hackthis_archive (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hackthis_archive) wrote2005-07-15 11:32 am
hackthis_archive) wrote2005-07-15 11:32 am
HP: The Memories That Always Stain
Story Recommendation: I know everyone has read Good Omens. I also know that everyone is loathe to read the fanfic because "it just won't measure up." Shut up. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
oxoniensis has met the challenge in spades with Here Comes The Flood (an extravagance). You will love it. The opening line will have you foaming at the mouth for more.
Now for the main event:romanticalgirl dared me. She said twincest. Or better yet, If nothing else, surely there's some Slytherin dying to get back at the twinses? and my brain said, 'ding!ding!ding!' I dreamt about this story. It had to happen.
Harry Potter
Gavin Montague/George Weasley; George Weasley/Fred Weasley
Notes: Don't let the pairings put you off. Just try it.
Rated: R
'Yeah, Montague tried to do us during break,' said George.
'What do you mean, "tried"?' said Ron quickly.
'He never managed to get all the words out,' said Fred, 'due to the fact that we forced him head-first into that Vanishing Cabinet on the first floor.'
- Order of the Phoenix, Chapter 28
The Memories That Always Stain
He wakes up with Gavin's name on his lips. George isn't accustomed to his surroundings just yet; he's flushed, fevered and confused. This is a new place, the store that they are making, and it's spartan and smells of mildew.
He can't sleep properly, and instinctively, he turns towards the lanky form lying next to him. The freckles that dot Fred's shoulders are comforting to George, and his eyes are half-closed and dark. He gives George a sleepy smile in the muted moonlight that's filtering through their threadbare curtains.
"Bad dream?" Fred yawns and reaches for George underneath the bedclothes. "Dreaming about Umbridge in her frilly underthings again, yeah?"
George snorts and burrows closer. He lets his actions speak for him. There's no reason to drudge up things that are dead and buried. He left Gavin Montague in the Vanishing Cabinet for a reason.
*
There's a hard, slick cock in George's hand. He's rubbing his thumb over the foreskin, smearing pre-come and saliva. He can taste the stretch in the back of his throat, and his head aches from his hair being gripped too tightly.
He can feel the wiry curls brushing against his nose with every slide forward, and he releases the hold of his hand finger-by-finger. He smells sweat and musk and boy. Gavin always smells the same between George's lips or spilled over his fingers. His thrusts are punishing and he's always on the other side of too rough.
George wonders what he did before he got on the wrong side of Gavin Montague. He wonders what Fred would say if he knew.
And then he opens his eyes and sees freckles and ginger hair.
When he looks up, Fred's head is tossed back, and the pale column of his neck is exposed. Fred's hands are fists by his sides, banging against the crumbling wall of their first store.
Fred isn't Gavin at all.
*
Gavin's eyes glimmer, even when there's no light, and George thinks that it must be a Slytherin thing. He thinks it must come from the entitlement that all Slytherins walk around with. Gavin just laughs. "You talk about our entitlement? What do you call that poor excuse for a saviour your lot worship daily?"
George's fist lands just to the right of Gavin's head. Gavin doesn't flinch, and George doesn't even pretend not know what Gavin's on about. "No one worships Harry," he says fiercely, shaking the pins and needles out of his wrist.
Gavin's laugh is low and reverberates in George's head. "Tell yourself that, Weasley. Tell yourself whatever you want. I know better."
George doesn't snog Gavin as much as he attacks him with his mouth, and Gavin's fingers leave bruise on the insides of George's elbows and along the collarbone just underneath his shirt. "You can't tell me anything." George passes along bitterness with each kiss. "You support You Know Who."
Gavin pulls back and pushes up the arm of his cloak. It's pale and flawless -- if George doesn't count the scars and the bruises. "The only person I support is myself." Gavin's tone is cool. "Can you really the say the same thing?"
*
Gavin threatens George when they fuck. He promises to knock George off his broom at the next Quidditch match and laugh as he falls onto the pitch. He says he's going to break George's fingers one by one until he realises that Dumbledore is as much of an idiot as anyone. Gavin says lots of things, like that Voldemort is a two-knut idiot and not worth all the effort they're putting into defeating him. Gavin thinks that Harry Potter is hippogriff dung on the bottom of his Quidditch boots; he says if George keeps consorting with such plebian stock he'll take a thousand points from Gryffindor.
George tells Gavin to shut up.
He tells Gavin to never stop.
*
George moans. He always moans and pushes back for more. He wants this more since it's forbidden. Liaising with Slytherins has always been taboo, but since the arrival of Umbridge and her Inquisitorial Twats, George has been insatiable and Gavin has met his need. Gavin's teeth are sharp and white, and he smiles toothily. It's a smile of promise and pain and superiority. George hates Gavin's superiority complex. He hates that Gavin has more than he does. He hates that Gavin is a Slytherin and Quidditch captain. He hates that Gavin's family never subjects him to hand-me-downs.
George just hates, and he's not supposed to hate.
He's supposed to be above such things, but he's not, and every day he wonders if he's not in Slytherin because he asked the Sorting Hat to keep him with Fred. He wonders, if he were in Slytherin, would he be better off?
*
It's raining in Scotland, and George stares at the ceiling in the Great Hall wishing that just once the rain would come all the way down. He can see the lightning flashing across the sky, and the castle shakes as the thunder echoes outside. George's ears ring with tension and mindless babble. He needs to vent; he's starting to feel stifled.
He picks at his food and pointedly keeps from staring at the Slytherin table across the room. He can feel Gavin's eyes, and the hairs on the back of his arms are rising with the electricity that's not from any Muggle invention.
Fred is trying to tell him something about something, but George has no idea what. "What're you up to little George Weasley?"
George turns quickly at the timber of Fred's voice and sees himself. Except not. They are not the same. They have never been the same. It's just a vicious rumor, like the ones about Harry. "I have no idea what you're on about," George says sharply. He can see he's been too harsh, and Fred reels slightly, then the wounded look is gone.
"You must have something very bad planned," Fred says after a moment. "You look as though you've been caught robbing Gringotts' blind. Care to share your devious plan with your brother?"
"I'm not up to anything." Not everything in George's life is about jokes or Fred or how to get one up on the competition; no one ever seems to remember that.
Fred makes a 'hmm'ing noise. It just pushes George further over the edge. "Don’t believe me," he retorts. He can tell he's gone too far when Ron looks up from the other end of the table, but he gets up anyway.
Fred's completely bemused, and George pushes down his urge to make things better. "I don't care what you believe," he says simply. "Just because I'm your twin doesn't mean I'm you."
He can feel two sets of eyes on him as he leaves.
He waits out by the Quidditch shed for Gavin to find him.
He needs to take this out on someone.
*
George's memories of how he got involved with Gavin are hazy. He doesn't wonder if they were always so fuzzy or if he's made them that way as a saving grace. He can't even remember why he kissed Gavin. He certainly doesn't remember why Gavin kissed him back. He does remember there was a fight, because there's always fighting. He remembers the wet slap of his fist meeting Gavin's right cheek and the way the bones in his hand shifted. He remembers the knot on the back of his head from Gavin slamming him against the wall in the dungeons. He doesn’t know why he was in the dungeons either. He remembers that Gavin smelled of liquorice and mint; his tongue was red like he'd been enjoying a Blood Sucker.
They are not going to sell Blood Suckers in the store.
*
The Vanishing Cabinet is a gaudy, enormous monstrosity. It's gilded and lacquered and located in a locked room on the first floor. As far as locations for assignations go, it doesn't get much better. George is waiting for Gavin. He knows he's waiting for Gavin because he told Gavin to meet him here, and it's a very unwelcome surprise when the door creaks open and Fred appears instead. There are a thousand things that George wants to say, "Piss off", "How did you find me?", "You've got to be fucking joking." But if this is a joke, then it's being played on him, and George can feel the panic and bile rising in his throat as Fred eyes him warily across the room.
They haven't talked since they quarreled at dinner, two days ago. They're so close that they don't know how to argue. This is only the third time in sixteen years that they've reached this point. George doesn't know whether to apologise or rage, and Fred takes the choice away from him by crossing the room and snogging him senseless.
George can't wrap his mind around this sudden change in their relationship, and he shakes from head to toe with the realisation that everything in his life is about to fall apart. His hands find Fred's hair and ears and face easily enough though, and he strokes the stubble growing along Fred's jawline.
"Did I interrupt something?"
George's heart drops when he hears Gavin at the door, and he pulls Fred's wand out blindly. Gavin's smirk is all insouciant amusement, and George can't take the strain anymore.
"Stupefy!" he shouts, wondering how he got to this point.
*
There's an owl from Ron the Friday after the boys make their grand exit from Hogwarts. He talks about Quidditch and Hermione and how Ginny is being a pain. He never mentions Percy. He never mentions the mess that the twins left behind or the fact that everyone probably got detention; George likes that. He likes that Ron never places the blame. Fred reads over George's shoulder, his hair tickling George's ear and his long freckled fingers toying with the clasp of George's robes. Fred's fingers seek out George's skin, and when George gasps, Fred thinks it's because of his touch and not because of Ron's post-script.
Of all the things George has ever wanted in his life, he's never thought that Gavin would come to this. He doesn't know what to say about Gavin showing up in the toilet or that his memory is addled. Something breaks in his brain and bleeds all over his memories of a dark-haired boy with curls and bright blue eyes. When Fred kisses him, all George can do is think of Gavin.
-end-
Improv: thunder, vent, store, pitch, glimmer
Beta byserialkarma.
Dedicated toromanticalgirl and ethrosdemon. Remaining fuck-ups are all mine. Not that I care. I love this story so much that I think I will take it out and roll around in it for a bit.
oxoniensis has met the challenge in spades with Here Comes The Flood (an extravagance). You will love it. The opening line will have you foaming at the mouth for more.Now for the main event:
romanticalgirl dared me. She said twincest. Or better yet, If nothing else, surely there's some Slytherin dying to get back at the twinses? and my brain said, 'ding!ding!ding!' I dreamt about this story. It had to happen.Harry Potter
Gavin Montague/George Weasley; George Weasley/Fred Weasley
Notes: Don't let the pairings put you off. Just try it.
Rated: R
'Yeah, Montague tried to do us during break,' said George.
'What do you mean, "tried"?' said Ron quickly.
'He never managed to get all the words out,' said Fred, 'due to the fact that we forced him head-first into that Vanishing Cabinet on the first floor.'
- Order of the Phoenix, Chapter 28
He wakes up with Gavin's name on his lips. George isn't accustomed to his surroundings just yet; he's flushed, fevered and confused. This is a new place, the store that they are making, and it's spartan and smells of mildew.
He can't sleep properly, and instinctively, he turns towards the lanky form lying next to him. The freckles that dot Fred's shoulders are comforting to George, and his eyes are half-closed and dark. He gives George a sleepy smile in the muted moonlight that's filtering through their threadbare curtains.
"Bad dream?" Fred yawns and reaches for George underneath the bedclothes. "Dreaming about Umbridge in her frilly underthings again, yeah?"
George snorts and burrows closer. He lets his actions speak for him. There's no reason to drudge up things that are dead and buried. He left Gavin Montague in the Vanishing Cabinet for a reason.
There's a hard, slick cock in George's hand. He's rubbing his thumb over the foreskin, smearing pre-come and saliva. He can taste the stretch in the back of his throat, and his head aches from his hair being gripped too tightly.
He can feel the wiry curls brushing against his nose with every slide forward, and he releases the hold of his hand finger-by-finger. He smells sweat and musk and boy. Gavin always smells the same between George's lips or spilled over his fingers. His thrusts are punishing and he's always on the other side of too rough.
George wonders what he did before he got on the wrong side of Gavin Montague. He wonders what Fred would say if he knew.
And then he opens his eyes and sees freckles and ginger hair.
When he looks up, Fred's head is tossed back, and the pale column of his neck is exposed. Fred's hands are fists by his sides, banging against the crumbling wall of their first store.
Fred isn't Gavin at all.
Gavin's eyes glimmer, even when there's no light, and George thinks that it must be a Slytherin thing. He thinks it must come from the entitlement that all Slytherins walk around with. Gavin just laughs. "You talk about our entitlement? What do you call that poor excuse for a saviour your lot worship daily?"
George's fist lands just to the right of Gavin's head. Gavin doesn't flinch, and George doesn't even pretend not know what Gavin's on about. "No one worships Harry," he says fiercely, shaking the pins and needles out of his wrist.
Gavin's laugh is low and reverberates in George's head. "Tell yourself that, Weasley. Tell yourself whatever you want. I know better."
George doesn't snog Gavin as much as he attacks him with his mouth, and Gavin's fingers leave bruise on the insides of George's elbows and along the collarbone just underneath his shirt. "You can't tell me anything." George passes along bitterness with each kiss. "You support You Know Who."
Gavin pulls back and pushes up the arm of his cloak. It's pale and flawless -- if George doesn't count the scars and the bruises. "The only person I support is myself." Gavin's tone is cool. "Can you really the say the same thing?"
Gavin threatens George when they fuck. He promises to knock George off his broom at the next Quidditch match and laugh as he falls onto the pitch. He says he's going to break George's fingers one by one until he realises that Dumbledore is as much of an idiot as anyone. Gavin says lots of things, like that Voldemort is a two-knut idiot and not worth all the effort they're putting into defeating him. Gavin thinks that Harry Potter is hippogriff dung on the bottom of his Quidditch boots; he says if George keeps consorting with such plebian stock he'll take a thousand points from Gryffindor.
George tells Gavin to shut up.
He tells Gavin to never stop.
George moans. He always moans and pushes back for more. He wants this more since it's forbidden. Liaising with Slytherins has always been taboo, but since the arrival of Umbridge and her Inquisitorial Twats, George has been insatiable and Gavin has met his need. Gavin's teeth are sharp and white, and he smiles toothily. It's a smile of promise and pain and superiority. George hates Gavin's superiority complex. He hates that Gavin has more than he does. He hates that Gavin is a Slytherin and Quidditch captain. He hates that Gavin's family never subjects him to hand-me-downs.
George just hates, and he's not supposed to hate.
He's supposed to be above such things, but he's not, and every day he wonders if he's not in Slytherin because he asked the Sorting Hat to keep him with Fred. He wonders, if he were in Slytherin, would he be better off?
It's raining in Scotland, and George stares at the ceiling in the Great Hall wishing that just once the rain would come all the way down. He can see the lightning flashing across the sky, and the castle shakes as the thunder echoes outside. George's ears ring with tension and mindless babble. He needs to vent; he's starting to feel stifled.
He picks at his food and pointedly keeps from staring at the Slytherin table across the room. He can feel Gavin's eyes, and the hairs on the back of his arms are rising with the electricity that's not from any Muggle invention.
Fred is trying to tell him something about something, but George has no idea what. "What're you up to little George Weasley?"
George turns quickly at the timber of Fred's voice and sees himself. Except not. They are not the same. They have never been the same. It's just a vicious rumor, like the ones about Harry. "I have no idea what you're on about," George says sharply. He can see he's been too harsh, and Fred reels slightly, then the wounded look is gone.
"You must have something very bad planned," Fred says after a moment. "You look as though you've been caught robbing Gringotts' blind. Care to share your devious plan with your brother?"
"I'm not up to anything." Not everything in George's life is about jokes or Fred or how to get one up on the competition; no one ever seems to remember that.
Fred makes a 'hmm'ing noise. It just pushes George further over the edge. "Don’t believe me," he retorts. He can tell he's gone too far when Ron looks up from the other end of the table, but he gets up anyway.
Fred's completely bemused, and George pushes down his urge to make things better. "I don't care what you believe," he says simply. "Just because I'm your twin doesn't mean I'm you."
He can feel two sets of eyes on him as he leaves.
He waits out by the Quidditch shed for Gavin to find him.
He needs to take this out on someone.
George's memories of how he got involved with Gavin are hazy. He doesn't wonder if they were always so fuzzy or if he's made them that way as a saving grace. He can't even remember why he kissed Gavin. He certainly doesn't remember why Gavin kissed him back. He does remember there was a fight, because there's always fighting. He remembers the wet slap of his fist meeting Gavin's right cheek and the way the bones in his hand shifted. He remembers the knot on the back of his head from Gavin slamming him against the wall in the dungeons. He doesn’t know why he was in the dungeons either. He remembers that Gavin smelled of liquorice and mint; his tongue was red like he'd been enjoying a Blood Sucker.
They are not going to sell Blood Suckers in the store.
The Vanishing Cabinet is a gaudy, enormous monstrosity. It's gilded and lacquered and located in a locked room on the first floor. As far as locations for assignations go, it doesn't get much better. George is waiting for Gavin. He knows he's waiting for Gavin because he told Gavin to meet him here, and it's a very unwelcome surprise when the door creaks open and Fred appears instead. There are a thousand things that George wants to say, "Piss off", "How did you find me?", "You've got to be fucking joking." But if this is a joke, then it's being played on him, and George can feel the panic and bile rising in his throat as Fred eyes him warily across the room.
They haven't talked since they quarreled at dinner, two days ago. They're so close that they don't know how to argue. This is only the third time in sixteen years that they've reached this point. George doesn't know whether to apologise or rage, and Fred takes the choice away from him by crossing the room and snogging him senseless.
George can't wrap his mind around this sudden change in their relationship, and he shakes from head to toe with the realisation that everything in his life is about to fall apart. His hands find Fred's hair and ears and face easily enough though, and he strokes the stubble growing along Fred's jawline.
"Did I interrupt something?"
George's heart drops when he hears Gavin at the door, and he pulls Fred's wand out blindly. Gavin's smirk is all insouciant amusement, and George can't take the strain anymore.
"Stupefy!" he shouts, wondering how he got to this point.
There's an owl from Ron the Friday after the boys make their grand exit from Hogwarts. He talks about Quidditch and Hermione and how Ginny is being a pain. He never mentions Percy. He never mentions the mess that the twins left behind or the fact that everyone probably got detention; George likes that. He likes that Ron never places the blame. Fred reads over George's shoulder, his hair tickling George's ear and his long freckled fingers toying with the clasp of George's robes. Fred's fingers seek out George's skin, and when George gasps, Fred thinks it's because of his touch and not because of Ron's post-script.
Of all the things George has ever wanted in his life, he's never thought that Gavin would come to this. He doesn't know what to say about Gavin showing up in the toilet or that his memory is addled. Something breaks in his brain and bleeds all over his memories of a dark-haired boy with curls and bright blue eyes. When Fred kisses him, all George can do is think of Gavin.
-end-
Improv: thunder, vent, store, pitch, glimmer
Beta by
serialkarma.Dedicated to
romanticalgirl and ethrosdemon. Remaining fuck-ups are all mine. Not that I care. I love this story so much that I think I will take it out and roll around in it for a bit.
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oh -- have seen this? (http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=caple/050715) hp fanfiction on espn.com!
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Thank you for writing these.
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XO
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I love the idea of George as a maybe Slytherin and it's just so delightfully dark and fucked.
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But thanks for this rec!
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Ok. I love you, too.
he's always on the other side of too rough
you know why we love each other? the share rough sex kink. THE LOVE!
Harry dissage!
"The only person I support is myself." Gavin's tone is cool. "Can you really the say the same thing about you?"
SNAP
like that Voldemort is a two-knut idiot and not worth all the effort they're putting into defeating him
And snap again.
every day he wonders if he's not in Slytherin because he asked the Sorting Hat to keep him with Fred.
George, it sucks that the choices you made at 11 effect the rest of your life, but that that up with God, that's Ms. Rowling if you're nasty.
Not everything in George's life is about jokes or Fred or how to get one up on the competition; no one ever seems to remember that.
!!! This whole I'm not Fred bit is glorious! Oh, lovely. The stuff that makes a wonderful villain.
well, I'll be mordred damned. the whole bit about the actualy VC is m-fing brilliant! So very fucked up and the fighting and not being about to fight or know how and the stubble on Fred's face, and Gavin being a fucking MONTAGUE all over in red and spades, and poor George who you redeemed, innit?
this reminds me of the old HP fic we used to make, and I miss it.
you did good, baby girl.
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George, it sucks that the choices you made at 11 effect the rest of your life, but that that up with God, that's Ms. Rowling if you're nasty.
That's just fucking priceless. Also, I am very big on the whole George and Fred are not the same thing. George in my favourite. I think you need to write about the VC, with all that delicious information Draco got from Gavin, and Gavin's not as addled anymore. What's up with all that? Rhys in the lab, yeah? What if the cure was all sex-related. I am going to hell.
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You make it so hard to
get away from photoshopdo anything but applaud. I absolutely adore your stuff. One of these days I may require you to dance on tables and chat, possibly simultaneously. You're a marvel.no subject
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"Stupefy!" he shouts, wondering how he got to this point.
That moment was very powerful to me.
Well. And the whole thing, really.
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Sometimes I wonder if that damned hat screws things up.
Not everything in George's life is about jokes or Fred or how to get one up on the competition; no one ever seems to remember that.
*nods*
He likes that Ron never places the blame.
Oh, Ron.
*adores*
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I wonder about the hat, I mean, if it sorts you where you want instead of where you *should* go, what's that all about then? I thought it was in charge! Obviously it's subject to suggestion them, so, suppose you see a cute boy/girl and decide to follow them only they turn out to be a prat and you're stuck in that house forever!
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Wonderfully fucked up.
*adores you*
Now, do you want Draco/Neville or Ron/Draco.
*can't believe she's about to write Draco*
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*worships*
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