Forbidden Fruit
London
Harriet felt something tickle the back of her neck, pulling her slowly from sleep. Reaching behind, she tried swatting at whatever was disturbing her, when she felt someone’s hand wrap around hers. A low chuckle reverberated in her ear as her eyes flew open. Squinting against the strange green glow that illuminated her bed, she glanced over her shoulder to find Rumpelstiltskin laying on his side; a devilish grin spreading across his face as he leaned his head against his palm.
Harriet’s eyes raked across his body as she nervously licked her lips. The black vest he wore hugged his chest and stomach, highlighting his lean athletic build while the green dress shirt he wore underneath focused attention to his slim shoulders and arms. He wore no tie, and the collar of his shirt was unbuttoned, showing Harriet a smattering of chest hair. His slightly soft middle urged Harriet to run her fingers across his stomach while his pants hugged his narrow hips and lean legs to perfection. He wore no shoes or socks, instead preferring to rub his bare foot lightly against hers.
He was absolutely delicious in the eerie green glow. Speech became impossible as Harriet’s eyes widened and her mouth dried.
“By Merlin, but you're beautiful,” Rumple muttered as he trailed his fingers down her arm to her elbow before encircling her waist. Harriet placed her hand on top of his and sucked in a breath as Rumple gently began kissing her jaw. Butterflies erupted in her stomach as she leaned into him. Ever so slowly, he trailed kisses to her neck and then nibbled down to her collarbone. Gently, he pulled her oversized sweater out of the way before kissing the exposed skin on her shoulder.
“Oh,” Harriet groaned.
Rumple hummed against her skin as his fingers trailed up her thigh, across her hip and to her stomach. She arched into him, giving him better access to her neck and shoulder while allowing his hands to slip under her sweater and skim across her stomach. Her heart began to beat wildly as her muscles fluttered under his featherlight touch.
“I won’t break, you know,” Harriet teased, breathless.
“Maybe I want to be gentle,” Rumple muttered as he nibbled her ear, drawing out a small moan from her.
“I like gentle,” Harriet muttered as his fingers trailed around her belly button and up to the base of her bralette, “I really, really like gentle.”
“Mmmm,” Rumple hummed as he pulled her closer. Harriet stiffened for a moment, surprised by how hard he already was, before she cautiously rubbed her bottom against his clothed cock. He hissed at the friction.
“Harriet….” Rumple growled, as he rubbed himself against her. Harriet met his thrusts with her own and soon they were creating a delicious friction. She felt her sex tighten with each thrust of his hips against her ass, and it was all she could do not to beg him to touch her throbbing pussy.
“Rumple…” Harriet moaned as he cupped her breast through her bralette, teasing her nipple with his fingertips.
“You are wearing far too many clothes.” Rumple muttered as he abruptly pulled away, eliciting a soft whine of protest from Harriet. Playfully, he tugged at her hips until she laid on her back, giggling with nerves.
Giving her a provocative grin, Rumple gently pushed her sweater up and began to place feather light kisses against her stomach. His tongue dipped into her belly button and Harriet arched into his kiss, feeling herself turn slick with arousal. She desperately wanted to rub herself against something, needing friction against her engorged sex.
“Rum…” Harriet moaned, throwing her head back. She ran her fingers through his hair as he dipped below her belly button and trailed his tongue to the top of her jeans. She ached to touch him, to taste him, to run her fingers over his body. She was about to pull him toward her for a kiss, when he began opening her jeans, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Yes, my love?” Rumple purred as he began kissing the skin he exposed. Harriet’s heart began pounding as she sat up, her eyes glued to Rumple’s head as he slowly descended toward the band of her underwear. Her pussy throbbed at the mere sight.
“I…” Harriet croaked; her mouth incredibly dry.
“Yes?” Rumple asked, pausing to look at her.
“I….” Harriet tried again but something caught her attention. As she glanced over his shoulder, her eyes widened in shock, and she sucked in a startled breath. Ice cold fear creeped up her spine as she looked all around her.
They should have been inside her bedroom. She had fallen asleep in her own bed after all. Yet, somehow, they were surrounded by a complete and utter emptiness; a vast nothingness that seemed to dip and swirl in her vision as her eyes strained to settle. Horrified, she kept frantically searching for some type of anchor, yet nothing but the bed and the glow that illuminated them seemed to exist in this place.
“Where are we?” Harriet whispered, forcing her eyes to focus on Rumple as her scar began to throb with the beginnings of a headache.
He cocked his head, seemingly confused, “What do you mean?”
Suddenly, the light that surrounded them began to glow more brightly and the nothingness that enveloped them lightened in response. A faint outline came into view, reminding Harriet strongly of a developing picture. At first everything was colorless and indistinguishable, just a mess of grey. Then a dense forest sprang around them, swirling like a kaleidoscope before settling into place. The sky darkened and the green glow that surrounded them morphed into sicky moonlight. It seemed to paradoxically brighten nothing and everything. Frantically, Harriet looked in all directions, but found the forest was just as endless as the nothingness had been.
Panic gripped her chest, making breathing difficult. She scooted away from Rumple, hurriedly fastening her pants, while fighting to remain calm. As she fell off the bed, she reached for her wand but couldn’t find it.
“What the fuck is going on?”
“Calm down my love” Rumple cooed as his voice twisted into a dark hiss.
Startled, Harriet spun around and gasped in horror. Her face drained of all color as she watched Rumple gracefully stand, his face bubbling and twisting. His clothes morphed into dark, flowing robes that seemed to billow around him as his features changed.
His nose flattened and turned snake-like, his brown eyes shifted to a crimson red, and his skin drained of all color. The roundness in his face melted away, leaving his skin looking as if it were stretched across bone, resulting in his cheekbones appearing more prominent than before.
Horrified, Harriet tried to step back, but he grabbed her arm, his colorless complexion glowing in the moonlight while his crimson eyes devoured her. He wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him, his cock still hard.
Harriet tried to shriek but Voldemort's lips crashed onto hers, stifling any noise of protest she could make. She tried to push him away, but he refused to let go. Instead, he began nibbling on her bottom lip, startling her into opening her mouth. Taking advantage of her surprise, he deepened the kiss, cradling her face in his hands.
Shock coursed through her as she realized there was no difference between Voldemort and Rumple. If she closed her eyes, she couldn't’ tell who she was kissing.
Slowly, she stopped struggling and tentatively kissed him back. His lips were as soft as Rumple’s, his unusually long hands, just as gentle. Harriet’s eyes slowly closed, and she sagged against him, her fingers gripping his dark, flowing robes. Experimentally, she sucked on his bottom lip, drawing a low groan from him.
Abruptly, Voldemort pulled back, his eyes drinking her in, and Hariet felt her sex throb with need.
“So lovely.” Voldemort hissed as his eyes traveled the length of her body, prompting Harriet to glance down at herself.
She was surprised to see she wore the same soiled white dress she had during the final battle. Her ripped bodice hugged her chest and hips, exposing more of her breasts then she remembered, while the skirt shimmered in the moonlight. One puffed sleeve hung off her shoulder, and she was barefoot, the dirt cool between her toes. Crossing her arms over her chest she vaguely wondered if she had looked like this during the final battle, or if this was Voldemort’s twisted little fantasy.
“Where are we?” Harriet asked, her voice shaky.
“Where do you think?” Voldemort hissed, cocking his head to one side. A predatory grin spread across his face as he took in her appearance.
Harriet swallowed, forcing back the frustrated tears that threatened to fall, “I don’t know.”
What in the world was going on? How was Voldemort here? Where was Rumple?
And why had she allowed him to kiss her like that?
Voldemort took another step toward Harriet while she took a step back. Growling in frustration, he snarled, “Why do you keep moving away from me?”
“Why do you think?” Harriet shouted, slightly hysterical.
Voldemort chuckled mirthlessly, “Of course you would only allow me to touch you, when I look like HIM!”
Harriet didn’t say anything, she couldn’t. She was still too confused to fully understand the situation. It didn’t help that she was still aroused and out of sorts from earlier. An awkward silence grew between them as Voldemort gazed at her greedily.
Harriet shifted uncomfortably and finally broke the silence, “I don’t understand why that upsets you.”
Pain and frustration twisted Voldemort’s face as he suddenly darted forward, grabbing her shoulders before she could even dodge. She felt his nails dig into her skin and she hissed in pain. She tried to push him off, but he’d trapped her arms in between their chests.
“We are one in the same!” Voldemort yelled and Harriet turned her face away, trying to pull out of his grip.
“Get off me!” Harriet yelled as she struggled uselessly against his hold.
Growling, Voldemort pinned her against a tree, her head swimming as the back of her head made contact with hard bark. He pulled her arms above her head while quickly hooking his foot around her ankle, spreading her legs wide. Harriet shouted in protest but groaned in pleasure when his clothed cock rubbed against her throbbing pussy. Voldemort froze and gazed into her eyes, before grinding himself against her again. Harriet’s hips thrust forward to meet his and they both moaned in unison, desperately grinding against the other.
The forest seemed to close in around them, shadows dancing wildly as the greenish moonlight illuminated the writhing couple. The trees began to sway and thrash, moving in unison with their own awkward movements, yet neither Harriet nor Voldemort paid attention to their surroundings. Far too engrossed in the pleasure they were finding in the other.
Voldemort nipped her neck and chuckled victoriously as Harriet arched into him. He began thrusting his hips more firmly against her throbbing sex, letting go of her arms to pull her leg against his hip, in search of a better angle. Harriet’s hands fell to his shoulders, grasping his robes as her moans turned into piercing shrieks of pleasure. Voldemort grinned, sure she was nearing her peak, and he quickened his trusts.
“Your body wants me,” Voldemort hissed, their eyes catching, “It knows no difference between us, my love.”
“I…” Harriet muttered, her eyelashes fluttering as her need for him became almost painful. She could feel herself nearing the end, just a few more thrusts and she would cum. Yet…she needed to think, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to share this experience with him.
She needed her own space.
“Get off me!” She burst out, fighting her own body to push him away.
Snarling, Voldemort let her go. Harriet stumbled slightly against the tree as her skirts wrapped around her legs. Yet, he didn’t completely move away. Instead, he gave her just enough room to get away if she wanted to.
But she didn’t.
Taking in Voldemort’s colorless complexion, his red eyes, and flat snakelike nose, she felt a shiver go up her spine. He strongly resembled Rumple, when he changed into the Dark One. It was almost uncanny. Reaching up with shaking hands, she traced his cheekbones and chin. Then she trailed her fingers down his neck and over his shoulders.
“Your body knows no difference!” Echoed in her mind as she examined him and she hated to admit it was true.
Voldemort and Rumple were the same height, which was strange since she’d always thought of Voldemort as towering over her. She leaned against him and found that she still fit perfectly under his chin. His arms immediately wrapped around her and Harriet felt no difference in how he held her.
She swallowed, her throat incredibly dry, as Voldemort purred.
She trailed her palms over his chest and then wrapped her arms around his waist. She looked into Voldemort’s eyes and said shakily, “You really are the same.”
Voldemort sagged against her, bringing their foreheads together as he hissed, “Yesss…”
“Then why…” Harriet tried to ask but was cut off as he passionately kissed her again. With only a little hesitation, Harriet kissed back, tightening her hold against his waist. His fingers played with her hair as he feasted on her lips before pulling back slightly.
“I needed you to see there was no difference,” Voldemort muttered against her lips, “I needed you to feel me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He keeps accusing me of sabotage.” Voldemort replied as he clutched her closer, “He keeps saying that I’m trying to hurt those he loves”
“I…” Harriet began but then stopped. What did he mean?
“But I love what he loves.” Voldemort growled, as he pinned her gently against the tree, “I want what he wants.”
His hands trailed down to the skirt of her dress and began gathering the fabric in his hands, exposing her legs to the cool air, “And oh…. how we want you.”
She gasped at Voldemort’s words, moaning as he began kissing her collarbone, and then the tops of her breasts.
Her eyes widened as he trailed kisses down the front of her chest, setting her skin on far and making her pussy throb with need for him. She could feel his lips through the fabric of her dress and gasped when her skirts were abruptly pulled up. Harriet groaned as his head disappeared in between her legs and her eyes widened as she felt him nibble the bottom of her thigh, just above her knee.
Harriet clutched at the tree trunk, trying to keep her balance. She moaned as his lips moved further up her thigh and watched as his head slowly traveled toward her throbbing pussy.
“I…” Harriet moaned. How in the world was this possible? Why in the hell wasn’t she stopping this? It was Voldemort!
And yet, it was also Rumpelstiltskin.
She felt his lips move to her upper thighs, and she spread her legs a bit wider, desperately needing his mouth on her. She threw her head back in anticipation when it suddenly occurred to her why everything felt so strange; why she felt so out of control.
“This is a dream!” Harriet gasped, freezing Voldemort into place.
Suddenly the landscape changed, and Harriet felt herself thrown backward onto her bed. Glancing at her surroundings, she saw that she was now in her bedroom with her legs spread wide and her dress hitched up to her waist.
Voldemort leaned against her bedroom door, dressed neatly in the black vest, green undershirt and dress pants from the beginning of the dream. Rumple’s cane gleamed in the lamplight as Voldemort held it loosely in his hand. His eyes traveled hungrily down her body and Harriet blushed as she pulled her dress down.
“No need for modesty, my love,” Voldemort chuckled as he slowly walked toward her, his eyes gleaming, “Just a few moments ago I was positioned between those thighs.”
“You’ve invaded my mind,” Harriet accused, ignoring how his words made her throb with want.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Our dear Rumpelstiltskin has finally fallen asleep,” Voldemort sneered, sitting beside her on the bed. He leaned toward her and Harriet swallowed nervously, “Freeing me from my cage.”
“I thought you were the same person?”
“We are, but that IDIOT refuses to see it.”
Harriet startled in realization, “You’re the Darkness.”
“Of course.”
Harriet groaned as she hid her face in her hands. What the hell? How could she have let him…do those things to her.
“None of that now my love,” Voldemort cooed as he pulled her hands from her face, “I only have so much time with you and I would prefer to see your lovely face for as long as I can.”
“You seem very….” Harriet floundered for words, “okay with ... .feelings.”
“It was a shock at first, but eventually I ... adapted.
“What happened?” Harriet asked, sensing there was more to the story. Sitting up, she crossed her legs under her as Voldemort drank in her movements.
“That is a story for another time.” Voldemort said, clearing his throat, “Right now, I need your help.”
“Help with what?” Harriet suspiciously asked.
“With freeing me of course.”
“You're high as hell if you think I’m going to do that.”
Voldemort chuckled, “Not just me you foolish woman, Rumpelstiltskin too.”
“I’m not following you.”
“Clearly.” Voldemort muttered and Harriet lightly kicked him. He glared at her half-heartedly.
Sighing he continued, “If Rumple and I work together .... become one .... then both of us are free.”
“According to Albus,” Harriet said, “that will kill you.”
“Oh, what does he know?” Voldemort sniffed, waving his hand in the air. Harriet’s heart fluttered at how very like Rumpelstiltskin it was. Was Voldemort always this way? Or was it the effect of being…split down the middle?
“Do you know for sure?”
Voldemort paused before muttering, “No.”
They were both silent, the tension thick as Harriet glanced around her room, startled to see how generic it was. There was nothing in her room that spoke of who she was, even her bookshelf lacked personality. The walls were a dark red, the trim gold. The floors were hardwood and the furniture (bed, wardrobe, and bookshelves), were generic.
Had her room always been this lackluster and she never noticed?
“You’re upset.” Voldemort said, his eyes narrowing.
“I….” Harriet replied, startled by the accuracy of his assessment, “I just noticed my room…my life really…lack’s personality.”
“Just now?” Voldemort asked, as a sly smile spread across his face. Leaning forward, he purred, "Was our lovemaking so captivating that it caused you to reevaluate your life?”
“It’s just dream sex, Rum.” Harriet rambled, her nerves getting the best of her as she looked anywhere but at him “That doesn’t count, and we were clothed the entire time. Can dry humping even be classified as sex?”
She glanced over at Voldemort, surprised by his silence, to find him staring at her in wonder, “What?”
“You just called me Rum.”
“Huh…yeah?” Harriet tentatively asked, prompting Voldemort’s grin to widen.
“You don’t see a difference between us?”
Harriet opened her mouth to reply when Voldemort yelled, hands instantly clutching his head.
“What’s wrong?” Harriet asked, sitting on her knees as she reached out to him.
“He’s waking up!” Voldemort groaned as he slipped from the bed onto his knees, “And I don’t want to wake up!”
“Don’t hurt yourself!” Harriet tried to yell but was interrupted when the world suddenly spun. A cascade of black and green interspersed with red and gold abruptly burst in front of her eyes before she bolted upright in bed. She was completely soaked in sweat, her clothing plastered to her body while her hair was wrapped around her face and neck. Pushing her hair away from her eyes, Harriet felt her pussy throb as she scrambled from bed. Looking wildly around, her eyes landed on Severus.
“What in the hell, Potter?” Severus hissed as he stood by her bed, his wand raised and his hand still reaching out toward where she’d laid.
“I…” Harriet replied, completely out of breath, “I had a…dream.”
“A dream?” Severus asked, frowning, “Like before?”
“No!” Harriet yelped before she crossed her arms over her chest. Her nipples had hardened, and she couldn’t let Severus see her in such a state. Her face reddened as he stared at her in bewilderment.
“Harriet?” Severus began but then stopped; at a loss for what to say. He knew something was wrong with her, but the reason wasn’t obvious. Taking in her appearance, his eyes narrowed as he noticed how embarrassed she seemed. What in the world was she embarrassed about? She had only been moaning in her sleep.
His brain froze, and his eyes widened. What he had assumed were moans of pain and fear was clearly…not. Realizing what he had interrupted, his sallow skin took on a faint blush. “I’ll be downstairs in the kitchen.”
Then he turned on his heel, and left, robes billowing behind him. Harriet buried her face in her hands, completely mortified. She would never be able to live this down.
Still, the dream had been incredibly vivid, which wasn’t surprising since it was induced by the Darkness. She wondered if Rumple remembered what had transpired between them or if the walls, he’d built around the Darkness would keep him from knowing.
Did she want him to know? Harriet asked herself as she shut and locked the door. Not that it would do much good, because clearly nobody had boundaries in this house if Severus’s use of alohomora was any indication. Turning, she began peeling her damp clothes off, before shivering in the cool air. She ran her hands through her tangled hair and under her breasts, before lightly gripping them in her hands. Turning, she looked at herself in the mirror, surprised to see she had indeed gained weight. Her breasts, while still small, seemed to have rounded slightly.
Cocking her head to one side, she lightly licked her lips and then firmly grasped her breasts, lightly grazing her nipples with her thumbs. She sucked in a breath at how sensitive they were, before worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. She was still extremely aroused and there was no way she could go downstairs and act normally.
Frustrated, Harriet sat on the end of her bed, one hand still lightly teasing her nipple while the other slipped between her thighs. She laid back and began gently rubbing herself. Closing her eyes, she imagined Rumple’s head between her legs, his tongue teasing her clit before lapping at her wet pussy. She could practically feel his hair in between her fingers, and she whimpered as her organism began to build. She began vigorously rubbing herself as she imagined his fingers easing into her.
An orgasm shook her, freezing her into place, before she lay limply on her bed. She breathed deeply, relieved the tension was gone, before jumping to her feet. She ran to the bathroom and washed her hands; surprised by how disappointed she was that she hadn’t cum in her dream. That she had been forced to finish herself with her own hands instead of Rumple’s.
Or the Darknesses.
Honestly, she didn’t care which, only that some part of Rumple had been there, touching her to completion.
Closing her eyes, she sighed and hung her head before trying to push the dream from her mind. She needed to focus on getting ready and dealing with Severus. Not to mention Belle, Henry, and the seven other people she was now responsible for.
She knew she needed to speak with Rumple, needed to figure out what he remembered, but she just couldn’t face him. Not right then, not when all she could think about was Voldemort’s voice in her ear, his lips on her skin, and how much she wanted him.
Rumple sat straight up in bed, glancing frantically around, uncertain where he was. His head was pounding, and his eyes were swimming. Blinking, his eyes landed on Henry, and he sighed in relief when he realized he was still in his room. Scrubbing at his overheated face, he glanced down at himself and blushed like a schoolboy.
Fuck, but he was still hard.
Swiftly standing, he hurried out of his bedroom and limped across the hall; not even looking to see if he was about to collide with someone. He refused to be caught in such a compromising position. Slamming the door behind him, he locked it, before stumbling back and sitting on the toilet.
What in the hell had he just dreamed?
Harriet had been there; kissing him, running her hands through his hair, moaning under his hands and lips. There had been times she’d barely been able to speak. Rumple’s cock twitched at the very thought, and he stood up in agitation.
He needed a cold shower and a clear head to evaluate the dream. He couldn’t understand why it had changed so abruptly. Everything had been normal at first, until the Darkness had taken over and turned him into Voldemort, hijacking his dream and forcing him into a passive role.
Why? What did it have to gain?
Unless it wasn’t a dream? Could Harriet have really been there? Could she have…. given herself to the Darkness?
Rumple laughed bitterly as he turned on the shower, shaking his head at his own folly. Of course she hadn’t really been there. It was just fanciful wishing. There was no world in which she gave herself to Lord Voldemort. No matter what the Darkness thought.
“You are absolutely, fucking stupid.” The Darkness hissed, “She wants us! She was there!”
Rumple frowned, glancing at himself in the mirror. While his head was still pounding, he did look better. Maybe not well rested but rested all the same. Sleeping had been such a relief, but he was worried about the Darkness. Clearly sleep allowed it to have far too much freedom, far too much influence.
Sighing, he ran his fingers through his shortened hair, regretting his abrupt haircut. Now that he knew what Harriet looked like during sex, he rather wished for his long hair back. Then again, that had just been in his dream, she may not even…. like…. what he had tried to do with her.
“She was there!” The Darkness raged, “She was exactly as you dreamed! Doing exactly what you like!” The Darkness paused before snipping, “and what woman doesn’t like oral?”
Rumple shook his head, desperately trying to get the Darkness to shut up. He couldn’t get his hopes up. Not now, not when the Darkness was his own making. His own family had been unable to embrace the Dark One, and that was when they’d thought he’d been possessed. Why did he keep hoping that Harriet could embrace his Darkness?
Yet, even in his inhuman state, there was no denying that Harriet was attracted to him. She clearly wasn’t bothered by his Dark One persona, yet he refused to consider that she would willingly embrace the actual Darkness. The THING that he used to be.
The monster that had orphaned her.
No. It would be much better if he could get rid of IT. Harriet seemed to think he needed to become one with the Darkness, but he refused to entertain that possibility. Henry was with him, he was responsible for Belle’s safety, and Harriet…well now that he knew what Harriet’s lips tasted like he couldn’t even think of dying.
Rumple turned on the shower and stood under the cold water, his eyes closed. He let the freezing cold pierce his skin, but it wasn’t helping. He was still incredibly aroused. Reaching down, he slowly began stroking himself as his mind thought of Harriet. Of what they’d been doing before the Darkness had taken over.
He licked his lips as he remembered what it felt like to kiss her shoulder, to tease her nipples. He imagined what would’ve happened had he not been interrupted. Of how he would’ve slid down her underwear and jeans. Of how sweet she would’ve tasted, how delicious her cries would’ve been, how her pussy would’ve felt wrapped around his fingers.
He slammed his hand against the shower wall when he came, clenching his teeth to keep from moaning. Painting slightly, he hung his head as he gripped his now flaccid cock.
“Fuck…” Rumple muttered, letting go, “Fuck…fuck…fuck….”
He wanted her, needed her, in a way he hadn’t felt before. Milah, Cora, Belle, none of his love or desire for them compared to what he was feeling for Harriet. It was like he was being eaten alive with want. He needed her, desired her, and it was fucking distracting.
It didn’t help that he was still reeling from falling asleep, something he hadn’t done since he’d been cursed, and all his mental walls were down. Gritting his teeth, he carefully focused his mind and slowly rebuilt his barriers, weaving his desire for peace into every thought
He prayed it would be enough to keep him calm. With Henry now in his care, he couldn’t afford to lose his temper. It would absolutely gut him if his grandson became afraid of him.
Grabbing the soap, he began to wash himself, as he thought of all the things he still had to do. He had to speak with Harriet about their kiss. Draco and the strange dragon needed to be dealt with, Storybrooke needed saving, and his grandson returned to his mothers. In the middle of all that he needed to figure out a way to exorcize the Darkness and a divorce needed to be procured. Not to mention his identity had to remain hidden.
Yet….as he ticked off each problem in his mind, his thoughts slipped back to Harriet and their kiss. Of how soft her lips had been and how she’d grabbed his lapel to kiss him again. There had been no hesitation in her want, no self-reproach. She hadn’t even cared how he looked.
Feeling himself start to respond, Rumple turned the water even colder, helping to shake off his lust. He would be the master of his own damn mind, and he would get a hold of himself. He was over three hundred years old, not a damn schoolboy. He could focus!
And yet…as Harriet’s voice resounded throughout the hall his body froze. He couldn’t make out her words, but the soothing timber of her voice washed over him and he felt a real yearning stir in his heart, chased closely by fear.
He wanted her so terribly, needed her…but what if…after everything…she didn’t want him? What if he was doomed to watch her live her life with someone else? What if he was only ever to be her friend?
Rumple didn’t think he could live with that.
Naked and wet, Rumple stumbled from the shower and slumped onto the lid of the toilet, his head in his hands, when a soft knock came from the door.
“Rumple?” Belle called, her voice soft, “Henry is looking for you!”
“I’m coming,” Rumple replied, his voice shaky with tears, “Just giving me a few seconds.”
Standing, he looked at himself in the mirror and snapped his fingers. His body dried and the clothes he’d slept in changed into something new, something he hadn’t worn before. Grabbing the jeans, he pulled them on before he realized he had no underwear, sighing he shrugged his shoulders, before pulling on his undershirt and green flannel button-up. He made the decision to leave it open, before tucking the undershirt into his jeans. He’d left his shoes and socks in the bedroom, but a snap of his fingers had them materialize before him. The dress shoes turned into boots, and he tied them quickly.
Looking at himself in the mirror, he quickly swept his hair to the side and made a face, vowing to never cut his hair again. Squaring his shoulders, he unlocked the bathroom door and swung it open, prepared to face his soon to be ex-wife.
He wasn’t prepared for Severus Snape to be standing behind her, glaring at him with unconcealed hatred. No amount of sleep in the world could ever prepare him for that.