Astronomy Tower
Harry Potter/Original Female Witch
Harry Potter Original Female Witch
Romance Angst
Harry and Classmates Post-Hogwarts
Published: 06/29/2007
Updated: 06/29/2007
Words: 1,235
Chapters: 1
Hits: 275

Save Me


Story Summary:
Harry is now twenty-two years old. He's overtaken by depression, and the person he once loved is dead. Can a new friend called Rhay save him from what he has become?

Save Me

Chapter Summary:
Harry is now twenty - two years old. He's overtaken by depression, and the person he once loved is dead. Can a new friend called Rhay save him from what he has become?
Author's Note:
To the one who knows. You have no idea how much you mean to me. Let me in, let this happen to us one day.

Harry lit a cigarette and inhaled the smoke deeply. The nicotine hit his brain with sharp relief; the cold no longer mattered. Where was Rhay? She always showed up on time; this time he wanted to talk to her.

Rhay hated him smoking; whenever she saw him with a fag, there was a passionate yell for him to put the fucking thing out. He always did, because he harboured great respect for her.

At twenty two, Harry was no longer who he had been. Having defeated Voldemort in his last year at Hogwarts, and then working until all his death eaters had been destroyed, he had finally fallen back to his dark musings about Draco's death.

Draco died a hero, having betrayed Voldemort's location to Harry. He joined their side and had the honour of dying at Voldemort's hand. It was his death that finally spurred Harry to use the unforgivable curses with true passion and lead to his triumph over the Dark Lord.

Rhay was the only one that he could talk to. She was four years younger than him; he didn't understand what power she had that made him pour out all his grief, sadness and longing on her shoulders. It was simply the effect that she had on him; she listened and was sympathetic. He hated sympathy usually, but from Rhay it just seemed normal, it felt right.

The fag burnt through his fingers; he felt the pain, gave a yell and dropped the end in the snow. Looking up, he saw Rhay walking towards him through the swirling snowflakes. They caught in her long, dark hair.

He flashed a grin and went to her. She gave that gentle smile of hers and gestured to the snow.

"First snow! This is my favourite time of year. How are you, Harry?"

"Not too bad, are you okay?"


"Yeah, I'm not too bad," said Rhay. She looked up at him and half wished that she could just be swept up into a hug with Harry; she loved him, but she'd never tell. When he'd first started talking about his old lover, she'd just listened and hugged him tightly, telling him it was all going to be okay.

She had wanted so badly to take those glasses off and wipe away his tears properly. Kiss them away, perhaps. But that could never happen, would never happen.


"What are you thinking about?"

She started and then smiled. "Nothing, just thinking..."

"You always imagine the impossible, you do," he said.

"I know. Sometimes it's just better for me to think about what can never happen, because then I can hope it will."

"Do you want to go back to my place? It's stupid just standing in the snow." He reached out for her.

Rhay smiled and nodded. "Yeah, we might as well," she said. Looking at the hand stretched out for her, she bit her lip and took it. His skin was cold and dry.


Harry's flat was on the third floor; the furniture was old and soft. Bottles of liquor, firewhisky and beer littered the floor of the living room. He gazed into the kitchen, with its' stacks of dirty pots and pans, gave a shrug and invited Rhay into his bedroom.

The bed was made, but the sheets were crumpled rather than smooth. Harry sat on the end of his bed, and Rhay sat down next to him. He looked at her and came to the sudden realization that she was beautiful. Then he thought of Draco, his smile and his white - blond hair. Their promises to each other to never take another lover if one of them should die. He wished he knew what to do.


Rhay watched as Harry's mood deepened and darkened. She knew what was coming; she knew that he would soon start crying. He always did; it was just his way. Harry was a man that had truly lost his way in life. Often, she would get phone calls in the middle of the night. It was always Harry, when at his most depressed he always turned to her because of that one act of kindness that she'd shown him. That day that she'd found him crying in the church.

The sun had been shining in through the windows, soft but bright autumn sun. He'd been sitting at the top of the bell tower crying for Draco. She had listened to his story and his sadness on that sunny day.


Harry, meanwhile, was thinking of Draco and their kisses. Their cries in the night, their secrets that they had kept from the world. It had now been four years, why shouldn't he move on and find somebody else? He realized he didn't really want to... all he wanted was to wallow in misery all alone.

If he wanted to be alone, why was Rhay in his flat? Why was Rhay sitting on his bed, waiting for him to cry?

Or was she waiting for him to smile?


As Rhay watched, tears slid down his cheeks like all the times before. She uncrossed her legs and leaned across to give him a hug.

He clung to her as he had so many times before.

She had to make the first move; she wanted to so badly.

Slowly, she reached up and took off his glasses. Then, softly as a mother, she looked up and kissed his tears away.


He didn't start at those soft kisses on his cheeks. But his eyes slowly met hers, and he reached up with his hand to cup her chin in his palm. Deliberately, he kissed her small mouth, his lips rough on hers. She kissed him back, kissed him back hard, her tongue suddenly in his mouth.

He pushed backwards slightly, and they fell into the bed.

Harry sat up on her hips and took off his jumper. Rhay unbuttoned her shirt and gave a gasp as Harry's cold hands pressed into her stomach. She went limp, let him lean back down and kiss her again, remove her bra with freezing hands. Her hands, nimbler and smaller than his, found the buttons on his shirt and worked the buttons out through the button holes. When the buttons on the shirt were done, her hands worked lower and onto his belt and flies.

Harry gasped when she did that. The he laughed as he heard her mutter: "You're not gay. You're just bi. Idiot!"

He kissed her harder and tore the shirt off her shoulders. Then he got off her altogether and unzipped her jeans, tugging them off and throwing them to one side. Gently, he gripped her lacy panties in his teeth and pulled them down her legs. She gasped at that.

Harry pulled off his trousers and boxer shorts. Rhay scuttled under the covers with a mischievous grin. He jumped on her and kissed her slowly.

"Please..." gasped Rhay.

"Please what?" said Harry

"Just get on with it, you moron," said Rhay with a smile on her lips. He pushed her legs apart and entered her. Rhay let out a small scream as they rocked and panted, shared sweetness and sex.


Afterwards, when they lay there, still breathing heavily, their sweat mingled and soaked into the sheets, Harry was the first to speak.

"I'm not sorry," he said.

"Don't worry," replied Rhay. "Neither am I."

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