Wrong Choices

Wrong Choices

He hadn't intended for it to last this long. He had more than intended it to happen--he had initiated the whole thing--but he had never had ideas about it continuing. And yet, here it was--fifteen months later, to the day--and he was standing in front of a small apartment complex deep in the seedier part of Wizarding London. Today he was equipped with a small black overnight bag instead of his usual briefcase.

He took the stairs on the east side of the building--never those on the west--even though they were father from the main entrance. To reach the east staircase, he had to maneuver a virtual maze of hallways toward the boiler room at the back of the complex. Somehow, the grit and dirt under his shoes made him feel relaxed. It reminded him that what he was doing was not a clean affair. It was illegitimate, both by society's standards and by its very nature.

It had taken the first three weeks to learn the path, but by the second September now, he knew he could do it in his sleep, as he often dreamed of walking it. Once he reached the seventh floor he began to retrace his earlier path in the opposite direction. He ended at 792, as always. Five doors away from the west staircase.

He grasped the silver knocker on the door and squeezed; the serpentine form twisted angrily and attempted to wrap itself around his hand. He knew better by now, left one too many times attached to the door, and plucked his hand away quickly.

Four seconds hung in the air before he heard a noise behind the door. By the weight of the small clunk, he assumed the bottle to be whiskey, with a square bottom. The door was opened and he saw that he was right.

He slipped past the body to enter to room. The curtains were drawn, as usual, and the air hung heavily in the half-darkness. The man inside looked at the bag silently, appraising its connection to the shine in his guest's eyes. It was all too obvious this time.

"Fifteen." The man confirmed the unspoken concept with a cracking voice angry with disuse. He nodded. Fifteen, indeed. It was all the acknowledgement the anniversary would get--ever got.

He dropped the bag and met his host halfway, reaching up to kiss him hard. The older man pulled his guest roughly against him. He pushed the younger man towards the bedroom, although they briefly collided with the table. Breaking the kiss, the young man grabbed the whiskey bottle to his left and took a mighty swig from it. It was jerked from his hands and slammed back to the wooden surface as his host fisted his collared shirt and pulled him roughly down the hall.

They fell to the bed easily, the young man already half undressed and his host severely rumpled on top of him. The older man yanked the belt out of his guest's pants smoothly and threw it across the room before diverging himself of his own.

He thrust his hips up as his host pulled his pants away, leaving him bare on the bed. He retaliated for the movement by sitting up and peeling the older man's vest and shirt off. When it was on the floor with their other things, he pulled the older man down to him for a brutal kiss and rolled them sideways. Now on top, he undid the garment remaining between himself and the man underneath him. Hips jerked up to allow pants to be pulled away; they too found themselves on the floor.

He was kissed hard before the other man rolled him sideways and straddled the back of his legs. A hand on his right hip pulled harshly and he allowed himself to be dragged onto his hands and knees. The man's other hand was on his mouth and he sucked the fingers in eagerly.

And then he was being held still as those fingers delved into the container on the nightstand and then entered him expertly. Several twists of preparation and he was ready. The man behind him added lubrication to his cock before grabbing the taut body in front of him and thrusting forward.

The thrusts were rough but pleasurable and he gasped with each one. They never verbalized their desires, knowing each other far too well. But he felt a change as his partner growled in the back of his throat. The firm fingers on his hips held indents that were perpetually bruised, never truly healing.

He was spinning down when the left hand released his hipbone and twisted painfully in his hair, pulling. He came, arched backwards with a flexibility he had never used to have. He shuddered and fell to the covers. Two more thrusts and the man above him was coming as well.

They lay there, collapsed on the duvet. Finally, the man pulled free and rolled off of him. He felt a groan escape his throat at the withdrawal. The man got up from the bed and shut the bathroom door behind him. When he emerged, he looked calm.

The young man got up as well and went to the living room to retrieve his bag. He reentered the bedroom with it and threw it at the other man, now sitting on the corner of the bed. A minute of riffling and the bag was set aside--gently--on the ground. He could feel the older man's eyes on him but still refused to look at the bed. The man waited silently, unmoving, for several minutes before speaking.

"Percy..."

"Don't," he snapped. "I shall not let you speak to me as a child any longer. I am now twenty-nine and I believe I have made a statement."

The man looked at the bag. "You have. But it is a stupid one." He waited for argument, but received none. "This transfer is what you have worked for for the past thirteen and a half months, you know."

Percy nodded. "I do."

"Staying here because of...this would be foolish, Percy. It is time you leave."

"All I ever do is leave. I will not leave this apartment again." His eyes rose to meet the older man's. "Kick me out tonight, Severus, and I will never come back in."

Severus looked away and rose. He made his way to the window, peeling the curtain back slightly to see the night sky. "Your career is worth more than this. Take the promotion, Percy. We both know you want it."

"That isn't the question I asked, Severus," he responded firmly.

Severus looked at him and spoke softly, "I know." He paused. "But it is my answer."

Severus turned to the sky again and did not watch Percy dress and leave, although he heard the door slam lightly from down the hall. The dull thud rang in his ears with finality.

The right choice was never the easy one.

-Fini-