you’re in disguise!” Cho exclaimed. “I didn’t even notice.”
“Huh.” Harry grunted. “Great. And I thought I passed Concealment and Disguise for Auror Training.”
They both set off towards the exit at a more measured pace still talking.
“Well, I always wondered how you liked being Auror,” Cho said. “I mean, we all thought you’d end up here.”
“Here?” Harry glanced about, confused.
“Not here precisely. Just... I thought you’d have flown professionally. You know played Quidditch for a living.”
“Oh, no. I couldn’t do that,” Harry said firmly. Cho looked taken aback.
“No, need be modest, Harry,” she said. “I remember how well you flew.”
The sound of a roaring motorbike filled Harry’s ears. The sight of a spell-strewn sky leapt to mind. Him clutching at a rucksack as his Firebolt spun away from him, falling to shatter on the streets far below. He blinked and swallowed back the thought.
“I lost my broomstick, ages ago,” he said thickly.
Cho looked confused, as if this shouldn’t be a problem.
“Can’t fly without a broomstick,” Harry said. Thankfully they had reached the front doors. “It was nice meeting you again, Cho. We’ll have to catch up properly some time soon. But I really have to go. Work, you know?”
Cho smiled uncertainly again and nodded.
“Of course, Harry. See you around then.”
Harry Disapparated and reappeared in front of the Auror office. He hurried inside and blamed the strange feeling in his stomach and the odd restless energy that filled him up on his work worries.
--
It was a few days later that he saw Cho again. At the time he hadn’t thought much about their previous conversation and, anyway, he was late for work. He hardly had the boundless energy of youth anymore and hit the snooze button on his alarm one too many times.
He hurried through Diagon Alley, and he made quick progress as everyone seemed to be very eager to stay out of his way, perhaps his very dark, grumpy expression had something to do with it, he thought. He took a shorter route to work than normal and was just passing by Quality Quidditch Supplies when for the second time in as many weeks he heard a voice calling his name.
“Harry!”
Cho darted out of the shop doorway, smiling warmly. Harry felt a genuine smile crease across his face in response. Just seeing a friendly face seemed to do him a world of good.
“Hi Cho, how nice to you see you again,” he said airily.
“You too,” she replied, “feels like ran into you just the other day.”
“Other week perhaps.”
“You keeping count?” Cho raised an eyebrow. “Maybe running into each other like this isn’t such a coincidence?”
Harry chuckled for the first time in weeks.
“If only,” he said without thinking and glanced away with sudden embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I’ve really got to go I’m...”
“Work?”
“Yeah, yes... sorry,” Harry trailed away.
“No problem,” Cho said, though she looked glum for a second before her face lit up. “But still I’ve got a present for you, Harry. Latest issue, we just got it... Hang on.”
She popped back inside the shop and game out clutching a glossy magazine. Harry took it before looking at the cover and only saw the title when it was in his possession. He looked up at Cho, confused.
“Which Broomstick??” he asked.
“Well last time, you’d said you’d lost your broomstick. That’ll help you pick out a new one.”
“I’m not looking for a new one.”
“Don’t be silly, Harry.”
“I’m not!” Harry growled. Cho blinked. “Flying... Flying’s a game for the young.”
“What are you saying? That you’re not ‘young’?” Cho said, frowning.
“Yes,” Harry said flatly. Cho glared.
“Right. Fine. Right. Well, you’re not the only one with work to get to.”
She headed back into the Quidditch shop and slammed the door. The incongruently cheerful sound of its bell jangled for quite some time while Harry stood on the street, the magazine still clutched in one hand.
It remained there all the way to work. Then, safely ensconced in his office, Harry took one look at the magazine and dumped it straight in the bin. Harry did his best to ignore it and ignore the shocked, betrayed expressions of the photographic people on the cover. And then he threw himself into the paper work of his job. Into reading reports and approving plans, of reviewing evidence photos and witness statements, of balancing budgets and authorising his juniors‘ holidays.
He avoided looking at his wastepaper basket. Just dropping crumpled up paper in its general location. Perhaps owing to this hap-handedness the periodical was not covered up as quickly as it might otherwise have been. One brightly coloured corner of the glossy protruded and caught Harry’s eye whenever he was obligated to look in that general direction.
A strange niggling feeling came over Harry; he was entirely sure had no interest in Which Broomstick? and yet he still felt guilty. As he had been behaving badly or childishly after all the magazine had been a gift and of course Cho had been well meaning. And she was so easy to upset. He should have been nicer...
Harry heaved a great sigh and pulled the magazine out of the bin just before he went to lunch. Leaving it flattened down on a rare empty portion of his desk. (To the visible relief of the people on the cover.)
Taking a moment’s break after lunch, Harry thoughtlessly picked up the magazine and started to flick through it, learning that the Firebolt had become the old faithful broom the second tier teams still used while those on the cutting edge of Quidditch used the Comet One or something called a Blue Thunder. Harry snorted in derision and spent the rest of the afternoon piling file folders on the magazine.
By the end of the day, only the edge was visible to annoy Harry. He extracted Which Broomstick? from underneath his files, the cover people now shaking their fists at him and resolved himself. He was just going to have to return this to Cho. Well-meaning it may have been but it was far too distracting.
When Cho closed up shop, Harry was waiting for her and fidgeting as he leant on the lamppost outside her door.
“Err... Hi,” he said.
“Hello,” she replied, stiffly.
“I feel like I owe you an apology.” Though I’m not sure why.
“That’s not the same as actually saying sorry.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, proffering the magazine. “Here. Thanks for thinking of me but I’d rather you had it.”
“You don’t have to give it back,” Cho said quietly. “If you didn’t want it. You could have just passed it on or thrown it away.”
“But it was a gift!”
Cho looked touched despite herself, her hand moving to brush her long dark hair away from her face.
“Well, I can’t take it back now. I’ve already logged it as being taken in my stock counts. It’d be all wrong and the supervisor wouldn’t like it. You’d be doing me a favour if you kept it.”
Harry’s investigative instincts noted the change in tone of the conversation, until they got distracted by Cho’s large dark eyes, her soulful expression. They had just time to say ‘she’s batting her eyelids for goodness sake’ before they shut down.
“Well... I... okay then,” Harry said, off guard.
“And to thank you maybe I could buy you a hot drink this weekend,” Cho pushed her advantage. “I know a lovely little place near the park in Mudford Sock. ”
“In where?” Harry spluttered before the name connected. It was a Muggle hamlet and (unbeknownst to the Muggle occupants) a Wizard Village. The Park was famed for its high trees especially valued for...
“This wouldn’t be anything to do with the Ministry-approved flying area there would it?” he continued.
“Now Harry! I’m shocked. You’ve made your feelings clear,” Cho said, her eyes gleaming and her voice playful. “No, no flying for you. Just delicious rich hot cocoa.”
“Well, okay then,” he said stubbornly.
“Okay then,” Cho echoed. “Two o’clock. Get the Floo to The Goblin’s Smithy and I’ll meet you outside.”
Smiling, she turned on her heels and vanished.
“Wait...” Harry said, after a second, to the thin air. “What just happened?”
---
Even up to the day itself, Harry wasn’t sure if he was actually going to attend his meeting with Cho. He dithered and dallied and changed his mind at least three times a day. But when it came down to it, he remembered Cho’s bright, eager expression and he found himself at his wardrobe on Saturday morning, trying to pick out an outfit. Then he realised than any clothes he did wear would end up ruined by Floo travel.
He wished he’d been to Mudford Sock before, and then he’d have been able to Apparate there. He’d always disliked travelling by Floo and, not only was it unpleasant on a personal level, but he didn’t want to turn up to a first date in motion-swept, sooty set of clothes.
Harry frowned and mentally rewound, stepping away from the phrase ‘first date’. That was ludicrous of course. He was just going to catch up with an old friend. An old friend he’d fancied, yes, but he’d hardly call her an ex. They’d had one abortive date... where they’d gone to a teashop for hot drinks, he seemed to recall.
He shook himself and pulled out a practical unglamorous set of clothes to wear and stomped his way to the fireplace he’d had to have added to his London flat. He lit the fire with a muttered spell, took some Floo powder from a dusty pot on the sill and, turning his head away from the blaze said;
“The Goblin’s Smithy!”
He stepped through the fire into an old-fashioned pub. An actually old-fashioned pub not an imitation of one Muggles often had. There were tapped wooden kegs and rows of dusty bottles on shelves behind a bar. Not a pump in sight. It was dim even for winter, the windows were tiny narrow slits and there were tapers burning here and there. The rafters were not low enough to give Harry a problem but anyone less vertically challenged would have had to try to not bump their head.
All in all, it was quite a pleasure to brush himself off and head out of the door into the afternoon sun. Mudford Park stretched out below him. It was in a low valley and the hills around it with covered in tall trees. Half of which were completely bare of leaves now that winter was coming. The other half were ever-green pine trees so there was not only some natural cover to work with but the Ministry had enchanted them further with Muggle repelling charms, meaning any Muggle looking that direction saw thick overcast clouds and not a couple of dozen witches and wizards on broomsticks.
Harry looked around and didn’t see anyone. He looked up and saw the fliers zooming about. There were fliers of all ages and experiences from the teenage wizard wobbling back and forth at low altitude to a trio of silver haired witches who seemed to be playing a high speed game of aerial tag.
What struck Harry was the look of excitement and fun the point of giddiness plastered on every flier’s face. He glowered.
One particular witch was whooping in enjoyment, black hair streaming out behind her as she seemed to dance through the sky in a particularly spectacular series of loops and barrel rolls. Harry’s gaze sharpened as the figure took one last swooping turn and came to a landing a score of paces away from him.
Cho shouldered her broom and sauntered towards him, though not entirely in a straight line.
“Harry!” she said. “You’re early.”
Harry resisted the urge to look at his watch.
“You said there wasn’t going to be any flying,” he said mulishly.
“No, I didn’t,” Cho replied. “I said you didn’t have to fly. I happened to enjoy it. So I thought I’d pass the time before you arrived getting in some practise before my class tomorrow.”
“Class?”
“I don’t just sell brooms at the shop, Harry. I do flight lessons on the side.”
“Oh, that’s cool.”
“Thanks.” She smiled.
“I’m still not flying though,” Harry continued bluntly.
“That’s a shame.” She stopped smiling.
“And I don’t appreciate you pressuring me into it.”
“Pressuring, I’m not press-” Harry cut over her.
“Of course you are. Dragging me out here. Oh look, Harry, at all the fliers. Aren’t they having fun? Why aren’t you flying too?”
“Well, I don’t know when you decided you weren’t allowed any fun,” Cho said tightly.
“I decided?” Harry growled, dangerously. “I decided? I never decided. The whole bloody world decided for me. No fun for you. No flying. No, you just sit there and have things try to kill you all year long. No time for games, there are people who going to die in front of your face instead. Dumbledore! Sirius! Cedric!”
His jaw clamped shut and shut off his rant there. What an idiot, bringing him up. That was a sure fire way to set off a flood of tears. Had he learnt absolutely nothing in ten years?
But there was no explosion from Cho; he risked a quick glance at her face. She didn’t look happy, her face was a strange mixture of anger and concern and yet there not a hint of tears. He thought back to their recent meetings; they had disagreed but she had never escalated things, remained calm and reasonable.
She’d grown up, he realised. Have I not? Harry thought.
“Sorry,” he apologised.
“Don’t be,” Cho said. “I’ve already forgiven you. You had it tough, Harry, no one’s ever denied that but that’s no reason to deny yourself things.”
“I... It just never seemed the same. After... after he came back. Flying seemed less important. Sure, Umbridge kicked me off the team the next year. But I was Captain my last year and yet it hardly seem to matter. I skipped practises, matches even, chasing down Malfoy. Then after it was over, I just seemed to drift into Auror work. I was so used to fighting, there didn’t seem to be anything else. And I am good at it you know. ”
“You were a good flier as well. Still are, I bet.” Cho said quietly, proffering her broom, a Comet, to him. Harry stared at it.
“I rather doubt it,” he said.
“Show me.”
Harry took the broom from her, just to get it over and done with. The Comet felt like a dead stick even as he walked away from her couple of places and threw a leg over it. He clutched to it tightly. The ground was soft under foot; it had probably rained the night before. Uncertain with his footing Harry kicked off far too hard and shoot up into the air, five, ten, twenty feet before he realised it.
Sounds of a long finished battle echoed in Harry’s ears, the leathery flap of Thestrals’ wings, the roar of a motorbike engine belching dragonfire and the panicked hoots of a snowy owl. The broom in his hand was worse than dead, it seemed to shake and twist in his grip.
Harry pushed the handle down and shot down towards the ground again. He landed hard, staggering, only the soft mud cushioning his landing stopped him going head over heels entirely and twisting an ankle or breaking a wrist.
Shakily, he straightened up and extracted the broom from between his legs.
“See?” he said to Cho, who just looked back thoughtfully.
“I think you’re just out of practise.”
Harry snorted. “It’s more than that.”
“It is not. You just need to correct your grip a bit, that’s all.”
“My grip is perfect, thank you,” Harry said automatically.
“Show me then.”
Harry moved back into a flying position just because it seemed simpler to do it than continue arguing.
“Ah! See all wrong,” Cho said more to herself than him and reached out to make adjustments. The soft warmth of her fingertips brushed against the back of his, moving his grip into to what she considered a ‘proper’ grip. But for every change she made to one hand, she became dissatisfied with the other. Until with a noise of frustration she hoisted herself over the broom behind him.
“Hey, what are you...” Harry started.
Cho’s hands flowed down the lines of his arms and settled over his own on the grip, peering down over his shoulder to see. His hands shifted under hers, moulding to her way of holding the broomstick.
“There we go,” Cho said softly. The position she was in meant her mouth was very close to the back of his ear. He felt the warmth of her breath. “Perfect.”
“That’s exactly like it was before,” Harry complained.
“No, it is not.”
“It’s not going to help.”
“Harry... we’ve been off the ground for the last ten seconds.”
Harry looked down. They were five... six... seven feet off the ground. He let out a cry and the broomstick wobbled and swerved dangerously.
Cho’s hands pressed down on his just slightly harder and their flight stabilised and ever-so-slowly so did Harry’s breathing.
“Easy now. Gently now. That’s the key.”
They drifted through the sky at barely above head height. Cho’s gentle pressure on the handle directed them left and right and incredibly gradually she increased their altitude until the faces of the people below became mere flesh-coloured pinpricks.
“Enjoying the view?” Harry asked.
“There’s more to enjoy up here than the view.” She took her arms off of the broom and wrapped them around Harry’s waist instead, clinging tightly to his back.
They dived about three feet, picking up speed before Harry realised he was in control of their flight. He pulled up but the speed remained. The wind whipped though their hair, washing over his face. Cho cried out behind him, and he leant forward slightly picking up even more speed.
They turned in a great lap around the edge of the park and Harry felt something amazing: the wind was not only blowing away his hair but his fears and anxieties as well. The broom responded to his lightest touch and they zig-zagged back the way they’d came. Harry was overcome by a feeling of exhilaration, of freedom, like he was where he was meant to be.
He dived in a tight spiralling descent, laughing and Cho laughed as well, but then he pulled up to land with safe precision. Even as they disentangled themselves from the stick, Harry still felt like he was flying. Felt giddy with adrenaline. Giddy enough to pull Cho into his arms and kiss her on the lips.
Harry was tensing for the inevitable slap, when Cho’s arms snaked their away around his neck and her body pressed against his. Her lips were ridiculously soft, her breath was sweet and her dark eyes fluttered closed with contentment.
When they separated, Harry realised Cho was on her tiptoes. She settled down to her feet again but didn’t retreat. She looked up at him, eyes bright.
“Forget coffee,” she said, breathlessly. “Dinner, my house, tonight.”
-*
The rest of the day passed in a bit of a blur for Harry. Even later, he couldn’t account for how he’d spent it. He must have gone home, because he’d found a new outfit from somewhere and been shopping because he’d turned up with wine and flowers. He assumed Cho must have been picking out a dress and getting something to cook. They both knew exactly where this evening was going to take them, but it seemed the formalities had to be obeyed.
Harry only really snapped out of it when they were finishing their absolutely delicious dinner.
“No dessert?” he asked.
“I think you know exactly what you’re having for dessert,” Cho teased, advancing on him around the table.
“Oh Cho,” Harry said with a wince. “That’s such a terrible line.”
“A line, huh? You think I’m trying to seduce you?” She was very close now. Harry could count her eyelashes if he cared to.
“I think you already did this afternoon.”
Harry tilted his head upwards and pressed his lips to Cho’s. It was a longer, lingering kiss. Cho’s fingers trailed lightly through Harry’s hair as she sucked gently on his lips.
Cho lived in a cottage. It was small and cosy but it was remarkable how long it took them to traverse their way out of the kitchen, up one narrow, steep flight of stairs to her bedroom. Their progress was impeded by their complete inability to take their hands or lips off of each other.
By the time they tumbled into Cho’s bed, their shoes have vanished, Harry’s shirt had several buttons undone and was half untucked, and one shoulder of Cho’s dress was dangling by her elbow and her round breasts were threatening to spill out of it.
Harry lay flat on his back in her bed with Cho half on top of him as they snogged, one of her hands wandering vaguely over his chest in search for buttons. Harry groaned when her lips left his and whimpered when they attached themselves under his jaw line. Cho sucked on his neck and worked her way downwards, kissing at his chest and she pulled his shirt open.
Her tongue circled his nipple and Harry’s breath caught in his chest. Cho noticed and grinned as she moved to the other one and sucked on it. Harry squirmed as he felt it harden under her attentions.
“Didn’t you know you like that?” Cho teased. “What other sensitive spots do you have for me to learn?”
“I can think of one,” Harry said, arching his hips upwards slightly.
“Now there’s an idea.”
Cho straddled him. Her dress, not long to begin with, rode up so her knickers pressed against Harry’s bulging trouser front. He was probably kidding himself to think he could feel the wetness of it. She started to rock back and forth, grinding herself over him. She squirmed as if trying to find a comfortable seat but really rubbing her covered pussy all over his still clothed cock. If the sensation was maddening for Harry, that was nothing compared to what it seemed to do to Cho. Her breathing deepened, her face flushed. She leaned over Harry; her arms braced to either side of his chest.
To distract himself from the tension in his cock as much as anything, Harry reached up. His hands pulled down her dress to reveal perfect, round, swaying breasts topped with broad dark nipples that looked temptingly suckable. Harry cupped them, their smooth soft skin feeling superb in his grip. He played with them, fondling and squeezing them and working them in circles. Cho squealed when his fingers found the dark nipples.
“Easy now,” Harry reminded himself. “Gently now. That’s the key. Isn’t that right, Cho?”
Cho did not seem to want to take it easy or gently. Her pace picked up, her moans and whimpers seemed to get more and edge to them, her skin glistened in the lamp light. With a cry, Cho threw her head back and slumped down flat to Harry’s chest.
In the sudden stillness, Harry wrapped his arms around Cho.
“Shit,” Cho said, after a second. “That’s embarrassing.”
“Cho, did you just...”
“Yeah, and I didn’t even get your pants off first,” she said. “Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologise. That was hot.”
“That was terribly selfish of me.”
“Oh, nonsense. Maybe you just need more practise.”
Cho lifted her head up enough to give him A Look.
“You like doing that, don’t you?”
“I rather do.” Harry smiled at her. “Look. It’s not like we have to stop just because you came already. Come here.”
Harry cupped her face with his hands and kissed her again. Her lips were still wonderfully soft. He sucked on them awhile before bringing his tongue into play, deepening their kiss and toying and playing over hers until she grabbed his head and pulled him close.
He rolled them over so Cho was in her back and kissed her everywhere: on her forehead and cheeks and hair. He moved downwards to her neck and lower; fulfilling his early fantasy of sucking her breasts, his tongue swirling over her tits until they were shiny and hard and Cho squirmed and gasped in breathless pleasure.
They discarded the rest of their clothing, gently running their hands over each other’s bodies, peeling the cloth away. Cho groaned and wrapped her hand around his shaft, murmuring over his thickness.
“Is that going to be okay?” Harry worried.
“I think I’ll cope,” Cho shot back, managing a grin.
Their positions had reversed. Cho sprawled out across her bed with Harry kneeling between her spread legs, his cock in hand, pressed against her entrance, rubbing the head between her lips. It was as much a moment to try and regain some control for himself as to tease Cho. He failed. He saw her cunt spreading wide to wrap around his cock and he couldn’t help but slide it forward into her with a groan.
Cho was both tight and wet; slick and clinging. Harry’s body swung back and forth pushing and pulling his cock in and out of her. He would have been slow. He would have been gentle, he thought if not for the way she wrapped her limbs around him. One leg hoisted over his hip, the other crossed at his ankle. One arm clutched as his back pulling him down on top of her, with the other’s fingers dug into his bum urging him on.
“Oh fuck. Oh God. Harry,” she gasped, nuzzling at his neck.
Harry was even less coherent. He couldn’t get out more than scattered gasps and grunts. All that seemed to matter was the heat of her body, her ecstatic moans, and the tension brewing inside him until he was helpless to resist the urge to spill himself deep inside her.
They both panted for a while afterwards, curled up close together on top of Cho’s quilt. Exhausted afterglow and its hazy self-consciousness possibly slipped over into genuine sleep for Harry.
Next thing he knew, it was the small hours and Cho was shaking him awake, and asking, blushing and uncertain, whether he’d like another round.
“You have to ask?” Harry said with a sleepy chuckle.
“It seemed polite,” Cho said with answering smile, wrapping a hand about his shaft and starting a jacking motion.
When he was hard again, she moved to straddle him once more, this time facing away from him.
She rode him, her hips moving in slow sinuous motions as she lowered herself down so he was buried to the hilt in her. She tossed her head and rolled her hips, the combined effect of flowing black locks and wiggling round arse caused Harry to murmur his appreciation.
“Enjoying the view?” Cho asked, tossing a bright grin over her shoulder at him.
Harry only answered by placing his hand on her hips to urge her on. Her hips began to rise and fall more quickly, each drop punctuated by the wet noise of her body impacting his.
Cho came first that time as well but took it in her stride, wrapping her full lips around Harry’s cock and sucking eagerly to finish him off.
“I take it,” Harry said, not long afterward as she moved up alongside him, “you didn’t go to all this trouble just for this one night.”
“Oh no. I expect many more nights of this to come,” Cho said, resting her head on his shoulder.
Harry didn’t bother to hide his relief.
*
Christmas Day, several weeks later, found Harry lying in for a change. Morning light filtered through the gauzy window veils because Harry wasn’t sleeping in his own bed in his little London flat but instead the larger, softer bed in Cho’s country cottage.
Cho made a sleepy contented noise and shifted a bit. The glow was getting brighter quickly; Harry suspected it was not just the sun rising but a thick layer of snow reflecting the light as well.
They lay together on their sides, a spooning position they’d been in for most of the night, while sleeping and, Harry thought, smiling at the recollection, before that as well. They’d taken their time as well with Cho nestled in the curve of his body. His arm reaching around her to play with her clit while he slowly pushed into her from behind, her round arse pressed up against his hips.
His arm was still around her but, as she stirred into full wakefulness, it seemed that taking it was slow was not what Cho felt like this morning.
“Merry Christmas, Harry!” she said, throwing back the covers to Harry’s horror.
“Aagh!” he exclaimed as cold air washed over him. “That’s nippy, Cho, why don’t you come back and warm me up?”
“None of that now, Harry,” Cho said, in tones of mock severity. Though Harry noticed she wasted no time in wrapping herself in up a thick fluffy dressing down. “Come along.”
She rummaged around in ‘his’ draw in her dresser and threw some clothes at him. He almost had as many of his things in her place as she did at his. Whenever one of them officially moved in with the other there was going to be a hell of a mess to sort out.
Harry pulled on his clothing, and lost no time in fetching extra clothing from the drawer, pulling on a very worn, very comfortable Weasley jumper and following her downstairs.
Seeing the tree he’d got Cho again, Harry was inclined to admit he might have overdone it a bit. It was at least six foot tall and the golden star on top was an angle as it pressed against the ceiling, the wide branches at the bottom dropped low enough to brush the thick carpet, they were so heavy with tinsel and baubles.
The presents they’d received were arranged around it. Harry worried about them. He didn’t think it was possible to overdo that. He’d got her some silver jewellery, some perfume and quite a lot of books. Size-wise they were nothing compared to what Cho seemed to have got him. A long thin package dominated the display.
Harry’s mouth had gone numb as he gazed at it.
“I-is that what I think it is?”
“I hope it’s okay.” Cho blushed, and fiddled with a strand of black hair. “It’s nothing new or expensive or anything.”
Harry’s hands trembled as he undid the package. He didn’t tear at the paper as he sometimes did. Instead he carefully peeled off the Spellotape, holding back the moment. He unfolded the paper and the object rolled out of its confines and hung in the air, a foot from the ground.
As Cho has said, it wasn’t a new broom. It was not a Blue Thunder or a Cleansweep or any kind of Comet. It wasn’t even a Firebolt.
It was a Nimbus 2000.
Looking as sleek and trim and perfect as his had on the very day he’d got it as it lay on the Gryffindor House table in his first year. He reached out and touched the sleek mahogany handle. The broom quivered and felt warm to the touch.
Harry smiled down upon it, he felt... felt young again. Eyes gleaming he turned to Cho, but words failed him.
Cho smiled back. She understood.
