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Fic - Summer Love - 1/1
Title: Summer Love
Author: Evandar
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance
Pairing: Kingsley Shacklebolt/Rabastan Lestrange
Warnings: N/A
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I am making no profit from this story.
Summary: The holiday is Rabastan's idea.
AN: This was written for![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hogwarts365, Prompt 300: Revelry and Fundamental.
Rabastan flashes a wild grin over his shoulder as he leads Kingsley deeper into the crowd. Around them, Paris is alive with revelry – the French won the Quidditch World Cup, and wizards and witches have spilled onto the streets to celebrate. He keeps a tight grip on his lover’s fingers as he follows him: Rabastan knows Paris like the back of his hand, and he might be an utter bastard half the time, but Kingsley trusts him not to get them lost. He’s been trusting him this entire holiday so far, and Rabastan hasn’t let him wrong yet.
The holiday had been Rabastan’s idea. A break together before their final year at school, before NEWTs took over their entire lives. He’d suggested Paris for the romance and because of the house his family kept there – inherited from the main branch of the family after the war with Grindelwald, Rabastan had said with a grimace. It’s been the best summer of Kingsley’s life: Quidditch, incredible food, and a truly excessive amount of sex. He’s in love, utterly addicted to the way Rabastan moves and smiles, and the way his kisses bring with them the faintest hint of regret.
Their politics are so fundamentally different that their relationship shouldn’t be working at all. But it is. By some miracle, it actually is, and Kingsley never wants to let go.
He follows Rabastan through the crush of people, down winding streets and down, down into the dark of the tunnels the Muggles are building for their new métro. The sound of the street parties echoes here, eerie. Rabastan drags him close in a cool alcove, presses him up against a wall. Kingsley can’t see him; can only feel the heat of his breath across his lips as Rabastan leans closer and the weight of his body pressing up against him. His heart stutters as a whisper ghosts over his jaw, and he pulls him closer, tilting his head to catch Rabastan in a kiss.
It’s been the best summer of his life. He wants so desperately for it to last forever, but there’s more than just NEWTs looming over them, and he doesn’t know if love is enough.
Author: Evandar
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance
Pairing: Kingsley Shacklebolt/Rabastan Lestrange
Warnings: N/A
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I am making no profit from this story.
Summary: The holiday is Rabastan's idea.
AN: This was written for
hogwarts365, Prompt 300: Revelry and Fundamental.Rabastan flashes a wild grin over his shoulder as he leads Kingsley deeper into the crowd. Around them, Paris is alive with revelry – the French won the Quidditch World Cup, and wizards and witches have spilled onto the streets to celebrate. He keeps a tight grip on his lover’s fingers as he follows him: Rabastan knows Paris like the back of his hand, and he might be an utter bastard half the time, but Kingsley trusts him not to get them lost. He’s been trusting him this entire holiday so far, and Rabastan hasn’t let him wrong yet.
The holiday had been Rabastan’s idea. A break together before their final year at school, before NEWTs took over their entire lives. He’d suggested Paris for the romance and because of the house his family kept there – inherited from the main branch of the family after the war with Grindelwald, Rabastan had said with a grimace. It’s been the best summer of Kingsley’s life: Quidditch, incredible food, and a truly excessive amount of sex. He’s in love, utterly addicted to the way Rabastan moves and smiles, and the way his kisses bring with them the faintest hint of regret.
Their politics are so fundamentally different that their relationship shouldn’t be working at all. But it is. By some miracle, it actually is, and Kingsley never wants to let go.
He follows Rabastan through the crush of people, down winding streets and down, down into the dark of the tunnels the Muggles are building for their new métro. The sound of the street parties echoes here, eerie. Rabastan drags him close in a cool alcove, presses him up against a wall. Kingsley can’t see him; can only feel the heat of his breath across his lips as Rabastan leans closer and the weight of his body pressing up against him. His heart stutters as a whisper ghosts over his jaw, and he pulls him closer, tilting his head to catch Rabastan in a kiss.
It’s been the best summer of his life. He wants so desperately for it to last forever, but there’s more than just NEWTs looming over them, and he doesn’t know if love is enough.
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I LOVE IT.
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