Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“When did you fall in love with him?” Ginny asked, her face was somber as she waited for a response.

“Dunno,” Harry admitted. It wasn’t as if he had planned to fall in love with him. People don't plan to fall in or out of love. It happens of its own accord. It happens and then people are just left do deal with it in the best way they can. 

“Does anyone else know about this?” Ginny asked, face still somber, but she moved closer to Harry on the bench.

After a lot of contemplation, it seemed like a public spot would be best for this sort of conversation, so Harry asked Ginny to meet him in Hogsmead that morning about a half hour before they were all supposed to meet at The Three Broomsticks. They had spent a better part of the half hour catching up. Harry was desperately avoiding the topic, so they bought a few Butterbeers and walked lazily around Honeydukes before Harry gathered up the courage to tell Ginny.

“No one knows,” Harry answered. He could feel Ginny’s body pressing against his side as she leaned her head down to rest on his shoulder. The tightness in his chest that had been winding itself tighter and tighter still all week, loosened a bit at Ginny’s tenderness.

Softly, Ginny whispered, “Not even him?”

Mad at himself and mad at this situation, Harry could feel tears welling up in his eyes and thanks to the harsh January air, they felt frozen almost the instant they fell down his wind-burned cheeks, “No, but why would he?”

Gently, Ginny placed her hand into one of Harry’s and interlocked their fingers. She stroked her thumb back and forth and then said, “I suppose he wouldn't. I expect it will be a shock to everyone, yeah?”

Harry barked out a tired laugh. He was exhausted from Auror training and Quidditch practice. He wanted the best of both worlds once the war ended, so he immediately decided to make a career of hunting down dark wizards with Ron instead of going back to Hogwarts like Hermione, and then he decided to make a hobby of Quidditch. Harry was not letting anything stop him from doing the things he loved. Things that made him feel like himself.

Therefore, in whatever free time he had, he wanted to be flying in the air chasing the snitch. The recreational league he joined was ecstatic to have him on as seeker and he got along with most of the teammates. But it was this choice which would cause him to become undone within the span of six months.

“Everything is so upside down, Gin,” Harry admonished. He knew it wasn’t supposed to be this way. He wasn’t supposed to love someone who had been so terrible to him growing up. He should love someone who had been kind to him, even when it wasn’t convenient. He should love someone who hadn’t been a coward, someone who hadn’t let circumstance affect them so wholly.

“That’s sort of how love goes, though, isn’t it?” Ginny said in a perfect impersonation of Luna whenever she brought up Nargals, or some other creature Harry had never heard of until that moment.

“You are getting too good at that, Gin,” Harry laughed and saw his breath cloud in front of his face like the steam of the Hogwarts Express engine as it steamrolled to it’s destination.

“Well, that does happen when you live with someone and spend all of your free time with them. You start to learn everything about them,” Ginny said matter-of-factly and then sat upright again. She turned to face Harry and then gave him a sideways smile before she cupped his face in her gloved hands.

“Gin,” Harry started, but the look on Ginny’s face was so sincere and so understanding, that Harry couldn’t help but smile at the amazing, brave woman she had grown into over the last two years. And he had missed it. He missed it because he had to set off and hunt down Horcrux after Horcrux, and then when that was over, Auror training had taken over most of his life. It was only the last six months that Harry had even been able to socialize properly.

“Harry, you are a wonderful wizard,” Ginny said, dropping her hands and sighing deeply before continuing, “but you are also imperfect, and so is he. Don’t let your pride, or fear of judgement keep you from something you so clearly want.”

“When did you get so wise, eh?” Harry joked and felt a sudden rush of warmth as Ginny swept him into an awkward sideways hug. He could feel the heat of her breath and smell the sweet floral scent of her shampoo.

“I’ve always been wise,” Ginny whispered into his ear and then pulled out of the hug. She stood up and straightened her forget-me-not blue peacoat, extending her hand to pull him off the bench.

Taking her hand, Harry let Ginny pull him off the bench, but only after pretending to be stuck to the spot and making her struggle to get him off the seat. Afterwards, they both laughed heartily and walked arm in arm back towards the warmth of The Three Broomsticks where their friends awaited them.

Chapter Text

“Mate,” Ron sighed and then tipped the rest of his glass of firewhiskey back, swallowing in one gulp.

“I know,” Harry responded and gulped back his glass of firewhiskey. At Ginny’s behest, Harry had arranged to tell Ron the same news he had shared with her only yesterday. According to Ginny, maybe the reason Harry felt so terrible about being in love is because he was treating it like a terrible secret and not something that could be wonderful.

But Harry was still afraid of the reactions he would receive upon sharing the news, so he decided that telling everyone would have to be a one-on-one thing, for his sanity. Most of his friends, well, three of them; Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, already knew he fancied both men and women, so at least that part wouldn’t shock them. However, the person with whom he fell in love, that part could be tricky.

Pulling Harry out of his thoughts, Ron’s voice was careful when he asked, “So, how did this happen?” And then he extended his arm out, waggling the empty glass in Harry’s face.

Obligingly, Harry refilled Ron’s glass and then his own, making them both doubles. Then he considered for a moment. How had it happened? Harry was, himself, still working on that one, but he settled on saying, “It happened because of Quidditch.”

“Oi, don't blame the sport, mate,” Ron said in mock defense. Quidditch was, after all, Ron’s favorite pastime next to helping George come up with new products for Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

“I just mean, that’s where it happened,” Harry amended his statement and smiled at his best mate, who was grinning back at him stupidly. Of course Ron would be just as understanding as Ginny had been. In fact, Harry was starting to feel silly for ever fearing their reactions.

The living room had grown warm during their talk. The fireplace roaring with an unabashed ferocity. Their dinner plates lay forgotten on the small coffee table. The only thing keeping their attention was the bottle of Ogden’s and Harrys more-than-ridiculous love life.

“I’m happy for you,” Ron said between gulps. Then with a small huff, he leaned back, settling his head on the back of the couch. Harry watched as his best mate almost dozed off to sleep right in the middle of their conversation.

“Oi, Ron!” Harry shouted, probably louder than necessary and laughed to himself as Ron startled back to life and smiled sheepishly. In contrast with his talk to Ginny, Harry thought it was best to carve out an entire evening to discuss this with Ron, so Harry decided to invite him over to Grimmauld Place for dinner and drinks. Maybe, just maybe, they focused a little too heartily on the drinks part.

“Sorry, just Hermione kept me up into the wee hours of the night,” Ron said with an apologetic sort of look on his face, “She’s insatiable, she is.”

“Don't need to hear about your sex life right now, Ron,” Harry quipped and shoved an elbow into Ron’s side playfully, “I’m in crisis over here.”

Laughing loudly enough to wake the entirely of Grimmauld Place, Ron leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees and then said, “I can see that. But what I don't get is why you are acting as if your world has ended, mate.”

“Hasn't it?” Harry asked petulantly. Of course he knew maybe he was being overly moody about the whole thing, but falling in love with someone who might not even care that you had fallen in love with them was much more perturbing than he could have ever imagined.

“But why haven’t you asked him out at least?” Ron asked and Harry had to admit, he had wondered the exact same thing of himself. In the last six months, he had grown feelings at an exorbitant rate. It was nearly instantaneous. Subsequently, he didn’t really have an answer other than, he was scared. Of rejection, or of judgement, he wasn’t truly sure. Possibly a mixture of both, he surmised. 

“Feels a little too late now,” Harry mumbled groggily. The drinks were beginning to weigh on his mind and he felt like a dense fog was rolling in, blocking his brain from coherent thoughts. However, he managed to add, “He’s dating someone else. The stupid git.”

Ron turned to face Harry and then cocked his head to the side in confusion, then he asked, “Well, why talk about it now if you think it’s too late?”

“Dunno, Ginny found me out like she always does. Can see right through me as if I were a ghost haunting the halls of Hogwarts,” Harry intoned. Ginny had always been the best at figuring out the inner workings of his mind and unabashedly calling him out for it. It was this quality that she shared with the man Harry was desperately in love with.

“She is right perceptive, that one,” Ron agreed and smiled to himself. After finishing the last dregs of the firewhiskey in his cup, Ron placed it on the table next to the forgotten dinner plates and

“I should have banned her from coming to the Quidditch team’s after-parties. That’s where she figured it all out. I denied it, though, but it was too late because she saw,” Harry mused, remembering the night last week when Ginny had shoved him, quite hard, from the main room of the party into the empty hallway and demanded to know why he hadn’t told her that he was in love.

Ron made a face that seemed to say ‘well, that’s Ginny for you,’ and then asked, “Well, now that it’s out there, are you going to do something about it or sit on your arse and whine like a toddler?”

Half joking, Harry asked in a tentative voice, “Can I whine a bit longer?”

“Only if I can drink the last of the firewhiskey,” Ron said matter-of-factly and poured the remainder of the firewhiskey into his glass and tilted it towards Harry.

Chapter Text

Harry closed the door shut and leaned back against it as if it wouldn’t stay shut without the weight of his body. He felt like he had half the wizarding world chasing after him, and he probably did.

Hermione’s office was on his way to the Auror department and he had, hastily, decided on his lunch break to tell Hermione everything before he headed back to his own desk.

And it would have been a great plan, if the Prophet hadn’t written an article about Harry and Ginny being spotted canoodling on a bench in Hogsmead last weekend. The headlines were anything but subtle, suggesting a million things that were anything but true. However, that didn’t stop every witch and wizard who read it from eyeing him awkwardly, or coming up and asking him when this ‘miracle’ had happened.

“Hermione?” Harry called out to a seemingly empty office. Hermione’s desk was neat and tidy, but that is where the organization stopped. There were books piled like the shaky towers of the Burrow, constantly looking as if they would topple over at any minute, but somehow reamaining erect. There were also some dead plants lining the windowsills which were charmed to look like her childhood backyard.

“Harry?” Hermione’s voice answered from behind a stack of books that were shaped sort of like a fort, or at the very least a precariously put together wall.

“Are you behind those books?”

“Yes, it helps me think,” Hermione answered as she stood up revealing herself, “What are you doing here at lunchtime?”

“Wanted to have a chat,” Harry said and strode over to the only empty seat in her office, which also happened to be her desk chair. He sat himself down and cast a semi-worried look at his friend who always seemed to look pleasantly stressed out.

“Yes, about the Prophet article, or about your major crush on Dra--”

Shocked, Harry asked, “Oi, did Ron tell you?”

“Merlin, no. That man loves you too much to reveal secrets, even to me. I figured it out, of course. Ginny isn’t the only perceptive witch in your life,” Hermione smiled wryly and winked.

Shaking his head in exasperation, “How will I ever keep a secret from either of you when you both know everything about me without even trying?”

“I expect you won’t,” Hermione said and then walked over to her pristine desk and lifted herself up to sit on the desktop. She crossed her legs and smiled triumphantly.

“So, since you already know the story. Do you have any advice?”

“Well, I might have done, but apparently Ron gets to know things before me, so I am not sure I am up to giving advice,” Hermione cocked her head to the side teasingly and then she poked her tongue out at him like a toddler.

“All right, I am sorry, Hermione. You know how sensitive our Ron gets. Ginny already knew, so if I didn’t tell him next, he would have had a fit,” Harry joked right back.

“Yes, yes. All right, you are forgiven,” Hermione sighed heavily and let out a harsh laugh. She looked at him and raised her eyebrows in that way she always did when she was lecturing him on deadlines and how he was an adult now and had to start planning better, “Of all people, Harry.”

“Yes.”

“So it’s still there then? The chemistry between you two?”

“Merlin, yes,” Harry reflected. Each Quidditch practice had refueled his attraction like his body was a sponge soaking up every part of their interactions. He felt alive with it, but there was the one minor problem, “Or at least I thought it was until I found out he was dating some bloke named, Quinten Fairchild who works with Neville at the greenhouse.”

“Maybe he thinks you are indifferent.”

“Indifferent? Blimey, Hermione. How could he?”

A pained expression took over Hermione’s face. It was somewhere between a wince and a smile, “How do I say this politely? You don’t exactly know how to deal with feelings. Remember Cho? You literally didn’t even realize she wanted you to ask her out for like months. And let’s not even get started on Ginny.”

“Yes, okay. I see your point. But, how can he not see that I’m attracted to him? For fucks sake, I look at him constantly. I really thought it was obvious. We flirt all the time, at least, I flirt. You and Ginny sure figured it out,” Harry whined, something he was doing more and more often in the last week. He slumped back the chair an crossed his arms like a child who had been denied desert.

“It is obvious that you find him attractive, not that you have feelings for him. Remember who we are talking about here. He isn’t exactly confident in relationships. He’s been hurt before. And let's not forget there is a bit of history between you two.”

“I sort of hate that you two became close friends.”

“And by hate you mean love?”

Harry conceited because he did sort of like that they had become friends, though he would be remiss if he ever admitted it to Hermione; she always has been a bit of a sore winner, “Merlin, you are terrible.”

“Also, this Prophet article is not going to help. He’s always been sort of skittish and this will probably make him even more so.”

“Fuck. Cock. Shite,” Harry cursed. Of course this would make him look bad. Of course it would make things worse, “I didn’t even think about that.”

“Might need to resort to drastic measures to show him that you and Ginny are nothing more than friends,” Hermione stood up then and put a hand on Harry’s shoulder consolingly.

“Drastic, huh…”

“Harry, I don't like that face you’ve got on right now.”

“Huh, what face?” Harry asked innocently and flashing his best innocent puppy-dog eyes at her.

“That face. The face you always get before you do something rash.”

“I’m not rash. Who’s rash? You’re rash,” Harry stood up fast, hugged Hermione and the made a mad dash for the door before Hermione could try to talk him out of it.

Chapter Text

“Tell me the whole story,” Luna said calmly, “Take your time.” That was easy for Luna to say, but Harry felt like he was running out of time. Just yesterday the Prophet posted that article speculating about Ginny and Harry and if they had worked through their differences and decided to give it another try.

And if it were under any other circumstance, Harry might not have given the article a second thought, but Hermione was right; it definitely would make his crush skittish. Admittedly, Harry knew if he had seen an article like that about the other man, he would have given up entirely.

So, that brought Harry to Luna and Ginny’s flat at seven in the morning because Luna insisted working as the sun rose (supposedly to better avoid the Nargles). That is how he found himself seated across the small circular wooden table from Luna who had parchment and quill ready to take notes.

“Well, I suppose I should start with why Ginny and I broke up?” Harry asked carefully. Nervously, he ran his hand through his hair and pulled out a few knots. He wasn’t sure how much Ginny had shared with Luna. The women were roommates and did seem to know nearly everything about one another, but still.

“If you’d like. This article is going to say what you want it to say, Harry,” Luna smiled brightly and then turned her attention away from Harry and to the open window where a small pigeon was perched.

Fiddling with the edge of the pastel yellow tablecloth, Harry asked skeptically, “And you’re sure the Prophet will print it?”

“Yes, I have full reign on the topics I get to discuss,” Luna said still watching the bird as if it were much more interesting than Harry, “The editor likes me very much and my column is quite popular. Plus, the Prophet will be thrilled to print anything about you.”

“If only that weren’t the case,” Harry muttered and then adjusted himself in the chair. It was wooden like the table and had a floral pillow tied to the seat. As far a chairs went, this one, Harry decided, was not very comfortable. “Anyway, like I was saying; Ginny and I officially ended things right after the war ended. I think we both realized we were holding onto something that wasn’t there anymore. It wasn’t like we didn’t care for each other, but we also didn’t see a future together.”

“Mmm,” Luna hummed as she dragged her quill lazily across the parchment, taking her notes as Harry talked, “And when was it that you realized you liked men?”

“What?” Harry was taken aback, quite literally. He leaned back and the chair wobbled before settling back on all four legs. The only people he shared that information with were Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. It occurred to him that Ginny might have told Luna, but he reasoned that Ginny would have told him if she had.

“Sorry, it’s just,” Luna started and then seemed to be considering her next words very carefully, “well, it seemed rather obvious to me. Whenever we all go out to bars, I see you looking at both women and men.”

“Merlin, are all the witches in my life this perceptive?” Harry let out a huff of a laugh and continued, “I realized I liked men about two months after Ginny and I split up. I didn’t really have time to consider who I was attracted to while at Hogwarts. I was slightly preoccupied with other things.”

“Ah, then you started to feel attracted to Charlie Weasley?” Luna asked and before Harry answered she started to jot Charlie's name down on the parchment. Her handwriting was bubbly and large. Harry expected she went through a lot of parchment.

Shaking the thought of how much money Luna could save on parchment if she wrote smaller, Harry refocused and felt his stomach tie in knots. It was bad enough he was going to have an exclusive tell-all article printed in the Prophet, but the fact that everyone seemed to know things that he had thought were secret; well, that was starting to worry him, “Did Ginny tell you?”

“No, I was at the Burrow after the war, just like you, and accidentally saw you two flirting,” Luna smiled dreamily, unaware of Harry’s level of discomfort at hearing he wasn’t as subtle has he always assumed.

“Really? Was it after the pick-up Quidditch game? The one where it rained and Charlie and I said we would put away everyone’s brooms?”

“Mmm, the very same. I came back outside to help, but when I saw the way you looked at him, I thought I’d better go back inside.”

“Well, yes. That was the first time I admitted to myself that I was attracted to a man. However, it wasn’t the first man I was attracted to,” Harry added on the last part cryptically. He wondered if Luna knew who he had been attracted to in Hogwarts, too. Harry also wondered how obvious he he had been and if he’d always been this easy to read.

“So you want this article to be about you liking men and not being with Ginny, all so Dra--” Luna started to say, but Harry cut her off.

“Yes, is that insane?” Harry asked. Part of him wanted to know how Luna had figured out who he loved, but decided that the answer would only solidify the fact that he was completely and utterly obvious about his feelings, even though he fancied himself subtle.

“No, I think it’s sort of sweet.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. He is such a mercurial man. I imagine that article about you and Ginny did not sit well with him.”

“Well, technically he is dating someone else, so I doubt he cares,” Harry felt himself gearing up to whine again. He was positively tired of hearing himself whine, but at the same time, he couldn't help it.

“He cares,” Luna said confidently, though Harry wasn’t sure why she was so confident and it didn’t look like she was going to elaborate. Instead, she scrawled something on the parchment in front of her and then swatted the air like she was shooing away a fly, though Harry hadn’t seen anything there.

Still looking around the small kitchen for evidence of a fly, or something, Harry asked, “How do you tell someone you fancy them without looking like a complete oaf?”

“I’m afraid, I don’t know,” Luna sighed and then set her sights on the pigeon who was cooing comfortably in the sunlight on the windowsill, “I reckon, I’m in a similar situation.”

Harry perked up at that. He wanted to know about Luna’s situation, if only to distract him from his own for five minutes, “Who?”

“Ginny,” Luna answered in a doleful tone. Her normally dreamy face fell into a sort of frown and she doodled a little heart in the top corner of the parchment.

It seemed so right, that Harry couldn’t understand how he hadn’t put it all together already. Luna and Ginny, of course that made sense. He felt his heart swell with warmth at the thought, “Luna, I think that’s wonderful and you should tell her. I think she might feel the same way.”

“You think?” Luna perked up and her bright blue eyes gleamed again the sunlight that was now pouring in from the open widow, the sun fully risen.

“Yeah, I do,” Harry said confidently.

“Well, it looks like both of us are going to be facing a fear,” Luna said and reached a hand across the table and placed in on top of Harry’s, “Though mine will be much more private.”

“Yes,” Harry heaved out a deep sigh, “when will the article run?”

“Tomorrow,” Luna answered and then turned her attention once again to the pigeon who was still perched on the windowsill.

Chapter Text

Harry shuffled the deck of Exploding Snap cards that he knew Neville kept in his office desk drawer while he waited for him to come back. The greenhouse where Neville worked was a little out of the way, but Harry decided to drop in and visit his old schoolmate before Quidditch practice that night, and possibly to spy on this man that was dating the man that he, Harry, loved.

Neville’s office was much neater than Hermione’s, Harry reflected, and it was lined with all sorts of plants Harry had never even seen before. They all stretched up, or out, or wound themselves around each other. There were some perched carefully on Neville’s desk in small pots. One in particular, a small yellowish flower, looked like it was proud, as if it felt better than the other plants because it was special enough to be placed on the desk.

“Sorry about that, Harry,” Neville said as he entered the office again, however, this time covered in dirt and wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

“No problem, Nev,” Harry answered, even though it was sort of a problem because at this rate he would be late to Quidditch practice, but it would be worth it if he could get some answers out of Neville.

“So, what brings you all the way out here?” Neville asked as he rounded the room and picked up a watering can and preceded to water the plants in quick succession.

“Erm, well,” Harry started. This was proving to be more difficult than expected. The Prophet article would be out tomorrow as Luna promised earlier that morning, so he wanted to talk to Neville before his mate knew the entire story as to why Harry would be interested in the newest member of Neville’s greenhouse team.

“Harry, you okay?” Neville asked and crossed the room so he was standing directly in front of Harry, who was still nervously shuffling the Exploding Snap cards.

“Just wanted to stop by,” Harry lied, “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“We just saw each other at the Three Broomsticks last weekend,” Neville laughed and when he did, Harry saw the laugh lines around Neville’s mouth and noticed that Neville had a small dimple on his left cheek.

“Right,” Harry shrugged and put the Snap cards down. They fizzled and made small popping sounds.
“You’ve been weird lately, if you don’t mind me saying,” asserted Neville.

Harry distracted himself by walking around the office, away from Neville’s scrutinizing gaze, and leaned down to look at some of the plants as if he was interested in them, then he answered distractedly, “Have I?”

“Little bit.”

“I’ve felt weird lately.”

“Why?”

“Uh, long story,” Harry said with a nonchalant flick of his wrist. This was his chance to slip it into conversation without seeming desperate,, “So, how's the new guy? Is he catching on quick enough?”

Neville eyed Harry suspiciously, but answered anyways, “He’s all right. No experience except taking Herbology at Illvormorny, but he’s picking up on it.”

“He’s American?”Harry asked incredulously.

“Yeah, he is,” Neville answered and then swept the Exploding Snap cards off the desk and put them back into his desk drawer. He turned back to face Harry. “He’s taken you know.”

“Taken?”

“Yeah, dating someone. Sorry mate.”

“What? You think I—oh, no, no, no,” Harry rushed the words out in one breath, putting his hands up as if to push the idea far, far away. His face flushed what he was sure to be a bright pink. Then it hit him that Neville thought he wanted to ask a bloke out which meant, Neville knew he liked men.

“I’m sure he will be flattered that you’re interested, but he just started dating Draco,” Neville said. He shrugged apologetically and then placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

Harry thought quickly, either he could tell Neville the truth that he was interested in Draco, or he could walk out of here a feign disappointment. He decided to keep his secret a bit longer. “Well, no shame in asking, eh?”

“Course not, mate. Plus, I’m not sure it’s serious yet,” Neville mused. He looked truly concerned for Harry’s dating situation. No doubt, he shared the same worry that all his mates shared which was that Harry would end up old and alone. Most everyone else had at least been dating since the war, if not settled down like Ron and Hermione.

“No?”

“Quinten said they’ve only been on a few dates. Haven't even kissed yet,” Neville answered and then looked as if he had seen a ghost. His face went white and he nervously ran his fingers through his hair. “Don't tell anyone I told you that, okay?”

Harry tried to control his face. He was happy to hear that they hadn’t kissed yet. In a way, it meant that Harry still had a chance. If he could just get the courage up. “Oh, course, mate. My lips are sealed.” Harry then mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key.

Neville cracked a smile and looked less freaked out. Then his eyes lit up and he said, “If you want, I can set you up with this bloke I met at a Herbology conference in France?”

“It’s a nice offer, but thanks. Also, I never realized I was so easy to read. That is not a good trait to have as an Auror. I’ll have to work on my poker face.” Harry was half joking, but half serious. It seemed that everyone knew things about him that he hadn’t shared. It was starting to concern him.

“It’s not so obvious, Harry. Just, well, we’ve known each other a long time. And I didn’t think it was a secret, just thought you didn’t like talking about your love life.”

Harry let out a small laugh. “I don’t.”

“Sorry, again.”

“No worries. I hope it all works out for them,” Harry said trying to sound convincing. With a smile and a quick hug, Harry bid Neville farewell and got on his broomstick. He was terribly late for Quidditch and had a terrible idea on how to get Draco's attention.

Chapter Text

“Thanks for the invite, Harry,” Charlie Weasley breathed into Harry’s ear. They were standing very close together on the stoop of McGrady’s home. The cold air seemed to act as a lasso, forcing them close together. Snow had begun to fall and it was clinging to Charlie's red hair, which he had grown out to his shoulders recently.

Before Harry could reply, the door swung open and the heat from within hit him in the face, along with the smell of peppermint schnapps, a team tradition, and burning firewood. “Potter’s here, everyone!” McGrady shouted and then slapped Harry on the shoulder and directed him and Charlie inside where they were met with a bunch of cheers and a few questions about where Ginny was this evening.

In a far corner, Harry spotted Draco with Quinten. It made his stomach lurch. Harry couldn’t help wonder if Draco had read the article in yesterday’s paper. Luna had done a wonderful job with it. It was a classy denial of his relationship with Ginny and the small but important part about him liking men.

Hopefully, it quelled whatever doubt Draco had about him. Hopefully, Draco realized all these months, he had been flirting with him. Harry remembered one night in particular: it was a few weeks ago, before Draco started dating that bloke. The quidditch match got canceled due to a snow storm. Harry had been pissed because he really needed the release that playing afforded him. He had a particularly bad day at work and wanted to let off steam.

Draco, it seemed, was equally pissed because he kicked the grass and a chunk of dirt with newly fallen snow sprinkled on it flew across the pitch. Tentatively, Harry approached Draco and suggested that they play a few round of a seekers game, ‘just to let off some steam.’

To Harry’s surprise, Draco agreed heartily and let a snitch go, kicked off the dirt and called back to Harry: ‘last one to the snitch is a flobberworm.’ Harry hadn’t even minded that Draco got a head start.

The air was crisp against his skin and the snow was falling slowly like it would in a snow globe; slow and obstructed by some invisible force. And Draco looked magnificent. His flying had always been brilliant, but he had grown more impulsive since the war and it showed in his flying.

And what had once been an even match in flying was starting to become balanced in Draco’s favor. He flew with such abandon and with such fluidity. It was that night, among the snow fall and the quiet winter air that Harry realized he was in love. He had almost gotten up the courage to ask Draco out, but in the end, he chickened out, assuming that Draco would never reciprocate his feelings.

As Harry was off in his mind thinking about how Draco had beamed with pride when he beat harry three times in a row at the seekers game, he didn't realize he had been staring at Draco. Now, however, he was starkly aware and he was also aware that Draco was watching him, too.

Heart pounding, Harry averted his gaze. He needed a drink, right now, so he grabbed Charlie's hand and dragged him through the living room and into the kitchen where McGrady always stored the drinks.

“Relax, Harry,” Charlie whispered and handed him a glass of whiskey. He smiled warmly and Harry couldn’t help but relax. Charlie had a way of helping him calm down, especially after the war.

“Sorry, just nervous and I hate seeing him with that guy,” Harry blurted it out before he could change his mind and then swallowed the drink in one gulp. He poured another and he and Charlie moved back toward the living room.

“I know, but getting worked up isn’t going to accomplish what we have set out to accomplish, now is it?”

“No.”

“So calm down and flirt with me, Harry Potter,” Charlie winked and continued, “and make that blonde git as jealous as he clearly has made you.”

After that, Harry did calm down. The familiarity of the party helped, along with the drinks Charlie kept bringing over. The liquor warmed him up quickly and it helped him relax enough that he was actually having some fun, despite the fact that every time he saw Draco holding that blokes hand he wanted to die.

McGrady was running wild, as usual. He made rounds and poured the peppermint schnapps into everyones glasses and made them toast to the teams and the season.

Chase and Williams, two beaters, were challenging one another to a drink off, which only ever left them both barfing in the backyard. And left their boyfriends to tend to them for the remainder of the night.

Levy, one of the chasers, was busy hitting on any girl who would pay attention to him long enough. And since all of the recreational quidditch teams were invited to these parties, there were a lot of women who Levy could strike out with.
After watching Quincy and Stav, two chasers, bet one another that they couldn’t do three shots while doing a handstand, Charlie laughed heartily and cheered along with the crowd. “These people are sort of wild,” Charlie observed, still smiling. He held his glass up to his lips and took a slow sip.

Harry shrugged and then leaned back against the wall, so he could attempt looking casual as he scanned the room for Draco, who was now no where to be seen. This made Harry more uncomfortable than he cared to admit. For one thing, what was Draco doing? And how could Harry make him jealous if he wasn’t here to watch?

Tonight, Harry was trying to be less wild so he could stay sharp. Usually, he participated in the wildness. Ginny always made sure of that as his semi-permanent plus-one. “The league captains think it’s good for us all to let off steam together. Helps promote good sportsmanship, or whatever.”

The room got quiet for a moment as a the song changed from The Weird Sisters to Celestina Warbeck. The mood went from rowdy to suddenly romantic. Someone, probably Stav, even charmed the lights to dim. And many of the party-goers started to slow dance and snog.

As the song picked up, Charlie moved in closer, so they were standing almost flush against one another. “Remember after the war, when we all played quidditch in the backyard?”

Harry watched Charlie's eyes. They were darting back and forth between his lips and his eyes. It was making his hands feel all sweaty and his chest felt tight suddenly. “Yes,” Harry replied.

The song was nearing it’s end. It was the really slow, seductive part. Harry was conscious of every part of his body that was touching Charlie's. But he kept his eyes on Charlie's face and he was looking exclusively at Harry’s lips now. “I almost kissed you that day.”

Before he could stop himself, Harry said,“I wanted you to.” He had fancied Charlie back then and he knew that Charlie had to have known. They had never talked about it, but after the war, Charlie and Harry had leaned on one another without meaning to; never physically, but emotionally.

Licking his lips, Charlie sighed and leaned his forehead against Harry’s. Their lips were breathes apart and Harry couldn’t feel his hands or feet. They were a mess of pins and needles as he waited to see if Charlie was going to do anything.

“I wish I had,” Charlie's words died on Harry’s lips and suddenly he was breathing heavy and his face was hot. And Charlie was moving away toward the kitchen.

Forgetting where they were for a minute, forgetting that he was there to make Draco jealous, Harry watched Charlie walk to the kitchen. He could see him in the kitchen now, talking to Levy and some girl as he filled his glass and took a long swig finishing it and then filling it again.

That did not just happen, Harry thought and he tried to shake the moment from his memory by actually shaking his head in disbelief. Rather a stupid idea, considering the amount of alcohol he had consumed. Now, on top of his nerves being a mess, he felt like he was going to barf.

In the backyard, Harry felt the cold air on his face. The winter air was sharp, but it was a welcomed pain as it helped bring Harry back to reality. The party was loud behind him, but he kept his eyes on the night sky.

The moon was out and full. It was so bright that Harry couldn’t see one star in the sky. It was beautiful and haunting, all at the same time. He hugged his arms tighter around his torso and sat on the cold stone ledge of McGrady’s porch. He took in a long breath and watched it turn to small clouds in front of him.

“Nice night isn’t it?” Charlie's voice came from behind Harry, but Harry didn’t turn around. He wasn’t ready to look Charlie in the face, yet.

“The moon is big,” Harry answered, though it wasn’t really an answer so much as observation.

“Did I freak you out?” Charlie asked as he sat down next to Harry. He sat close and shoved Harry with his shoulder. It was meant to be affectionate, as it was so often how Charlie had approached Harry at the Burrow in the days after the war.
But Harry still couldn’t look at him. He kept his eyes on the moon. “You knew I had feelings for you then, but you never—and now, now you want to say something? On the night I asked you to help me make another man jealous?” Harry’s voice was sharp and he could feel anger rising in him.

“It just sort of came out,” Charlie offered, but his voice sounded small and far away. Harry could tell it was a lie. That was one of the affects of spending so much time with a person. Eventually, you can't lie to them.

Firmly, Harry said, “No.”

“No?”

“That is shite, tell me the truth.”

Charlie didn’t say anything for a while. Harry finally looked over at him and saw the man’s face screwed up in pain. “After Luna's article mentioned you liking me back then, I figured it was my last shot. I thought maybe if you knew I fancied you, then maybe you wouldn’t even care about Malfoy.”

“I love him, Charlie. This isn’t just a crush, or some fleeting attraction. As crazy as it is, I love him.” Harry said this and finally realized how ridiculous he was being. He was trying to make Draco jealous instead of just telling him how he felt.

“I had to try, Harry. You understand, don’t you?” Charlie sounded scared now and Harry felt sympathy for him. It quickly replaced whatever anger he felt at first.

“I do. It’s what I’m hoping with him. I’m hoping if he knew how I felt, that he wouldn’t care about that bloke,” Harry said this and then grabbed Charlie's un-gloved hand, brought it to his lips and placed a soft, warm kiss on the Charlie's cold knuckles.
Laughing, Charlie gripped Harry’s hand tighter and then rested his head on Harry’s shoulder. “Fuck, this is a mess.”

“I’m sorry, Charlie.”

“It’s okay. I waited too long. I was scared then.”

“I was, too, but that’s because I didn’t think you liked me the way I liked you. You were older, more experienced, not to mention I had just broken up with your sister.”

“Oh, yeah. Forgot about that one,” Charlie said, forcing out a laugh. His breath clouded in front of them in a puff.

They sat there for a while in silence, looking at the moon. Charlie's body was squished against his in attempt to stay warm. The night was becoming unforgivably cold, but Harry couldn't make himself move, yet.

“Fuck,” Harry started, his eyes on the moon, “I could have loved you, Charlie.”

“I could have loved you, too, Harry.”

Chapter Text

Work was tedious. Harry couldn’t get his mind off of just about a million things. Between the article denying his relationship with Ginny and his proclivity for liking men, Charlie's admission of feelings, and his own nerves about how to tell Draco he had feelings for him…well, Harry just didn’t care much for his paperwork.

Hermione and Ron had been helping him avoid some of the more aggressive fans who had surfaced after the article. People had begun waiting outside Grimmauld Place, or in spots where they knew Harry frequented. Basically, he was resorting to glamours and charms until he got into work.

Even at work, though, he wasn’t safe. Visitors came and went in the Ministry and some of them faked business so they could get a look at him. In all the mess, Harry had to change the security wards on the auror floor, by himself. His commanding officer claimed it would teach him to stay out of the press.

So, when an uninvited witch managed to make he way onto the Auror’s floor, Harry was shocked. Firstly, because his wards were perfect and secondly, it was Pansy Parkinson.

“Harry Potter, you absolute cock,” Pansy shouted in lieu of a proper hello. She looked wild. Her hair was frizzy, which Harry was sure wasn’t on purpose. Her cheeks were flushed pink and she had char marks on her fingertips.

“How in all the hells did you get through the security wards without an invitation?” Harry asked.

“I’m a curse breaker, Potter, you think your silly wards can stop me?” Pansy spoke and brushed some ash off of the fronts of her robes, then she slicked her hair down and tucked it behind her ears.

To Harry’s utter embarrassment, a crowd had begun to form. Ron was among them, though the collection of on-lookers had the curtesy to make it look like they were working and definitely not listening.

“And why have you broken in? It can’t just be so you can insult me? Surely an inter-office memo would have done.”

“I don’t even get why he—oh, for fucks sake, Potter,” Pansy stopped herself and seemed to consider her next words carefully. Her brows were pushed together and it looked like she was in a considerable amount of pain. “Do you even know what you’ve done?”

“No,” Harry shouted, in spite of himself. Some of the on-lookers jumped. He heard Ron laugh and then become quickly immersed in shuffling papers. “Will you enlighten me? Or will you make me bloody guess why you’re here harassing me and causing a scene?”

“Oh, this isn’t me causing a scene, Potter. If you want to see a scene, I can deliver.”

“I’m terrified. Shaking in my boots, I am.”

Pansy’s face went slack and then suddenly she was smirking and looking all-together too satisfied. It seemed Harry had stepped right into her trap. She even rubbed her hands together like a villain in the movies. At full volume, not a yell, but loud enough for the small crowd that gathered to hear, Pansy asked, “Are you fucking Ron’s brother? The dragon tamer?”

Fuck, Harry thought and then his face got hot and he couldn’t make himself turn to face Ron, who Harry was sure was just as embarrassed. A few responses flew thorough his mind, most of them just variants of ‘no’ and all of them useless because the damage was done and everyone would be talking about this soon enough.

Instead of responding, Harry moved forward, grabbed Pansy by the arm and dragged her down the nearest hallway and shoved her into the small supply closet. After he shut the door and cast a muffliato, Harry asked, “What in Merlin’s beard is your problem? That will be in the paper tomorrow whether it’s true or not.”

“Is it?”

“No, not that it’s any of your business.” Harry crossed his arms and gave her the look Hermione always gave him when he was being difficult. “Speaking of, why are you even asking me this?”

“Because you went to the quidditch party with him and you were seen in very close quarters; some might even say you were canoodling.”

“That is not what I meant and you know it. I meant why are you here asking me about this?”

“Someone I care about cares about the answer.”

“Why does he care? He has a boyfriend doesn’t he?”

“They went on like three dates, Potter.”

“To me that says he shouldn't care about what I’m doing.”

“You two are the biggest arseholes on the planet. Why cant you just ask each other out like normal people? All this headache.”

“Oi, that isn’t fair. Wait, he wants to ask me out?”

“Well, he was waiting for you to ask him out. He said you two had been flirting for months and that you even got sort of close to asking and then didn’t.”

“So he decided to date someone else because I was taking too long?”

“Merlin help me, he thought it would make you jealous and that would be the kick you needed.”

“It worked too well. It made me so jealous, that I tried making him jealous.”

“Merlin, you two a quite the pair.”

“Hold on, so he doesn’t like that bloke?”

“No, Potter.”

“And he wants to go out with me?”

“Yes.”

Harry didn’t even bother responding or waiting for Pansy. He flew out of the supply closet and raced back through the main area where the crowd was still gathered and seemed to be quietly gossiping. Ignoring them, and Ron’s calls for him to wait, Harry made his way to the elevators and pushed the button for the Unspeakabale floor.

Chapter Text

“Mister Potter, sir, you—you can’t just…” The small brunette witch, who must be Draco’s assistant, called after him as he blew past her and opened Draco’s office door.

In the office, Draco sat behind a large mahogany desk. There were books open in a semi-circle in front of him and his head was bowed as he scribbled something down in the margin of one of the books.

“Mister Malfoy, I tried to stop him,” the witch squeaked from behind Harry.

Without looking up from his notes, Draco raised his hand to stop her from saying more, “It is okay, Margie. Mister Potter can stay.”

“Yes, Mister Malfoy,” Margie answered and backed out of the office, closing the door behind her, leaving Harry and Draco alone.

“To what do I owe this unscheduled visit?” Draco spoke, standing up. He moved out from behind the desk and perched himself on the corner, so he was directly in front of Harry now.

“Er, well, Pansy came to see me.”

“Did she?” Draco asked, raising a hand to his chin. Then he pulled his hand back a little and examined his nails. He seemed amused. “And what did she have to say?”

Feeling emboldened by Pansy’s admission that Draco wanted him, Harry moved closer to Draco. It was everything he could do to not push Draco back on the desk and snog him right then and there. “She called me a cock in front of my department.”

“Eloquent.”

“And she asked me if I was with Charlie Weasley.”

Finally, Draco made eye contact. It was a searching look. And unsure look. Then Draco asked, “And your answer?”

“Tell me why you care.” Harry stepped closer and now they were toe to toe. He felt his own breathing getting erratic and took care to slow his breaths. He watched for any sign that Draco was as distraught as him.

“I don’t,” Draco answered with a flick of the wrist. After a moment, he stood up so they were toe to toe and now, eye to eye.

“You do.”

“Maybe.”

“Go out with me.” Harry smiled. It was a gamble, but if the way Draco was looking at him were any indication, Harry was sure the answer would be yes.

A smile played at the corner of Draco’s mouth. In order to keep from smiling all the way, Draco bit his bottom lip, which Harry liked more than he wold admit. “Is that an order, Mister Potter?”

“A firm request, Mister Malfoy.”

“And if I refuse?”

“You won’t.” And Harry was more sure about this, than he had been about many things. Draco was just being cautious like Hermione had predicted. So, Harry had to be completely and perfectly clear about his intentions.

“No, I won’t.”

Quickly, Harry wrapped one hand around Draco, pulling him close. He heard Draco let out a small gasp, but saw that he wore delighted smile. “One more firm request?”

“Yes?”

“Kiss me.”

For a moment, nothing happened and Harry regretted his boldness. Embarrassed, he started to loosen his grip around Draco, but then he felt the soft brush of lips on his.

It was a chaste peck. Soft. Quick. And then Draco pulled back to look at him. Harry was sure he was blushing, but didn’t care. He yearned for another kiss, so he moved in slowly and closed his eyes.

That’s when he felt Draco’s hands; one barely touching his cheek, the other slipped around the back of his neck. Then their lips touched, soft at first and then Draco’s lips parted and Harry tasted him on his tongue.

It was easy. Like their bodies and lips were made to fit together in this way. Harry wrapped around Draco and Draco sucking at his bottom lip. In a haze, Harry lifted Draco up and sat him down on the edge of the desk, their lips never parting.

They continued on like that; Harry standing between Draco’s legs, Draco’s hands gripping his neck, their lips a a symphony of soft pecks and deep, long, kisses that left Harry panting, wanting.

“Wait,” Draco said breathless. His lips were red and his pupils blown. He stood up, straightened his robes, fixed his hair and moved to open his office door, then called. “Margie, cancel my evening appointments. Actually, cancel my morning ones, too.” At the door, Draco waited for her response then turned around, shut the door and leaned against it. “Now, where were we?”

Harry smirked and walked over to Draco. He placed his hands on the wall on either side of Draco, licked his lips and moved so he was almost kissing Draco. “I think we…were…right…about…here,” Harry said and in between each word he kissed Draco anywhere but the lips. His neck. His cheek. His nose. Finally, landing a soft kiss on Draco’s lips.