How was it possible that the best night of his life was also the worst? Harry didn't know how it was possible, just that it was. He'd dreamt of it almost every night for years, though some nights it quickly dissolved into a nightmare. Some nights it was both a dream and a nightmare at once, grunts and gasps and moans intermingling with other, angrier types of grunts and gasps and moans, leaving Harry to wake up hard and panting and just as confused and broken as he was that night.
Which wasn't to say that he hadn't moved on. He had, for the most part. New house, new neighborhood, new school. But Harry's Harry no matter where he is, and he didn't know how to stop thinking about those eyes and how they looked at him and those hands and how they felt on him.
It'd been three years and he still couldn't forget that night. He still couldn't figure out how to feel about it, but he did know that hiding wasn't doing any good. So he was going back, even if it killed him.
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These Violent Delights (Zirry Love Triangle)
FanfictionHow was it possible that the best night of his life was also the worst? Harry didn't know how it was possible, just that it was. Bradford, England 1994
