Secret confines

I feel like a fool. Worse than a fool. Beyond a shadow of a doubt I am the stupidest, most idiotic, most dumb, most—-

You get the idea. I won’t get up to face the day anymore. I know everyone has tried so hard to help me, cheer me up. The problem is, I refuse to be cheered up. I really hate that feeling because Humboldt cheered me up for anything.

If I got yelled at by a customer one day, I’d come to a home cooked dinner, a sweet dessert (plum pudding, my favorite) and he’d let me vent until I felt better. He was an excellent listener. His eyes told me he was hanging on to my every word. He didn’t care that I didn’t let him speak until the end (not purposefully I just talk too much sometimes) and he would even give me good tactics to fix things.

His shapely blue eyes would flash at me as he said, “Usually people yell at others because they’re afraid and they're insecure. Truly, a wimpy sort of fear that makes them feel like if their needs aren’t met, then they must scream, shout and act like a bat-shit crazy ninny.”

I laughed at that, the first time I had all day.

“I haven’t heard that one,” I laughed.

He scruffed my hair. “Usually there are small context clues about what they need you to do in order for them to shut up and leave your store.”

I scratched my head. “Like what? That they need to have their head examined?”

Humboldt laughed heartily, “Well? Maybe. As a start. But if they’re yelling about the costs of things, just tell them you have a special manager price. Knock off ten percent, fifteen if they’re really reaming you.”

“That’s just too easy,” I said. “Sometimes we have policies that they don’t like and they yell without any recourse for sanity!”

“Sometimes you gotta cut your losses, luv. You have owner status. Just kick them out!” He said with a wink.

I’m just so lonely. He made me feel so whole. So loved. We grew apart, I think. He is older than me by a whopper. I don’t care. I never did. Something about his energy wowed me. It blew all the wind out of me. He made me feel like I was floating when he made eye contact with me. Maybe I took too much for granted?

I’ve had girls become obsessed with me. Like Lavender. I liked her well enough but she was too clingy with me and we didn’t have enough in common.

Humboldt had a light touch that made me burn for more. He wasn’t touchy or too crazy for a long snog. But once he got into it, it would last a long time, if you get my meaning.

“When was the first time you thought you fancied blokes?” I had asked him on our first year anniversary.

Humboldt kissed my hand, saying with a sigh, “I didn’t think about it. I think I fall in love with the person, not the gender.” He served us some punch and asked me the same thing.

I felt my face go hot. “Uh… well… ya see…”

He laughed with a chortle. “You don’t have to look too deeply into it.”

“Well… once I was super into Victor Krum’s career. I believed he was perfection. A true artist. A pioneer in Quidditch, and a visionary Seeker.”

“Now I feel inadequate. He was way more muscle and tough than I’ll ever be!” He patted his beer belly and sighed heavily.

“You have charisma and charm. You know, it’s not like sports are everything!”

He shook his head, “Well, it was once to you,” he said with a look that felt really heavy.

“Well, to be honest, I thought that I liked Hermione at first. I got mad when they went to the dance together. I really thought I was jealous that Krum was taking her…” I trailed off. He put his finger on my nose and flicked at it jokingly.

“Shut up now before I knock you out..” he teased.

“Hey! Stop it ya cheeky blighter!” I yelped as he laughed again. I swatted his hand away but suddenly he grasped my wrist and pulled me close to him, changing into that golden eyed, somewhat younger looking woman. Humboldt crinkled his nose in his curvy woman form, making me feel hot. He knew how much I loved when he did that.

Ya see, he could change his gender on a whim, without potions or spells, because he was a Metamorphmagus. Tonks could also do this, but for spy reasons. This, however, was private. This was only within the secret confines of our relationship. He had never told anyone else how he preferred to be a woman. I immediately got hard whenever he changed into his beautiful female form. Well, that’s his fault. Because he only did it when we were about to make love—he made my body anticipate it before my mind did.

“Luv?” His voice was a spicy, sweet, sultry feminine tone.

“Yes, my spicy violet?” I asked, as he wrapped his now voluptuous legs around me. I picked my darling up bridal style out of the kitchen to our bed. We had already made love hundreds of times like this and in his other male form too. I kissed in her scent like it was some goddess perfume that my soul could inhale. I kissed her neck and her lips. I could die right then and be so damn happy. But it was just opposite when he was back to a bloke. I melted in his arms. He made me feel weak in the knees, he inhaled me.

“I wanna ride that cock,” he whispered.

——

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

I can’t write another bloody, stupid word of this drivel. I’m so fucking sad. How could you just leave me? Like I’m nothing? Like we had nothing? Now I’m more fucking alone than ever. You knew how I was so alone for so long, in pain, in misery, so horribly sad. It’s not your fault I felt that way but I trusted you. I trusted you to stay. You promised me you’d be with me forever. I’m beating the floorboards, bloodying up my knuckles, sobbing harder than ever. I never cried so hard. Except in that old, abandoned room with you. Yes, that one.

And…Yes. You gave me the filthiest, nastiest, most intense pleasure I ever had in my life. You gave me a cozy, safe, loving type of existence where you loved me and I had to do nothing to receive it. Maybe I needed to do more. To prove my love.

You are constantly in my thoughts, dreams, awake, asleep, in the shower, at my job, with my friends, with my family… everywhere and everything and anything has to make me think of you. When I blink for God’s sake. When I take in those shaky breaths after I cum. The same ones I used to do as your tongue was crammed in my mouth.

I didn’t realize how I needed to be overtaken by someone… you. How I yearned to be shapened like clay. Your clay. I loved how you climbed on top of me, dominating me.

Did I steal all your quality time? All your tender affection? Did I usurp all your beauty, your intellect, your wicked humor? Did I drain you? Did I take too much?

I feel like I wish I had better ways to show you just how much you meant to me. It was like life or death. It was so meaningful that day too. Life or death.

The war that killed my brother. Fred. Now I run his joke shop with George in his memory. I was so shell-shocked after his death. I couldn’t do much but sit silently in shock. I tried to move on. It was beyond difficult, it was as if I had been turned into a zombie.

But I faked it. I faked being happy. I faked smiles, laughs, everything, until you.

When we started dating, I let you into that room. The room that my mum closed off like a sacred exhibit.

You took my hand, we went inside. Silence filled the air where Fred once made it full of uproarious laughter, stupid jokes and pranks.

You said a quiet prayer, kneeling down. I kneeled down with you.

One by one, the facade of my fake flurry of hidden emotions came gushing out.

No one had touched this room since my brother had. His sound waves hit my memory like a reverberated ghost. His ridiculous jokes and high pitched goading hit my dead waves of lost feelings like a hurricane. A wall that broke down into a million things.

I broke down too. You held me so tight. I felt my brother in that moment.

In the secret confines of my broken heart, you lifted me up, you let me say one last goodbye to my brother.

I no longer felt like a ghost that haunted others. Now I felt free.