traintracks

Title: Accumulation
Author:

traintracks
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: James/Al
Rating: R
Word Count: ~400
Warnings: angst, incest
Disclaimer: I don't own much of anything, least of all anything having to do with Harry Potter.
A/N: This is for adventdrabbles and prompt #28: falling snow.

When James could Apparate and Albus still couldn't, Al would get the room at the Three Broomsticks and James would meet him there with no one the wiser. They both realized what it meant. Neither suffered any delusions. They just didn't talk about it – couldn't.

They never had been very good at talking. Talking devolved into argument which slid into sulking silences, and the only thing that had worked – had always worked – was this.

Words belied their hearts. And their hearts were only animals, without words, one against the other, skin against skin. No candles would be lit, because neither could face the truth of things. When James fucked his brother, he did it with his eyes closed, Al's legs wrapped around him, quick breath at his temple. They saw with their hands – felt their way across one another. They never kissed. Not mouth to mouth. Though they got close. And when they got close, it was like they were nearing the words. One breath away was I love you. Lips on a jaw, on a cheek, were almost a whisper, almost fatal.

And they'd have to turn it rough then if only to deny the softness of their thoughts. James would roll his brother over, enter him again, thrust, hold him down, hard hands on hips.

But there was always the hot moist breath against a back. There was the escaped whimper. There might be some semblance of a prayer. Never a confession.

And it seemed like they always came together in the winter, when everything else was so quiet and cold – when they'd denied it as long as they could and the heat built up in their hearts. It was easier to slip under the warm covers and pretend this was comfort, pretend it was still innocence, fumbling, when the truth was that they knew one another's bodies by memory, absolutely unerring.

They would rest in the aftermath, unspeaking and cold, wrapped around one another as though this were normal. One and then the other would finally go back to the school, slipping in unnoticed, masking guilt and sin with magic, with brotherly love. A ready smile here, a confident nod. Grabbing him close and rowdy.

And inside breaking. Remembering. How he felt against your skin…how he nearly wept with you inside him…and all the while, the snow falling steadily outside, each flake a silent accusation, accumulating on a sill.