Den of Chaos Fiction
Harry Potter

by Taselby


Disclaimer: Not mine. No money, no harm, no foul, no trans-fatty acids, no MSG.

I: All Wounds

It's an old story, common and cliched, the sudden reunion of friends, brothers, lovers. Even so, I never expected to see you standing there.

I hadn't realized how much I'd remembered until now, confronting the innumerable differences hard years have left behind. The height was expected, but not the breadth, the long hair, or the guarded eyes. Certainly not the livid scar snaking under your collar, or the easy weight of a broadsword on your back.

We save the tales for later. Your embrace is fierce, redolent of leather and smoke, mouth achingly soft against my ear. "I missed you."

II: Time Heals

There's new silver in your hair, small lines around your eyes, but they are embellishments only, seasonal decoration. Nothing important has changed. Your body is hard and hungry as I remember, your mind as sharp, your presence as gentle.

Eyes widen at the revealed expanse of my scars, yet you say nothing of your own wounds, less visible, perhaps, but just as deep. We all have secrets now, don't we? Putting aside thoughts of grief and distance is easy in your arms, breathing the familiar comfort of your scent, relishing the touch of your hand in my hair.

I'm home.

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