Fic: Far From The Usual (Harry/Hannah)
Jan. 7th, 2019 09:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lightofdayeThe exact opposite of Snowflake's challenge to try something new. A repost of my fest fic.
Title:Far From The Usual
Pairing:Harry Potter/Hannah Abbot
Rating:NC-17
Length:6,143 words
Content: Sexual content, blowjob, workaholic-ism, mild angst.
Summary:In the run up to Christmas, Harry finds himself frequenting the Leaky Cauldron and getting to know it's new Landlady
Author's notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
flipflop_diva for 2018. Hopefully I fun look at a super-rare paring.
Night 1
Ever since he had first visited it on his eleventh birthday, Harry Potter had seen the Leaky Cauldron pub throughout every period and mood across the years, from that first time crowded with people exciting to see him, to oppressed and repressed in the middle of the war. He’d seen it empty and quiet and he’d seen it full and raucous and everything in between.
Right now, as Harry stamped the last of the snow from his boots and looked around the bar, he was seeing it under new management. Tom, the old barkeeper, had been, well, old and thus had hired in help for the last few years. Now it looked like Hannah Abbott was running the place.
It seemed to be running smoothly; it was neither as jolly as he had seen it as its height but nothing like as sombre as had been in the bad days. Harry’s brilliant green eyes scanned the room quickly, taking in the witches and wizards, an old battered warlock, and at one shadowed table, three goblins and a house-elf. They all looked contented and happy but not merry enough to cause trouble, and luckily none of them had appeared on any wanted poster he’d seen. His shoulders relaxed slightly and made his way towards the bar more confidently. It was a habit he’d gone into over his years with the Aurors; check everything, trust no-one and never let your guard down, even when you were on a night out with your friends.
“Oh my goodness,” said Hannah as she approached him, “Harry Potter, as I live and breathe.”
She smiled to see him, and Harry thought it was a real one. As a barmaid she probably had practised her smile a thousand times, but there was a light to her eyes and pinkness to her cheeks that convinced Harry she was genuine.
Harry felt a prickling of guilt, he was probably being quite unfair. Hannah wasn’t the sort of person to make money off her sex appeal, not that she couldn’t if she didn’t want to, being blonde and quite curvaceous but hair that he remembered in pigtails was now pulled back out of the way into a low messy ponytail and she wore a loose plaid patterned shirt over a tighter top.
“What can I get you then, Harry?” Hannah said after a second, jerking Harry out of his reverie.
“The usual please, Hannah,” Harry replied gruffly to cover up his momentary confusion.
“The usual?” Hannah laughed. “You don’t have a usual, Harry.”
“Well, no, but I’m hoping to acquire one this evening,” Harry said lightly hoping to offset his earlier grumpiness. “Anyway, Ron’s coming and I’d like him to think I still have a life beyond work, even if it’s just a regular haunt.”
Hannah’s eyebrows had arched slightly at the word just but she still smiled gamely enough.
“Okay then, Mr Potter, what is your usual? Butterbeer, Firewhiskey on the rocks? Maybe a Minty Toad for the Road?”
It was Harry’s turn to laugh at the image of him regularly turning up to the Leaky Cauldron to down elaborate cocktails.
“You can make those?”
“Well, give me some lead time to get out the mini-cauldron but sure, you’d be tempted.”
“You do make it sound great,” Harry said, still smiling. “But I think I’ll save your cauldron for now and just have an ale.”
“A Hobgoblin do you?” Hannah’s hand dove under the bar and came up with a heavy bottle of ruby beer and at Harry’s assurance popped the cap off of it with a practised flick of her wand.
Harry sipped his ale and watched the world go by around him. He thought wistfully back to the two weeks he had spent living in a room here when he’d been thirteen, everything had seemed much brighter then, and he watched the passers by out of fascination as from paranoia of what they might be up to. He glanced at his left wrist, where a plain circle of metal was strapped on like a watch. Well, it was a watch, though that was a secondary function of the Auror issued device.
He tapped his foot and took another gulp of drink. He was not a fast drinker by any means but he was two thirds of the way through the bottle when the owl arrived. Pigwideon had become a lot more sensible in his old age and alighted on Harry’s shoulder without a fuss and offered Harry the note in his beak. Harry took it and Pig flew off immediately and out the door.
So much for the boy’s night out, Harry thought glumly. Though it was hardly a surprise. Seamus and Dean were supposed to have been coming as well but they’d cancelled weeks ago.
“You all right, Harry?” Hannah asked, her smile more hesitant this time. “I thought you were waiting for someone.”
“Ron had to cancel,” Harry said shortly, “trouble at the shop apparently.”
“Oh, well that’s too bad,” Hannah said sympathetically.
“Yeah. Now how much do I owe you?” Harry said.
“Oh don’t worry about it.” Hannah said with a wave of her hand. Harry pursed his lips slightly. He didn’t like people offering to give him free things, though it happened less and less these days.
“I insist.”
“Fine, the one you had is four sickles,” Hannah said, reaching under the bar as he spoke. “But this one is on the house. You look like you need it is all, Harry.”
“All right. Thanks,” Harry said quietly and grabbed the next bottle of beer.
It was still early when he finished it and the evening rush was just coming in as Harry went out the door but unaccountably to himself, he didn’t feel as down about the evening’s goings on as he could have done.
Night 2
Hannah leant against the wall in the back room of the Leaky Cauldron and took a couple of deep slow breaths. She had never been very good in high pressure situations as a rule but it was something she’d learnt to cope with.
It was her first Christmas in charge of the pub and although old Tom had warned her, she’d never quite believed him when he said that this was the busiest time of the year for the pub. She’d remembered wistfully thinking that surely no one would go out to the pub when they could be at home with their families but there were more people out there than ever.
Apparently there would be more every day, until it dropped right off on Christmas day itself in four days time and then nary a soul would would be coming through the doors. While the extreme hectic crowding at the moment was stressful, Hannah was not looking forward to the calm after the storm.
She liked the pub to be full and not just for the sake of business. Everyone came through the Leaky Cauldron and that meant that she knew everyone. Not personally of course, or in depth, but by sight at the least and here and there some she did know popped in for a chat. Like Harry Potter the other day, which had been nice.
Recalling herself, Hannah took another quick breath and hurled herself back into the fray. There was the room cleaners to supervise, the cookery to taste and many, many people parched with thirst and in dire need of a drink.
It was part way through the night when she was pouring shots of smoking liqueur for a quartet of hags when he walked in for the second time in as many nights and she felt a sudden jolt of recognition.
She was surprised that more people didn’t recognise Harry Potter, famous as he was. Though she was happy for his sake, it would hardly be pleasant to be mobbed by admirers every time you went somewhere.
Perhaps it was that his appearance and demeanour were so inappropriate to the mythic stature his heroic reputation gave him. Harry was tall but not remarkably so, not ugly by any means but again not remarkably handsome, messy dark hair that covered up the identifying scar, the only truly remarkable thing about him were those green eyes.
Her gaze met them and after a moment they seemed to flash brightly as Harry smiled at her and approached the bar and suddenly Hannah was wondering why he didn’t get more attention based on his own merits.
“Hi, Harry,” she said brightly to cover her unaccountably unprofessional thoughts. “Rescheduled with Ron?”
“Oh no, I don’t really expect him to turn up,” Harry said solemnly, and he did look a bit down, one hand scratching absently at the dark shadow of stubble on his chin.
“Well, you’ll see him soon I expect?” Hannah asked, knowing that Harry had always spent holidays at school or at Ron’s house back in their Hogwarts days. Harry made a non-committal noise however and she didn’t press the point. “What can I get you?”
“Do I have a usual yet?”
“I’m not sure being here one evening qualifies,” Hannah said while summoning a bottle of Hobgoblin from the other side of the bar and plonking it down in front of him with one of her customarily sparkling glasses. The bottle leapt up to pour itself.
“Are you telling me to come here more often?” Harry’s eyes danced.
“I tell everyone that, I like repeat customers,” Hannah said.
“Oh,” Harry muttered and shrank down slightly. Hannah frowned.
“But you’d always be welcome of course, Harry.”
That cheered him up slightly, though she couldn’t think why it would matter. She hustled off to the next customer, but found herself straying back to his end of the bar over the course of the evening, some times to give him a new drink, but not always, just to exchange a look or a smile or a word.
But he did look down and Hannah wondered why. Chances were it was his job. It paid to have an Auror in the place, there were a couple of trouble spots, that he quelled merely by looking at them until the offending people realised who and what was looking at them but still it wasn’t nice work and Tom had always said most Aurors didn’t come in except on business, they tend to drink heavily and alone.
Which in Harry’s case, Hannah thought would be a real shame. He was nice when he paid his tab and left into the snow far before last call.
Night 3
The next day, Harry had a night shift to go to. This was not expected to put him a good mood, especially not when he spent all of what would be his usual working hours, walking aimlessly around his flat, unable to settle to anything. Restless, he had himself ready to go a couple of hours earlier than he needed to be in the strictest sense.
With nothing better to do, he left his flat for the cool night air and Disapparated, reappearing in a deserted London street no far from the Leaky Cauldron. He set off again at a quick pace, thinking to himself that is was only because of the cold and the quicker he walked, the quicker he would get warm either through exercise or by reaching his destination. The anticipation coiling in his stomach, the eagerness to reach the pub and the growing sense of well-being associated with it that Harry remained oblivious to on all except the most subconscious of levels.
He arrived at the Leaky and pushed through the door, a heady smell of mulling spices washed over him as he entered the room. The drink selections were getting more festive and the pub was busier than it had been on either of the previous two nights.
Harry slid into what he was rapidly coming to consider his seat at one end of the bar.
“The usual Harry?” Hannah said, her usual warm smile slightly more strained than usual.
“I’m working soon, I’m afraid,” Harry said smiling at her use of the word usual that he had been using. “Just a Butterbeer for the moment.” Hannah’s hand fell away from the bottle of beer she’d been reaching for and instead she rooted around for a Butterbeer.
“How are you anyway, Hannah?” he said a light tone.
There was loud cry and banging of tankards from the other end of the bar.
“Oh, fine. Little busy,” Hannah said quickly and then hurried off to the other customers. Even the familiar, warming, cheering sensation of a good Butterbeer failed to abate the sudden dourness that had afflicted Harry’s mood.
Well, he couldn’t fault her, he’d hardly been the most stellar conversationalist these last couple of days, still he would have thought she would have still made the effort.
It took Hannah some time to make it all around the bar again, serving customers, smiling and laughing with them before she made it back to Harry.
“Ready for a re-fill?” She said.
“Please,” Harry said.
Another Butterbeer was placed in front of them and Hannah opened her mouth. Harry thought she was about to say something else when there was a titanic crash from behind the bar. Colour faded from Hannah’s cheeks and she rushed off into the back to see what her help had broken.
Harry drank the second Butterbeer slowly and around him the post-work rush was fading away. Hannah reappeared from the back room, frowning, her hair dishevelled. She pushed her wand back into the top pocket of her shirt, settled onto a stool the other side of the bar from Harry and slumped down with her elbows on the bar and her chin on her hands.
“Sorry, Harry,” she said gently, “it’s been a really long day.”
Harry looked at the wristwatch that wasn’t a watch and winced.
“Mine’s only just about to start, I’m afraid,” he said, genuinely sorry. “I’ve got to go.”
And he got up and left the pub, leaving Hannah behind him, his last glance of her showing that she looked just as upset as he felt.
Night 4
Hannah was in a towering mood all the following day. Luckily for her, she had staff to help out on the bar, because she was not at her most customer friendly and otherwise she would have chased everyone off.
She could hardly explain even to herself why she was in such a bad mood, except for the fact that Harry had seemed in such a bad mood himself the previous evening. His now repeated visits were something of a mystery to Hannah, but quite clearly he had wanted to talk to her and was upset he hadn’t.
In all fairness, Hannah thought this should have rankled her; it was plain for all to see how busy a pub the Leaky was, especially at this time of year and no-one could expect to monopolise her time even when it wasn’t so busy. There was no reason at all to be upset with her. Hannah, though, was not nearly as annoyed at that as she was at the crowds in her pub even as it filled her till to bursting was for exactly the same reason that Harry was.
As the day wore on and moved towards evening, Hannah found the tension in her growing and she was immersed in uneasy sense of anticipation, her eyes kept flickering towards to door to the pub each time it swung open to bring people in from the Muggle street beyond and looking away again when each time it proved not to be Harry entering.
Hannah did not know what she wanted at the moment, whether she wanted Harry to come to her pub again or not. She liked seeing him, liked talking to him, he’d always struck her as nice, but she felt as if she was teetering on the edge of something and that continued meetings with Harry would lead her somewhere where she had no idea if Harry would be reciprocating.
Chit-chat to customers was one thing, actually opening up to someone was another.
It didn’t matter anyway, Hannah thought half-way through the evening, Harry clearly wasn’t coming back. Perversely, the more it seemed it was unlikely to happen, the more Hannah pined for the other alternative.
She threw herself into her work, chatting gregariously with customers, offering them new and exciting beverages and missing it entirely when Harry Potter entered her pub so that he seemed to have just Apparated out of thin air at the bar rather than walked in the front door.
Operating on instinct rather than thought, Hannah headed towards him, pulling a bottle of Hobgoblin Ale (his usual) out from under the bar.
“You surprised me,” she said as she placed in front of him. “I didn’t see you come in.”
“I’m sorry,”
“That’s all right, it’s not your fault I don’t see everything.”
“No, I mean I’m sorry.” There was tinge of pink just visible on the cheeks between Harry’s glasses and dark stubble. “About yesterday.”
The apology hung in the air, and Hannah reflexively felt like she should apologise back aside from the fact she honestly felt she had nothing to apologise for. Aside from upsetting him.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I had...” Harry said hesitantly.
“… work, I know,” Hannah finished for him. “Can’t be easy.”
“No but no-one ever promised it would be,” Harry said, with a shrug.
“I’ll be back later,” Hannah said, sliding his drink across the bar closer to him. She smiled, he answered his smile lighting up his eyes. “You were almost too late, it’s nearly last call.”
Indeed ten minutes later and one of her helpers was ringing the bell to call it, and ten minutes after that people were heading to doors, customers and staff alike. Harry lingered, but came to his feet as she approached his end of the bar.
“I should go...” he murmured but Hannah waved him back down into his chair. “Stay, have another drink, you’ve earned it.”
“What will it be? The usual?”
A smile played around Harry’s lips and his eyes brightened.
“I was thinking of trying a Dizzy Blonde actually.”
“You’d be so lucky,” Hannah said, grinning as she pointed her wand at the door behind the bar and a bottle of the golden ale zoomed from the very back of the back room.
“You actually have it?” Harry asked, surprised.
“We have everything. Professional pride.”
“Have one yourself then?”
“Don’t mind if I do.” Another flick of the wand and gin and tonic poured themselves into a glass in equal measures. The finished drink sliding itself down the bar to Hannah’s hand to take a sip.
“I think we were at ‘it’s been a very long day’ this time yesterday.”
“And so it has, again,” Hannah said. “Everyone meeting up for a festive drink or a Christmas party.”
“It is only two sleeps to go,” Harry added, “or so the ads tell me.”
“That’s right, two sleeps. Just one more day of all this.” Hannah waved her hand about the bar.
“No-one comes in on Christmas Day?” Harry asked.
“No, no. Mostly they end up at St Mungo’s.”
“Just be nice to have the day off though,” Harry said thoughtfully.
“Oh, it will be. Nice and quiet.” Hannah chuckled. “I’ll have a lie-in.”
“That would be good,” Harry groaned longingly, apparently in agreement. “Where are you going to be?”
Hannah waved behind her again with rather less finesse than she had previously. The G & T had gone down very easily.
“Through the door, up the stairs, first on the left,” she said.
Harry looked nonplussed. Hannah wondered if she had slurred.
“I live over the pub, Harry,” she continued.
“But you’re not going to visit...” Harry trailed off.
“I used to stay with Ernie or Susan but they got married this year.” The pictures of what they might be doing this Christmas rather than entertaining lingered in Hannah’s mind’s eye for some reason but the words she had to say after drove them out of mind again, “My dad died a bit after the war, Harry.” Her mother had died during it.
Harry’s hand was warm on top of hers, his voice low.
“I’m sorry, Hannah. I should have known.”
She waved her hand.
“Not really,” she said in falsely calm tones. “What about you, I expect you’re going to the Burrow.”
“Oh no. No,” Harry said, “they’d be delighted to have me, I’m sure. It’s just not the same there anymore. Not at all.”
“So you’re going to spend Christmas alone?”
“Yeah, but it’s fine,” Harry said then shrugged. “That’s what we tell people anyway, they’re all happy, they’ve got families to go to. They don’t want to hear that Christmas alone is...”
“… horrible,” Hannah finished, gazing intently into his eyes and leaning over the bar.
She was going to pat him on the shoulder, or kiss him on the cheek, she thought, that was the plan. That was what was going to happen.
She pressed her lips firmly against his lips and kissed him. He responded immediately and enthusiastically. The kiss deepened. There was a deep moan that could have come from either of them, warmth seemed to flow through Hannah’s body. Harry’s hand wasn’t on hers any more. One hand was holding her head, entwined in her hair, while his right hand pushed under her shirt and squeezed her breast through her top and bra. The groan definitely came from her that time. Her head flooded with images of her getting bent over her own bar and…
There was tremendous buzzing in her ear, a whirring, entirely non-sexy buzz-saw like sound right next to her right ear. She leapt about a foot in the air, it felt like, and came back down hard on the stool behind the bar, with a cry of shock and surprise.
Harry jumped back as well, swearing and cursing in a way Hannah had never heard from him and he glared at the wristwatch in appalled outrage.
“That’s work. I’ve got to go.”
“You’ve got to go?!” Hannah half-shouted but he’d turned on the spot and, with a faint ‘pop’ he vanished.
Hannah stared at the spot where he’d gone for long seconds, and then reached for the gin bottle.
Night 5
By the time, Harry could steel himself to go back to the Leaky Cauldron people were already leaving it even though it was before last call. Perhaps the Christmas spirit was finally in season and they were going home.
Harry took a deep breath and entered the pub. Hannah stood in the middle of it, clearing things away with great sweeps of her wand. She went still as she saw him and looked him in the eyes. He opened his mouth.
“Don’t say it,” she said, softly. “If you spend the whole time apologising for your job, I don’t think we’re going to get anywhere.”
He held up his left wrist indicating the metal disc there.
“Signal charm, it basically runs my whole life now.”
“Are you all right?” Hannah asked shrewdly, her eyes following his hair line where a chunk had been burned away and his left cheek, still showing a faint graze parallel to his cheek burn.
“I’ll live. The other guy’s in a cell.”
“Good,” Hannah said fervently.
“I could do with a drink,” Harry said uncertain of how to approach the reason he was here. “The usual?”
“Sod that. I’ve got much better stuff upstairs,” - Hannah met his green eyes with her blue ones- “if you want to come up for a night cap.”
The meaning was obvious. Harry’s mouth was dry.
“Right. Yes. I mean I wasn’t sure if...” He trailed off.
“I don’t think either of us has suddenly decided we want to be alone this Christmas,” Hannah said. “Come upstairs and we’ll play it by ear, okay? No pressure.”
“Sure,” Harry said softly. “I’d like that.”
His heart was already beating faster when Hannah hoisted a section of the bar up and waved him through. The stairs up were narrow and rickety and Harry had to try not to stumble. Remembering the directions, Harry went for the first door on the left as Hannah opened it with her wand over his shoulder.
It was, well, cosy would have been the politest way to described it. A sofa and an armchair were clustered around a fireplace, worn smooth and threadbare with use. A small radio was atop the fireplace’s mantelpiece. A small kitchenette was in one corner looking disused, presumably Hannah usually used the pub’s much bigger cooking spaces downstairs, and two doors were opposite the entrance.
There was a snap as Hannah closed the door behind them, Harry jumped slightly.
“Make yourself at home,” Hannah said softly, kicking off her shoes. Harry followed suit and self-consciously slid his jacket off his shoulders and hung it on a coat stand behind the door.
Hannah took him by the hand, her touch warm against his palm, and then guided him over to the right of the two doors, swinging it open. They stepped inside. Her double bed dominated the scene, several glasses stood on a bedside table and in another corner, there was a pile of folded clothes and a full laundry basket, surrounded by a patch of carpet that was slightly cleaner than the rest of it. Harry’s highly honed investigative instincts told him this was not a room she’d been expecting to show anyone and that it had been hurriedly cleaned sometime recently.
“Well, this is my bedroom,” Hannah said, her voice sounding slightly awkward, she stood close to him, closer than some one naturally would, but not intimately close either. “If you still wanted to...”
“Play it by ear?” Harry said.
“Yeah.”
They stood gazing into each other’s eyes. They didn’t move for a long moment.
“This was easier yesterday,” Harry said with a chuckle.
“We’ve not missed our moment, have we?” Hannah said, a flicker of worry crossing her face.
On auto-pilot, Harry raise a comforting hand, touching his fingertips to her cheek. He felt soft strands of her hair against the back of his hand.
“I don’t think so,” he murmured.
He raised his other hand, brushing the hair away from her round face with its full lips and round blue eyes. He leant in and kissed her.
It wasn’t a hungry kiss like last night’s had been but it was early days still, Harry thought, and her lips were amazingly soft. He sucked gently on her bottom lip before kissing her again. He felt a grip on his hips and she held onto him.
Their kisses deepened and Hannah’s hands moved to grip Harry’s arse; he moaned into her mouth, his heart was hammering, blood rushing downwards.
Hannah’s grip moved again, tugged at the hem of Harry’s jumper and shirt. They separated long enough to pull them both over Harry’s head, leaving him bare-chested. He caught the expression on Hannah’s face when she looked at him, there was a lust there that hadn’t been directed at him by anyone for a while.
She threw off her shirt as well, leaving her in a tight tank-top. Hannah took the lead this time, her hands hot against his bare skin. She kissed him deeply and, with her touch, she directed him down to sit on the bed, straddling his legs easily.
Her arms were around his neck and he took the opportunity. His hands worked their way up her body, pushing the tank-top up until her breasts filled his hands, nothing separating them from his grip apart from what had to be the thinnest and the flimsiest of bras.
Hannah moaned softly and leant her head against his shoulder as he fondled her breasts.
“You like this?” Harry said.
“Definitely,” Hannah said, with a hint of laughter.
She squirmed in his lap and pressed her lips to his shoulder in a kiss. Sensations shuddered down Harry’s spine as she did so. He groaned as the constriction in his trousers had grown quite intense.
Hannah must have noticed, because she was moving off of him and her kisses were moving downwards. Harry felt his breath catch in his chest as he realised her intentions. Her hands undid the button and zipper of his trousers, half pulling them and his underwear down and Harry gasped as cool air washed over his cock.
Her eyes were a little wide at the sight of him but Hannah gamely wrapped her hand around the base of Harry’s cock, slowly running her hand up and down the length of it.
“Hannah, I...” Harry said, not knowing what he was meaning to say and then not saying anything at all as Hannah wrapped her lips around his cock and sucked. He gasped, all thought obliterated at the pleasure of it, the warm of her mouth surrounding him. The tip of her tongue swirled over the head of his cock, and Harry cried out, his hips jerking upwards involuntarily. Hannah’s free hand went to his hip, urging him to stay still.
Then her head began to bob up and down, taking in more and more of his shaft. Harry stared down at her; with her thick blonde hair hanging free, and a pair of full round breasts, barely contained in a frilly bra and most of all the blissful look on her face. The eroticism of the scene was too much for Harry.
“Hannah, I...” he said again, more urgently, this time meaning to give warning.
Her mouth came free of his cock with a popping sound, just as the pressure in his balls became a rush and Harry came in a rush, a spurt of come hit Hannah’s cheek and then more of it poured over her still moving hand.
Harry felt himself go incredibly red. So much for stamina, he thought.
“It’s… umm... its been a long time, I guess,” he said lamely.
“Don’t worry about it,” Hannah said smiling and reaching for some tissues on a nearby chest of draws to wipe her face and hand clean.
And the way she said it, meant that Harry didn’t.
“You get out of those,” Hannah continued, indicating his trousers. “And then you can get help me get out of these.” She shook her hips at him. “We’ll just see how we can entertain ourselves for while while you recover, right?”
Harry kicked off his trousers and underpants, and then feeling a bit silly but not as silly as if he hadn’t he pulled off his socks as well. Hannah threw a tissue into the bin, pointed her wand at herself briefly and left it on top of the drawers and then she quickly laid down on the bed next to Harry stretching herself out to her full glorious extent. She smiled at him and managed to look extremely pleased with herself.
“So, you wanted that off?” Harry said huskily, his fingertips reaching out to toy with the flimsy bra strap hanging off of Hannah’s shoulder.
“That’s right.” She shifted so Harry could reach the clasp and undo it and the bra slipped off easily. Harry couldn’t help but stare at the shapely full globes of Hannah’s chest, flattened slightly by gravity but round and capped with pale nipples. Harry ducked his head to kiss them and Hannah’s giggles turned to soft moans, her hands stroking through his hair as he sucked her tits.
One hand grasped a breast, the other moved downwards over the soft swell of her stomach to reach between her legs. Her hand was over his, guiding him, until they encountered a thick layer of denim. Frustrated, they separated long enough to push Hannah’s jeans down and off her legs before they lay down again with Hannah flat on her back her legs slightly spread, Harry on his side beside her. His hand traced lines over her mound, teasing the golden curls there, before the tips of his fingers traced up and down her pussy, feeling the smoothness of her skin, parting her labia to press into her. Hannah gasped, her hips squirmed and Harry pumped a finger in and out of her.
They locked gazes, Harry made gently slow beckoning motions with the finger inside of her, while Hannah wrapped a hand around his hardening cock. She stroked him back into hardness, even as Harry felt her wetness surround his finger, soaking his hand where he touched her.
“Ready to go again?” Hannah asked, huskily.
“You did the spell?” He didn’t have to say which one; he figured they were on the same page as far as safe sex went.
“Yes,” Hannah assured him.
Harry moved on top of her with such suddenness, she gasped.
“Harry, I...” Her voice died mid-sentence. She swallowed hard, which did wonderful things to her chest but didn’t distract Harry from her meaning.
“Been a while for you, too?” he murmured.
“That’s right,” she said. “I still want, to just...”
“We’ll take it slow, right?”
Their hands guided him to her entrance, he gazed at her face, the wetness of her was soaking the tip of his cock but he only looked at her face as he advanced slowly. Her brow creased, her eyebrows came together. He stopped for a moment before heading forwards. Her face smoothed, her eyes went wide, her mouth dropped as he sank fully into. Her hands clutched at his back tightly until he was buried to the hilt inside her.
“God, Hannah, You’re amazing.”
She laughed softly and kissed his shoulder and neck. Her hands dug into his back again and he started to rock, smooth gentle thrusts in and out. There was nothing like it, plunging and out of her, with her arms wrapped around him, stroking his back softly. All their stresses and woes melted away in the simple pleasure and shared warmth and touch.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuuuck,” Hannah gasped into his ear. The sound of it, of Hannah swearing like crazy was both completely odd and completely natural sounding to Harry. She let out a plaintive cry and her arms slowed and stilled, just holding onto Harry as he picked up his pace and force just slightly. He had an idea she’d just come, after all, it had been a long time for her as well.
He buried his face in her sweet smelling hair and thrust, without meaning to he’d become more forceful, his body colliding with hers with a slapping sound following by their moans. He lost himself in the sensations of her body, until he felt her cunt squeeze down on his cock as he buried himself one last time and flowed out into her again.
Harry rolled off her, light-headed and exhausted, breathing heavily. Semi-conscious, he was expecting to get some sleep but before he knew it, Hannah was shaking him awake and kissing him and insisting on another round.
Day 1
Hannah was as comfortable as she could ever remember being in her life. Not that she was up to remembering much at the moment; her head was a pleasant but very tired mush.
It was Christmas Day. The Pub didn’t open on Christmas Day. The one time of the year when she could have a good long lie in and not feel guilty about it.
She needed it; she was very tired even though she’d been lying in bed all morning and it was nearer lunch time than not.
There was sleepy contented noise from behind her, an arm tightened its grip around her middle and Harry’s bristly face nestled more tightly against the crook of her shoulder.
They hadn’t got much sleep. There’d been some naps. Some breaks to drink water and, with all barriers and pretence abandoned, lots of fantastic sex. She’d been pounded from behind on all fours, and bent over with her bum in the air, and she’d ridden him silly. When they’d got too tired for that they reverted to missionary, slow, gentle, long missionary with kisses and sweet nothings whispered to each other.
Hannah beamed.
“Good morning,” Harry said groggily, having roused slightly while she’d been lost in pleasant reverie.
“I’d say it is.”
“I suppose we should get up sooner or later.”
Hannah hugged his arm, holding it in place around her.
“Later I think. You can stay as long as you want you know.”
“I know.” A pause. “Are we still playing this by ear?”
“Relationship wise? I think we’re a little beyond that now, wouldn’t you say?”
“I agree entirely.” Harry’s grip on her tightened again.
Beyond the walls of the Leaky Cauldron, Christmas had arrived across the country, full of festive cheer and the promise of new beginnings.
And it was the first day of their hopeful-to-be, long and happy relationship.
Title:Far From The Usual
Pairing:Harry Potter/Hannah Abbot
Rating:NC-17
Length:6,143 words
Content: Sexual content, blowjob, workaholic-ism, mild angst.
Summary:In the run up to Christmas, Harry finds himself frequenting the Leaky Cauldron and getting to know it's new Landlady
Author's notes: Written for
flipflop_diva for 2018. Hopefully I fun look at a super-rare paring.Night 1
Ever since he had first visited it on his eleventh birthday, Harry Potter had seen the Leaky Cauldron pub throughout every period and mood across the years, from that first time crowded with people exciting to see him, to oppressed and repressed in the middle of the war. He’d seen it empty and quiet and he’d seen it full and raucous and everything in between.
Right now, as Harry stamped the last of the snow from his boots and looked around the bar, he was seeing it under new management. Tom, the old barkeeper, had been, well, old and thus had hired in help for the last few years. Now it looked like Hannah Abbott was running the place.
It seemed to be running smoothly; it was neither as jolly as he had seen it as its height but nothing like as sombre as had been in the bad days. Harry’s brilliant green eyes scanned the room quickly, taking in the witches and wizards, an old battered warlock, and at one shadowed table, three goblins and a house-elf. They all looked contented and happy but not merry enough to cause trouble, and luckily none of them had appeared on any wanted poster he’d seen. His shoulders relaxed slightly and made his way towards the bar more confidently. It was a habit he’d gone into over his years with the Aurors; check everything, trust no-one and never let your guard down, even when you were on a night out with your friends.
“Oh my goodness,” said Hannah as she approached him, “Harry Potter, as I live and breathe.”
She smiled to see him, and Harry thought it was a real one. As a barmaid she probably had practised her smile a thousand times, but there was a light to her eyes and pinkness to her cheeks that convinced Harry she was genuine.
Harry felt a prickling of guilt, he was probably being quite unfair. Hannah wasn’t the sort of person to make money off her sex appeal, not that she couldn’t if she didn’t want to, being blonde and quite curvaceous but hair that he remembered in pigtails was now pulled back out of the way into a low messy ponytail and she wore a loose plaid patterned shirt over a tighter top.
“What can I get you then, Harry?” Hannah said after a second, jerking Harry out of his reverie.
“The usual please, Hannah,” Harry replied gruffly to cover up his momentary confusion.
“The usual?” Hannah laughed. “You don’t have a usual, Harry.”
“Well, no, but I’m hoping to acquire one this evening,” Harry said lightly hoping to offset his earlier grumpiness. “Anyway, Ron’s coming and I’d like him to think I still have a life beyond work, even if it’s just a regular haunt.”
Hannah’s eyebrows had arched slightly at the word just but she still smiled gamely enough.
“Okay then, Mr Potter, what is your usual? Butterbeer, Firewhiskey on the rocks? Maybe a Minty Toad for the Road?”
It was Harry’s turn to laugh at the image of him regularly turning up to the Leaky Cauldron to down elaborate cocktails.
“You can make those?”
“Well, give me some lead time to get out the mini-cauldron but sure, you’d be tempted.”
“You do make it sound great,” Harry said, still smiling. “But I think I’ll save your cauldron for now and just have an ale.”
“A Hobgoblin do you?” Hannah’s hand dove under the bar and came up with a heavy bottle of ruby beer and at Harry’s assurance popped the cap off of it with a practised flick of her wand.
Harry sipped his ale and watched the world go by around him. He thought wistfully back to the two weeks he had spent living in a room here when he’d been thirteen, everything had seemed much brighter then, and he watched the passers by out of fascination as from paranoia of what they might be up to. He glanced at his left wrist, where a plain circle of metal was strapped on like a watch. Well, it was a watch, though that was a secondary function of the Auror issued device.
He tapped his foot and took another gulp of drink. He was not a fast drinker by any means but he was two thirds of the way through the bottle when the owl arrived. Pigwideon had become a lot more sensible in his old age and alighted on Harry’s shoulder without a fuss and offered Harry the note in his beak. Harry took it and Pig flew off immediately and out the door.
So much for the boy’s night out, Harry thought glumly. Though it was hardly a surprise. Seamus and Dean were supposed to have been coming as well but they’d cancelled weeks ago.
“You all right, Harry?” Hannah asked, her smile more hesitant this time. “I thought you were waiting for someone.”
“Ron had to cancel,” Harry said shortly, “trouble at the shop apparently.”
“Oh, well that’s too bad,” Hannah said sympathetically.
“Yeah. Now how much do I owe you?” Harry said.
“Oh don’t worry about it.” Hannah said with a wave of her hand. Harry pursed his lips slightly. He didn’t like people offering to give him free things, though it happened less and less these days.
“I insist.”
“Fine, the one you had is four sickles,” Hannah said, reaching under the bar as he spoke. “But this one is on the house. You look like you need it is all, Harry.”
“All right. Thanks,” Harry said quietly and grabbed the next bottle of beer.
It was still early when he finished it and the evening rush was just coming in as Harry went out the door but unaccountably to himself, he didn’t feel as down about the evening’s goings on as he could have done.
Night 2
Hannah leant against the wall in the back room of the Leaky Cauldron and took a couple of deep slow breaths. She had never been very good in high pressure situations as a rule but it was something she’d learnt to cope with.
It was her first Christmas in charge of the pub and although old Tom had warned her, she’d never quite believed him when he said that this was the busiest time of the year for the pub. She’d remembered wistfully thinking that surely no one would go out to the pub when they could be at home with their families but there were more people out there than ever.
Apparently there would be more every day, until it dropped right off on Christmas day itself in four days time and then nary a soul would would be coming through the doors. While the extreme hectic crowding at the moment was stressful, Hannah was not looking forward to the calm after the storm.
She liked the pub to be full and not just for the sake of business. Everyone came through the Leaky Cauldron and that meant that she knew everyone. Not personally of course, or in depth, but by sight at the least and here and there some she did know popped in for a chat. Like Harry Potter the other day, which had been nice.
Recalling herself, Hannah took another quick breath and hurled herself back into the fray. There was the room cleaners to supervise, the cookery to taste and many, many people parched with thirst and in dire need of a drink.
It was part way through the night when she was pouring shots of smoking liqueur for a quartet of hags when he walked in for the second time in as many nights and she felt a sudden jolt of recognition.
She was surprised that more people didn’t recognise Harry Potter, famous as he was. Though she was happy for his sake, it would hardly be pleasant to be mobbed by admirers every time you went somewhere.
Perhaps it was that his appearance and demeanour were so inappropriate to the mythic stature his heroic reputation gave him. Harry was tall but not remarkably so, not ugly by any means but again not remarkably handsome, messy dark hair that covered up the identifying scar, the only truly remarkable thing about him were those green eyes.
Her gaze met them and after a moment they seemed to flash brightly as Harry smiled at her and approached the bar and suddenly Hannah was wondering why he didn’t get more attention based on his own merits.
“Hi, Harry,” she said brightly to cover her unaccountably unprofessional thoughts. “Rescheduled with Ron?”
“Oh no, I don’t really expect him to turn up,” Harry said solemnly, and he did look a bit down, one hand scratching absently at the dark shadow of stubble on his chin.
“Well, you’ll see him soon I expect?” Hannah asked, knowing that Harry had always spent holidays at school or at Ron’s house back in their Hogwarts days. Harry made a non-committal noise however and she didn’t press the point. “What can I get you?”
“Do I have a usual yet?”
“I’m not sure being here one evening qualifies,” Hannah said while summoning a bottle of Hobgoblin from the other side of the bar and plonking it down in front of him with one of her customarily sparkling glasses. The bottle leapt up to pour itself.
“Are you telling me to come here more often?” Harry’s eyes danced.
“I tell everyone that, I like repeat customers,” Hannah said.
“Oh,” Harry muttered and shrank down slightly. Hannah frowned.
“But you’d always be welcome of course, Harry.”
That cheered him up slightly, though she couldn’t think why it would matter. She hustled off to the next customer, but found herself straying back to his end of the bar over the course of the evening, some times to give him a new drink, but not always, just to exchange a look or a smile or a word.
But he did look down and Hannah wondered why. Chances were it was his job. It paid to have an Auror in the place, there were a couple of trouble spots, that he quelled merely by looking at them until the offending people realised who and what was looking at them but still it wasn’t nice work and Tom had always said most Aurors didn’t come in except on business, they tend to drink heavily and alone.
Which in Harry’s case, Hannah thought would be a real shame. He was nice when he paid his tab and left into the snow far before last call.
Night 3
The next day, Harry had a night shift to go to. This was not expected to put him a good mood, especially not when he spent all of what would be his usual working hours, walking aimlessly around his flat, unable to settle to anything. Restless, he had himself ready to go a couple of hours earlier than he needed to be in the strictest sense.
With nothing better to do, he left his flat for the cool night air and Disapparated, reappearing in a deserted London street no far from the Leaky Cauldron. He set off again at a quick pace, thinking to himself that is was only because of the cold and the quicker he walked, the quicker he would get warm either through exercise or by reaching his destination. The anticipation coiling in his stomach, the eagerness to reach the pub and the growing sense of well-being associated with it that Harry remained oblivious to on all except the most subconscious of levels.
He arrived at the Leaky and pushed through the door, a heady smell of mulling spices washed over him as he entered the room. The drink selections were getting more festive and the pub was busier than it had been on either of the previous two nights.
Harry slid into what he was rapidly coming to consider his seat at one end of the bar.
“The usual Harry?” Hannah said, her usual warm smile slightly more strained than usual.
“I’m working soon, I’m afraid,” Harry said smiling at her use of the word usual that he had been using. “Just a Butterbeer for the moment.” Hannah’s hand fell away from the bottle of beer she’d been reaching for and instead she rooted around for a Butterbeer.
“How are you anyway, Hannah?” he said a light tone.
There was loud cry and banging of tankards from the other end of the bar.
“Oh, fine. Little busy,” Hannah said quickly and then hurried off to the other customers. Even the familiar, warming, cheering sensation of a good Butterbeer failed to abate the sudden dourness that had afflicted Harry’s mood.
Well, he couldn’t fault her, he’d hardly been the most stellar conversationalist these last couple of days, still he would have thought she would have still made the effort.
It took Hannah some time to make it all around the bar again, serving customers, smiling and laughing with them before she made it back to Harry.
“Ready for a re-fill?” She said.
“Please,” Harry said.
Another Butterbeer was placed in front of them and Hannah opened her mouth. Harry thought she was about to say something else when there was a titanic crash from behind the bar. Colour faded from Hannah’s cheeks and she rushed off into the back to see what her help had broken.
Harry drank the second Butterbeer slowly and around him the post-work rush was fading away. Hannah reappeared from the back room, frowning, her hair dishevelled. She pushed her wand back into the top pocket of her shirt, settled onto a stool the other side of the bar from Harry and slumped down with her elbows on the bar and her chin on her hands.
“Sorry, Harry,” she said gently, “it’s been a really long day.”
Harry looked at the wristwatch that wasn’t a watch and winced.
“Mine’s only just about to start, I’m afraid,” he said, genuinely sorry. “I’ve got to go.”
And he got up and left the pub, leaving Hannah behind him, his last glance of her showing that she looked just as upset as he felt.
Night 4
Hannah was in a towering mood all the following day. Luckily for her, she had staff to help out on the bar, because she was not at her most customer friendly and otherwise she would have chased everyone off.
She could hardly explain even to herself why she was in such a bad mood, except for the fact that Harry had seemed in such a bad mood himself the previous evening. His now repeated visits were something of a mystery to Hannah, but quite clearly he had wanted to talk to her and was upset he hadn’t.
In all fairness, Hannah thought this should have rankled her; it was plain for all to see how busy a pub the Leaky was, especially at this time of year and no-one could expect to monopolise her time even when it wasn’t so busy. There was no reason at all to be upset with her. Hannah, though, was not nearly as annoyed at that as she was at the crowds in her pub even as it filled her till to bursting was for exactly the same reason that Harry was.
As the day wore on and moved towards evening, Hannah found the tension in her growing and she was immersed in uneasy sense of anticipation, her eyes kept flickering towards to door to the pub each time it swung open to bring people in from the Muggle street beyond and looking away again when each time it proved not to be Harry entering.
Hannah did not know what she wanted at the moment, whether she wanted Harry to come to her pub again or not. She liked seeing him, liked talking to him, he’d always struck her as nice, but she felt as if she was teetering on the edge of something and that continued meetings with Harry would lead her somewhere where she had no idea if Harry would be reciprocating.
Chit-chat to customers was one thing, actually opening up to someone was another.
It didn’t matter anyway, Hannah thought half-way through the evening, Harry clearly wasn’t coming back. Perversely, the more it seemed it was unlikely to happen, the more Hannah pined for the other alternative.
She threw herself into her work, chatting gregariously with customers, offering them new and exciting beverages and missing it entirely when Harry Potter entered her pub so that he seemed to have just Apparated out of thin air at the bar rather than walked in the front door.
Operating on instinct rather than thought, Hannah headed towards him, pulling a bottle of Hobgoblin Ale (his usual) out from under the bar.
“You surprised me,” she said as she placed in front of him. “I didn’t see you come in.”
“I’m sorry,”
“That’s all right, it’s not your fault I don’t see everything.”
“No, I mean I’m sorry.” There was tinge of pink just visible on the cheeks between Harry’s glasses and dark stubble. “About yesterday.”
The apology hung in the air, and Hannah reflexively felt like she should apologise back aside from the fact she honestly felt she had nothing to apologise for. Aside from upsetting him.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I had...” Harry said hesitantly.
“… work, I know,” Hannah finished for him. “Can’t be easy.”
“No but no-one ever promised it would be,” Harry said, with a shrug.
“I’ll be back later,” Hannah said, sliding his drink across the bar closer to him. She smiled, he answered his smile lighting up his eyes. “You were almost too late, it’s nearly last call.”
Indeed ten minutes later and one of her helpers was ringing the bell to call it, and ten minutes after that people were heading to doors, customers and staff alike. Harry lingered, but came to his feet as she approached his end of the bar.
“I should go...” he murmured but Hannah waved him back down into his chair. “Stay, have another drink, you’ve earned it.”
“What will it be? The usual?”
A smile played around Harry’s lips and his eyes brightened.
“I was thinking of trying a Dizzy Blonde actually.”
“You’d be so lucky,” Hannah said, grinning as she pointed her wand at the door behind the bar and a bottle of the golden ale zoomed from the very back of the back room.
“You actually have it?” Harry asked, surprised.
“We have everything. Professional pride.”
“Have one yourself then?”
“Don’t mind if I do.” Another flick of the wand and gin and tonic poured themselves into a glass in equal measures. The finished drink sliding itself down the bar to Hannah’s hand to take a sip.
“I think we were at ‘it’s been a very long day’ this time yesterday.”
“And so it has, again,” Hannah said. “Everyone meeting up for a festive drink or a Christmas party.”
“It is only two sleeps to go,” Harry added, “or so the ads tell me.”
“That’s right, two sleeps. Just one more day of all this.” Hannah waved her hand about the bar.
“No-one comes in on Christmas Day?” Harry asked.
“No, no. Mostly they end up at St Mungo’s.”
“Just be nice to have the day off though,” Harry said thoughtfully.
“Oh, it will be. Nice and quiet.” Hannah chuckled. “I’ll have a lie-in.”
“That would be good,” Harry groaned longingly, apparently in agreement. “Where are you going to be?”
Hannah waved behind her again with rather less finesse than she had previously. The G & T had gone down very easily.
“Through the door, up the stairs, first on the left,” she said.
Harry looked nonplussed. Hannah wondered if she had slurred.
“I live over the pub, Harry,” she continued.
“But you’re not going to visit...” Harry trailed off.
“I used to stay with Ernie or Susan but they got married this year.” The pictures of what they might be doing this Christmas rather than entertaining lingered in Hannah’s mind’s eye for some reason but the words she had to say after drove them out of mind again, “My dad died a bit after the war, Harry.” Her mother had died during it.
Harry’s hand was warm on top of hers, his voice low.
“I’m sorry, Hannah. I should have known.”
She waved her hand.
“Not really,” she said in falsely calm tones. “What about you, I expect you’re going to the Burrow.”
“Oh no. No,” Harry said, “they’d be delighted to have me, I’m sure. It’s just not the same there anymore. Not at all.”
“So you’re going to spend Christmas alone?”
“Yeah, but it’s fine,” Harry said then shrugged. “That’s what we tell people anyway, they’re all happy, they’ve got families to go to. They don’t want to hear that Christmas alone is...”
“… horrible,” Hannah finished, gazing intently into his eyes and leaning over the bar.
She was going to pat him on the shoulder, or kiss him on the cheek, she thought, that was the plan. That was what was going to happen.
She pressed her lips firmly against his lips and kissed him. He responded immediately and enthusiastically. The kiss deepened. There was a deep moan that could have come from either of them, warmth seemed to flow through Hannah’s body. Harry’s hand wasn’t on hers any more. One hand was holding her head, entwined in her hair, while his right hand pushed under her shirt and squeezed her breast through her top and bra. The groan definitely came from her that time. Her head flooded with images of her getting bent over her own bar and…
There was tremendous buzzing in her ear, a whirring, entirely non-sexy buzz-saw like sound right next to her right ear. She leapt about a foot in the air, it felt like, and came back down hard on the stool behind the bar, with a cry of shock and surprise.
Harry jumped back as well, swearing and cursing in a way Hannah had never heard from him and he glared at the wristwatch in appalled outrage.
“That’s work. I’ve got to go.”
“You’ve got to go?!” Hannah half-shouted but he’d turned on the spot and, with a faint ‘pop’ he vanished.
Hannah stared at the spot where he’d gone for long seconds, and then reached for the gin bottle.
Night 5
By the time, Harry could steel himself to go back to the Leaky Cauldron people were already leaving it even though it was before last call. Perhaps the Christmas spirit was finally in season and they were going home.
Harry took a deep breath and entered the pub. Hannah stood in the middle of it, clearing things away with great sweeps of her wand. She went still as she saw him and looked him in the eyes. He opened his mouth.
“Don’t say it,” she said, softly. “If you spend the whole time apologising for your job, I don’t think we’re going to get anywhere.”
He held up his left wrist indicating the metal disc there.
“Signal charm, it basically runs my whole life now.”
“Are you all right?” Hannah asked shrewdly, her eyes following his hair line where a chunk had been burned away and his left cheek, still showing a faint graze parallel to his cheek burn.
“I’ll live. The other guy’s in a cell.”
“Good,” Hannah said fervently.
“I could do with a drink,” Harry said uncertain of how to approach the reason he was here. “The usual?”
“Sod that. I’ve got much better stuff upstairs,” - Hannah met his green eyes with her blue ones- “if you want to come up for a night cap.”
The meaning was obvious. Harry’s mouth was dry.
“Right. Yes. I mean I wasn’t sure if...” He trailed off.
“I don’t think either of us has suddenly decided we want to be alone this Christmas,” Hannah said. “Come upstairs and we’ll play it by ear, okay? No pressure.”
“Sure,” Harry said softly. “I’d like that.”
His heart was already beating faster when Hannah hoisted a section of the bar up and waved him through. The stairs up were narrow and rickety and Harry had to try not to stumble. Remembering the directions, Harry went for the first door on the left as Hannah opened it with her wand over his shoulder.
It was, well, cosy would have been the politest way to described it. A sofa and an armchair were clustered around a fireplace, worn smooth and threadbare with use. A small radio was atop the fireplace’s mantelpiece. A small kitchenette was in one corner looking disused, presumably Hannah usually used the pub’s much bigger cooking spaces downstairs, and two doors were opposite the entrance.
There was a snap as Hannah closed the door behind them, Harry jumped slightly.
“Make yourself at home,” Hannah said softly, kicking off her shoes. Harry followed suit and self-consciously slid his jacket off his shoulders and hung it on a coat stand behind the door.
Hannah took him by the hand, her touch warm against his palm, and then guided him over to the right of the two doors, swinging it open. They stepped inside. Her double bed dominated the scene, several glasses stood on a bedside table and in another corner, there was a pile of folded clothes and a full laundry basket, surrounded by a patch of carpet that was slightly cleaner than the rest of it. Harry’s highly honed investigative instincts told him this was not a room she’d been expecting to show anyone and that it had been hurriedly cleaned sometime recently.
“Well, this is my bedroom,” Hannah said, her voice sounding slightly awkward, she stood close to him, closer than some one naturally would, but not intimately close either. “If you still wanted to...”
“Play it by ear?” Harry said.
“Yeah.”
They stood gazing into each other’s eyes. They didn’t move for a long moment.
“This was easier yesterday,” Harry said with a chuckle.
“We’ve not missed our moment, have we?” Hannah said, a flicker of worry crossing her face.
On auto-pilot, Harry raise a comforting hand, touching his fingertips to her cheek. He felt soft strands of her hair against the back of his hand.
“I don’t think so,” he murmured.
He raised his other hand, brushing the hair away from her round face with its full lips and round blue eyes. He leant in and kissed her.
It wasn’t a hungry kiss like last night’s had been but it was early days still, Harry thought, and her lips were amazingly soft. He sucked gently on her bottom lip before kissing her again. He felt a grip on his hips and she held onto him.
Their kisses deepened and Hannah’s hands moved to grip Harry’s arse; he moaned into her mouth, his heart was hammering, blood rushing downwards.
Hannah’s grip moved again, tugged at the hem of Harry’s jumper and shirt. They separated long enough to pull them both over Harry’s head, leaving him bare-chested. He caught the expression on Hannah’s face when she looked at him, there was a lust there that hadn’t been directed at him by anyone for a while.
She threw off her shirt as well, leaving her in a tight tank-top. Hannah took the lead this time, her hands hot against his bare skin. She kissed him deeply and, with her touch, she directed him down to sit on the bed, straddling his legs easily.
Her arms were around his neck and he took the opportunity. His hands worked their way up her body, pushing the tank-top up until her breasts filled his hands, nothing separating them from his grip apart from what had to be the thinnest and the flimsiest of bras.
Hannah moaned softly and leant her head against his shoulder as he fondled her breasts.
“You like this?” Harry said.
“Definitely,” Hannah said, with a hint of laughter.
She squirmed in his lap and pressed her lips to his shoulder in a kiss. Sensations shuddered down Harry’s spine as she did so. He groaned as the constriction in his trousers had grown quite intense.
Hannah must have noticed, because she was moving off of him and her kisses were moving downwards. Harry felt his breath catch in his chest as he realised her intentions. Her hands undid the button and zipper of his trousers, half pulling them and his underwear down and Harry gasped as cool air washed over his cock.
Her eyes were a little wide at the sight of him but Hannah gamely wrapped her hand around the base of Harry’s cock, slowly running her hand up and down the length of it.
“Hannah, I...” Harry said, not knowing what he was meaning to say and then not saying anything at all as Hannah wrapped her lips around his cock and sucked. He gasped, all thought obliterated at the pleasure of it, the warm of her mouth surrounding him. The tip of her tongue swirled over the head of his cock, and Harry cried out, his hips jerking upwards involuntarily. Hannah’s free hand went to his hip, urging him to stay still.
Then her head began to bob up and down, taking in more and more of his shaft. Harry stared down at her; with her thick blonde hair hanging free, and a pair of full round breasts, barely contained in a frilly bra and most of all the blissful look on her face. The eroticism of the scene was too much for Harry.
“Hannah, I...” he said again, more urgently, this time meaning to give warning.
Her mouth came free of his cock with a popping sound, just as the pressure in his balls became a rush and Harry came in a rush, a spurt of come hit Hannah’s cheek and then more of it poured over her still moving hand.
Harry felt himself go incredibly red. So much for stamina, he thought.
“It’s… umm... its been a long time, I guess,” he said lamely.
“Don’t worry about it,” Hannah said smiling and reaching for some tissues on a nearby chest of draws to wipe her face and hand clean.
And the way she said it, meant that Harry didn’t.
“You get out of those,” Hannah continued, indicating his trousers. “And then you can get help me get out of these.” She shook her hips at him. “We’ll just see how we can entertain ourselves for while while you recover, right?”
Harry kicked off his trousers and underpants, and then feeling a bit silly but not as silly as if he hadn’t he pulled off his socks as well. Hannah threw a tissue into the bin, pointed her wand at herself briefly and left it on top of the drawers and then she quickly laid down on the bed next to Harry stretching herself out to her full glorious extent. She smiled at him and managed to look extremely pleased with herself.
“So, you wanted that off?” Harry said huskily, his fingertips reaching out to toy with the flimsy bra strap hanging off of Hannah’s shoulder.
“That’s right.” She shifted so Harry could reach the clasp and undo it and the bra slipped off easily. Harry couldn’t help but stare at the shapely full globes of Hannah’s chest, flattened slightly by gravity but round and capped with pale nipples. Harry ducked his head to kiss them and Hannah’s giggles turned to soft moans, her hands stroking through his hair as he sucked her tits.
One hand grasped a breast, the other moved downwards over the soft swell of her stomach to reach between her legs. Her hand was over his, guiding him, until they encountered a thick layer of denim. Frustrated, they separated long enough to push Hannah’s jeans down and off her legs before they lay down again with Hannah flat on her back her legs slightly spread, Harry on his side beside her. His hand traced lines over her mound, teasing the golden curls there, before the tips of his fingers traced up and down her pussy, feeling the smoothness of her skin, parting her labia to press into her. Hannah gasped, her hips squirmed and Harry pumped a finger in and out of her.
They locked gazes, Harry made gently slow beckoning motions with the finger inside of her, while Hannah wrapped a hand around his hardening cock. She stroked him back into hardness, even as Harry felt her wetness surround his finger, soaking his hand where he touched her.
“Ready to go again?” Hannah asked, huskily.
“You did the spell?” He didn’t have to say which one; he figured they were on the same page as far as safe sex went.
“Yes,” Hannah assured him.
Harry moved on top of her with such suddenness, she gasped.
“Harry, I...” Her voice died mid-sentence. She swallowed hard, which did wonderful things to her chest but didn’t distract Harry from her meaning.
“Been a while for you, too?” he murmured.
“That’s right,” she said. “I still want, to just...”
“We’ll take it slow, right?”
Their hands guided him to her entrance, he gazed at her face, the wetness of her was soaking the tip of his cock but he only looked at her face as he advanced slowly. Her brow creased, her eyebrows came together. He stopped for a moment before heading forwards. Her face smoothed, her eyes went wide, her mouth dropped as he sank fully into. Her hands clutched at his back tightly until he was buried to the hilt inside her.
“God, Hannah, You’re amazing.”
She laughed softly and kissed his shoulder and neck. Her hands dug into his back again and he started to rock, smooth gentle thrusts in and out. There was nothing like it, plunging and out of her, with her arms wrapped around him, stroking his back softly. All their stresses and woes melted away in the simple pleasure and shared warmth and touch.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuuuck,” Hannah gasped into his ear. The sound of it, of Hannah swearing like crazy was both completely odd and completely natural sounding to Harry. She let out a plaintive cry and her arms slowed and stilled, just holding onto Harry as he picked up his pace and force just slightly. He had an idea she’d just come, after all, it had been a long time for her as well.
He buried his face in her sweet smelling hair and thrust, without meaning to he’d become more forceful, his body colliding with hers with a slapping sound following by their moans. He lost himself in the sensations of her body, until he felt her cunt squeeze down on his cock as he buried himself one last time and flowed out into her again.
Harry rolled off her, light-headed and exhausted, breathing heavily. Semi-conscious, he was expecting to get some sleep but before he knew it, Hannah was shaking him awake and kissing him and insisting on another round.
Day 1
Hannah was as comfortable as she could ever remember being in her life. Not that she was up to remembering much at the moment; her head was a pleasant but very tired mush.
It was Christmas Day. The Pub didn’t open on Christmas Day. The one time of the year when she could have a good long lie in and not feel guilty about it.
She needed it; she was very tired even though she’d been lying in bed all morning and it was nearer lunch time than not.
There was sleepy contented noise from behind her, an arm tightened its grip around her middle and Harry’s bristly face nestled more tightly against the crook of her shoulder.
They hadn’t got much sleep. There’d been some naps. Some breaks to drink water and, with all barriers and pretence abandoned, lots of fantastic sex. She’d been pounded from behind on all fours, and bent over with her bum in the air, and she’d ridden him silly. When they’d got too tired for that they reverted to missionary, slow, gentle, long missionary with kisses and sweet nothings whispered to each other.
Hannah beamed.
“Good morning,” Harry said groggily, having roused slightly while she’d been lost in pleasant reverie.
“I’d say it is.”
“I suppose we should get up sooner or later.”
Hannah hugged his arm, holding it in place around her.
“Later I think. You can stay as long as you want you know.”
“I know.” A pause. “Are we still playing this by ear?”
“Relationship wise? I think we’re a little beyond that now, wouldn’t you say?”
“I agree entirely.” Harry’s grip on her tightened again.
Beyond the walls of the Leaky Cauldron, Christmas had arrived across the country, full of festive cheer and the promise of new beginnings.
And it was the first day of their hopeful-to-be, long and happy relationship.
