"Sure, why not? Unless it's too personal," John said.
Harry shook his head no. "It, er, just occurred to me when Jamie asked where I'd been lately, that I had no memory at all of what I've been doing on the weekends the last few months."
"Do you drink?" John asked, a perfectly reasonable question under the circumstances.
Harry gave another negative shake of his head. "Not to excess. I don't do drugs, either. It's just weird."
"Yeah, it sounds sorta scary," John said. "Did you have anything traumatic happen to you lately? I've seen some guys loose their memories after battle or capture."
"Battle? Are you in the military?" Harry asked.
John appeared chagrined with himself as he gave a slow nod. "Air Force. The brass isn't very understanding about the guy on guy thing, if you take my meaning."
Reading John's concern, Harry said. "The guy on guy thing isn't exactly smiled upon here, either. I teach in a highly conservative school. We're both going to have to keep each other's secrets."
John gave him that sexy smile again. "I think I'm gonna enjoy keeping your secrets. But getting back to the amnesia . . . ."
"Amnesia?" It felt weird to actually call it that.
"Well, that's usually what they call missing memories, isn't it?" John asked.
"Yeah, I guess so. It's just hard to think of myself as . . . having amnesia. Especially since I can't remember anything traumatic happening."
John gave a serious sounding, "That's because you have amnesia," that made Harry laugh.
When he calmed, John said, "It isn't really a laughing matter."
"No, I guess not," Harry agreed. "It just feels a little unreal, like something from a Muggle soap opera. You know?"
"I've never had amnesia," John said, "But I've had some weird stuff go down, way weird. So, yeah, I do sorta understand." After a silent moment, John asked, "Do you want to take a rain check on tonight?"
Harry's gaze strayed to the neatly made bed, and then back to the handsome man who was watching him with open concern. The worry made up his mind. He didn't have a clue as to why he couldn't remember what he'd done with his spare time in the last few months, and that bothered the hell out of him, but he couldn't remember the last time a casual paramour had been this considerate with him, either. He wasn't going to blow the chance to get to know a man like John better. Whatever the problem with his memory, it would be there in the morning.
"I know it sounds weird, but, no. I'd like to stay if you're still interested," Harry said.
"Why wouldn't I be?" John asked with that same boyish charm that had hooked Harry in the bar.
Harry smiled and said, "Amnesia really isn't most guys' idea of a hot date."
"Their loss," John said as he stepped closer.
John was taller than him by at least three inches, but as Harry looked up at him as the man stepped into his personal space, he was once again struck by a sense of something not being right. It made no sense, but his body seemed to think that John should be even taller than he was.
"I, ah, should warn you," John said. "I'm a little rusty. It's been a while."
"Apparently, for me, too," Harry said with a smile.
John's chuckle made him glad he'd made the joke, for John seemed far more relaxed as he asked, "Do you like to kiss?"
"Yeah, love it," Harry answered. The meeting of their lips blasted any lingering sense of wrongness from his mind. John's mouth was sweet and responsive. He opened to him at the first swipe of his tongue.
The hunger in John's kiss and the eager way his hands roved over Harry's back told him just how long it had been for John. The guy was considerate, but beneath the surface cool, he sensed an almost ravenous need.
That was more than fine with him. Harry couldn't remember the last time there had been this much fun and laughter in a first time encounter.
Their clothes hit the floor piece by piece. John proved to have a wonderfully masculine chest with thick hair. Like Harry himself, his new companion seemed to really enjoy having his nipples sucked and played with.
In no time at all, they were flat on the bed, locked in what seemed to be an endless kiss. After a long period of eager foreplay, John lifted his head from the kiss to ask, "How do you want to do this?"
This was where problems usually arose. Wanting to avoid the whole 'who's on top' discussion, Harry questioned, "69 work for you?"
John's instant grin told him he'd made the right choice.
Shifting around in the bed, Harry targeted that long, rosy circumcised cock. Most wizards weren't cut, so it was a sexy change of pace. Harry couldn't hold back a gasp as John tentatively familiarized himself with his own foreskin.
"This is so cool," John said, his tongue moving to trace where Harry's glans was poking out of the foreskin.
Cool wasn't the adjective Harry would have chosen to describe the sensations thundering through him at the moment, but he appreciated the compliment. Lowering his head to absorb that impressive, streamlined shaft, he did his best to blast all higher thought processes from John's mind.
They came almost simultaneously. Like himself, John seemed to enjoy swallowing. Harry understood the need, but it was always a bit disappointing when a lover spat him out.
Their heads pillowed on each other's thighs, they lay there trying to catch their breath for a long time afterwards.
John broke the silence with a contented, "That was pretty amazing."
Liking how open John was, Harry smiled and said, "Sure was. You up for another round?"
John's chuckle filled the room. "Thanks for the compliment, but I'll need a few minutes."
Harry shifted around, and did his best to take John's breath away with a kiss.
He spent a long time exploring John's slender body. John had a strange set of scars on his neck. They didn't look like knife or bullet wounds. In fact, they looked more like a hickey or a vampire bite, only the marks were too far apart to have been made by human teeth or any animal he knew.
John tensed as Harry's fingers played over the scars.
Sensing how reluctant John was to talk about them, Harry simply kissed them and moved on. He discovered a definite bullet wound on John's upper left arm, and a number of other less identifiable marks elsewhere. John had obviously seen some heavy fighting in his day.
It was odd to see someone his own age with so many scars. Most wizards healed their wounds magically, leaving no trace of them behind. It was only dark curses that left marks, like the lightning bolt on his forehead.
Realizing how much pain these hurts must have caused John and how long it must have taken them to heal without magic, Harry took his time, kissing and licking each one of them.
Harry's tongue tip was tracing what looked like a knife wound on John's thigh when John laid a hand in his messy hair and said, "That feels incredible."
"Not as incredible as you taste," Harry replied, looking up to meet those hazel eyes.
He heard John gulp and then those wiry arms were pulling him up into another kiss that was a hell of a lot more tender than anything Harry had experienced in a one night stand.
Harry settled on top of John's warm, slender body. Their genitals nestled snugly together as they kissed, adding a whole level of delight to the joining of their mouths.
Harry gave an experimental hump to see what would happen. John moaned into the kiss, then his hands settled on his arse to encourage more humping.
This wasn't at all like what he was used to. John didn't treat him like a stranger he'd picked up in a bar. Harry couldn't remember ever doing it face to face like this with a casual pickup. Most of the men he'd been with didn't even like to kiss. This was . . . really nice.
They only broke the kiss when the passion flared to unmanageable levels. Harry felt like he was melting as they came in a sticky mess between their pressed bellies.
John cuddled him through the aftermath, stroking his back and sharing lazy kisses.
As that wonderful lassitude started to fade, Harry waited for John to stop stroking him, dreading the freeze up that usually came when the passion was spent. But John just kept rubbing his back like he was in no hurry for him to leave.
Finally, Harry's confusion forced him to ask, "Do you want me to clear out?"
John gave an actual start. "Huh?"
"I'm going to fall asleep if I don't start moving soon," Harry said.
Considering that they'd just had their mouths on each other's cocks a few minutes ago, John seemed strangely bashful as he said, "I, ah, suck at the one night stand thing. Do whatever you feel comfortable doing, Harry."
"Do you want me to spend the night?" Harry questioned.
"Only if you want to," John said, a caution in his attitude that hadn't been there before.
Realizing that he'd messed up, Harry said, "I'm sorry. I just didn't want to overstay my welcome."
John ran a hand through the dark hair that was standing up vertical over his forehead in an unruly mess that eclipsed even Harry's hair. John seemed to study him for a long moment before finally saying in a totally tentative tone, "The whole 'go your separate ways like you never touched' routine never worked for me. That's why I hardly ever do this anymore. The sex is usually wonderful, but things get pretty weird afterwards. I hate that part."
"Me, too," Harry said.
"So why don't we skip it?" John suggested.
"What?" Harry wasn't sure what John was saying.
"My plane doesn't leave Heathrow until Sunday afternoon. I know it's not really cool to admit it, but I had a great time tonight and I'd like to spend some more time with you. What do you think?"
Holding that nervous gaze, Harry swallowed around a tight throat and said, "That I'm going to be wishing you didn't live in a galaxy far, far away by Sunday."
John nodded. "Yeah, that could be a problem. I wasn't expecting to meet someone like you."
"Me, either." Knowing that he was playing with fire here, Harry threw caution to the wind and answered, "Let's worry about that when Sunday gets here, okay? Till then, let's just enjoy the time together."
"Sounds like a plan," John said, settling back down against the pillows.
Shivering as the sweat of sex dried on his skin, Harry silently levitated the duvet over them. It was only as he saw John's wide eyes that he remembered that his companion had lived his life entirely in the Muggle world and wasn't accustomed to even simple levitation. It was a nice change. Most of his other lovers would have been giving him the same look because he'd performed the magic without wand or word.
"That's a pretty neat trick," John admired. "Is it hard to learn?"
"No. Most first years can do it." Harry could see how interested John was. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to know you might be able to work magic, but not have had the training to do so. "I could show you how, if you'd like."
"Really? You'd be willing to do that?"
"Yeah. You'll need a wand, though," Harry said.
"Oh." John looked crestfallen.
"We could get one in Diagon Alley tomorrow, if you're really interested," Harry offered. "I could even teach you to fly."
"On a broom?"
"It's the only way to do it," Harry said with a smile, knowing he'd caught the pilot's heart.
"Can I get a broom when we get the wand?"
"I've got a spare you can use," Harry said.
"Wow. That would be totally cool," John said.
"This time of the year, it will be totally freezing," Harry warned.
John chuckled and cuddled around him. "I'll warm you up afterwards."
Harry giggled as John's lips latched playfully onto his neck.
Thinking that he already liked this man way too much, Harry reached out to draw John even closer.
*~*~*
Magic had a way of happening when you least expected it. Waking up next to John and making playful love felt almost like he was under some kind of spell to Harry. That the spell didn't break when they got up, dressed, had breakfast, and flooed to Diagon Alley to buy John's wand was fairly unique in his experience. He was so used to other wizards getting scared off by his freaky powers by morning light. The fact that all magic was new to John made him oblivious to the things about Harry that usually frightened other wizards.
But beyond his unfamiliarity with magic, John was really something special. For the first time ever, Harry didn't have to deal with all the baggage of being the Boy Who Lived. To John, he was just Harry, and that was a wonderful feeling.
Still, for all that they had great chemistry in and out of the sack, something was off. On the surface, John Shepford appeared to be an easy-going, open person, but after a few hours of chatting as they walked through the Diagon Alley shops, Harry realized that the real John Shepford was buried so deep that there was little chance of his finding him in the few days John said he'd be here. But he intended to enjoy those days to the fullest.
Harry looked over to where John was riding his old Firebolt beside him as they soared over the Forbidden Forest. The winds had died down some. The clouds had rolled back in, threatening rain, but so far, it had held off, even though it was cold enough to freeze a fire dragon's balls.
Teaching John to fly had been one of those impulsive acts that usually ended in disaster, but so far, everything had been wonderful. John was a natural at flying. His magic was powerful, if mostly untapped.
"This is great!" John shouted out to him.
Harry watched with a smile and a close eye as John did a loop de loop. His new lover sat his broom like a seasoned quidditch player.
"Is that the school you teach in over there?" John shouted, pointing towards the castle.
