George took a sip of his coffee. It took every bit of his control to not spit it back out as the disgusting taste penetrated his taste buds.

What in Medusa’s saggy tits did they put in here? Dishwater? This tastes like shite! George grimaced and shoved the cup away from him, not caring one bit that it sloshed over the rim and spilled, and stared gloomily out the window of the coffee shop in Diagon Alley. Many wizards and witches passed by him, all looking happy and content, and he didn’t miss the fact that he saw more couples than singles or groups.

Everyone was busy being in love, but George was stuck in a business meeting. Not to mention he was stuck with his only companion at night — his hands — and even that didn’t guarantee full satisfaction. Mentally groaning, he shut his eyes tightly, remembering what had happened last night. Fred and Angelina had been going at it like horny Kneazles in the next room, and they’d forgotten to put up a Silencing Charm. He was the poor unfortunate soul who had to endure three hours of “Mmm, more! Oh, so good! There, right there, baby! I’m coming, oh Merlin!”

It was like listening to bad porn, really bad porn. He was surprised his dick hadn’t shrivelled up and died yesterday.

He sighed and forced last night’s experience out of his head and thought about his business meeting. He was to meet his silent business partner to discuss this new business proposal he and Fred had thought up, and he was going to keep things professional between them — never mind that he’d had the longest secret crush on Harry Potter. It was a secret he’d carry to his grave. Not even his own twin knew about his crush.

And George had no intention of fucking things up between him and Harry with this crush. Sure, Harry had come out as being gay, but there was no way in Merlin’s scratchy beard Harry would ever go for a bloke like himself — even as marvellous as he was. Not when there were better candidates like, say, Oliver Wood (never mind the fact that he was currently bonking Percy, the stuffiest and the stiffest bloke alive) and Viktor Krum. Somehow it just seemed more fitting for Harry to prefer a Quidditch Star — which was not far-fetched since Harry himself was a fantastic Seeker.

At least I know I’ve no self-esteem issues . . . I think. I mean, I know I’m a bloody great catch, but not for someone like Harry! George sighed again and eyed the dreadful coffee with contempt, and he shifted because his bottom had grown very sore. First the coffee, now these chairs. Are these shop owners aware of these things? No wonder this shop is empty as a library!

Thankfully, Harry rushed in, and George could stop thinking about his tongue and his bum.

“Sorry I’m late!” Harry breathed out, as he plopped down across from George. “Ron and Hermione had some sort of a minor disagreement, so I had to listen to Ron’s whinging and help him think up a way to make up with Hermione.”

George stifled back a groan, wondering for the umpteenth time what Ron and Hermione saw in each other. “It’s all right.”

Harry grinned and looked around the empty shop. “I’ve never been here before.”

From the corner of his eyes, he could see the shop workers looking excited as they babbled to each other in hushed whispers. George refrained from rolling his eyes, knowing full well why they acted like they’d got their pants in the Whomping Willow’s crutch; instead, he decided to look at Harry. It’d been a while since they’d last met. Harry had gone off to travel the world. The last time he’d seen Harry was several years ago; they’d kept in contact about the Wheezes’ business matter by Owls. So George discreetly studied Harry, wondering if Harry had changed any over the years.

Gone was the scrawny boy he’d last seen. Harry had filled out quite nicely, judging by his broader chest and shoulders. His wild hair was still uncontrollable as usual, but it was longer now; it was pulled back into a short ponytail, and with his fringe, it gave Harry a very shaggy appearance that made him look rogue-like. These were the two biggest, obvious changes, but there was a single change that really appealed to George. It was quite subtle, but George could see it in Harry’s eyes. They no longer appeared sad and troubled; they looked free and happy.

The changes made Harry more appealing than ever. George had a feeling he’d need a loo and some lotion after this meeting.

“This is my first time, too,” George admitted, wanting to get his brain to think of something else because he didn’t want to go through this meeting with a stiff cock. “I don’t recommend their coffee or their chairs. I think my arse would find more comfort on rocks than these,” he added.

“That bad?” Harry laughed and grabbed George’s abandoned coffee and sniffed at it. His nose scrunched up, and he quickly set the cup down. “Well, it does smell terrible.” He glanced at the menu. “Think their teas would come out like your coffee?”

“You could try, but I have to warn you that it’s been about fifteen minutes since I drank that thing, and the taste is still in my mouth!”

Harry looked troubled. “Well, I’ll risk it. I’d feel bad coming here and not getting something.” Giving George a sheepish smile, he ordered a cup of the shop’s “Special Earl Grey” tea. It arrived a minute later, and Harry stared at it the cup like it was one of Hagrid’s rock cakes.

George looked at it, paled, and felt his stomach churn unpleasantly. “I know there are many kinds of tea in the world, but is there such a thing as purple tea?”

“I’m not sure.” Harry took a tentative sip, and George immediately knew from Harry’s puckered lips and his wrinkly forehead that the tea was just as bad as his coffee. George stifled his laughter as he watched Harry give the cup the same sloshing treatment he’d done earlier. Harry cleared his throat. “So you and Fred have a new business idea? What is it?”

“Oh, that.” George couldn’t help but grin at the irony. “See, Fred and I want to expand our business.”

“How?”

“The shop next door became vacant, so we’re thinking about starting up a–” George’s smile grew wider, and he lowered his voice, “–a coffee shop.”

“A coffee shop?” Harry repeated. His eyes became heavy-lidded as he mused over the idea. “Well, it wouldn’t hurt to have another one in Diagon Alley, but . . . ”

“Yes?”

“No offence to you and Fred, but do you think the customers would really trust whatever you sell to them that requires consumption?”

“None taken, mate.” George’s grin grew wider. “Fred and I thought ahead on that. See, we’re going to name the shop The Coffeenator, so customers won’t realise it’s part of our business.”

Harry’s eyes opened wide and his eyebrows disappeared under his fringe. “The Coffee . . . nator?”

“It’s a wotchermacallit, a port-something on combining ‘coffee’ and ‘procrastinator’ together. Our goal for the shop is to make it a place for people to relax and procrastinate on their life — you know, let them have fun with delicious coffee.”

“I see. That makes sense, but don’t be surprised if you get customers thinking something entirely different with the name of your shop.”

“Huh?”

Harry waved a hand. “It’s a Muggle film reference. Nothing to worry about it, really, since I doubt most wizards and witches will know about The Terminator.”

The who, the what? George made a mental note to look up this Terminator thing later. “Anyway, that’s our plan. What do you think?”

“I like it. I don’t see any problems with it. Just don’t sell awful drinks like this place,” Harry whispered, his green eyes twinkling.

“Of course not. And don’t worry! Fred and I won’t be making the coffee. We’re going to have to find ourselves a good coffee person.”

“A barista. That’s the coffee person in charge of making the coffee and espresso-based drinks.”

George nodded, impressed that Harry knew this fact. “Right. I just hope whoever we get won’t make dishwater-flavoured coffees and rainbow-coloured mochas or whatever.”

Harry leaned closer towards George, looking rather excited. “I could do it. Not sell those disgusting drinks, but I wouldn’t mind being a barista for your shop.”

“Wha–?” Now George’s eyebrows went up high and his eyes grew large. “You’d want to work there?”

Harry nodded. “During my travels, I visited a lot of coffee shops. I actually grew addicted to them.” He rubbed the back of his head and his smile appeared sheepish. “It wasn’t long before I got to know the baristas of each shop, and they trained and showed me how to make the drinks. I learned pretty fast. I guess all those chores I did when I was young came in handy.”

“But I thought you wanted to become an Auror after you finish travelling.”

“I’ve changed my mind. I’d rather make good coffee for people and watch them enjoy a good cuppa rather than do paperwork and deal with bureaucratic headaches.”

George nodded, understanding where Harry was coming from. He smiled slowly, realising that he’d just found their barista, and it took less time than he and Fred had been expecting. Plus, it was with someone he knew he could work with, someone with a sense of humour — something he and Fred both agreed that good employees must have — and Harry definitely had that. He was also relieved they wouldn’t have to go through about a thousand interviews to find that one barista they’d want. “Well, do what makes you happy. I think it’s fucking brill to have you as our barista.” He extended out a hand and clasped Harry’s. “Welcome to the Coffeenator, Mr Barista.”

Was it George’s imagination or did Harry’s grip tighten? It was probably his imagination since Harry let go and said, “Don’t you need to talk to Fred about this?”

George shook his head. “Naw, mate, Fred would’ve agreed. Besides, this is a ruddy fantastic idea, so no need to worry!”

Harry smiled shyly, making George’s insides twist in a familiar way, and said, “All right. Let’s get the boring part out of the way. You’ve got the paperwork?”

Oh for Wendy Wanker’s sake! Where’s Trelawney’s smelly gunk when I need it? I think I’d rather be oxygen-deprived right about now before I make a complete arse of myself!

George felt like chocolate. He was seriously about to melt and become a pile of George-goo, and it was all because of Harry.

Sure, Harry had always made his insides turn into jelly before, but seeing Harry in his barista outfit nearly turned George into an absolute mess.

The barista outfit was ridiculously simple. It consisted of a crisp white shirt, a black waistcoat, a black tie, a pair of black trousers, a black waist apron, and a pair of black shoes. Really, it was nothing fancy, but on Harry, it looked absolutely classy.

And shag-worthy. When George looked at Harry’s backside, it became even more apparent that Harry had filled out over the years. His arse looked, especially when framed by the apron, so fucking sexy and well-defined in those trousers.

Harry gave a shy smile. “How does it look?”

“Not bad!” Fred exclaimed, reminding George that he wasn’t alone and that he’d better stop gawking like an overgrown git.

George unglued his tongue and tried to keep his voice neutral. “It looks good.”

Harry’s smiled wider, and George clenched his fists in his pockets. Think of naked Hagrid doing things with that Beauxbatons bird. Think of crabby old Aberforth tending to his goats. Think of McGonagall in a corset. Don’t think of Harry bent over the counters. Don’t let his smile get to you. Most of all, don’t reach out and grab his arse!

For the past few weeks, whenever Harry was near him, which occurred quite often since they’d all been working together to get the Coffeenator up and running, George’d had many of those monologues with himself. Somehow or other, he’d been the one to work with Harry the most in the new shop while Fred stayed at the Wheezes to keep things running there. All those days with Harry, who was so near to touch, but off-limits, drove him mad.

He’d thought having Harry as their barista was a brilliant idea.

Now he was begging to differ. It was still a good idea, but who was it good for? Certainly not George, not when his libido kept on demanding to be unleashed. Not when he kept fantasising on Harry’s lips, wondering if they were soft, wishing he could run his hands through Harry’s shaggy hair and all over that hard body and that arse that begged to be grabbed. Really, this was torture — a good form of torture — but torture nonetheless!

George caught Fred looking at him strangely and flashed a grin. He shoved aside his overactive imagination and turned towards the new monstrosity in the shop — the espresso machine and an espresso grinder. Like his father, he’d always had a thing for Muggle machines, but these unfamiliar machines looked really intimidating. There were magical espresso machines out in the market, but Harry, used to preparing coffee the Muggle way, preferred the Muggle version.

That wasn’t a problem. Just as long as George didn’t have to operate it. He saw Harry do something with it, causing steam to come out, and decided he preferred steam from cauldrons. That seemed less dangerous at any rate.

“Oh, hey, how do you two feel about selling pastries here?” Harry’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Along with the drinks, I was thinking we could sell simple pastries. We could keep the menu short — maybe rotate three items every week? I can make scones, biscuits, and cakes — things from those categories.”

George looked at Fred, and then they both nodded at Harry.

“I call the cake!” Fred said.

“And I call the scones!” George chimed right after, glad to be thinking of something not Harry-related.

“All right, then let’s go look at some ovens!” Harry suggested, looking excited. “Then I’ll need a couple of days getting used to these machines.” His gaze lingered at George before he continued, “And you two can be the first ones to try my coffee and pastry!”

Harry’s enthusiasm was contagious. George found himself eagerly looking forward to that.

“More, Fred! So fucking good! Ah, ah, ah!”

“Angelina, oh, yes, baby! I just love your tits!”

They’d forgotten to use the Silencing Charm. Again. That meant George had to endure another round of bad porn. Again.

George grabbed his pillow and covered his ears with it, hoping he could drown out their primal and crude love-making. That didn’t work. He then wished longingly for Harry’s invisibility cloak; he’d sneak into their room and cast the damn charm himself since these two inconsiderate gits never remember to do it!

The banging on his wall mercifully stopped and was soon replaced with light snoring. Fina-fucking-ly! George loosened his hold on his pillow and stared at the ceiling, studying the cracks as his mind wandered.

He realised he felt envious that Fred had someone he could be with to make all those animalistic noises together. Sure, George was annoyed that Fred never remembered to cast that one little charm, but he was happy for Fred. Really, he was . . . but he felt envious. And lonely. Ever since he’d figured out he swung the other way, he’d actually felt separated from his own twin. All their life, they’d been Fred and George, Gred and Forge, never apart, always together. As they grew older, things had started to change. In their sixth year, Fred had begun to fancy Angelina, but George hadn’t fancied anybody. While Fred had started to date Angelina after the Yule Ball, George felt no inclinations to date any girls.

When George’s crush on Harry began, that was when he realised just how different identical twins could be. It was his own private revelation, and even years later, he still had never really accepted it.

Since then he’d understood just how different he was from Fred. He was the quieter of the two, more thoughtful and careful (not by much, but just a smidgen!). Whenever Fred wanted something, he’d go after it without a second thought. George, on the other hand, would actually think his decision through, depending on the situation, and that was obvious with the way they approached relationships.

George sighed. I sound like an old coot. He closed his eyes; Aberforth’s grumpy face came into his mind. He shuddered. Okay, I don’t want to end up anything like that ol’ goat herder! I better do something to change this. Yes, I had better! No asking Fred for help, either. Not that he knows I like Harry or anything, but I’ve got to try and do this by myself.

And this was the beginning of George’s new mission — to try and get Harry. At least then he could say he had tried!

George didn’t really have much time to concentrate on his mission. He had other things to focus on — mainly his new business.

The Coffeenator hadn’t opened yet — its grand opening would be next week — but George came over to help Harry with the shop while Fred stayed in their shop. That day Harry had insisted on George doing some taste-testing.

George took a seat at the bar, choosing that over the seats by the window because he wanted to be closer to Harry. Sure, the bar separated him from Harry, but from the high seat he had a great view of Harry. In fact, with Harry turned around to work the espresso machine, he had the best view of Harry’s arse, looking tight and tempting as usual in those trousers. His whole body itched with desire, as realisation dawned on how he could easily lean over the bar and grab it; instead, he grabbed a copy of the menu, and he proceeded to doodle on it, desperate to keep his hands busy while his eyes never strayed from Harry’s lovely backside.

Harry puttered around, doing things so fast that George had no idea exactly what he was doing. He saw a billow of blinding white steam, heard something hiss like Crookshanks on a bad fur day, smelled something sweet that made his tooth ache, and sensed comforting warmth all around him as Harry moved with such speed and finesse that it left him dizzy.

Harry soon plunked a tray in front of him. On it were three different pastries and three cups of steaming coffee. George looked at it in surprise. “That’s a lot.”

“And it’s all for you!”

George laughed, remembering that this was Harry Potter, the most generous bloke he knew.

He remembered the first time he’d met Harry. He fondly thought about the young boy he’d passed on Platform 9 and 3/4, who was scrawny with messy black hair, huge green eyes, and glasses that looked like they’d been taped together one too many times. The nameless boy was just another bloke to him at the time, nobody he really wanted to get to know then, but George later got to know Harry as a fellow Gryffindor, a Quidditch player, and a friend.

It wasn’t until George’s sixth year that everything changed; he would never forget that one night that changed everyone’s lives, the night of the third task. Cedric Diggory had died, Harry had almost died, and Voldemort had come back to “life”. When George had seen Harry lying on the hospital bed, looking fragile yet determined and strong, he saw a boy becoming a man. He believed in Harry’s conviction that Voldemort had returned, and his respect for Harry grew when he heard how Harry had gone through and survived yet another encounter with Voldemort.

He was astounded by Harry’s generosity that night as well. Harry had selflessly given away 1000 Galleons to Fred and himself, and George’s crush began that very day. It intensified over the next few years as Harry grew up, saved the world again, and became quite a catch.

A catch George hadn’t nabbed yet because he needed to grow some balls if he wanted to go anywhere with his deeply-suppressed desires. A catch who, currently, was right in front of him, smiling eagerly. Harry pointed at the pastries, and George stared at the long digits instead of the mouth-watering treats. He immediately thought of kissing them first and then slipping one of them into his mouth as he sucked and teased it until Harry flushed with desire. To him, that finger was only an appetiser. He’d quickly move onto Harry’s mouth, a luscious side-dish that would allow him to taste Harry even further, snogging deeply until they were both breathless. Once he had his full share, he’d go on to the entrée farther down . . .

George Weasley! Wake up, you sod! Business first! And no, you cannot have a Potter Puff on your personal menu!

George cleared his throat and asked, “So what are these?”

“This here is a blueberry scone, an almond biscotti, and a chocolate fondant pudding. As for your drinks, that’s a latte, a cappuccino, and a mocha. Along with your basic espresso drinks, as you can see on the menu, I’ve also included hot chocolate and a variety of teas. The drinks will be served hot or cold, depending on the customer’s choice.”

“Looks like you’ve pretty much got the whole thing figured out.” George couldn’t help but feel impressed. Then again, he should’ve known better than to think Harry would do anything half-arsed. He picked up his fork and began to sample the pastries.

They were all spectacular. The scones were perfectly baked, and it was a great combination with the clotted cream. The biscotti had a nice crunch to it and a subtle almond flavour. But his absolute favourite was the chocolate fondant pudding. He had no idea what Harry had done to it, but it was rich, moist, and just so fucking wonderful. Everything he ate meshed well with the drinks, which tasted so much better than that shite he’d had in that unmentionable place.

“How is it?” Harry asked.

“Before I say my piece, do me a favour?”

“What?”

“Don’t ever tell Mum that your stuff is brilliant and better than her baked pastries! I mean, Holy Hemlock, Harry, this is some fantastic stuff!”

Harry blushed, making himself look even more desirable; George wasn’t certain just how much his libido would be able to take that day.

“Um, thanks. I won’t tell her.” Harry ducked his red face, but not before George caught the bashful smile.

“Thanks, mate. However, I do have a question.” George looked down at the menu he doodled on. “What’s the difference between an espresso, an Americano, a latte, a cappuccino, a mocha, a macchiato, and whatever else you’ve got listed here?”

Harry laughed, his blush fading away, and George sat and listened to his coffee lesson. Harry was truly knowledgeable with all this coffee info, and it showed not only in Harry’s explanation, but in his body language and in his voice tone.

George looked at Harry’s posture, the way he carried himself with confidence that he had lacked back in school. Maybe it was the baggy clothes he wore back at Hogwarts, but he no longer appeared like he was slouching all the time. George could appreciate the form-fitting barista outfit on Harry (again, images of Harry’s beautiful arse flashed at him) and the self-assurance Harry had now, yet there was also still that bit of shyness lingering in Harry’s aura, and George found himself falling deeper and deeper for him.

With his head now full of coffee knowledge — most of which would be forgotten in an hour since he was still confused by all the terminology and the different methods for preparing each drink — George decided to give his brain a rest and he stared at his messy scratches on the menu. He wrote a phrase and stared at it. “I think I’ve just thought up a clever slogan we can use for this shop.”

“Oh?” Harry raised an eyebrow as he sipped on his latteccino or whatever it was called.

George cleared his throat and announced importantly, “‘You’ll be back’.” He stared when Harry spewed his drink across the bar and started to cough. He held up his hands into a defensive stance. “I solemnly swear I didn’t put anything in your drink.”

Harry stopped coughing. He looked at George, eyes a bit moist, and said, “It’s not that. I know you didn’t slip anything into my coffee. It’s just . . . well, the name of the shop and that slogan?” His lips curved slightly. “I reckon a bunch of Muggle-borns will be wary of this place at first. Well, maybe not wary, but at the least they’ll be very amused.”

George looked confused. “Uh, all right?”

“I’ll have to borrow those films from Hermione sometime and show them to you and Fred. Oh, and if you want to add that slogan to the menu, better let Dean and Seamus know. Seamus is probably going to bite your head off, though. He hates last minute changes — even if Dean’s the one doing the actual designing. Thank Merlin Dean can calm Seamus down, at least.”

Still perplexed by the whole shop name and slogan situation — hell, even Dean had chortled his noggin off with no explanation — George just said, “All right. I’ll let that hothead know. Then again, if he does get his a stick up his arse, I’ll get out our Slumbering Stink-Socks. One whiff of that will knock him out — he’ll start a bagpipe solo that’ll put Fang’s snoring to shame.”

Harry sniggered. “Anyway, I noticed you seemed to favour the cappuccino and the chocolate fondant pudding more than the others. Want some more?”

“This latte is so smooth! Way better than that other place!”

“The scone! It doesn’t taste like it’s been magically processed.”

“Finally! Tea that’s not hot pink!”

“So rich, so flavourful. My friends will die for this chocolate fondant pudding!”

George smiled as he walked past the various customers, pleased by all the compliments he heard from them. The Coffeenator, so far, was a success. Once word got out that the barista was none other than Harry Potter, many people — some from as far as the United States — had come to visit the shop. Even on their first day, they had people waiting in lines that extended towards the back-end of Diagon Alley. This had been predicted, so Harry and George had arranged for three wizarding guards — three muscular men who were named Huey, Dewey, and Louie — to be at the shop to make sure nobody did anything harmful. Their presence turned out to be a good thing; in fact, when a lot of Muggle-borns (Hermione and Dean included) saw Huey, they all backed away from him. George had heard Dean muttering something about Huey resembling an Arnie Shoemaker.

“Who’s that?” George had asked.

“Who’s who?”

“That shoemaker bloke.”

Dean frowned. “What shoemaker — oh! You mean Arnold Schwarzenegger?” He started to snigger. “He’s an actor who played in that movie, The Terminator, which I’m guessing is what this shop is named after?”

Not that movie again! I’ve got to remind Harry to get them like he mentioned before! George explained the meaning behind the name before he remembered to say, “By the way, mate. Thanks for calming Seamus down when we wanted to change the menu design. I’m glad I didn’t have to waste a pair of Slumbering Stink-Socks on him!”

“Er, yes, that.” Dean blushed. “Thankfully, snogging him usually shuts him up when he starts ranting.” Quickly, he glanced at the menu. “I’m short on time. I came to get a take-away. But don’t worry, I’ll be back.”

George grinned widely. “Oh, yes. You’ll be back.”

Dean rolled his eyes and groaned. “I still can’t believe you came up with that slogan without knowing the Terminator reference.”

“I will one of these days.” George clasped Dean’s shoulder. “Now, go get your take-away.”

George’s eyes swept over the busy shop. Glancing at the hired help who assisted in the shop, hearing the various conversations from the customers, and inhaling the wonderful coffee and pastry aromas, his gaze lingered on Harry the longest. Harry looked up and their eyes made contact. Harry flashed George a smile that promptly flustered him, but he managed to keep his composure and smile back, ignoring all the flapping noises he heard from his stomach. He quickly gave Harry one final wave and dashed out of the shop and rounded the corner, where he nearly collided into Ginny.

“Son of a pixie!” George gasped, reaching out to steady himself against the wall. “You all right?” He saw that Neville was behind Ginny, his hands on her shoulders, protecting her. He nodded his greeting at Neville.

Ginny scowled at him, pulling herself out of Neville’s hands. “I’m all right, but what bit your arse? Did you prank someone important so they are now after your brainless head?”

“Please.” George smirked. “If I prank someone important, I’ll do it with subtlety and finesse — nobody would guess it’s me or Fred! Besides, Gin, is it that time of the month for you? Why so thorny?”

It was interesting how her face turned so red that Ginny’s hairline all but disappeared. She crossed her arms and then it was her turn to smirk. “Oh? Jealous that you aren’t getting any? And I’ll let you know that it’s not that time of the month . . . yet.”

George and Neville both blushed hard. George covered his ears and yelled, “Way too much info!”

“You asked!” Ginny declared smugly. She stuck out her tongue at him (he was so glad she didn’t Bat-Bogey him!) and then grabbed the still-red Neville’s hand. “As a matter of fact, whenever I’m near that time, I start craving chocolate. So I’m off to have some of that chocolate fondant thing!” She disappeared into the store, dragging Neville behind her.

George stalked off, not caring that he just walked past the Wheezes. Ginny’s barb about him not getting any was true. In fact, he was the only Weasley not getting any. Bill and Fleur were married, Charlie was with that one Slytherin bird who’d been in Harry’s year, Percy had Oliver, Fred and Angelina were definitely bonking each other, Ron and Hermione apparently fought a lot and had hot make-up sex, and lastly there were Ginny and Neville. Then there were his parents, but he did not want to think about his mum and dad doing anything consisting of hormones, libido, and bodily fluids. Just, no.

He was the odd Weasley out. Ginny’s comment only made him feel worse about it.

He thought about Harry, remembering how that one smile alone earlier had made his stomach do a Wronski Feint despite never being a Seeker himself.

He thought about asking Harry out. He figured it couldn’t hurt. Harry could say yes, and then all would be right in his world. But then if Harry said no . . . it could make their friendship awkward and unpleasant, a situation he wanted to avoid altogether.

George turned around and slowly walked back to the Wheezes. He’d sort this out later. Right now he had to go help out Fred in their invention room.

George didn’t have time to figure anything out.

Two days after that Ginny encounter, Joey, one of the hired help, became sick with Scrofungulus. The recovery time, according to the healers at St Mungo’s, was going to take an entire month or maybe two. Instead of replacing him, and because it was a slow time of the year at the Wheezes, George became the step-in at the Coffeenator.

Somehow or another, though, things went to shite. Or maybe Ginny had cursed him with something like the Clumsia Charm. Whatever it was, George was mortified about all his accidents.

To his credit, the first couple of days went fine. He’d finally got his coffee terminology straightened out and even learned how to operate the espresso machine and the grinder without any major problems.

His problems began after one stupid accident.

It happened during closing time. Harry and he were the only ones left. They both decided to have a cuppa before finishing the rest of their closing time chores. They both sat at the bar, relaxing with their respective drinks — a mocha for Harry and an iced chai for himself.

They talked about their daily inventory and laughed about some of the weirder customers they’d encountered.

George then picked up his glass to take a long sip. He brought the glass back down onto the bar. In a blink, the glass had toppled over, the rest of his drink spilling onto Harry’s lap.

“Bugger me to Mars!” George shouted as he grabbed some paper napkins and began to mop up the liquid. On Harry’s trouser-clad legs (the apron was off already and hanging in the back). On Harry’s crotch. He stilled and looked up at Harry’s reddened face, feeling warmth emanating from Harry’s groin. He stared into Harry’s green eyes, but he lowered his gazed to the parted lips. He saw the tip of Harry’s tongue wetting his bottom lips; George was absolutely mesmerised. His hands were hot. No, not his hands. Harry’s groin was burning up, and something stirred inside of him, too, and he felt heat deep inside of him.

“Er, George?” Harry’s breathy voice snapped George back to reality.

George blushed and quickly snatched his hands away. “Fucking hell. Sorry, mate!” He backed away and looked everywhere but at Harry.

“You–”

“I’ll go wash the dishes in the back!” George cut him off and headed into the kitchen. There, he launched a thousand curses at his idiotic self.

I’m a twit-faced idiot! Why did I not think? Why did I touch him like that? What’s he going to think now? And I ran off like a whimpering pansy! I’m a fucking git!

George continued to curse as he washed the dishes manually, too upset to think about washing them with magic. Oddly enough, that calmed him. The running water was loud, and it helped block out his inner voice, and the soaping and rinsing didn’t require any major thoughts, so that put his mind into a meditative state. When he finished, he was able to face Harry by pretending nothing had happened. Thankfully, Harry acted the same way. They parted with their usual goodbyes, and George went back to the flat, desperately wanting to sleep off the rest of his embarrassment and start the next day without any problems.

But George’s problems were only beginning.

Little things kept happening to him, and they only occurred when Harry was near him. Once, he slipped on some water and landed right on his arse in front of Harry and everyone else in the shop, and it was all because he’d ogled and worshipped Harry’s lovely bum for a few seconds. Another time, Harry handed him a mug of coffee, and he was supposed to take that to a customer who was too lazy to come get it herself. Unfortunately, his fingers met Harry’s, and his muscles chose to conk out on him then, so he dropped the mug and ended up burning his hand. Oh, and he broke the mug, too.

They were really minor accidents, but George still felt humiliated by them.

Then came the wet Harry accident.

No, wait, it was the espresso-machine-“explosion”-plus-wet-Harry accident.

Thankfully there was nobody else in the shop when this happened. Still, that didn’t really make things any better.

What happened was that George did something — he wasn’t quite sure what he did, but he did something — and the next thing he knew, it sort of, for the lack of a better word, exploded on Harry. Meaning, that blasted machine went out of control and sent out a huge gush of water at Harry, covering him from his head to his toes. Fortunately, the water wasn’t hot, but on the cool side. It had to be cold because Harry’s nipples became erect.

And Harry had removed his waistcoat and tie, but left his white shirt and his trousers on. A white shirt, which had got wet, and it was against Harry’s bare skin. George could see through it very well. A water droplet slowly trickled down Harry’s pale neck, making George want to lick a nice trail along the side. He’d then go down to the two stiff nubs; George would then reach out and touch them, rub them between his fingers and make them stick out even more. Then he’d cover one of them with his mouth, and he’d lick and suck it, all the while listening to Harry’s breathy moans urging him on.

By now they’d both be aroused. George would keep the wet shirt on Harry; he’d remove Harry’s trousers and pants instead, and he’d pick Harry up and set him on the bar, just so he could have an easier time treating himself to Harry’s inviting cock. Nothing wrong with a little taste.

Or maybe he’d just grind his own throbbing cock against Harry’s, and the amazing friction from their intense movement would make them both come in utter bliss as they shouted each other’s names. Then he’d finally kiss Harry deeply, his tongue busying itself in Harry’s inviting mouth, exploring and tasting at its own pace. And when they’d have to break apart to breathe in the much needed air, Harry’s lips would look so red and swollen, and his green eyes would be heavy-lidded and he’d say, “Again.”

But damn his foolishness. Instead of enacting any of those tempting scenarios, George just calmly waved his wand and dried Harry off, regretting it instantly when the white shirt became opaque. He glanced at the machine and asked, “Do Muggle espresso machines usually shoot out water like that?”

Harry shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of. Maybe because it’s surrounded by magic, it became affected?”

“Maybe. Though it would be the first time a case like this happened.”

“We’ll have to look into it.” Harry smiled lightly. “Thanks for drying me off.”

George just waved his hands, wanting to end this night quickly so he could go take care of a new, yet familiar, problem he was stuck with at the moment. A problem that required privacy, lotion, and tissue. “I’m sorry for whatever I did to it. Maybe the machine just hates me. I’ll call in a Magical Appliance Maintenance bloke and ask him to inspect this. I’ll, erm, go wash the dishes.”

Again, George made his escape to wash those dishes, but he did it after a quick visit to the loo.

“You’re my brother, right?” Fred asked while they were eating fish and chips.

George looked up in surprise. “Right.”

“I’m your twin,” Fred said as a statement.

He had a bad feeling about this conversation, but he just nodded and repeated, “Right.”

Fred’s expression hardened and his eyes narrowed. “Then why have you never told me you fancy Harry Potter all these years?”

“Oh, er . . . ” George closed his eyes. Of course he should have guessed that Fred might have known his secret. They were twins. He should have known better than to think he could be successful at hiding his feelings from Fred. He sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. How was he going to explain his mixed up feelings to Fred? Those feelings of loneliness, the self-induced separation he somehow started to put between him and Fred because he didn’t feel like a twosome with his own twin — how was he to explain all that without sounding like an absolute wanker?

“You thought that if you admitted your crush, it would make us different, didn’t you? You thought our connection would be weakened. So you decided to just keep it to yourself and just try to go through this alone.”

It was strange seeing Fred this serious. True, George was the more serious twin compared to Fred, but Fred did have his serious moments, when he was also shrewd and perceptive. This was one of those moments.

Knowing that it would be pointless to lie now, George took the straightforward route. He met Fred’s eyes and answered, “Yeah, you’re spot on.”

“Those accidents you’ve been having around Harry pretty much gave it all away. I think even someone like Trelawney could have figured it out.”

“Shut up,” George muttered, feeling his cheeks getting warm.

Fred looked at him with a knowing expression. “What will you do now? Are you going to keep besmirching our good name by acting like a sod in love? Or are you going to grab opportunity’s balls and declare your undying romance to a certain Mr Potter?”

“No–”

“Don’t say nothing, Georgie–” George glared at his most hated nickname, “–or I will do something you will not like.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“If I have to, I’ll tell Harry myself. And I’ll never remember to put up a Silencing Charm when Angelina and I–”

“Okay, okay, okay!” Geoge’s face scrunched up in horror at the idea of being subjected to bad pornography for the next millennium. Something he was sure Fred would make him suffer through even if he ever got his own place. “I’ll do it!”

Fred smirked. “Great. You have two days to do it. I really don’t want to hear about any more love-struck accidents at the Coffeenator.”

George spelled a Skunk Pie — one of their products — to hit Fred’s face as his response. He ignored Fred’s curses and thought about how he was going to tell Harry that he liked him.

Two days later, George was a mess inside. He constantly wiped his hands on his trousers until he could feel the wetness soak through the material. Whenever he was near Harry, he had to take deep breaths so he wouldn’t start hyperventilating. He was so flustered that he decided not to deal with the customers that day, opting to have dirty dishes as his company and suffer having pruney hands. Thankfully, he didn’t have any more embarrassing accidents, yet when it was time for closing, he desperately wanted something to happen.

He came out from the back and went to the espresso machine and touched it; he waited to see if it’d do anything. It didn’t. It remained inanimate, but George felt like the machine was mocking him somehow, so he glared at it, begging it to do something so he could have a good excuse to hold this task off for another day.

The stupid sodding machine just stayed still. Before he could punch it, he heard Harry come up behind him.

“George? You all right?”

George spun around and saw Harry looking concerned. “I’m fine,” he managed out in a steady voice, so glad his voice didn’t crack! “I’m just, er, still trying to figure out that water explosion.”

“Yeah, I’m still confused about that, too. Then again, the maintenance bloke couldn’t figure it out, so maybe it was just a one-time thing.”

“Maybe.”

“Hey, I could go for some latte. You want anything?”

“Hot milk.” That should be better than tea or coffee. He really didn’t think he could handle any extra caffeine right now.

Harry nodded and busied himself behind the bar. George took a seat across from him, and he watched Harry work. It didn’t take long before Harry sat next to him and handed him a steaming cup of milk.

“Here you go.” Harry’s warm breath ghosted over his ears; George suppressed his shiver, grabbing onto his cup as his personal lifeline.

“Thanks.”

They drank in a companionable silence. Having Harry so close made George feel dizzy as he breathed in Harry’s wonderful, intoxicating scent. George took a deep breath. “Hey, Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“I . . . ” It was on the tip of his tongue. He only had to say those three words — three difficult words — but while his mind was ready to say them, his tongue decided to freeze up.

Harry gave a side-glance with a slight frown. “No offence, but are you really all right? You’re acting very strange.”

Great balls of Hades! Where’s that Gryffindor courage of yours?! Just say it, you twit! Somehow, he heard Fred through their twin connection — something that hadn’t happened in ages — and he finally said it after he remembered Fred’s threat about the Silencing Charm.

“I like you!” George shouted, startling both Harry and himself. He focused his gaze on the bar’s surface, quickly lowered his voice, and said, “I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. I know you like blokes like I do, but I wasn’t sure you’d ever like me — please don’t think I’ve got a low self-esteem, I don’t — and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship over all this, so I didn’t tell you before. And I’m sorry I didn’t, but I . . . oh, fuck it! I can’t stop thinking about you, so that’s why all those accidents happened, except for that machine. Now that machine, I swear it must be possessed because I didn’t do anything to it, and it decided to turn into a waterfall on you, but never mind about that ruddy machine, but–”

Thankfully, Harry stopped him from babbling. George appreciated it. Really he did. He just didn’t expect Harry to kiss him. But he was being kissed by Harry, and it felt so, so, so good. Harry’s lips were so hot and so soft, and they became more so when he kissed back, tongues and all, and oh, Harry tasted delicious — better than any of the pastries and coffees he’d been having since this shop opened. His arms automatically wrapped around Harry’s neck, and he grabbed Harry’s head in the back, threading his fingers through the loose ponytail, and pulled him closer until they were both off their bar stools. George felt the bar digging into his back, but he didn’t care. They continued to snog each other heatedly. It was actually an awkward kiss — Harry’s glasses were in the way, and he could feel them poking his cheekbones, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was Harry’s warm body against his and how he finally could touch that arse he’d been dreaming about for weeks. Before he slid his hands down there, though, he forced himself to break the kiss.

Both were panting, but neither of them let go of each other. This was the time to say something serious, but George ended up saying, “Your glasses are fogged up.”

Harry laughed. “Well, that was a pretty . . . steamy kiss.”

“So, er, you like me, too?” It was rather stupid of him to ask, but he wanted to confirm it. He already had plenty of accidents to his name right now. He didn’t want a misunderstanding to be on his long list of bloopers.

Harry nodded. “Yes, I’ve liked you for a while, too, and I wanted to say something to you, but you acted like you weren’t really interested, so I was waiting for you to make a move.”

“So essentially, we were both liking each other, but neither of us really had the balls to say anything.”

“That sounds about right.” Harry blushed. “I was really thinking you might have been interested in me on the day when that machine got me wet . . . but when you just dried me off, I thought I was wrong.”

George groaned and turned red. “Trust me. I was very, very interested in your wet state that time. It was all I could do to not jump you that day.”

“It’s a shame you didn’t.”

George’s entire body temperature intensified at that comment, making his tongue melt. So instead of saying anything, he just pulled Harry into another deep and passionate kiss.

And that was as far as they went that night. George — through his twin connection — was told to not go fast like a Thestral on speed, and he reluctantly agreed with that notion. Though his libido protested against him, he had no desire to fuck — no puns intended! — things up between him and Harry. He’d had to go through many trials to get him, so he’d do things right. In fact, before they parted that night, they planned their first date — Harry invited him to his house, and they were to have a Terminator marathon. George had no idea what a Terminator marathon was, but he looked forward to it.

He also looked forward to making things up with Fred. He felt silly for trying to isolate himself from his twin. He realised that while things were different now that they were adults, they’d always be there for each other, and they’d always be close.

Besides, payback’s a Boggart. It’s time to give Fred and Angelina a taste of their own potion!

Click on the image for the larger version. Fanart by Heldrad.

Reason #1: Luna is very bright and friendly.

Harry looked around the table filled with his new colleagues, eyeing all the familiar and new faces that wore various expressions. Some looked cranky (like Filch), others looked dazed (like Trelawney), some were attentive (like Neville), and the remaining looked sharp (like McGonagall).

Then there was one face that stuck out. It looked dreamy, almost like Trelawney’s dazed expression, but he could see intelligence, could see its sharpness as well as its attentiveness, and, thankfully, no signs of crankiness — only friendliness.

He gave Luna a small smile, and she smiled back, her silvery grey eyes looking soft. Her long, dirty-blonde hair was piled up on her head, and Harry could see blue pencils stuck there, holding her hair up in some sort of a messy bun. She wore earrings, which were actually paperclips with beads, and her necklace was made up of several colourful shoelaces.

Mentally, Harry sniggered and shook his head. It’d been years since he’d last seen her, but he could see she hadn’t changed much. Since his own life over the last couple of decades had been filled with a lot of travelling, he found comfort in seeing Luna the same as before.

After the war, Harry had chosen to take up jobs in other countries. He found that he couldn’t stay in England right after the war. He’d felt too much pain. Everywhere and everything, he was reminded of friends and loved ones the war had taken from him. He also didn’t want to face all the media attention and all the expectations from British wizarding society. He didn’t want to be an Auror, nor did he want to be a famous Quidditch player. What he wanted was to see the world he’d saved and figure out who he was and what he wanted to do for the rest of his life.

It took him a while, but he finally knew what he wanted to do. Travelling around the world and living and working in different countries, he found himself missing England, so he was happy to return and take the job of being a flying instructor and a Quidditch coach at Hogwarts. He was glad he could return to the first place he’d called home. And even though he hadn’t wanted to be a famous Quidditch player, he still loved flying, still loved that rush he got on the broom, loved the exhilarating wind breezing past him when he went extremely fast. This was a dream job for him.

Dream job or not, he couldn’t help but feel swamped from the information overload this staff meeting gave him. Thankfully, Luna came up to him after the meeting, and he was distracted from the annual schedule and all the pre-planning information that had all congregated in his brain.

“Hello, Harry! When Minerva had told us we’d get you as a new flying instructor and coach, I thought it was the most wonderful news. You’ll be great!”

“Thanks,” Harry said, trying not to blush from the praise. “I didn’t know you were working here, as a . . . Muggle Studies professor.” He was surprised by her teaching choice. Of the subjects offered at Hogwarts, he would have thought she’d fit more with Care of Magical Creatures.

“I love Muggle Studies. After the war, I had many opportunities to familiarise myself with the Muggles’ customs and society. I find their lives to be quite fascinating. Just as interesting as Nargles and Wrackspurts! When term isn’t in session, I still search for new creatures with my father or with my dear friend, Rolf Scamander. He’s related to Newt Scamander, you know.”

“Sorry, but who?”

“Newt Scamander,” she explained dreamily. “He’s the one who wrote Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them; Rolf is his grandson.”

“Oh. Right.” He remembered that book, but he found himself remembering the comments he and his friends had written in the book more than anything else.

She reached up to touch one of her shoelace necklaces and beamed at him. “Well, I’m excited to see we’re going to be colleagues now. Whenever you need help, feel free to ask.”

“Thanks.” He smiled back. Her smile was quite infectious. Was it like that before when they were in school? He couldn’t remember.

“Well, I have to run some errands. I have to do them now. Otherwise, I’ll upset the Nargles. See you around, Harry.”

She walked away, undoing her hair, and he saw the locks ripple out and drape her back. He found himself wondering how they’d feel if he ran his hands through them, hoping that they’d feel soft and silky. However, he didn’t dwell on it too long since Neville had joined him.

As he chattered away with Neville, Luna stayed in his mind. He could tell this job was going to be an interesting experience.

Reason #2: Luna can explain everything in a logical manner.

The term started without any problems, and Harry found himself growing accustomed to the routine of things, which was generally quite monotonous. On most days, he’d grudgingly wake up at the crack of dawn; drink about twenty cups of coffee, making him spend quite some time in the loo; eat breakfast in the noisy Great Hall, leaving the place with a pounding headache; spend all morning teaching the first years to not fall off their brooms because he’d never want an angry parent on his tail for hurting their “precious darlings”; eat lunch in that same cacophonous room with screaming teenagers, giving him another headache for the day; coach the Quidditch teams in the afternoon, going about the practices in the safest manner possible to avoid Madam Pomfrey’s wrath; and finally have some free time in the evening where he could eat his meal away from the Great Hall in a much quieter and civilised environment.

Each day was just a simple procedure of lather, rinse, and repeat. Sure, there were times when his students brought some amusement in his boring routine. After all, he was around teenagers who were always thinking about sex. To them, everything around them could be turned into something sexual.

But it was Luna who always made his day brighter and entertaining.

He was especially amused and befuddled by some of their conversations. He was rather fond of Luna’s interesting take on Muggle subjects, in particular. For instance, he would never forget their conversation on a computer keyboard, the “Harveys”, and the Muggles’ tastes in music, which all surprisingly turned out logical in a very Luna-ish way.

That conversation took place on a nice September day. Luna, claiming to be stir-crazy, had asked Harry to go out for a walk around the lake. With nothing else planned, Harry agreed, and as they both walked outside, they started to talk about their classes.

“How are your flying lessons?” Luna asked, fiddling with her new earrings. They were made from those heart-shaped sweets with messages on them.

By now, Harry had got used to seeing her hair piled up on her head with pencils in them, but he stared at the earrings. Somehow, food jewelleries on Luna worked — just like her unusual hairstyle — yet how she styled herself would look tacky and ridiculous on anybody else. He cleared his throat and said, “It’s interesting. I have this one first-year getting the brush part of the broom tangled in his robes. I’m not sure how he keeps managing that, but it happens every lesson. How’s yours? What are you focusing on in Muggle Studies?”

“I’ve introduced my older classes to computers.” Her eyes twinkled excitedly. “They’ve always fascinated me.”

“Why?”

“I’ve always liked their keyboard. The buttons on them are such a great concept! It’s obvious the keyboard’s made like that because Muggles like pushing buttons.”

He blinked. “They do?”

“And those loud Harveys they ride around on the streets? I’ve come to the conclusion Muggles like extremely noisy things.”

The non sequitur made his mind hurt as he tried to figure out just what she meant by “Harveys”. It took him few seconds to realise what she meant. “You mean Harleys?”

With wide eyes, she nodded. “I call them ‘Harveys’ . . . it just seems more fitting since it reminds me of that one Muggle cocktail, ‘Harvey Wallbanger’.”

“Well . . . ” He scratched his head and wondered just what that cocktail had to do with anything as he continued, “They can be loud, but not all Muggles like loud–”

“They do!” She interrupted as her hands waved around enthusiastically, with one almost slapping Harry in the face. “Their music is loud — not that it’s unpleasant, but what’s the point if I can’t understand their lyrics because of the loud bomp, bomp bomp? — and their video games have a lot of explosions . . . it makes sense!” She stilled, her face turning dreamy and thoughtful. “Now, I wonder if Fred and George are really Muggles in disguise. Their prank items are very loud and quite explosive.”

“I . . . ” He could actually see the logic in all of this, but he’d be arsed if he could explain why! “I’ve never thought of it like that.”

“See!” She beamed and her hands went back to play with the earrings. “Now you have.”

“Yes,” he chuckled. “You’ve definitely opened up my eyes.”

“That’s terrific.” She smiled again and this time linked her arm through his. “Let’s go back inside now. I’m quite hungry for some of those Belgian chocolates of yours.”

Still laughing, Harry led the way back to the castle, glad that he had Luna to always bring something unexpected to his daily life.

Reason #3: Luna is very generous.

“I’ve got a surprise for you.”

With Luna, Harry found everything about her to be surprising in a good way. Predictable was nowhere in Luna’s mentality or vocabulary, so Harry found himself intrigued and curious as to what kind of surprises she’d show him.

Luna could be very spontaneous, a trait that Harry would have never associated with a Ravenclaw, but it was her spontaneity that endeared her to him.

Remembering the wacky YouTube video she’d shown him — it was a bloke strumming away on his guitar and ranting about some really ancient bloke called Pachelbel, which had fascinated Luna since she asserted it was a prime example of what happened to someone who got possessed unknowingly by Wrackspurts — Harry couldn’t help but smile. “What is it?”

Luna immediately reached out to grab his hand. She did that often now, and Harry realised he liked the way their hands fit each other. His were larger and more tanned, while hers were paler and daintier than his, a contrast he really liked whenever he studied their hands together discreetly. She gave him a serene smile and said, “Come! I’ve found the Nargles’ secret hiding spot deep in the Forbidden Forest. They’ve given me permission to allow one other human to see it, and I’ve chosen you!”

“I . . . am . . . surprised?” He hadn’t meant to make it sound like a question, but it came out that way regardless. He really was astonished. Sure, he’d been hearing of her beliefs in these creatures that nobody else believed in, and he’d always indulged her while he listened to her passionate claims, but never in his wildest dreams had he expected one of her outlandish claims to be true.

She beamed. “This is something I have to share. I can’t just keep it to myself.” She tugged his arm, and he discovered just how fast Luna could be when she was this excited.

As they sped through the forest — which made Harry wonder if she had somehow merged herself with the newest broom out on the market, Ragestruck 2000 — he had to ask, “Did you find a patch of mistletoe or something? Didn’t you say Nargles like to infest those?”

“That’s only in December,” she explained, stepping up her pace. She remained unfazed while he grew short of breath. “It’s only mid-October right now, so they are in their normal forms.”

“Normal form?” He didn’t remember this fact at all.

“You’ll see,” she hummed mysteriously.

Finally, after a long run to what felt like London, they stopped in a clearing. There were trees all around them, moonlight streaking through their leaves. Luna looked around with bright eyes; Harry bent over with his hands on his knees, gasping for blessed air to enter into his deprived lungs.

“Harry,” she said softly, bringing a finger up to her lips. She made a gesture towards some bushes that had silver, bell-shaped flowers.

He didn’t at first, but when he squinted his eyes, he saw it: a small creature, about the size of a Crup, that looked like something of a cross between a rabbit and a skunk as it had long rabbit ears and a skunk’s body. It was white, with a twitchy black nose and a pair of innocent, sweet dark-coloured eyes. On its back, instead of the skunk’s prominent white stripes, there were seven stripes in the colours of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. The colours extended to the tip of its long, fluffy tail.

It waddled close to where they were standing, and Harry held his breath, watching the gentle looking creature. Luna kneeled on the ground and slowly held out her hand towards the creature. In a soothing voice, she said, “I’m back and I’ve brought Harry, one of my dearest friends. He’s perfectly harmless, despite his loud breathing earlier. He’s just a bit tired from the running we did.”

The Nargle came closer and nudged Luna’s hand, and it started to purr happily when she began to scratch its head. “You like that, don’t you, Thumpflow?”

“Thumpflow?” Harry asked in a hushed voice, sitting on the ground himself, careful not to make his movement too erratic and scare it away.

“A portmanteau of ‘Thumper’ and ‘Flower’. I named this Nargle after those two characters from Bambi.” While she explained, Thumpflow stopped nuzzling into Luna’s hand, and it came over to Harry. It scrutinised him, and Harry met its penetrating gaze. He didn’t feel uncomfortable, though. He could feel a sense of calm spreading over him, and without thinking, he moved a hand out towards Thumpflow, and it bypassed his hand and crawled into his lap.

“Oh!” Luna’s voice hitched. “He likes you! I’m so glad.”

“I . . . I’m honoured.” Harry said as his hand hovered above Thumpflow’s head.

“You can pet him. He’ll like it.”

As if on cue, Thumpflow reached upwards to bump its head into Harry’s palm. Harry touched and scratched its head lightly, feeling the richness and softness of its fur. It began to purr again, and Harry smiled.

“The others are coming now,” Luna said happily. She looked at the other Nargles, all of them looking very similar to Thumpflow. They made a circle around them. Light evening breezes rustled the bushes with the bell-shaped flowers, which began to sing a twinkling melody, causing the Nargles to purr in a harmonic response.

Harry closed his eyes, glad to be swept away by this magical and peaceful place. With one hand still on Thumpflow, he put his other arm around Luna. If time ever froze right now, Harry would not mind at all. Not one bit.

But they had to leave soon. Time didn’t stop then and there. Harry wished they didn’t have to leave the enchanting place, yet he was truly glad that Luna had chosen him to share this wonderful experience.

It was that life-altering incident that made him appreciate and understand just how special Luna really was.

Reason #4: Luna cares about the arts.

With her clothes no longer donning an orange-coloured scheme to honour Halloween, Luna came up to Harry with a new idea that fascinated and dismayed him. He knew Luna was into the arts, but he’d no idea just how much she was willing to explore into that territory.

“I’ve talked to Minerva, and she agreed to let us start up a new club activity here.”

Harry blinked at this sudden news. “What club activity?”

“Drama club. Let’s start up a drama club!”

He could only stare at her. Just when he thought she couldn’t surprise him anymore, she came up with something to make him feel stupid for ever doubting her remarkable abilities to stun him. “I’ve no experience in that field,” he said haltingly.

“I don’t, either!” She gave him a wide smile. “We can both learn how to put on a play with the students. I think this will be very educational for everyone involved.”

“Well,” he said, still trying to wrap his head around this newest scheme of hers. “What play do you have in mind?”

“Something romantic. Something Shakespearish.”

“Shakespeare? Why him?” He felt uneasy at that suggestion. He knew of Shakespeare’s works, knew the summaries of the more popular plays, but he would never call himself a fan of Shakespeare. He’d once tried to read one of Shakespeare’s plays, and he’d failed miserably since he could barely understand that strange variation of English. Actually, he wasn’t even certain it was English.

“Why not?” she asked. “I want to focus on Shakespeare since he’s the most famous playwright in all of history. Besides, I think it’d be fun to introduce the Elizabethan English to everyone here.”

He wasn’t quite convinced, but he still said, “I see. Well, if you want something romantic, then that’s easy. Just do Romeo and Juliet.”

“No.” Apparently, she knew enough about Shakespeare’s plays. With a very earnest expression, she explained, “That’s not romantic! Romeo’s love for Juliet was clearly misguided as he allowed his hormones to lead him away from Rosaline, the one he should have just stayed with! His fickleness is not very romantic at all. And honestly, it’s such a depressing play.”

“Depressing, huh?” He quickly suggested, “How about A Midsummer’s Night Dream? That’s a comedy, right?”

“That’s not romantic either. A love potion does not make romance,” she clarified.

He had to agree with her assessment of these so-called romantic plays, but he was beginning to run out of suggestions. “Then what do you propose?”

“Oh, I think I’ve had way too many encounters with the Crumpled-Horned Snorkack. They’re affecting my memory at the moment. I can’t quite remember the title of that one play. Something about an animal?”

“Ah-ha! The Taming of the Shrew?”

“No, that wasn’t quite it . . . oh! It was Much Ado About Nothing!”

“How in Merlin’s name does that play fit your animal comment?” he couldn’t help exclaiming.

“You know that one quote? The one that says ‘I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me’? I’ve always adored that line. Beatrice is a fascinating character, I think.”

Harry started to snigger. “If that’s what you want to do, fine by me.”

Luna gave a bright smile. “And I know exactly who to cast as Beatrice and Benedick, the wonderful bickering couple.”

Curious, he asked, “Who?”

“Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy! I’ve talked to them separately. They seem to be quite interested in joining the drama club, too, so it’ll all work out perfectly.”

“Well . . . ” Harry tried to picture his god-daughter with Scorpius. “At least they’ll both fit the bickering part.”

“Exactly.” Luna summoned a parchment and yanked out one of the pencils in her hair. “Now, let’s plan this.”

Hours later, when Harry was stumbling in his rooms to get into his much missed bed, he decided that Luna and the arts were either an interesting combo or a scary one. All he knew for now was that he was going to have an even more interesting year with play rehearsals and play preparation.

Oddly enough, he would consider the play a success if the leading actor and leading actress didn’t hex one another to hell first.

The last thing on his mind before he slept was an image of an excited Luna. She had hair escaping from her bun. The way it framed her happy face with her sparkling eyes, she looked pretty and youthful. There were times tonight where he’d wanted to brush those strands away from her face and then kiss her. There were moments where he’d wanted to kiss her gently and slowly, to tell her through his actions that he was falling for her in ways he’d never felt about anyone else before. Then there were instances where he’d wanted to grab and pull her soft body against his and plant a mind-blowing kiss on her lips because he desperately wanted to feel her, taste her, and use his actions once more to show just how much he desired her.

But he didn’t do anything.

What he decided to do was to take it slow and easy.

Reason #5: Luna is kind and considerate to every living thing.

Unfortunately, Luna was not making it easy for him to stick to his decision of taking things slow and easy. Whenever Luna touched his shoulders, brushed past against him, and gave him a smile that just made his insides melt, he wanted to touch her in ways that were not platonic. He wondered about how she’d look naked, with her hair undone, imagined how it would feel to run his fingers through the beautiful locks and touching her pale skin, speculating on whether her skin would flush or not.

His active imagination went further to bring images of her sprawled out naked on blue, satin sheets, her breasts looking pert and perky, while giving him a luscious smile, her lips looking so full and snoggable. Then she’d open up her arms invitingly, and he’d be on top of her, kissing, touching, and moving with her to reach a pleasurable climax.

Every night, he’d dream of making love to Luna, and every morning, he’d greet a sticky mess in his pants.

Every day, he’d think about Luna. He knew that she was different from most women out there and that she was someone special. Most his previous relationships hadn’t worked out well. It was partly his fault because he never tried to get to know his ex-girlfriends and only focused on the physical aspects of their relationships. Not that it was a bad thing, but he now realised that those were shallow relationships, and he didn’t want that with Luna.

With Luna, he wanted something deep and meaningful.

Hence, he wanted to take things slowly and easily.

But Luna was really testing his control. Especially with what had happened tonight.

Not that it was bad, no, and he also saw just how considerate it was.

She came up to him, after dinner, suggesting they go out for a breath of fresh air.

“Sure,” he said. “Where do you want to go?”

“Let’s go to Hogsmeade. I need to stock up on some chocolates. But let’s not walk on the grass to get there.”

Harry blinked in confusion. The path to Hogsmeade was covered with a lot of grass. “Why not?”

“Walking on them is not good for them. I mean, I know everyone walks on them, but I like to give them rest as often as I can,” she explained calmly.

“Okay . . . well, we can’t exactly Apparate there. And we don’t have a Portkey . . . Floo?”

She shook her head. “No, no. No Flooing.”

“Then how?”

Casually, Luna grabbed his hand, and she smiled as she laced their fingers together. “Fly. Let’s fly with you in the front. That way I can sit behind you and wrap my arms around you while you take us over there.”

Harry really had no comeback for that, and he couldn’t find anything wrong with her reasoning, so it wasn’t long before they were up in the air, and her front was pressed into his back. With her breasts pressed against him, her arms around him, and her warm breath grazing his neck, he endured a very unpleasant broom ride — riding a broom with a very stiff groin really was uncomfortable — and he tried futilely to distract himself from Luna’s closeness.

And he had to suffer through it again when they returned to Hogwarts.

Still, he couldn’t fault her for wanting to give grass some consideration. Never mind that he had to undergo discomfort for the grass’ sake; he didn’t mind making Luna happy.

Reason #6: Luna is very unique and beautiful.

The next couple of weeks zoomed by, and before Harry knew it, it was the first week of December. Between his teaching duties and the drama club rehearsals, he didn’t have time to plan and take the next step in his relationship with Luna. Then again, they spent almost every day together and were comfortable with each other, so he was content with just working with her and having her near him.

He really couldn’t have asked for anything better.

Therefore, he wasn’t expecting her next wild proposal.

“I want to take my classes on a field trip. I want to expose them to more Muggle life and culture.”

Harry nodded. “That sounds like a good plan. Hands-on experience is always better than just learning straight from the book. Hermione was telling me of a good museum–”

“Bowling,” Luna interrupted with an eager smile. “Someone introduced me to bowling, and after doing some research, I want to try it out myself! It looks really fun, and I think it’ll be something the students would like!”

“Bowling?” he repeated. “You want to go bowling?”

“Yes. We have no play rehearsal, it’s Saturday night, so why not?”

“But I’ve never bowled in my life!”

Luna clapped her hands once and said, “Then let’s try it together.”

“You do realise bowling alleys are quite loud?”

“I’ve been told that — which makes my theory about Muggles liking loud noises even more plausible.” She shrugged her slender shoulders. “I think loud noises in this case are quite fitting. It heightens one’s excitement, I think! Anyway, I’ll meet you at the entrance in an hour.”

An hour and a half later, Harry found himself in a bowling alley. The noise level pierced his poor, throbbing head, so he decided to concentrate on Luna instead.

That proved to be a bad idea. Luna, in her well-fitting jeans and beige-coloured jumper (which was just as well-fitting as the jeans), looked stunning. He realised that Luna usually wore loose-fitting robes at Hogwarts, so to see her in something tighter than usual . . . he mentally shook his head as he looked at her hair, distracting himself from his own jeans getting too tight.

He almost did a double-take at seeing the familiar pencils in her hair. Sure, that hairstyle was practically her trademark now, but he thought she’d take them out for this . . . date. Was it a date? He wasn’t entirely sure, but he deemed this outing to be a date of some sort.

Despite his initial shock over the pencils, he found himself grinning as he asked, “I’ve been meaning to ask you this for a while now, but what’s with the pencils in your hair?”

“Hm?” Luna blinked as she picked out a hot pink ball for herself. “Oh, I’ve seen Muggle girls do this a lot. I think it’s a very practical solution, keeping the hair out of my face and ensuring I always have something to write with. I know we mostly use quills, but they aren’t as strong as a pencil.”

Harry smiled as he picked out a blue ball for himself. He should have known Luna would have a very reasonable answer. Still, he had to ask, “What about chopsticks?”

“I tried them, but they turned out to be less useful than a pencil. I’ve tried to teach myself to eat with some chopsticks, but I could never master it. Besides, a pencil’s a lot safer than a fork!”

“That makes sense.”

“Still, thank you for reminding me. I completely forgot they were still in my hair!” She took them out and shook her long, gorgeous blonde hair. Mesmerised, he watched them tumble down her back, and he automatically reached out to touch the cascading waves.

“Your hair’s lovely,” he muttered huskily.

“Thank you,” she answered seriously. “Let’s start bowling, all right? I’m guessing I have to throw the ball and hit those white things down, yes?”

Nonplussed by her changing the subject, Harry sniggered. “Yeah. You have two chances to do it for each turn. I think if you knock all of them down on your first throw, it’s called a strike.”

“Ah, I remember now. Let’s make a deal. If you make a strike first, you get a kiss from me. If I make a strike first, I get a kiss from you.”

Harry just stared at her for a good minute before saying, “No offence, Luna, but what kind of a deal is that?”

“The best kind,” she clarified, giving him an intense look. “I want to kiss you. And according to our visit to Thumpflow last week, you want to, too. Besides, I like hugging you, you like holding my hand, and we’re on a date, so I think having this sort of a deal makes it more exciting.”

“Thumpflow is a terrible secret keeper!” Harry exclaimed, a slow smile coming onto his face. “Let’s try it.”

“Wonderful!” Luna picked up her ball and positioned herself at the edge. “Wish me luck!”

Frame after frame, gutter ball after gutter ball, and split after split, they both threw their respective balls down the lane. Harry came to the conclusion that bowling was not an easy thing to do, but it was nevertheless fun and stimulating. Amidst the loud noises, he and Luna laughed and talked and cheered each other through the two games they played.

Finally, though, towards the end of the last game, Luna finally made a strike.

And Harry was there to give her the promised kiss, and he realised that of all the first kisses he’d had with his previous girlfriends, kissing Luna was on a whole different level. As soon as his lips touched hers, his brain nearly exploded, and his senses were overloaded with everything that screamed Luna. He could smell her vanilla-scented perfume, he could taste her favourite Earl Grey tea with lemon, and he could touch her silky hair and her soft jumper-covered back. Her breasts were pressed against his own chest, and he longed to touch them and see how they fit and felt in his hands.

He didn’t know how long they kissed, but when they finally did separate, he wished they hadn’t.

He wanted to continue to lavish her with kisses. He wished he could just push her onto the hard alley floor right at this moment, rip their clothes off, and continue to snog until they were breathless and writhing against each other with lust.

But now wasn’t the time; he reminded himself to take things slowly. Besides, he realised something unusual. He loved how Luna was taking the initiative in their relationship. He liked her confidence and her peculiar ways of going at things, so when Luna was ready to take things further, he’d do it her way, and it would be something he’d not regret at all.

Reason #7: Luna is very creative — especially with sex.

When he’d guessed Luna would initiate the next step in their relationship, Harry wasn’t surprised by his deduction.

They were snogging in Luna’s sitting room because her quarters were much nicer than his — probably because she had more tenure than him. Their kisses were hot and needy, tongue meeting tongue, their hands exploring all over their bodies — in fact, Harry’s glasses fogged up until he tossed them aside. He finally got to touch Luna’s breasts; he cupped them in his hands, and they fit perfectly as he thumbed her hardening nipples.

When Luna moved, against his growing hard-on, Harry moaned into her sweet mouth as desire raced through his body. He ran a hand through her loose hair, making her gasp softly in pleasure, and he started to unbutton her robes, wanting to see her pale skin all flushed with unmitigated longing and needs.

“Wait,” Luna rasped out, breaking their kiss. Her large eyes looked at him imploringly. “Bedroom. Not here.”

He wanted to complain. He wanted to tell her that he couldn’t make it to the bedroom even if it were right in front of him, but he only nodded, telling himself to be patient!

She smiled as she got off of him, and she slipped her hand into his. “You’ll like what I’ve planned.”

“What will I like–?” Inside Luna’s private chambers, he stared at what greeted him from the centre. “A hammock?!”

Indeed, instead of a bed of any sort, he saw a pink and green hammock, each end tied to a palm tree, and underneath the hammock, he saw many, many pillows of different colours. In fact, the pillows were arranged by colour, and he could see them resembling a rainbow spectrum. Finally, on the ceiling, he saw that it was spelled to represent the night sky, all dark with the moon and stars shining down in the middle.

Harry turned to look at Luna and repeated, “A hammock?”

“Yes, a hammock,” she said, her hands reaching out to slowly unbutton his robes.

“Why?” he asked, already knowing what she would say next.

“I want us to try having sex on it.”

“But . . . !” Luna began to kiss his neck, and that muddled any coherent thoughts in his head. Still, he managed to say, “It’s too shaky! Too unstable. We’ll probably flip around in it and fall out of it!”

Luna lightly nipped at his neck before she stepped back and brought them closer to the hammock. “You worry too much. Besides, if we fall out of it, that’s what the pillows are for!” She pushed Harry’s robes off until he was clad only in his boxers. “I’ve always wanted to try this. I like to try things at least once, but this is not something I can experiment by myself, so now that I have you . . . ”

He had to admit that Luna was very creative. And adventurous. And her mentality of trying anything at least once . . . all of these turned him on even more, and he knew then that he shouldn’t have expected anything normal with her. “Why not? Now that you mention it, I do like the idea of our first time together being memorable.”

She smiled as she lay back into the hammock, her robes half off, and beckoned him to join her. He took a few seconds to admire how she looked with her red cheeks, swollen lips, and partially covered breasts, which tempted him even further; he joined her without any more lingering thoughts.

He found her eager lips once more, and he snogged her deeply, slipping his tongue inside her mouth and loving the way it felt. He broke the kiss first and he trailed his lips down to her neck, but he didn’t spend much time there. Instead, he dipped lower until he came across her breasts, and he moved the robes to expose them. Without any hesitation, he kissed and sucked on her nipples while his other hand reached down to touch and circle her clit.

While he was doing that, Luna slipped a hand between them and began to stroke him through his boxers. Somehow, she knew the right amount of pressure to apply to her strokes. It wasn’t long before he longed for her to touch him without his boxers in the way. As if she could read minds, she finally touched him with full skin-on-skin contact, and his mind went absolutely blank before instinct took over. But before that happened, he looked straight into her eyes; they were clear and filled with lust and love.

Later, Harry remembered the heat and the tightness that surrounded him when he entered her. He remembered kissing her once more as he began to move, realising in the back of his mind that the hammock and sex actually fit well with each other, what with his movement matching the hammock’s flexibility.

It wasn’t long before both reached their climax, and it was at that moment, ironically, that Harry’s prediction of them flipping out of the hammock was fulfilled. Luckily, thanks to Luna’s foresight, they landed on the colourful pillows and contently snuggled into each other’s embrace.

Harry kissed her softly and said, “That hammock was actually not a bad idea.”

Luna gave him a loving smile. “I’m glad we tried it out. I do have other ideas I’d like to try in the future.”

He laughed and pulled her closer to him. Giving her one last kiss on her nose, he said, “And I’ll go along with whatever ideas you have. With you around, nothing’s boring or ordinary.”

Harry!

— Gred and Forge

As the powerful stench of garlic invaded his nostrils, Harry took trepid steps into the dangerous room known as the WTTR — Weasley Twins’ Testing Room — or the “Lair” as the twins fondly called it. Whatever they called it, it was a room no sane human — Muggle or magical — would enter. That was especially true for vampires or anybody allergic to garlic.

Harry watched Fred and George mumble to each other, and he cautiously peered into an open box, curious to see what their latest new product was.

Well, he didn’t exactly see a product, per se, but he did see a ton of garlic, all peeled and proudly displaying its pale, yellow-coloured exterior. He reeled back from their familiar scent; he could practically taste the garlic.

“Oh, hello, Harry!” Fred cheerfully said.

“Real glad you could come, mate!” George added.

“What . . . what are you making here?” Harry managed to wheeze out. He was starting to feel light-headed, and oddly enough, he began to crave garlic bread of all things.

George pulled out something, and it took Harry few minutes to figure out what it was. “What do you think?” George asked.

“It’s . . . it’s a bra, right?”

“Yes,” Fred answered.

“Made out of garlic.” He stared at the bra, stared at the breast covering and the straps, all made with garlic.

George nodded eagerly. He dangled the bra closer to Harry. “The cloves are magically attached to each other, and it took ages for us to figure out how to make it flexible so that once someone puts the strap on, it will magically clasp itself in the back. It will automatically adjust to fit any breast size.

“And,” Fred continued, “this is our other design. For the kinkier folks.”

Harry ogled the second design. The garlic cloves were put together to form an outline of the bra, and in the centre of each breast covering part — he had no idea what the proper term was — there was a single clove of garlic there, obviously meant to cover the nipples. Otherwise, the breasts would be fully exposed if it was worn. He coughed. “Well, it’s certainly . . . kinky? But what’s with this fascination with garlic?”

“You know how we went to South Korea to see if we could expand our business there?” Fred explained. “Well, we discovered that the Koreans there are absolute fanatics for garlic in their cuisines. Everything they make–”

“–garlic is always included,” George piped in. “In fact, one of our potential business partners joked that South Korea is one country vampires would never visit because of all their garlic. That’s when we had this idea . . . ”

” . . . to make garlic undergarments!” Fred finished with a beaming smile.

Harry’s mouth dropped opened. “I guess it’s a creative idea, but how is this going to appeal to the public?”

“It will. Especially when we finish the Speedo-style pants. This will be perfect for those who want to ward off unwanted advances,” George spoke as he jotted something down on his notebook.

“And if they want the advances, all they have to do is say ‘Allium sativum’ — that’s the Muggle scientific name for garlic, mind you — and it will change to chocolate, which is perfect since we all know chocolate is a delicious aphrodisiac!” Fred clapped his hands once. “Now, we’d like you to test this product for us.”

“Excuse me?” Harry couldn’t keep the disbelief out of his voice. “Test it?”

Fred and George both nodded with evil, identical smiles. George summoned something, and he promptly gave it to Harry. “As our silent partner, you have the honour of getting the first garlic boxers from our store. Thankfully, we know your lover likes both garlic and chocolate.”

Flushing, Harry felt warmth in his cheeks and his ears. “Well, I suppose Neville likes both, but–”

“No buts!” Fred began to push Harry out the door. “We won’t accept your refusal. Just try it out and let us know how it goes. And don’t worry. We’ve charmed it so the garlic won’t be so spicy that it hurts your privates or wherever it touches!”

“Good to know,” Harry muttered as he walked out the door.

“Let us know in twenty-four hours how it went!”

Not sure and not caring who said that last bit, Harry Apparated to his flat — the one he shared with Neville — in a daze.

The Quibbler
Special Edition #10 — March 2001

Endorsed by war heroes, Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom, these products have gained quick popularity. We at The Quibbler theorised that the Nargles and the Crumpled-Horned Snorkacks also like these products, and they are affecting the wizarding society’s sexual behaviours, making wizards and witches of all ages enjoy these unique bits of paraphernalia.

If you haven’t tried these ingenious undergarments, we highly recommend it. Perfect for those who love garlic and chocolate, and excellent for those who wish to ensure no vampires will sneak into their bed as they sleep.

Click on the image for the larger version.

Often the best way to overcome desire is to satisfy it . . . with inanimate objects! — W. Somerset Maugham and Mairi Nathaira

Ron walked into the empty dorm and landed face first onto his bed. A nasty headache ravaged him, which was caused by Hermione’s incessant lecturing, and he felt something digging sharply into his ribs from his bag. Realising what was causing him pain, he cursed loudly and flung one of his gigantic textbooks across the room, not caring or seeing where it had landed.

With the war over, Ron and his friends were back at Hogwarts, and Ron was there to finish up his last year of schooling, otherwise nicknamed the “eighth year”. He’d expected it to be fun and relaxing compared to their adventures last year. After all, with all that camping in the wilderness, running away from the homicidal maniacs, and battling the said maniacs, life was a bit hectic back then.

Or so Ron thought. Now, he begged to differ. His final year at Hogwarts was more or less hell.

He hated the workload his professors had dumped on him. His hands were cramped and smeared with ink, his eyes were tired, and he was ready to go jump off the Astronomy Tower because dying seemed like a better option than doing the heavy duty schoolwork. Especially since he had to write an enormously long essay on why Hrothgar the Horrible killed off all seven of his trusty dwarves in the War of 1066.

He hated the Slytherins — especially that ferret-faced Malfoy git — lurking around the school, looking quite pathetic and no longer smug compared to previous years. This imbalance unnerved Ron since the stiffness those Snakes displayed were quite unwelcomed, making him feel like he should throw them a laughing bomb — a product of his brother’s — just so they’d stop looking so bloody sour!

He hated that his baby sister was . . . well . . . probably getting more sex than he was. He didn’t have any proof, necessarily, but she did have that glow about her, and he really didn’t want to think about the real cause of the glow.

And he absolutely hated that he was madly in love with his best mate . . . who was probably shagging his glowing baby sister — an image he desperately wanted to erase from every single brain “celluloid” he possessed.

To make it worse, he was wishing he was the person his best mate was shagging instead of his baby sister.

Something was quite wrong with this picture and with his life, and all Ron wanted to do was to go back to the days where all they had to worry about was hunting Horcruxes and dodging Death Eaters. Those days were simpler than his current life.

He also missed the camaraderie he’d had with Harry and Hermione. Back then, Ron felt extremely close with them; now, with school and the NEWTs taking over their lives, the three of them had been spending less time with each other. Hermione threw herself into the books, as usual, only taking the obligatory breaks for food, sleep, and the loo. Harry became the Gryffindor Quidditch captain again, and he was occupied with his studies and Ginny. Ron, on the other hand, struggled to keep up with Hermione’s intense studying schedule and struggled to figure out his own sexuality.

With the war all settled, he had time to think about himself. With no worries about a certain spell giving off green lights coming his way, Ron slowly came to the conclusion that he was gay, and he had Seamus’ magazines to thank for this epiphany. All those pictures of naked girls didn’t do anything for him, and when he thought about those lukewarm feelings he had towards Lavender and the sisterly love he felt towards Hermione, it all fit. He just wasn’t interested in girls, and it wasn’t a pleasant revelation for him at all. In fact, he was stuck in the proverbial closet, and he’d preferred to stay there for quite a bit. Well, more like a long time. He didn’t quite fancy seeing his family’s reactions or his friends’ quite yet.

Sighing, Ron shifted onto his back, and he gave a blank stare at the darkness of his bed’s ceiling.

Along with all his frustrations, his libido had been acting up, and now he was horny, and he needed a real good wank. Gay or straight, his body wanted him to do something, and it wanted him to do something now.

But he didn’t want to just use his hands. That was getting boring. Every time, it was the same thing. A couple of minutes of pumping and then he was done. No, he wanted to do something different, but what? He didn’t have any of those dodos or vibraphones he heard Seamus mention before. He didn’t really want to stick anything “pointy” up his arse since he was afraid he’d do it wrong, hurt himself, and get landed in the hospital wing. And the option of getting a rentboy or something? Abso-bloody-lutely no. He didn’t have the funds, anyway, and he didn’t want to come off as some desperate and pathetic slag!

As Ron toed his shoes off, he moved his head onto one of the pillows. The pillow felt soft and fluffy under his head. He reached up and grabbed the other pillow, the pillow squishing nicely in his hand. An idea came to him, something he’d never done before, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.

He’d decided to hump his pillow. He’d figured it would feel good.

Quickly, he shed his robes and his bag, dropping them off to the side, giving them a gentler treatment than he had treated his text, and he drew the curtains around his bed. He remembered to loosen his tie — he hated how it liked to choke him — and he slipped out of his trousers. As his freckled and hairy legs revealed themselves, he rolled up his sleeves and got on his knees. He then stared quizzically at his pillow.

His pillow, aside from it being nicely plush, was fairly long and wide — just the way he preferred. He enjoyed hugging one of them while he slept at night, and it comfortably covered his chest and stomach. The only problem with it being soft, though, was that it reminded him of those times when he’d hugged a girl. Now, he knew he’d prefer the masculine hardness of another bloke’s body, but he really didn’t fancy the idea of having a pillow filled with hard stuff. Like beans or something. One of his neighbours were from an Asian background, and they had a pillow stuffed with something like rocks, and when he had tested it out to see how it’d feel, he was left with a terrible headache for three days.

Regardless, he liked his pillows soft, and whenever he went to bed, he always enjoyed having them. Now, though, he stared at them. He wasn’t quite sure how to . . . well . . . hump a pillow.

“It can’t be that hard,” Ron muttered to himself. He manoeuvred his body into a lying position on his stomach, and he had the pillow under his groin. With a gentle roll of his hips, he squished his middle into the softness, and he frowned. “That feels . . . odd.” He tried it again as he spread his legs apart a bit this time, and the unpleasant squashing he felt between his cock and balls made him wonder if he was even doing this properly.

This time, he lifted his hips a bit, to give room between his body and the pillow, and he rubbed his pants-covered crotch against the downy pillow. He grinded a bit harder, and he could feel the friction on his cock, and they still felt odd, but the more he did it, the more he found himself liking it. Or at least his cock did, since he was slowly becoming hard from his experiment.

Moaning, he gripped the pillow with more strength, and he pretended he’d grabbed onto someone’s hips, imagining the softness to be harder, imagining it to be bony yet firm. He opened his eyes to see his headboard, and he closed them again, not wanting to see a chunk of wood, which would ruin his fantasy. He instantly replaced the boring, brown wood with a pale face framed with glasses, where green eyes glittered behind them. Unruly black hair appeared, and under the fringe, a familiar lightning-shaped scar etched itself on the forehead. Nice, full lips that were chapped showed up along with dimples here and there on the stubbly cheeks. The rest of the firm, lithe, Seeker-trained body finished appearing in his fantasy, and Ron imagined those thin but strong arms wrapped around his neck. And Harry — his Harry, the one he could keep only in his fantasy — groaned in pleasure as his strong, well-toned legs came around Ron’s waist.

However, soon he realised that he needed something more to maximise his experience. As if a Bludger had hit him, his sudden revelation told him to try humping the pillow without his pants on him. Without that extra layer, he decided that might make a big difference in the level of pleasure he could feel. He halted his grinding, and he sat back on his knees. With no sense of hesitance, he yanked his pants down to his knees, and he re-positioned himself against the pillow.

His cock met warmth and softness, and he quickly brought Harry back into his mind. This time, when he moved, his pillow felt like velvet against his sensitive length, and the friction — feeling much stronger than earlier — sent “elekticity shock waves” all over his body, where even his fingers and toes felt tingly from pleasure.

“Harry, oh, fuck . . . . so good, Harry,” Ron panted out as he buried himself into the pillow. He squeezed it between his cock, to give it a sense of the tightness he envisioned himself pounding into. He shifted and changed his angle to get a better hold of his pillow, and his pale, freckled arse went up higher in the air. He braced himself with all his strength, and he frotted the best he could.

As he did that, he buried his face on his other pillow, and he kissed it, pretending the feathery material of the pillow to be rough as he imagined himself kissing Harry on the lips and all over the stubbles. His tongue even darted out as he allowed himself to believe he was snogging Harry deeply, not caring if his pillow became heavily salivated. Then again, he didn’t even care if he left a stain on the other pillow he was currently slamming into, so those were the last things on his mind.

He was so close. Very close. His breathing quickened, and the steady rhythm he had earlier turned ragged and uneven. All he could say now was Harry’s name over and over again.

When he finally came, he exploded into the pillow, the warmth and the stickiness expected, and he gave a strangled yell of Harry’s name. It wasn’t the most intense orgasm he had so far — he was still waiting for that orgasm that would make him see stars behind his eyes — but it was good enough. All the stress he had in his body left him, and he collapsed comfortably on his stomach. As he panted away his post-coital moment, he shifted and turned his head sideways.

His eyes felt heavy, and they were about to shut down before they snapped apart at the face he saw. It was Harry.

“Bugger, mate!” Ron untangled himself from his pillows, which nearly made him fall off of his bed, but he luckily caught himself before he could crash onto the floor and earn the purple crowning moment of failure on his arse. He jerked the blanket over him, remembering he had no pants. His face felt hot as he said, “For fuck’s sake! How . . . I mean . . . were you watching me this entire time?!”

Harry’s face was red, and he averted his eyes away and mumbled, “I, er, I just . . . not the entire time . . . maybe . . . five minutes?”

Ron wanted to piss off and live in the lake for the rest of his life. The Merpeople couldn’t be that bad, and the Giant Squid might actually be friendly, and maybe — just maybe — Ron would develop permanent gills on him so he could survive in the ruddy lake. Then again, he’d probably end up self-detonating himself from embarrassment. His face was hot, so hot that he wondered if he could actually melt his freckles off–

Wait. Five minutes? That meant Harry heard Ron screaming out at the moment of his orgasm.

Bloody fucking hell.

His throat tight, Ron started to say, “You . . . you–”

Harry blurted out, “At least you weren’t humping a stuffed animal!”

“What?” Ron asked, blinking as he finally moved his gaze to Harry.

A weak smile appeared on Harry’s face as he sat on the edge of the bed. Their eyes met briefly before Harry shrugged — which made Ron wish he could reach out and rest his hands there — and he said, “I had a neighbour on Privet Drive whose dog enjoyed humping stuffed animals.”

A long round of silence passed between them before Ron let out a snigger which soon turned into a full-blown laugh. As he laughed, Harry joined him, and Ron laughed even harder. What Harry had said wasn’t really hilarious, but Ron was laughing mostly from the sheer relief that Harry hadn’t run off to tell the whole school that Ron had humped a pillow while calling out Harry’s name.

Ron was thankful for that, and he was thankful that their round of laughter broke that stiff tension between them. He gave Harry a small grin and said, “A stuffed animal, huh? That is a bit disturbing.”

“Yeah . . . ” Harry’s gazed lowered, and Ron could feel those intense eyes on his groin, and even with a blanket covering him, he felt like Harry’s eyes were burning holes right through them. And those eyes had this magical and freaky ability to stir up arousal in him again. Ron mentally grimaced. He had to think of something revolting now. He didn’t want to display his randy state and embarrass himself further, but before he could think of anything, Harry continued, “Ron, can I ask you something?”

Ron’s hand shook as it swept through his hair, and he bit his lip. “Ask me something? Sure, you can! I mean, we’re mates, so of course you can ask me anything! How can I deny you of something simple like that? So ask away! I won’t hide anything from you, but just don’t ask me anything–”

Again, Harry cut him off. “Do you like girls?”

Ron’s mouth opened to answer, but nothing came out, rendering him into a goldfish. Perhaps he should figure out that permanent gills spell.

“Ron?” Harry gave him a worried look.

“I . . . ” Ron wanted to tell Harry the truth, but at the same time, he was troubled by how the truth would affect their friendship. He didn’t want to ruin their friendship, but at the same time, he knew that Harry had caught him in an unwanted predicament, and Harry wasn’t dumb. Harry would have figured it out by now, and if Ron lied, it might fuck up their friendship even more. Ron didn’t want that. “No, I don’t like them.”

When Harry’s simple response, “Oh, me too,” came out, Ron once more nearly toppled off his bed, but this time Harry’s hand reached out to grab him, and Ron felt his arm turning numb from the warm hands. Before Ron could figure out how that thought was contradictory, he exclaimed, “What about Ginny?”

Harry’s face turned blank. “We’re just friends. She’s with Dean.”

“What? Since when?”

” . . . Two months ago. Ron, are you all right?”

Ron shook his head dazedly. How did he miss the fact that his baby sister was dating and shagging someone else? After all, he did consider himself to be observant, but apparently school really was doing a number on him, so it sadly affected his observational skills. “Sorry, mate, school’s just . . . getting to me.”

“Yeah, I did notice you looking rather off lately, but we’ve all been busy,” Harry said matter-of-factly. He let go of his hold on Ron’s arm, and Ron immediately wished Harry hadn’t let go. Losing that touch suddenly made him feel lonely and empty.

Ron decided now would be the best time to confess. “Look, Harry, I–”

“I’m sorry we haven’t had much time to hang out. In fact, that’s why I came up here looking for you. I was going to suggest we just go flying for fun.”

“That’s fine, but–”

“And I was going to let you ride my broom. It’s been a while, right?”

A very different idea of a broom came to Ron’s mind, and he stammered, “Uh, yeah, sure, it’s been a while.”

“Great!” Harry jumped up. “Get your clothes back on. I don’t fancy the idea of you displaying your firm arse to everyone here.”

“Harry, wha–”

For the umpteenth time, Harry cut him off, but this time, Harry reached out and grabbed Ron’s hand. He squeezed it, and Ron’s breath hitched. “Next time, you want to hump something, I’d suggest something more alive and responsive than a pillow, okay?” Harry gave a shy smile, which made his green eyes darker than usual. Ron stared into them, wondering if he’d ever get lost in there, but he didn’t dwell on it too long since Harry continued in a husky voice that held a hint of mirth. “And if you need a volunteer . . . well, you don’t need to look too hard for one.”

Before Ron could react to that proposition, Harry kissed him softly before darting off, “See you at the pitch!”

Ron caught the sly look on Harry’s face before he disappeared entirely. For the next two minutes, Ron sat there, trying to figure out what had just happened. Harry liked blokes. Harry kissed him. Harry wasn’t dating or shagging his sister. Harry kissed him. Harry didn’t get upset at him. Harry had kissed him. Harry hadn’t really let him explain anything. Harry was a bloody, conniving, devious git.

And in spite of all that? Ron didn’t care. Maybe, just maybe something good would finally happen to him in the midst of the hell he’d almost drowned in. Perhaps, he’d finally reached a turning point in his life, and Harry was the one giving him hope.

But first, a cold shower was in order for him. He loved flying with Harry — preferably without an erect cock — and if he wanted to do that, he’d better hurry his arse down to the pitch!

Sirius flooed into Remus’ flat and looked around. “Anybody home?”

Harry came out of a room and walked up to his godfather. “Sirius, what a nice surprise!” With arms stretched out, Harry gave Sirius a hug. “How are you doing? Now that you are a free man again, I haven’t seen you around for a while.”

“Eh, catching up on few things.” Sirius led Harry to the couch, and they both sat down. “Now that I have a job again, I’m working my arse off during the day and partying at night.”

“Always the partier, aren’t you Sirius?” Harry smiled and leaned back comfortably.

With a nod, Sirius slung an arm around Harry. “Where’s Remus?”

“He had some errands to run for the Headmaster. He’ll be back later on.”

“I see. So you’re still planning to take it easy for a year?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. I still don’t know what I want to do with my life, and I finished my schooling at Hogwarts. Not to mention, dear Tom Riddle is finally out of my life, so I wouldn’t mind living like a normal person for a while.”

Sirius removed his arm and tensed up. “You deserve it. You most definitely deserve it.”

Sirius stood up, stretched, and walked towards the bedrooms. Suddenly he stopped and looked at one and saw that Harry’s room was still in use. “How long have you and Remus been together now?”

“Wha -?” Harry wasn’t expecting that question. “Several months now.”

“And you still sleep in separate bedrooms?” Sirius turned back to Harry and raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah. Your point?”

“. . . Is this what you want, Harry?”

“What I want doesn’t matter as long as Remus is happy.”

Sighing, Sirius said, “Harry. You’re eighteen years old. Your hormones are still out of whack, and therefore, you are a walking sex machine. With your current situation, the only thing you have is your hand.”

“Sirius . . . ” Harry blushed. “Let’s not talk about this.”

“I mean does Remus do anything to you?”

“We kiss, and we cuddle,” was the short reply.

“. . . That’s all?!” Sirius asked incredulously. “For Merlin’s sake. He’s more of a prig than I thought.”

“Sirius, I’m fine with it. If he wants to take it slow, let him take it slow.”

“Harry, Remus is usually not this slow to get into anyone’s pants.”

Harry slumped in the couch and was silent for a minute. “Well, you might know him better than I do, and I guess he is being slow. Seriously – no puns intended – though, I don’t have a problem with it.”

“If you say so,” Sirius smiled and walked back towards him. “Anyway, I just stopped by here for a quick visit. I’ll come back again real soon.”

“Okay,” Harry said, standing up to give Sirius a farewell hug. “Thanks for the visit.”

Sirius hugged back tightly and then flooed out to wherever he was going.

Harry looked up to the sound of someone Apparating in. It was Remus. “Welcome home.”

“Harry.” Smiling, Remus went up him. He gently kissed Harry on the lips and backed away. “Anything exciting happened while I was gone?”

Harry nodded. “Sirius came by.”

“Ah . . . ” Remus chuckled. “He came by when I wasn’t here, eh? Did he say anything? How’s he doing anyway?”

“He’s doing all right. He says that he’s working now. Working during the day and partying at night.” Harry walked to the kitchen, so he could get started on dinner. Harry blushed remembering the other parts of the conversation. “That’s basically all we talked about.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Then why are you blushing.”

“Er . . . ” Harry didn’t know what to say. He really didn’t feel comfortable telling Remus about how he wished they’d advance further in their relationship. “He just made some comments about our relationship.”

“What kind of comments?” Remus walked up to Harry and wrapped his arms around him. “Nothing bad, right?”

“No,” said Harry, leaning back into Remus who was the same height as him. “Just . . . stuff.”

Remus kissed Harry’s neck. “Sounds like Padfoot and I need a talk.”

“No!” Harry turned around, his cheeks still tinged red. In a softer tone he went on. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m still going to go talk to him though.” Remus kissed him on the cheeks and left the room, pondering on what Sirius and Harry could have talked about regarding their relationship.

Sirius was getting ready to go out to a new night club when he heard someone Apparating into his place. He walked out from the bedroom and saw Remus standing there. “Moony! I wasn’t expecting you! What a joy! I saw Harry, and now I get to see you.”

Remus slung an arm around Sirius good-naturedly and then looked at him. Actually he glared at Sirius. “Tell me, Padfoot, what did you say to Harry about our relationship?”

Sirius started to make tsking sounds. “Nothing. I just asked how far you guys had got since I noticed you two still sleep in separate rooms.”

Now it was Remus’ turn to go a beautiful shade of red. “Sirius. That is absolutely none of your business.”

“It is my business since you guys still haven’t had sex after being together for several months!” Sirius chided. “I mean come on. I know you still have a good sexual appetite, so this is fucking ridiculous.”

Remus sat on the couch behind him and covered his face. “You’re right. But I just can’t seem to quite get there.”

“What do you mean? Are you impotent now? You need what the Muggles call ‘Viagra’?”

Remus bolted up. “No! I don’t need that!”

“Then why?”

” . . . I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Try,” Sirius urged. “Just try. Now you got me curious.”

Frowning, Remus walked to the window and looked outside with his arms crossed in front of him. “I love him, yes. But I feel guilty at the same time. It’s like he’s James’ son. I don’t think he’d approve of this. I’m sure James would have wanted Harry to marry a beautiful woman and have a family . . . ”

Sirius waved a hand. “James would have wanted him to be happy. And if happiness means for Harry to be with you, then so be it. Get off that holier than thou attitude and just make love to him for Merlin’s sake! I’m sure you’ve already proved to both you and Harry that this relationship wasn’t just for a quick fuck.”

“Sirius . . . ” Remus turned around to look at his friend. “You definitely have way with words. Be a damn orator or something.”

“Thank you. Now go do something about it.”

“No.”

“No?! What do you mean no?” Sirius exclaimed in frustration.

“Just . . . not yet.”

“Shite . . . whatever. Go back to Harry and just kiss him till he’s breathless.” Sirius walked away. “I need to get ready for a date.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Remus rolled his eyes and Apparated.

A few days passed, and Sirius contacted Harry and asked. He heard the answer Harry gave and sighed in regret. “Damn you, Remus. This is pathetic.”

He walked around the sitting room and started to think. He could hear voices in his head, the echo of Severus saying, “Thinking, Black? That’s so unlike you since you have a mind the size of a pea.”

Shaking his head hard, he purged out the horrid mental picture. He decided that he needed to be in his Marauder mode if he wanted to accomplish anything. “Now, let’s say we are back at Hogwarts, and we are seventeen again. Remus finds himself a guy, or a girl, and wants to fuck that person but is hesitant. What would James and I do to get Remus out of his prude mode?”

Sirius went through his memories and then remembered something. “That thing we did to Peter, which I’m glad we did, should work. Hehehe. And Remus does have a very sweet tooth. I better hurry to Diagon Alley then!”

Sirius, in his eagerness, Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron, and it was a miracle that he didn’t splinch himself getting there. He hurried into Diagon Alley and went straight for a shop he was acquainted with. After he picked up the item in mind, he paid for it, grinning at the sly look on the shopkeeper’s face.

After acquiring that, he decided to hang around the Leaky Cauldron, and he could not wait till tomorrow when he would visit Harry.

Harry was surprised by another unexpected visit from Sirius. After he greeted his godfather, he told him that Remus was out again doing errands. “He had to do some stuff for Kingsley, so he’s out at the moment.”

Sirius nodded. “I see. I’m not staying long anyway. I just came by to give you and Remus some of this.” Sirius pulled out the purchase he had made and handed it to Harry.

“Uh . . . ?” Harry looked at the item and saw that it was a box of chocolate. The box was red with laced ruffles on the edges and in the middle it said Afro-Choco. “Afro . . . ? Weird name for a box of chocolate.”

Sirius shrugged as calmly as he could. “Oh, that. But it’s one of the best chocolates I’ve ever tasted. Thought I’d share them with you, and you can surprise Remus that you know about these.”

“Yeah,” said Harry. “These will be perfect for dessert. Thanks, Sirius.” Harry smiled brightly, his green eyes sparkling behind his glasses.

Sirius then said, “Well, I’m leaving now. Say hi to Remus for me later.” Sirius left before Harry could suggest that he could wait and see Remus.

Shrugging, Harry went to the kitchen, opened the box of chocolates, and took them out to arrange them on a plate. He covered it up, hid the plate in one of the pantry shelves, and threw the box in the rubbish bin.

Then he started to cook dinner, and while he was waiting for the potatoes to boil, he heard Remus’ arrival.

“Hey,” Harry said without turning around. “Sirius was here earlier.”

Remus suddenly had a bad feeling. “Again? He must be bored.”

“Nah, we just had a friendly chit-chat.” Harry turned around and gave Remus a kiss. “Dinner will be ready soon. I hope you’ll like it.”

“So far I’ve liked anything you’ve made.” Remus smiled at him and then walked towards the bathroom. “I’m going to freshen up before eating.”

Harry finished cooking and set the food on the table. The aromas filled Remus’ sensitive nose, and it made his mouth water like crazy. His stomach was growling; he didn’t realise he was that hungry till he smelt the food. He sat down and ate with Harry. While eating, they talked about their day and Harry’s future. Remus commented on how good the food was and soon both of their plates were empty. Remus puts his utensils down and leaned back in the chair, letting out a happy sigh.

Harry got up and went to the pantry and took out the plate of chocolates. He set it on the table and said, “Chocolates for dessert. Thank Merlin we’re both chocolate nuts.” Harry smiled and ate one, savouring the sweet taste while it melted slowly in his mouth. After it all melted, Harry took a couple more, noting that these were fantastic chocolates as Sirius had claimed.

Taking one as well, Remus couldn’t help but wonder why the chocolate looked and smelled familiar. He shrugged to himself and put the morsel in his mouth. He loved these sweet confections. He never got tired of it. He took one more and while it softened in his mouth, he looked at Harry and said, “Where’d you get these chocolates? These are the best I’ve had in ages.”

“I dunno. Sirius brought them.” Harry felt warm. He could feel his cheeks becoming flushed.

Remus blinked at Harry. “Sirius brought them?” Suddenly his eyes opened wide as he rushed onto his next question. “Where’s the package?” Remus could feel that he was becoming warm as well, and all he could think was, “Nonononono. That bastard better not have..!”

Harry ignored the sensations of his pants becoming too tight and pointed to the rubbish bin. “It’s in there . . . ”

Rushing to the bin, Remus dug through the rubbish. His heart sank when he saw the recognisable package. “Bloody hell.” He tried to act calm, and he went up to Harry. He tilted Harry’s head up and looked at the flushed cheeks, the bright eyes, and the slightly opened mouth. Harry’s breathing was coming out raggedly. “How do you feel?”

“Um . . . I feel . . . weird.”

Groaning, Remus put his head down. In his mind he was already cursing Sirius to the ninth level of hell and back. “Harry . . . ” Remus paused. “I don’t know how to explain this, but . . . these are not your normal chocolates.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, already dreading the answer. “Don’t tell me these are . . . ”

” . . . filled with aphrodisiac,” Remus finished the sentence and sighed. “Powerful ones I might add.”

“Fuck.”

“I’m gonna hex him the next time I see him!” Remus growled and cursed Sirius in his mind again. A moan from Harry interrupted his thoughts. “Harry. Let’s go get comfortable. The effects will wear off eventually.”

Harry stood up with Remus’ help and leaned into the warm body. “Remus . . . ” Harry’s breath was hot, burning against his ears. “How long is ‘eventually’?”

Remus paused as he and Harry walked toward his bedroom. “I ate two; you ate about three, right?” Harry nodded, and Remus continued. “So it should be about a few hours. No more than five, I think. These are strong, after all.”

They entered the room, and they both flopped down on the bed. Remus remained sitting while Harry lay on his back. Harry groaned and panted lightly as he stared at the ceiling with glazed eyes. “It’s . . . ” Coupled with Harry’s hormones and months of no sex, he felt the effects more so than Remus. A burning sensation spread from his groin to the tips of his fingers and toes. Whenever Remus touched him, even the slightest brush of hand against his clothes, he felt dizzy, like he needed more of these contacts.

While Harry was in somewhat of a torture mode, Remus was slightly better off than his lover. He had a better control over the aphrodisiac, but that was only from years of experience and patience. Not to mention, Remus fought like a dog from succumbing to the temptations.

“It’s?” Remus avoided looking at Harry, avoided touching him knowing the effects that he’d bring on Harry.

“Remus . . . ” Harry sat back up. “This . . . it’s driving me mad. Like there’s something tugging me and burning me inside!” Harry figured he didn’t make any sense at the moment. All his coherent thoughts were thrown out of the window.

Remus groaned at the way Harry sounded. He sounded so fucking sexy to Remus’ ears. “I know. I know what you are feeling.”

“Can’t you do something?” Harry pleaded, not caring if he sounded pathetic or not.

“Harry . . . ” Remus was fighting to control himself. This was not how Remus wanted to make love to Harry for the first time. Remus jumped at the sudden touch on his shoulders. Harry had grabbed Remus, making him look at the other man. “Harry.”

“Please, Remus.” Harry neared closer, their lips barely touching, hardly a hair’s breadth between them.

The sudden proximity destroyed Remus’ logic. Sod it all, he said to himself. He crushed their lips together. He slipped his tongue easily into Harry’s mouth and started to lick and suck whatever he could get. Harry moaned into the kiss, his grip on Remus’ shoulders tightening. Harry wanted more, wanted to get this flaming sensation cooled down inside of him. He guided Remus to lie on his back as he straddled on top without breaking the passionate kiss. He then trailed downward. The older man tilted his head to give Harry a better angle. Remus gasped when he felt Harry grinding his hardness against his. “Harry,” he said breathily, trying to rein in his control. All his resolves disappeared slowly, as he growled and flipped Harry over.

Harry was surprised by the sudden turn of events, but he accepted them happily. “Remy, please.”

“Harry, you sure?” Remus had to ask, to ease his guilt-ridden emotions for taking advantage of the situation.

As if reading his mind, Harry went on. “I don’t see this as you taking advantage of someone under an influence, Remus. Just fucking fuck me already!”

“Harry.” Remus closed his eyes briefly before he continued. “Okay.”

The two men, exhausted yet sated from their activities, remained nestled into each other’s embrace. Harry snuggled closer into Remus’ chest and sighed contentedly. “That was brilliant.”

“You think so?”

“Yes. I just wished we did this sooner.”

Remus glanced at Harry who was looking back at him. “I’m sorry.”

Harry’s brows came together as he frowned. “Sorry? Sorry for what?”

“For,” Remus sighed, “not doing this sooner.”

“Oh, Remus.” Harry leaned over slightly as he brushed a soft kiss on the lips. “Don’t be. Granted, I was sexually frustrated, but I’m kinda glad we put it off. I must say it made our love making quite . . . exciting.”

“Well.” Remus coughed to cover his embarrassment. “I suppose.”

“And we do have Sirius to thank for it.”

“I still plan on hexing him. Or maybe let Severus take over that job for me.”

“He’d have a field day.” Harry kissed his lover again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Great. Let’s get some sleep. I’m knackered.”

“Good idea.” Remus watched as Harry drifted off. He smiled and brushed some of Harry’s wild hair out of his face as Harry’s breathing slowed down. “I love you,” he whispered once more before falling into a deep, pleasant slumber.

Amidst the crowded airport, two days before Christmas, stood two exasperated wizards. Their two companions had passed exasperation and were simply pissed off to all hell. The common people, on the other hand, had no clue that they were any different from themselves. To anyone passing by, these four men were just trying to get on their plane for a vacation. Make that four VERY impatient men.

“Harry, Moony, tell me again WHY we couldn’t just floo to our hotel?” Sirius asked dejectedly.

Harry, in frustration, pushed his dishevelled hair out of his face. “Sirius, you know very well that in most Muggle hotels the fireplaces are not connected to the floo system.”

“Then why can’t we just apparate?!”

Severus glared at Sirius. “As much as I agree with you that this ‘airplane’ business is unnecessary, you forget that we are going to Jamaica and that is not part of the British Isles. Other nations’ Ministries have put up an anti-apparation spell up so that people that aren’t from their countries cannot apparate into theirs. I know for a fact it’s for security measures, but there are times when it’s a nuisance.”

Sirius returned Severus a dirty look of his own. “Shut up, you greasy git. I didn’t ask for your opinion here!”

Remus sighed very loudly. “Let’s go now. We have to go to the baggage department and have them check our bags.”

The other two wizards grumbled and grabbed their bags. Harry and Remus looked at each other and just rolled their eyes. They walked through the crowded airport with their luggage and soon reach their destination. The clerks at the counter told them to write their names on the tag and so they did. After that, the clerks put the tags on the bag and then put them through the machines to scan them. Satisfied that they didn’t find any illegal materials, they told them that everything was all right. Having all the big ones out of the way, now each only had a regular-sized backpacks with them.

“Well now that we got our luggage checked in, we just have to wait two hours for our flight. Everyone got their tickets right?” Remus asked with forced cheerfulness.

“Two bloody hours?! Why does it take that long? Are Muggles always this slow?” Sirius exclaimed.

“Muggles have ALWAYS been slow, Black. Where have you been all this time?” Severus sullenly interjected.

“Again, have I asked you, slimy, good for nothing, prick?”

“You two, stuff it.” The Boy-Who-Lived gave them a glare that would match Lord Voldemort’s. He grabbed the Potions Master’s hand and dragged him over to the nearest restaurant to relax, or at least attempted to. Remus did the same to Sirius. They soon reached McDonald’s.

“So what do you want to order?” Remus asked his mate. “Harry and I can vouch that the Big Mac is the best to get here.”

“Then get me that,” Sirius grumbled.

“Come on. Be happy. We are going on a vacation, Padfoot.”

“Not the way I want too.”

Remus rolled his eyes again and just went to the counter and ordered his and Sirius’ foods. Harry turned to his lover. “So a Big Mac?”

” . . . ” Severus just glared.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Harry said, not the least perturbed. Harry went up to the counter and ordered like Remus did. Soon, Remus and Harry came to the table where the two grouchy wizards were. The atmosphere between the four of them was so tense that the other customers felt that something was not right. After they finished their food, Harry got up and dumped their garbage out. He came back and stretched his leg. He turned to them and looked at Severus with a hopeful expression.

“Care to walk around with me? I feel too cooped up and after we get on the airplane we’ll be stuck in there for ten hours at least.”

Sirius gave Harry a stricken look. “T-t-ten hours?” He looked pleadingly at Moony. “Please tell me I did not hear that.”

“Sorry, Paddy. You did. The flight is ten hours long.” Remus inwardly groaned, expecting another rant coming up.

“What am I supposed to do for ten hours on the fairplane?”

“Airplane,” Severus said dryly. “I know you weren’t raised by Muggles, but at least get the names right so you don’t sound like a dunderhead.”

Sirius turned and glowered at the one person he still truly couldn’t tolerate. “Bloody hell! Why won’t you just bugger off and just don’t do it with my godson!”

There was a dangerous glint in Severus’ eyes as his hand went for his wand that was in the inner pocket of his leather jacket. Harry recognised the look and grabbed his lover before Severus could hex Sirius. Remus, knowing that those two needed some time away from each other, decided to drag Sirius and go to some other part of the airport.

“I’ll meet you at our waiting area in about a hour. Got that, Harry?” Remus hastily grabbed Sirius up to his feet and started to lead him away.

“Yeah, I got you, Remus,” Harry turned to the snarky Potion Master and glared at him. “We are going to have a little talk, Sev.”

“About what? The fact that your godfather got absolutely no brain at all?” Severus sulkily walked past Harry. The younger man sighed and ran to catch up with the taller man. Harry smirked.

“You know, you’re cute when you sulk.” Harry chuckled lightly as he saw the back stiffened up. Severus turned slowly to face Harry. “Insolent brat.”

“I know, but you still love me.” Harry sighed. “Sevvy, I’m sorry for choosing this way to travel, but . . . I thought we’d all enjoy it. Remus and I thought it ‘d be romantic for us to snuggle through the long plane ride. To appreciate each other’s company or in yours and Sirius’ case, not appreciate each other companies, through the Muggle ways.”

Severus looked intently at his young lover through his hair. Through the curtain of hair, Harry couldn’t see the mesmerising, coal-black eyes. However, if he could have, he would have seen many emotions conflicting each other. Love, annoyance, frustration, and tenderness were a few of the emotions that were flying through the Potions Master’s eyes. Severus straightened up and gave Harry a cold look. “Gryffindors, once one, always one. Are all of you that much of a hopeless romantic?”

Harry brightened up. Severus couldn’t help but think how predictable the young man tended to be. “You are acting sarcastic. That’s a good sign.” He reached and grabbed the Slytherin’s hand. “Let’s go for that walk now.”

Severus growled slightly, and grabbed the other man by the waist. He brought the lithe body closer to his and kissed him fervently. A few moments later, he let go. “Now we can go for a walk. And do not call me ‘Sevvy’.” Harry nodded and followed with a dreamy look.

Remus continued to drag the ex-convicted murderer through the crowds. Upon reaching the men’s toilets, he shoved Sirius into an empty stall, lock the door, both magically and manually, and then cast a silencing charm around them. He then turn around and glared at him. Sirius couldn’t help but think that the glare looked a whole lot like Snape’s.

Tentatively, he reached over and touches Mooy’s cheek. “Did anyone tell you that you are starting rival the greasy git when it comes to giving angry looks?”

“I do not!” Remus indignantly cried out. “Speaking of that ‘greasy git’, who not only is my colleague, but also is your godson’s lover, you need to calm down in front of him! Especially when we are in a crowded place that is full of Muggles.” He wanted to say that Sirius acted in a juvenile manner, but then closed his mouth in time. He decided that if he said that, then he’d be calling himself a hypocrite, for that’s one of the traits that he has come to love the other man.

Sirius slouched a bit and pouted. “I’m sorry, Remus. But . . .  he’s so infuriating! But not only that, this airpane travelling method is weird!

“Airplane, not ‘airpane’,” Remus corrected Sirius. “And I’m sure Harry is explaining the same thing to Severus right now, but really, he and I chose this method because we thought it’d be a romantic way to travel. Apparently we were both wrong and it’s a mistake on both of us.”

Sirius solemnly stared at his lover. “You really think it’s romantic? Honestly, Moony, I see nothing romantic about being on that airflane for ten hours.”

Remus groaned and rubbed his face in his hands. “I give up. You will never call it by the right name. Truly though, think about it. Talking and looking out the window, provided we get the window seats, holding hands, and just being next to each other for the longest time. Harry and I really didn’t mean to choose it as an inconvenience. ”

Sirius smirked. “There are toilets on there, right? Please tell me there is.”

“Yes, there are. Why?” Remus gave him a calculating look, as Sirius just smiled wider. “Paddy, I do not like that scheming look on your face.”

Sirius grabbed Remus by the arse and brought him closer to him. He leaned over and Remus felt the warmth of Sirius’ breath on his neck. “Me? Scheming? Never. Although I was thinking about how it would be more romantic if we shagged 10,000 metres up from the ground.”

Unintentionally, Remus let out a soft growl and quickly had Sirius pinned against the stall’s door. All his train of thoughts were gone as Remus began ravishing his mouth. He wasn’t about to complain as he returned the action.

An hour later, the two couples met up with each other at the waiting area. Sirius glared at Severus, and Severus didn’t even acknowledge the other man. Harry and Remus just gave each other knowing smiles and sat down. The two adversaries sat and just talked with their respective partners. When their flight was announced, they stood up. After confirming that each of them has their tickets, they got on the plane.

They had a little trouble finding their seats, but then a flight attendance lent them a hand. After getting settled in their seats, Sirius looked around.

“Remy, what is that big flat thing up there?” Sirius pointed toward the movie screen.

“It’s the movie screen, Sirius. It’s where you can watch the movie during the flight. However, you have to wear these earphones. That’s where the sounds come out. Does that make sense?” Remus turned to the man next to him. Instead of seeing a looking of understanding, he got a very cute looking Sirius, all perplexed. He smiled gently. “Don’t worry about it. You will see what I mean later. Hopefully the movie will be a good on . . . it says that Titanic is being played.”

On the other side of Remus, Severus gave a surprised look. “Isn’t that the ship that sank in the Atlantic?”

Remus nodded. “But do not ask why they made it into a movie. Muggles tend to think of some weird stuff.”

Everyone buckled their seatbelts as the plane started. Since Remus and Harry forgot to tell the other two about the ear pressure, Severus grimaced in pain and Sirius let out a loud profanity. Remus gave Sirius an apologetic look, and gave him some gum. “Here. Chew this and the pain will lessen a bit.” Sirius takes it and shoves it in his mouth and start chewing severely. Remus handed one to Severus, but he declined.

“This is nothing like the Cruciatus. I can live.” Harry gripped the Slytherin’s hand comfortingly.

Thankfully the entire trip went well. Well the loud noise from the toilet scared Sirius out of his wit, but he brushed it off, after asking them why it was necessary to make the flushing noise so loud. The others shook their heads and Remus tried to explain, but after realising that he couldn’t explain why, he just told Sirius to forget it.

They ate the dinner that was provided, and they all agreed that the food at Hogwarts was much better. When the movie came on, no one was interested in it. In fact Sirius and Remus decided to take this time now to get a quick shag in the bathroom, with all the precautions set up as well. Harry and Severus stared at each other. “Are you sure you want to be related to them, Harry?” Harry nodded very slowly, pretending to look uncertain. Then he burst out laughing. Severus just gave a smirk.

When the two completely, satiated wizards came back, Harry and his lover were both sleeping peacefully, with Harry’s head on Severus’ shoulder. Remus felt the sudden urge to coo, but didn’t. He told Sirius, and he got a weird look. He pretended to be offended and sat down in a huff. “Aw, Moony.” Sirius sat down and wrapped his arms around the slender man. “You know I didn’t mean that.” Remus smirked and brushed his lips gently across his. “I know. I’m sleepy now.”

Sirius yawned. “Same here. I guess a nap would be good.” Both of them fell asleep quickly.

The next time any of them woke up was when the announcement of nearing arrival was blaring across the plane. Severus looked disgruntled from being woken up rudely, in his opinions. Harry yawned and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. “We’re almost there.”

“I certainly hope so,” muttered Severus.

The landing hurt Sirius, as much as the takeoff did. Remus gave him another stick of gum and Sirius chewed it furiously. It was painful, but he agreed with Snape, that nothing was more painful than the Cruciatus. For once he thought of something reasonable. They got off the plane and gratefully stretched their legs. They waited till they got their luggages and then went to catch the Banana Bus, which was equivalent to the Knight Bus. Sirius and Severus both sighed. “Now this is the definite way of travelling.” Sirius snuggled into the seat.

They almost reached the resort, till Harry broke the silence. “So do you think it was a mistake travelling by the airplane?”

“Naw. It wasn’t all that bad. Just the part that it takes forever to get here.” Sirius brought Remus close to him. “However, you guys didn’t do it maliciously, so I don’t mind much.”

“I agree with Black, once again.” Severus planted a kiss on Harry’s out of control hair. “However, you should learn from your mistakes, and this is one of them.”

The Banana Bus continued to ride and at the same time the sun was setting, and everything was peaceful amongst the four again.

Remus grimaced at the foul smell of cigarette smoke. After working at a gay strip club for a few months, he still hadn’t gotten used to the smell. The night was crowded, as usual, since it was one of the few Muggle gay strip club’s available in London. He looked around and saw many different types of men. Fat men, skinny men, ugly men, handsome men, young men, old men, they were all there, raging with pheromones and a healthy appetite to be shagged. Loud, blaring music was heard from the speakers. This was not Remus’ idea of a night out.

Three years had passed since the Second War Against Darkness, otherwise known as SWAD. Despite many contributions he made toward the war effort, the Ministry refused to acknowledge werewolves as average citizens. The restrictions that had been made on his race had increased. The situations had worsened to the point where many werewolves couldn’t find regular full-time jobs. Remus was one of them. He had turned to prostitution. Something he would have never glanced at when he was younger.

But he had no choice in this matter. He needed money, and this was all he could do for now. At least until the situation improved. He last heard that Hermione Granger was starting a movement similar to that of SPEW, but this time it was known as WUR, Werewolves United Rights. He hoped that Hermione would be able to change something, but so far things looked grim.

The job wasn’t too bad in his opinion. He just didn’t like the boss. He had told beforehand that he needed certain days off each month, and the boss at first didn’t want to let him have days off. But since Remus drew in a lot of customers, his boss gave in grudgingly, saying he deserved some time off. Remus graciously thanked him, but he still did not like his boss. The change did not take a toll on him too much since he worked at night. The Ministry provided him Wolfsbane potion every month. That was about the only good thing to come out of this. They started to provide every werewolf the potion, but the catch was not pleasant.

He sighed as his boss, Neil, called him over. “Yes, Neil?”

The boss was a midget. He was short and stumpy, reminding Remus of Peter Pettigrew. Unfortunately, he had a personality of Lucius Malfoy. Not a good combination for Remus’ part.

“You look nice today. Now go and please some of my customers.” Neil looked over him approvingly. Remus had on leather trousers with a very sheer, black button up shirt. Remus did not like this outfit, but he found out in the earlier days that this was the way to make money.

Remus nodded and walked off toward the crowds, smiling suggestively at any men that looked at him. He knew he wasn’t the most handsome prostitute there, but people still drew to him. His honey-brown hair, flecked with grey, complimented his amber coloured eyes beautifully. To him, those were the only best features he had other than his slim, slender build. He knew his face looked exhausted; he was always tired, thanks to the side effects of lycanthropy. He had a feeling that his charismatic nature was what drew the men to him, especially the dominant ones. He was certainly the submissive type when it came to sex. His inner beast was not an alpha.

Remus glanced at a group of men and was taken aback. He saw one man who looked very familiar. He stopped breathing for a few seconds, shocked.

Oh, Godric… James? Is my past haunting me now? Remus mused to himself as he looked at the young man with messy hair and glasses. It can’t be. He’s dead. Been dead for twenty years now. He slightly staggered and stumbled as wave of emotions came over him.

“Professor Lupin?” Remus’ head snapped up, and his eyes narrowed. Instead of James, he saw Harry Potter. As the figure came closer to him, he saw the unmistakable lightning-shaped scar and the bright green eyes that were the colour of jade and emeralds.

Remus calmed himself down and put his emotions on hold, but he didn’t relax his posture. He then realised that his former student was seeing him in a predicament he didn’t want anyone else to see.

“Harry. Hello.” Remus smiled uncomfortably. “Fancy meeting you here of all places.”

Harry blushed and said, “Ah, well. I’ve been dragged out here by my Quidditch mates here…” He gestured to the group of people he was with.

“I see.” Remus nodded and looked everywhere but at Harry.

“Professor, what are you doing here?”

“I work here.”

Harry raised a surprised eyebrow. “Work? Like serving drinks or something?”

Remus shook his head. “I…” He couldn’t get the words to come out. “Harry, you know the situation with the werewolves now, right?”

“I’ve heard –” Harry’s eyes opened wide. “You mean you’re prostituting?”

“I…” Remus felt shame as his cheeks reddened. What an example he was setting for his best friend’s son, he thought. “This gives me my cheque and allows me to live adequately. I’m satisfied.”

Shaking his head, Harry glared at the floor. “This isn’t right. You and the other werewolves have helped us during the war. You deserve more than this.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “When Hermione mentioned something about the WUR, I had not noticed how bad the circumstances were.”

“Well, it isn’t too bad,” said Remus, lying through his teeth. “I’m happy.”

“As long as you are happy,” Harry trailed off, suddenly looking uncomfortable.

One of the young men suddenly called Harry’s attention. “Hey, Harry! Come on. Let’s go to the dance floor.”

Harry turned to Remus. “I’ll see you around, Professor. It’s been good seeing you.”

Remus nodded and looked on as Harry walked away. Harry sure has become a handsome young man now. After thinking that, he jerked back to reality. He had a job to do.

Remus slowly got up from the bed of a grimy inn and quietly groaned to himself. His arse was numb; his new client hadn’t had any lubricant, so all he had was spit and come for preparation. The client had fallen asleep while Remus remained wide-awake. He was allowed to leave whenever he wanted, so he chose to leave now.

He dressed himself and walked out into the street. It was about four in the morning, and the neighbourhood he was in was silent as a mouse. He decided to walk home, and alone he was, he only had his thoughts to himself.

Seeing Harry after such a long time had impacted him hard. It was as if Harry was the key that unlocked his soul. Oblivious to everything around him while walking, memories poured out of him, and he saw it all in front of him. The first day he came to Hogwarts; James and Sirius befriended him and protected him from the Slytherins such as Lucius Malfoy. The Sorting Hat telling him he was to be with the Gryffindors. The days when the four of them became the Marauders. The times they ransacked almost all of Hogwarts and the areas around it. The surprise and joy he felt when his friends became Animagi for him. The moments where he and James would make love and how much love he received and gave. Then the betrayals of Sirius, the loss of James as his lover…the hurt still resided until this day.

He sighed and closed his eyes tightly as he came into the dingy neighbourhoods. He walked numbly into the building where he lived and climbed the stairs to his flat. With the door being spelled to acknowledge his aura, he lightly touched the door and it opened on its own. He went in, shut the door, and slumped to the floor against it.

He tiredly looked around his small living quarters. It was a single room. The bedroom, sitting room, kitchen and dining room were all in it. There was one other room, and behind the door, there was the toilet and the washroom.

He was thankful that he at least had a fireplace. He dug out his wand out from his coat pocket, and waved it, watching the warm flame come bursting to life. He welcomed the warmth, but he still felt cold all over. He got up from the floor and walked over to his lumpy bed. He took off his jacket, put his wand under his pillow, and fell on the bed causing it to creak loudly. He curled up in a foetal position and continued to think of the good days and the bad days it came with.

Remus didn’t know when he fell asleep. He woke up several hours later. Feeling sore all over, he stretched out and looked out the small window. He guessed it must have been about noon now. Suddenly, something darkened his window, and he instinctively grabbed his wand. Seeing that it was only an owl delivering the newspaper, he relaxed a notch and went to obtain it. He paid the owl and watched it fly off.

Clutching the paper in his hand, he walked over to a worn out armchair. As he unfolded the paper, he sat down and got in a comfortable position. He looked at the front cover, and he kept on staring at it.

On the cover was Harry Potter on his broomstick catching a Snitch. Whoever took the picture must have been one of those fans that wanted to shag him because the movements of his muscles were visible through his Quidditch uniform, there were beads of sweat around his forehead, and his long slim figure stood out magnificently in this picture. The angles and the shots were perfect.

As Remus stared at the picture, he glanced at the headline news that read “Potter Caught the Snitch!! The Championship is Near!!” He couldn’t help but envision the young man there to be James had he gone into Quidditch instead of becoming an Auror. His hand gently caressed the photograph, and Remus looked at it for a long time.

A few weeks passed. Remus did his daily and nightly routines. The moon came and went with no hassle, though it left him exhausted as usual. Every night, the club seemed to get new business, so he steadily gained more customers and as well as the regulars. He became so busy that almost all thoughts of James and Harry left his mind. With that fact in mind, he was surprised to see Harry back at the club. This time by himself.

Harry was the one who alerted his presence first. Remus was standing in front of the bar sipping his whisky. “Hello again, Professor.”

Recognising the voice, Remus looked up, concealing his astonishment. “Good evening, Harry.” With hesitation he said, “I…I wasn’t expecting to see you here again.”

“Well,” Harry shrugged, “the season’s over now, and I’m going mad just staying home, so I figured I could stop by here.”

“The season is over already?” The information surprised Remus. With everything going on, he wasn’t keeping up with the news.

“For my team, yes it’s over. On our last match, the entire team was having an off day. The Chasers kept missing the Quaffle, the Beaters kept missing their target, and so forth so on. I had a mild headache that day as well, so my concentration was weak.”

Remus nodded sympathetically. “And you were so close to getting the championship.”

“Yeah. Bugger it. It’s nothing though. As much as I love flying, I couldn’t wait for the season to be over with. It is rather exhausting, professional Quidditch is at least.”

A peaceful silence surrounded the two men. Remus looked around and saw a lot of action going on in the crowds. He wondered if he should go find a client or not, but he didn’t want to be rude and leave Harry behind. Harry got comfortable on the bar stool and asked for a drink. As soon as Harry got his beverage, he drank it.

“Professor–”

“Remus. Call me Remus, Harry. I am not your teacher and haven’t been your teacher since your third year,” said Remus, gently correcting him.

“Remus…” The way his named rolled off of Harry’s tongue gave him the shivers down his back. “Could we go somewhere else?”

Remus’ eyes went wide open at the question. “Pardon?”

“Like…I mean…could we go somewhere to talk?”

“Harry…”

“Please? Just that I haven’t seen you around so long, although I just couldn’t find you, and I was wondering where you were, what you were doing. Now that I’ve found you, I want to remain in contact with you.”

Remus smiled slowly. “Well, good to see I was missed. However, I’m afraid I am going to have to pass the offer. I have work to do tonight, Harry.”

Harry’s green eyes blazed with anger. In a hushed voice he said, “This isn’t a job, Remus. You don’t deserve this.”

“Harry…”

“No! Listen to me. You’re a well-respected person. With everything you’ve done for us, you should be fighting for your rights instead of giving in to those bloody Ministry bastards!”

Remus didn’t reply. He knew Harry was right to an extent, but he also knew he wasn’t going to win. The fact that if he did rebel against the Ministry, it might land him in more troubles than he ever wished.

Looking down at his amber-coloured drink, Harry swirled it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t talk to you like that. It’s just that…” Harry sighed. “This whole situation just bollocks.”

Remus smiled kindly at him. “Don’t I know that.”

Another moment of silence passed between them before Remus broke it. “Give me your address. I’ll come around on Sunday. That’s my day off.”

Harry brightened at the turn of event. “Okay.” Getting a card and a pen from the bartender, he wrote it down and handed it to Remus. “Here.” Their hands met for the first time, and Remus pushed away the sudden feeling of not wanting to let go.

“Thanks, Harry. I’ll be there around two o’clock.”

“Sure. Do come. I’ll even cook dinner for us.” Harry jumped off the stool and looked at him. “Great seeing you again, Remus. Good night.”

“Good night to you as well, Harry,” said Remus. He watched Harry leave and proceeded to get some work done.

Sunday came, and Remus was going nuts getting ready to go to Harry’s. He went through the small collection he had as his wardrobe and kept saying no to every single garment he owned.

Finally, he chose a simple khaki trousers with a white button-up shirt. “Why do I even care what I wear? This isn’t a date or anything. Get over it, Remus Lupin,” he chided to himself.

Debating on wearing a robe or not, he decided to just wear a green sweater over the shirt. “It’s not like I’m going to walk over there, so I might as well not wear anything too warm.”

Remus sighed and saw that it was only noon. “And here I am getting ready two hours beforehand. Sometimes I hate my punctual-ness.

“Why did I accept this invitation? I just do not feel comfortable about this. Every time I see him, I see James. I just have this urge to do stuff with Harry like I did with James.”

Getting up from his bed, he went to his bookcase and selected a random book. Remus must have been really out of it for he chose a potion text. “Might as well use this to entertain myself for the next two hours.” So he got comfortable and attempted to read the book.

Harry looked up expectantly when he heard the familiar sound that followed Apparating. Smiling, he said, “Hello, Remus. Glad you could come. I’ve looked forward to this.” And had he ever! Like Remus, Harry fiddled his thumb since noon and couldn’t get content. The last time he felt this nervous was the day he had the Sorting Hat on.

Standing up, Harry spread his hands around. “Have a seat, Remus. Get comfortable.”

With a smile toward to Harry, Remus sat down in one of the chairs and looked around. It was a cosy flat. Along with the sitting room, where they were at now, the place was accommodated with two bedrooms, bathroom, kitchen, and a dining room.

“This is a nice flat,” Remus lamely said.

“Thanks. I chose it myself. Probably the first thing I ever did to live on my own.” Still standing, Harry then asked, “Would you like some tea? Or anything else to drink?”

“Tea sounds excellent. Thank you.”

Harry left the room, and Remus looked around again closely. The area above the fireplace in the room was decorated with picture frames. Remus stood up and looked. There were pictures of Ron, Hermione, and the three of them together, his ex-dorm mates, and the wedding picture. Remus gasped. James’ and Lily’s wedding. The day he knew James was lost from him forever.

How young we looked then…James so happy, carefree, with no worries in the world. All he wanted to do was have a family and support them, he thought to himself. He raised his hand and gently caressed the picture. I wonder how Harry acquired this photograph.

Harry walked in the room, carrying a tray with the teacups, sugar, and cream. He noticed Remus staring at the picture, and a sad smile came on his face. “It hurts doesn’t it?” He set the tray down on a table and stood next to Remus.

“Yes. How did you get this?” Remus asked softly.

“Hagrid gave it to me. He sent me an album full of pictures of dad and mum. I love this picture. So I retook it with a Muggle’s camera and had it enlarged.”

“Sirius, James, Lily…” Remus looked at Harry.

“Tell me. Tell me about the wedding. You were there, right?”

Remus hesitated. “I…”

Noticing Remus’ uncertain movement, Harry replied, “It’s okay if you do not want to talk about it.”

“No,” said Remus, shaking his head. “You deserve to know.” Again, Remus looked at the photograph, and he reached out to touch the frame. “They, your parents, were so happy that day. Their joy was so blatantly obvious to even the blindest person. A lot of friends and family members came to the wedding. Lily wanted a Muggle style wedding, and James didn’t complain. In a way, he had the same fascination that Arthur Weasley has of the Muggles.

“Of course, Sirius was the best man, and boy did he have a blast flirting with Lily’s bridesmaids. Being the charmer he was, though, the ladies didn’t mind.” Remus smiled softly at the memory.

“I’m curious, but who caught my mother’s bouquet?” Harry asked with a silly grin on his face. Without knowing it, he leaned closer to Remus.

“Believe it or not,” said Remus who chose to ignore Harry’s action, “it was Peter.”

Harry wrinkled his nose. “Ugh. That sodding bastard doesn’t deserve anyone but Riddle.”

Remus didn’t say anything.

“Cat got your tongue?” Harry teased lightly.

“No, you just gave me a disgusting mental image I could have done without.”

Harry blinked. “Wha-?” Sudden realisation passed him through, and he turned tomato red. “That is a frightening image.”

“Shall we change the subject?” Remus walked away from the fireplace, not wanting to bring back any more memories.

Nodding, Harry followed Remus who sat down on the couch. Harry sat next to Remus and sighed. “Well, it will be a while till dinner. I’m making roast beef as the main course tonight followed by either tea or alcohol. Hope you like it.”

“That is one of my favourite dishes, and I know you have great culinary skills.” Remus looked over and gave him a reassuring smile.

“Well, so far no one has keeled over, so I’ll take that as a good sign.”

The two men burst out laughing. The atmosphere between them turned to a comfortable one, and they continued to talk for the next several hours.

Feeling the light sensation of the alcohol, Remus happily hummed to himself as he flooed into his fireplace. He could have easily Apparated, but he didn’t want to risk it after remembering how Sirius nearly splinched himself after a little drinking binge.

He crashed into his armchair and stared at the wall in front of him with a goofy smile on his face. Dinner was quite an experience. It was probably the first decent meal Remus had had in ages. He was pleased to see that Harry’s cooking skills hadn’t declined in the last several years. After the meal, both of them had some whiskey. They both drank enough to be tipsy.

While sipping on their drinks, they both talked about a lot of random stuff. Remus found out that Ron and Hermione had gotten married. He remembered Harry telling him that Ginny had chased after him, but after a public announcement of Harry being gay, Ginny was heartbroken for a while. After getting over the fact that Harry was not interested in woman, she and Harry became good friends. They would still sometimes meet and go guy hunting.

Remus sat up quickly as something came to him. He vaguely recalled gently stroking Harry’s cheek. While doing so, he also told Harry that he had become a handsome young man. Handsome like his father, but Remus hadn’t said that part.

“Shite!” Remus jumped out of the armchair and started a frenzied walk around his small flat. “Fuck.”

Remus covered his face with his hands, feeling the heat, the effect of the alcohol still swarming through his body. “I can’t believe I told Harry that. What was I thinking?” Remus continued his monologue with himself. “Bloody hell…I hope Harry doesn’t remember that part of the conversation later.”

He stopped walking and leaned against the wall on his back for support. He recalled how Harry’s cheek felt. It felt warm. He could still feel Harry’s hot breath on his fingers when they had gotten close to Harry’s mouth. The happy expression on Harry’s face, the sound Harry laughing with such joy.

Remus briefly wondered if Harry’s cheeks were flushed due to the alcohol or his touch. A small voice in the back of his head was hoping for the latter. Harry did look incredibly shaggable tonight though. Throughout the night, Remus noticed that Harry had the tendency to bite his lips while talking, so they were red themselves and very kissable looking.

Remus’ reverie was interrupted by a stirring down in his groin. “Fuck!” Remus decided that it was time for a shower. A cold shower. Anything to get rid of these thoughts of wanting to fuck his ex-lover’s son.

“I’m going mad, and I must be drunk. That’s the only reason why I am suddenly lusting after Prongs’ boy,” Remus muttered, ignoring the voice in his head, which at that moment was yelling that Harry wasn’t a boy, but a man now.

“Definitely cold. Ice cold.”

After a refreshing, icy shower, Remus changed into some pyjamas and fell on the bed. While on his back, he stared at the ceiling, trying to figure out why all these strange thoughts were in his head. Strange and very wrong thoughts.

Am I just getting James and Harry confused now, he wondered to himself. I mean…lately all these memories have been coming back to me. Even after all these years, James is the only one I’ve ever loved. Maybe my heart cannot distinguish between the two people unlike my brain can.

Remus sighed and hugged the pillow to himself. He slowly drifted off into a troubled sleep, hoping to get Harry out of his mind. Wondering if he’ll just forget about all of this tomorrow. That’s what he wanted. To just go back to his life before Harry had entered it.

Over the next few days, Remus grew more and more disgusted with himself. He threw himself into work, wanting to get rid of all his lusty thoughts. It did not work much to Remus’ disappointment. While working, instead of seeing his clients’ faces, images of Harry straddling him, pleasuring him replaced who he was really with at the moment.

When he was off of work, he tried to distract himself. Nothing worked; it was like everything was against him. No matter how hard he tried, he could not stop thinking about Harry.

Hell, even the weather was against him. It was only May, and it was so bloody hot. Hot to the point that he walked around shirtless in his flat. Just as he was about charm some cooling spell, his wards went off, alerting him that someone was at his door. He clutched his wand as he opened the door slightly. He was so surprised to see Harry that he opened it all the way, forgetting that he was shirtless, forgetting all the troubles he had trying to get Harry out of his mind.

He swallowed hard before he said, “Harry. What a nice surprise. And…how did you find this place?”

Harry wanted Remus.

Ever since that Sunday they had spent together, he wanted Remus. Blimey, even before that, he had some kind of feelings for the other man that were beyond friendship! He could still feel Remus’ soft touch grazing his cheeks. And he’d never forget how, in a husky voice, Remus told him that he was handsome. A soft blush came to Harry whenever he thought of that comment. Sure, he was used to getting such compliments about his looks, but from Remus, it sounded more genuine. It affected him strongly.

He could not get Remus out of his mind, and he was happy about it. He wanted to get to know the older man. Ever since Harry’s third year, Remus was always kind to him. He was one of the few people who looked past his scar to see who he really was. Every time the two of them talk, it gave Harry the impression of coming home. It was as if Remus had his arms wide open for Harry to come into.

After the horrible encounter with Cho in his fifth year, he really didn’t think about entering a serious relationship. After the defeat of Voldemort and completion of his studies at Hogwarts, he had plenty of flings with other young men. Until Remus came into the picture, Harry was content with his lifestyle. Now, he only wanted Remus.

Not wanting to rush headstrong into this new situation like a Gryffindor, he decided to keep himself busy with other stuff. He went out and met up with Ginny, along with Ron and Hermione. They all had some catching up to do. Harry didn’t tell them about his feelings for Remus, but he did ask Hermione about the WUR movement and its status.

“Oh, Harry. It’s going quite well. At the rate we are going now, coupled that my position at the Ministry, we may see some significant changes soon. Maybe in a few months at the least.”

“That’s good to hear,” Harry said. “Things really need to improve for the werewolves.”

“Would you like to provide a statement in regarding the WUR?” Hermione suddenly asked enthusiastically. “With your status, and name, it will go much faster.”

For once, Harry had no hesitation in wanting to use his fame in such a manner. “Why not? I do think this is unfair.”

Aside from a personal statement, Hermione also took out a petition. There were already a few names on it. Names such as Arthur Weasley, Severus Snape, Draco Malfoy, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Nymphadora Tonks, Neville Longbottom, and etc. A lot of these names had titles such as “Order of Merlin, First Class, Second Class, etc.”

Harry made sure to sign his name legibly, and put down Order of Merlin, First Class and any other titles that would put him on a higher status.

“Thanks, Harry!” Hermione put the petition away, and they soon talked about something more cheery.

He wasn’t able to really concentrate on the conversations afterward. Ginny noticed the far away look on Harry face but didn’t say anything. Later, when the quartet broke up, it was just him and Ginny. They were heading toward the same direction, so they ended up walking together.

Ginny took the opportunity to tease him. “So the famous Harry Potter actually fell in love, eh?”

“Wha–?” Harry feeling himself blushing deeply.

“After the whole thing dealing with the WUR, you went quiet. You looked like you were daydreaming about something or someone.”

“Well,” Harry sheepishly rubbed the back of his head, “I wouldn’t say love yet. But it seems pretty close to it.”

“Anyone I know?”

Harry nodded.

“Hrm. I think I can guess who it is.” Ginny smiled and patted Harry on the shoulders. “It’s Professor Lupin, isn’t it?”

“Blimey, am I that transparent?”

“Nah,” Ginny sniggered. “But I do remember you telling me that you ran into him in a club that one night with your Quidditch team. And your sudden interest in the WUR…”

Harry sighed. “Well, we did meet several nights ago at my place. He did tell me that I was handsome, and touched my cheeks…”

“Well, I reckon you’re the one who’s gonna enforce it. And I wish you luck!” Ginny slapped him playfully on the shoulder. They had come to a fork in the street that made them go separate ways. “Keep me posted.”

“Sure. Cheerio.” He waved and watched her disappear amongst the crowd before he started down his street.

As he walked down the street, he dug out a piece of paper from his pocket. It was the address of Remus’ flat. Harry was quite surprised and pleased when Remus told him its location when both were tipsy.

I wonder if he realised that he was giving this to me, Harry asked himself as he passed the different people in the street. When I first asked him, he didn’t want to tell me his address. But after getting a few drinks in him, he was willing to share it with me. Is it because he lives in one of the poorer sections? He should know that I don’t give a rat’s arse about that. I guess it’s pride.

Harry was so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t notice he had passed his area and was closer to Remus’ flat. He didn’t even notice that the weather was particularly hot today. He shrugged to himself and decided to go pay Remus a visit. He located the building and walked up several flights of stairs. Even before he reached the front door, he could tell that Remus had warded it.

Instead of knocking, Harry stood in front of the door, waiting for Remus to open it. Soon he heard the audible click of the lock and saw Remus through partially opened door. He then had a hard time controlling himself from pouncing on a shirtless Remus.

He tried not stare, but it was quite difficult. He could see that the heat was getting to Remus. Remus’ skin was glistening with sweat, some of it slowly dripped off of his lower jaw. Harry wanted to lick the salty liquid, wanted to feel the taste of Remus. His gaze went a bit lower, and he saw scars here and there on Remus’ slender shoulders, arms, and chest. He just noticed that he was actually broader and taller than the older man.

“Harry. What a nice surprise. And…how did you find this place?”

Harry mentally slapped himself and proceeded to answer the question. “Oh, hello, Remus. I was in the area and decided to drop by. You gave me the address the other night. Not sure if you remember it.”

Remus frowned as he motioned Harry to come in. “Did I? I guess I was too tipsy to bear that in mind.”

“Ah, well, if you’re currently busy, I can leave.”

“No, I’m not occupied at the moment. Have a seat. I was about to do some cooling charms. The weather is burning me up.”

Harry stepped in and noticed that Remus’ flat was smaller than his place. He saw an armchair and a small couch. He took a seat at the couch and watched Remus wave his wand. “Really? I hadn’t realised that we are having a sudden heat wave or anything like that.”

“Ah, that feels so much better,” Remus said after he had cast the cooling charms. He walked to the kitchen and asked, “Want anything to drink, Harry?”

“Tea’s fine with me, Remus.” Harry waited until Remus came back with a tray which he set on the small table between the armchair and the couch. They each prepared their cups, and both started to drink it. “Hermione gave me some news about the WUR movement. She said it’s doing pretty well.”

“Really.” Remus took an apathetic approach to it. Harry saw Remus suddenly flushing. He wondered if the heat got to Remus again or not. He followed Remus’ gaze to the shirt on the floor, next to Remus’ armchair. He watched as Remus set his cup of tea down to retrieve the shirt. Before the shirt went on Remus, Harry grabbed his wrist with his larger hand with callused fingers.

“Don’t. You look nice the way you are,” Harry whispered, nearly forcing the sound to be audible. “I like seeing you shirtless.”

Remus grew flustered. “Harry, no. This isn’t right.”

Harry grew cheeky. “Honestly, Remus, I’m just telling you how I feel.”

“And I feel that this is not right.”

That didn’t discourage Harry as he guided both of them to stand up. While getting up, Harry grabbed Remus’ other wrist causing the shirt to fall out of the grip. They stood in front of each other, with only a couple of inches of space separating them. “I really, really like you, Remus. I couldn’t get you out of my mind for the past few days.”

“Harry. We can’t do this.” Harry saw the dazed and confused expression on Remus’ exhausted face.

“Give me a reason why we can’t.”

“Well.” At this point, Harry leaned over and started to lick his earlobes. “Er, I’m way older than you.”

“Twenty years is not that much of a difference. It won’t even be noticeable in another five years or so.”

“You deserve someone younger, someone…who’s not a cursed beast like me.”

Harry actually stopped teasing Remus and grabbed him a bit harshly by the shoulders. “Don’t you ever say that, Remus. You are not a cursed beast! I do not know anyone else that’s this sensitive and kind as you. That label is not for you or for any other good werewolves out there.” Harry rested his forehead against Remus’ and breathed in deeply while smelling the other’s man woodsy scent. He lessened his hold on Remus a bit.

“Harry, also, I did go to school with your parents. Bloody hell! I even changed your nappies as a baby!”

“That’s not stopping me.” And really, it didn’t. Harry leaned in ever so slowly, tilted his head a bit and closed his eyes. His lips gently grazed Remus’, and Harry felt Remus giving into temptation. Emboldened by Remus’ still action, he kissed again, this time with a bit more zeal. After a few seconds, Harry traced Remus’ lips with his tongue, wanting to seek entrance. He could feel that Remus didn’t want to grant permission. In the end, Harry felt Remus’ mouth part open, giving him the consent.

Harry deepened the kiss with gentle yet heated strokes. He delved into the crevices and other nooks and crannies in Remus’ mouth. He was surprised to see that Remus was quite the submissive type. The notions slipped past him as he continued the kiss. One of his hands went to the back of Remus’ head to support the kiss. The other hand slipped past the shoulder and brushed against one of the sensitive nipples.

Harry felt like he was lost in heaven. If this is heaven, I’d like to stay here for eternity.

Remus deemed himself to be in purgatory, a place slammed between heaven and hell. After he had invited Harry in, he felt the temperature in his flat rising another twenty degrees or so.

Remus grabbed his shirt, but when Harry’s hand had grabbed his wrist, he felt the warmth tingling down his arm to his groin. The calluses on Harry’s hand gave such texture to the grip, that he felt even more affected than usual.

When he was pulled to stand close to Harry, he thought he would almost stop breathing from the extreme closeness. He felt dizzy. The last time he felt anything of this was when he was with James. Strangely though, it felt different. It was like James’ aura, but different.

Remus could feel all his coherent thoughts disappearing when Harry started to lick his earlobes. He slowly melted under Harry’s teasing ministration but was jolted back to reality when Harry had grabbed his shoulders with anger, after he had truthfully tried to tell Harry he was a beast.

With the subject of the nappies, Remus tried to bring a little humour into his reasoning on why they shouldn’t be doing this, but that failed as well. He wanted this to stop, but at the same time, he didn’t want it to end. He wanted it to continue, despite his rational side screaming at him.

When their lips finally met, he gave into the temptation. He closed his eyes as he allowed the slight pressure on his lips to fulfil his desires. The second kiss overwhelmed him even more. Just this kiss, he could feel Harry’s love flowing between them. When he felt Harry’s tongue tracing at the entrance of his mouth, he hesitated to comply, but his desires won him over as he succumbed to Harry’s wishes. He parted his lips, and the delicious sensation of Harry exploring his mouth went beyond his expectations.

It wasn’t until Harry brushed one of his nipples that woke Remus up from his stupor. His eyes opened wide, and he shoved Harry back hard, wanting to quell down the attraction he felt toward the younger man. “Harry. No. We cannot do this.”

“Rem–” Remus cut him off.

“Just leave. Please!” Remus’ voice took on a desperate note.

He had figured that Harry heard the franticness behind the voice. He was grateful when Harry decided not to push anything further today.

Harry sighed and said, “Thank you for the tea. And I’m sorry if I upset you. I’m going now.”

Remus leaned against the wall, and when he was sure Harry was out of the flat, he sank down on the floor. He accioed a pillow and muffled his screams of frustration. After screaming till he was hoarse, he sat in that position for a long time.

The next few days passed like a slow, hazy mist. Remus was at the club. One of his regular clients was talking to him, but for Remus, the client might as well been talking in Spanish. Remus could barely make out the words, let alone remember what the other man was talking about.

Remus smiled, nodded, sipped his drink, and tried to pretend that his mind was in the club. Anything to rid his mind of Harry. James, Harry. Before, Remus had almost considered them the same person. Somewhere along the way, they became the two separate people they were. Sure, the two Potters looked a lot alike, but Remus noticed that Harry was gentler, more sensitive than James ever was.

Instead of seeing just James, he saw in Harry both spirits of Lily and James. Lily was a very special person as well as James. But she was different from James. Almost like balancing the two out. That was what Harry was. A mixture of two people who made a big impact in his life.

Remus’ client, Patrick, leaned close and was breathing on Remus’ exposed neck. He said something, but Remus didn’t catch it. Afterward, Patrick stood up and left. In his place, Harry came up to Remus.

That startled Remus out of his daze.

Harry leaned in to whisper in Remus’ ear. “We need to talk.”

Remus sighed and closed his eyes tightly. “Good. I need to tell you something.” He put his drink down at the bar and then lightly grabbed Harry’s arm, leading them towards the backdoor. Beyond the door was a small lounge, a quieter place. Remus sat down in one of the couches, and Harry followed suit.

“Look,” Harry spread his hands out in front of him. “I’m sorry about the other day, but I truly do like you. I just want to know how you–”

“Your father and I, we used to be lovers.”

A calm, soft voice delivered that line, and it seemed as if Harry almost didn’t catch it. “What?”

Remus knew there was no turning back. Harry needed to know the truth even if it ended up hurting Remus himself. “Before your father was with your mother, he was with me. Our relationship ended when he realised that he wanted to be with Lily.”

“Wait, so you loved my dad?”

“Yes, and I still do.”

Harry’s eyes hardened. “You’re saying that I’m just a…replacement for him? Because I look a lot like him? Merlin, do I even act like him?!”

Remus averted his gaze before he answered. “Yes,” he lied through his teeth. “You are a replacement for him, and you do act like him.” No. You don’t. You’re not him! Remus wanted to say that instead but couldn’t.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“Then look at me and say the whole bloody thing to my face.”

Remus stiffened right on the spot. He raised his face to look at Harry. “We just can’t be together. It’s not right.”

“You haven’t answered my question. Can you really tell me the same answer while looking at me?” Harry looked like he was about to lash out at Remus in frustration.

Remus didn’t reply for a good while. He continued to look at the man in front of him. He tried to memorise the way Harry’s messy hair fell onto his forehead. Tried to remember how Harry, when he frowned, looked even more desirable than ever. It was almost as if Remus wanted to remember everything before removing Harry out of his life permanently.

“Remus?” Harry asked softly.

“Harry,” Remus began, clenching his hands into tight fists. “James and I, we were together for a good year and a half. Even after we separated, I never stopped loving him. And yes, I do see you in him. But I also see your mother. You are not the exact mirror image of your father in neither appearance nor personality.”

Harry stood up and didn’t say anything. He was deep in his thoughts.

“So Harry, even though you are not a replacement for your father, we still cannot do this. Your parents will be rolling in their graves by now with what we are doing. Just leave.” With Harry hovering over him, Remus felt like he didn’t have the upper-hand as he should’ve, but he didn’t really care at that moment. He just wanted Harry to disappear, so things could go back to the way they were.

Harry moved and stopped in front of Remus. He trapped Remus on the couch by placing his hands on both sides of Remus’ face, and then he leaned over until their faces were very near one another.

“I left once before, I am not leaving again. And as for my parents, they would have wanted me to be happy. For me to be happy is to be with you. They would have understood and accepted it.”

“Harry.” Remus felt that same dizzy feelings he felt the last time he and Harry were this close to each other. “I–”

Someone cleared their voice from nearby, interrupting the mood and the moment. Both Harry and Remus turned to the direction of the sound and saw Remus’ boss standing there, looking at the two of them with a pinched expression.

“I’m sorry to interrupt such a –” a sneer, “–interesting conversation, but one of your clients is demanding to see you tonight, Remus.”

Harry stepped away from Remus and walked a bit closer to the boss. “I’m his client tonight.”

Neil eyed Harry suspiciously. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you as a regular of Remus’. If you were a regular, I’d allow it, but a more important customer is waiting for him.”

“Not tonight. Tell him to go find another sodding man for pleasure,” Harry said in a dangerous, low voice.

Before things could turn ugly, Remus hastily got up from the couch and touched Harry on the shoulders. “Sorry, Neil. Don’t mind him. Just give me a few minutes, and I’ll be out.”

“Hn. Three minutes.” Neil gave one last appraisal of Harry before he turned and left the two of them alone.

Remus sighed and turned Harry around so they could face each other. A silence hung between them for a moment before Harry broke it. “You shouldn’t be doing this.”

“It’s currently my job, and I intend to do it.” Remus stepped back and went on, hoping what he said next would placate Harry a bit. “Look, as soon as I finish, we’ll talk more.”

“Then come to my place when you’re done.”

Remus hesitantly nodded. Before he could walk further, Harry reached and gave Remus’ hand a quick squeeze. “I’ll be waiting.”

Without another word, Remus went to see his customer, leaving Harry behind to stare after the retreating figure.

Remus sighed as he left Patrick behind at the hotel room. Apparently, Patrick had fought with someone, and he needed a way to vent his frustration. He decided to do so by having sex with Remus. And it was a rough one. While waiting for the lift to come up, Remus randomly thought, Patrick must’ve been really upset. Not like this was bad or anything…just a bit forceful for my tastes. Of course I’ve had worse.

Remus exited the lift and felt the cool air. The streets were empty. Remus checked his watch and saw that it was past two in the morning. As he walked in the direction of Harry’s flat, he wondered if Harry was still up. He could Apparate to Harry’s place, but his mind was not in the right state. He needed to walk to let his mind wander loose, by having a silent battle with himself.

Do I dare go? I did tell him I’d come. But if I go, it may not be a good idea. Things might happen. Things that I really do not want to confront. Yet if I don’t go, he’ll get mad, and he’ll be hurt. I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t know what to do anymore. I really wonder what James would say if he was still alive. Before, I could imagine what James would say in all the situations I’ve come upon, but this one is just leaving my mind blank. It’s as if his presence is no longer in my mind.

Remus sighed heavily as he continued down the streets, hearing his footstep echo through the night.

Soon, Remus arrived at the building Harry lived in. He stood there, looking at a lone window, its lights showing dimly through the curtains. Harry indeed was waiting for Remus. Someone cared enough to be waiting for him despite how late it was. Cared enough to the point of telling Remus that he deserved a better job than the one he currently occupied. Cared enough to look past Remus’ curse, his shame. It was as if Remus had been given a second chance. Only his second chance was with his first love’s son.

Rain started to fall, and it covered the sudden tears that escaped his eyes. The overwhelming realisation that someone really cared for him confused Remus, made his heart ache. With a heavy heart, he turned and faced the way he had come. He couldn’t face Harry now. No, he was not himself. He began to walk off, forcing his legs to walk. He couldn’t walk fast enough; it was as if his legs were made of lead.

The rain fell harder. The sounds of the water hitting the pavement, windows on cars, and the roof of the houses all covered the sounds of someone’s feet pounding the ground. Remus felt a presence behind him. Before he could turn around, arms came from behind and brought him into a broad chest. A warm breath fluttered his cheek.

Remus then realised it was raining, as well as he was crying. He noticed that he and whoever was embracing him were both wet to their skins. “Let go.” His voice was hoarse, the sounds barely above a whisper.

“No. I won’t. I’m not letting you,” said a voice just as faint as his. “I saw you from the window. You were just standing there. Then it looked like something came over you, and you were going to leave.”

“I have to go.” Remus tried to get out of the embrace, but he didn’t have much energy to fight against Harry’s strong grip. Instead, he had turned himself and was facing Harry.

After seeing Harry’s face, he quickly looked somewhere else. The way the green eyes, the softness of them, stared back at him with such compassion and love jabbed him. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t look at me that way.”

Harry cocked his head in confusion. “In what way?”

“Like…like…” Remus wearily rested his forehead on Harry’s shoulder. “You can see through me.”

“Ah.” Remus felt Harry take a breath to speak, and he shivered. Apparently, Harry realised how cold Remus was, how wet they both were, and decided against having this conversation in the pouring rain. “Let’s go in. You need a hot shower.” He then put an arm around Remus’ thin shoulders and led both of them back into his flat. Remus, feeling exhausted, didn’t bother to try struggle or argue. He decided to let Harry take care of everything at that moment.

After a warm shower, Remus borrowed a fluffy bathrobe from Harry and sat on the couch. Soon, Harry, clad only in a pair of shorts, joined him, making sure that there was enough space between them, so Remus wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. The two sat in peace for a long time. The drumming sounds from the rain outside and the crackling from the flames in the fireplace were the only sounds around them.

Harry glanced at Remus and saw that the other man was staring at the fire while holding onto the front of the robes.

Harry jumped when Remus started to say something.

“You know, if it’s sex you want, then we can just do it and go our separate ways,” Remus said, still staring at the fireplace.

“What?!” Harry exclaimed in anger and shock. “How can you say such a thing!”

“That’s what I am, Harry. A prostitute. A whore. A fucking slut.”

Without warning, Harry slapped Remus. By instinct, Remus immediately covered the throbbing cheek and stared at Harry in disbelief.

“You are not a fucking slut, whore, or whatever you think you are. And you are not a beast either! You’re Remus Lupin, a great, law-abiding citizen who deserves the same right as everyone else in this sodding world!” Harry shouted, his eyes bright with anger. “Quit degrading yourself!”

Remus ducked his head down, unable to meet Harry’s eyes. “Harry…”

“Remus…” Harry sighed, feeling the anger slowly leaving him. He reached out and grabbed Remus by the chin and gently lifted it up. “Look at me. You are Remus Lupin, and I…” He leaned in closer till their lips were only mere centimetres apart. “I love you.”

Remus was tired. Tired of fighting against his desires to be with Harry. Tired of escaping from all of this. Tired of being alone, not being with someone he loved. He wanted Harry; he loved Harry for who he was, not because he was James’ son. He loved Harry Potter, too.

Click on the image for the larger version. Fanart by Rana.

He stayed still, looking deep into the passion-driven, green eyes. He parted his lips by instinct as Harry came closer and closed the gap between them. He closed his eyes tight to prevent the tears from coming out as he leaned into the kiss and wrapped his arms around Harry.

Like before, Harry was kissing him with such tenderness. He was exploring Remus’ mouth again, and as the kissing progressed, so did the intensity of Harry’s movement. Remus moaned softly into the kiss and then almost whimpered when he felt the lips leaving him. All thoughts of abandonment left Remus as he felt Harry moving downward onto his exposed neck. He could feel Harry lightly nipping and sucking on his soft flesh. When Harry stopped to look at him, Remus nearly whimpered at the loss of the pleasant feelings.

“Harry…” Remus ran his hands through Harry’s uncontrollable trusses.

“Remus. I want to make love to you…” Harry gave him a determined look.

Remus nodded and smiled a bit unsurely. He then cocked his head curiously as he saw Harry standing up. Harry extended a hand out towards him and Remus took it. “Bedroom. I don’t think the couch will be very comfortable.”

“I’ve had worse,” Remus tried to joke to lighten the situation.

“Well, not with me are you going to have some third rate sex session,” Harry dryly said. He led them to the bedroom and then turned off the light on the switch and then waved a hand to light up candles around the bedroom.

Remus blushed at Harry’s comment. He then stared at the candles. “Prepared, eh?”

Now Harry turned crimson. “Well…er…”

“Hush…” Remus put a finger against Harry’s lips. “Thank you…for preparing this for me.”

Harry smiled and ran his tongue across Remus’ fingers. He manoeuvred them to the bed. Sitting on the edge, with Remus lying on his back, Harry kissed Remus again and with one hand, he undid the front of Remus’ robes. Once opened, Remus felt like he did that hot day when Harry had come over, the time he was shirtless. He soon felt Harry planting light kisses all over his chest and torso.

“I like your scars…they are a part of you, and scars are sexy.” Harry gave Remus a grin while Remus blushed at the compliments.

“Harry…” Remus squirmed under the ministrations from Harry, getting more and more aroused as time went on. “Let me pleasure you…”

“No. I’m going to do this. You just relax. I want you to enjoy this for a change.” Harry continued his explorations on Remus’ torso as he went lower. Remus couldn’t help but gasped in delights, panted in wants, and moaned with sultriness.

The creaking of the bed, the rustle of the sheets, the sound of clothes, as few there were, falling on the ground, the moans and groans from the two lovers calling out each others name went on through the night. Their silhouette on the walls flickered against the candlelight. The sounds of the rain slowly ceased as the night went on, a night where two souls finally found each other.

As the candles started to die, Remus felt thoroughly exhausted and satisfied. Warm arms were wrapped him in a protective manner. He heard Harry sighing. Just as he was about to drift off, Harry stroked his scratchy cheeks and ran his hands through Remus’ sweat-drenched locks. The last thing Remus recalled was Harry’s embrace tightening gently around him.

Remus woke up with the sun glaring in his eyes. He blinked to get them adjusted and then realised that he was not at home. He felt someone’s arms around him, and he shifted in them to see who they belonged to.

“Harry,” Remus mumbled softly, as the last few hours came rushing back to him.

Harry moved and opened his eyes to look into Remus’ face. With a smile, he said, “Good morning or afternoon if it’s past noon. Sleep alright?”

Remus nodded, realising this was the first time he had slept well in a long time. Harry leaned over and planted a soft kiss on his cheek as he brought Remus back into a tight embrace. “Harry…?”

“Hrm?”

“…Nothing.”

“What?” Harry frowned a bit at Remus’ reluctance. “You are alright, right? I tried not to hurt you last night…”

Remus let out a chuckle. “No…it was great…it was wonderful.”

“That’s good to hear… good to hear I’m good at something other than Quidditch,” Harry joked. Then he became serious. “You don’t regret it, do you?”

“No.” Remus let out the breath he didn’t realise he was holding. “I don’t regret it at all.”

“Good. Because I don’t plan on letting you out of my life for a very long time now…I really do love you.”

Remus didn’t respond. Instead, he just hugged Harry back. The two of them lay like that for what seemed to have been a long time. Suddenly, the door bell rang.

“Oh, man… who could that be?” Harry quickly found the pair of shorts that were thrown off the bed last night and wore those. Remus followed suit and found the bathrobe on the floor and put that over himself. The two of them went to the sitting room, and Harry went to the door and opened it. Hermione and Ginny entered. They both stopped and stared at the two men who were practically half naked.

“Professor!” Both Hermione and Ginny exclaimed. Hermione got over her shock quickly and shook Remus’ hands and launched off on asking him question about his well being. Ginny took Harry aside and whispered into Harry’s ears.

“Score one for Potter, huh?” She gave him smile.

Harry flushed and said, softly. “I guess… but I really do…”

“Love him.” Ginny interjected. “I guess even the famous Harry Potter will find someone to love and be loved back.”

“It was hard trying to convince him…”

“But things will work out for him now…” Ginny grabbed Harry’s hand. “Hermione has some good news on the WUR status.”

Harry felt a surge of hope and squeezed Ginny’s hand. “Is that why you two barged in on a very special moment between me and Remus?”

“Yeah. Consider it your blessing,” Ginny teased.

The two of them joined Remus and Hermione to hear about the news. Only after Harry made tea and got some scones for all of them. When they were all comfortably sitting in their respective seats, sipping on their teas, and nibbling on the scones, Hermione cleared her throat to announce the news.

“I have some good news. Fudge may be forced to resign.”

“Resign?” Harry repeated. “Why? I mean, I’m glad hear this, but it just seems rather sudden…”

“Well, a lot of people do not like his reforms. They are making him lose all the popularity he had. I mean, yes, his popularity rating has been steadily decreasing over the years, but right now it’s at the all-time low. Last I heard, a few of his long-time supporters are even trying to convince him to resign to save what is left of his reputation.

“And what’s ironic is, guess which reforms are the ones that are really giving him a bad name?”

Hermione didn’t let anyone guess as she launched onward with her speech. “It’s the new werewolf laws that’s been implemented after SWAD. The petition I have seems to be working, and even the general public who don’t know about this petition are furious with these unfair laws.”

“That’s good to hear. The scumbag deserves to get out of office.” Harry reached over and gave Remus’ hand a supportive squeeze.

“Yes.” Hermione nodded. “Apparently, when the recent stories of the werewolves’ support on the Order’s side went out, the general public began to sympathise with the prejudice the werewolves are going through.”

“If Fudge does resigns,” Ginny continued when Hermione was done, “guess who may take over as the new Minister of Magic?”

Harry looked at the exultant expression on Ginny’s face and slyly said, “Hrm… Kingsley?”

“No.” Ginny scowled jokingly. Then her smile came back as she said, “My dad may become the next Minister of Magic!”

“Congratulations.” Harry reached over and shook Ginny’s hand. “Arthur most definitely deserves this position.”

Remus tried to be enthusiastic at the sudden news of all this, but he was having difficulty. While he was somewhat content to hear that things might become better for the werewolves, he tried not to be too optimistic since in the end, things still might change.

Harry noticed Remus not joining in their high spirited conversation and whispered, “You okay? I thought this would make you happy.”

“Well…” Remus looked at his lover’s face and forced a smile. “While I had always hoped for the werewolves situation to be better…I can’t say too much of this until things really do change for the better. I just don’t want to have strong hope and have them crushed later.”

“That’s understandable, Professor.” Hermione said. “But I do think things will change for the better.”

“Please, Hermione, I am no longer your professor. Call me, Remus.”

“Okay, Remus.” Hermione gave Remus a warm hug, which Remus reciprocated.

“Thank you, Hermione. For all that you’ve done for us.”

“No problem, Remus. I want things to be better for everyone.” She firmly said this and then the two parted from their hugs.

“Well,” Harry went on, grinning. “At this rate, our dear Hermione may end up being the Minister of Magic one day. She’s certainly stubborn enough to do anything when she puts her mind to it.”

All four of them laughed out loud at the possibility of that happening and then they settled down to talk about other things that have been happening in the Wizarding World.

After finally establishing a relationship, the next several weeks passed with no major problems. Well, almost. Remus was still working at the club to earn money, and Harry resented that. Harry could not convince Remus to stop working there. So in a form of compromise, Harry told Remus that he’d be Remus’ “customer” for the majority of the time. To that, Remus responded with:

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry. I can take care of myself. Please, don’t go out of your way to make my life easier. You heard Hermione. Things will get better. When things do get better, I will quit my job to look for another one.”

In the end, Harry gave in to Remus’ decision, but that did not mean he enjoyed it!

With the Quidditch season over, Harry had nothing else to do. He had plenty of money from this season, and he did not have a major need to work. He realised that this was such a contrast from Remus. To make himself feel useful, rather than just being a useless Quidditch player, he started to explore the world by volunteering at various places to see what else would interest him to do in the future.

He volunteered his time by helping Hermione with the WUR movement. He would ran errands for Fred and George Weasley at their store. Although, the first day he went there, he had to adamantly refuse to be one of their test subjects. Along with that, he’d also go to Hogwarts to help out Hagrid, and even help Hooch with the flying lessons with the first years and help with the Quidditch practices.

It was doing these volunteer works that made Harry realise that he needed to focus on his life more. He’d contemplate what he’d been doing up until now, contemplate his future and what it had to offer him.

Whenever not volunteering, and when Remus was not working, the two of them would spend time at Harry’s flat enjoying each other’s company. To unwind from their daily works, they’d sit on Harry’s couch and sip teas and talk to each other. It was during one of these talks that Harry decided to break important news to Remus.

“I’ve decided to quit professional Quidditch.”

Remus stopped drinking his tea and set his cup down as he stared at Harry. “Quit Quidditch? What made you decide that?”

“Well…” Harry clasped his hands together. “I love Quidditch… it is one thing I can say I enjoy and am good at. However, after doing this for almost two years, I don’t want to always be viewed as the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-A-Quidditch-Star. I guess… I want to do something more. After spending time at Hogwarts again, it made me realise that I’d like to go back there and be on staff there. Of course, there is no opening, but if there ever is one, I’d like to try and apply.

“But at the same time, I don’t want to give up Quidditch. Coaching the teams at Hogwarts made me come to terms with the fact that I do not want to fully give it up. But…I do want to quit being a professional player. I guess, after being in the spotlight for most of my life, I want something quieter, a bit more private.”

Remus gave Harry an understanding look. “It makes sense…I guess I should be glad you are not going to become a vagabond like a pirate.”

“Oh, Remus!” Harry laughed. “Well, if you want me to dress like one, I wouldn’t mind. Although, I think you wearing an eye patch with that pirate shirt and the corny hat would fit you more.”

“So does that mean I’d be the captain, and you’d be my first mate?”

“Yes. A very, very close first mate.”

Remus laughed as Harry pounced on him and the two of them kissed deeply, forgetting about the pirate talks and of Harry quitting Quidditch for now.

The next several days were filled with many hysterical wizards and witches crying over the paper’s headline and the main articles about Harry Potter quitting professional Quidditch. To avoid public appearances, Harry hid out at Remus’ place or sometimes at Hermione’s place. Harry waited until the public had calmed down at the news before he dared to venture back out into the public.

Ron joked about this matter. “I thought your fans going mad over you being gay were bad, but this is even worse! It’s like the end of the world for them, obviously.”

Eventually, things calmed down and went back the way they were before. Harry could go back out without causing a poor sod breaking out into tears or causing them to start yelling and damning everything on why Harry Potter had to quit Quidditch.

It was several days before his birthday, and Harry was out walking around, enjoying the night air. He noticed that he was near the club where Remus worked. Had it already been a few months since he first came here and eventually fell in love? To Harry, seeing Remus at the club only felt like yesterday. With nothing else to do, he decided to drop by and see how Remus was doing. He entered and headed for the bar. He ordered himself a drink and asked the bartender if he knew where Remus was.

The bartender said he had last seen Remus go into one of the private lounges to talk. He pointed to one of the doors, and Harry thanked him. Harry, with his drink in hand went to the door and decided to wait for Remus to come out. Sipping on his drink, he leaned against the wall next to the door.

While waiting, he thought for a second he heard Remus calling out his name. He almost decided to brush that away, telling himself he was hearing things. But then he stopped and he heard another faint call from Remus. While in SWAD, he had learned to trust his intuition, and with Remus involved, he was not going to stop now.

He quickly reached for the knob and saw that it was locked. He whispered “Alohomora,” and opened the door so hard that it slammed against the wall. “Rem–!”

Harry felt all time stop as he saw Neil thrusting into Remus from behind. Without any warning, Harry pulled Neil off of Remus. Remus fell forward and then looked behind him and saw Harry. Harry saw tears threatening to come down Remus’ face. With his seeker’s skill, he quickly pulled Remus into his embrace. He wanted to protect his lover. He wanted Remus to know how much he loved him. He kissed and nuzzled into Remus’ neck, whispering words of comfort into Remus’ ear as he led them out of there.

After much consideration, Remus decided to quit his job at the club. Being with Harry, being with someone who cared for him made him consider Harry’s feelings. Harry didn’t like Remus doing his job at the club, and he had already proposed that Remus could stop for now since there was enough money to support the two of them. Remus had only continued to do this because he had not wanted to rely on Harry as a financial support. However, he truly did not like it, and knew deep inside, werewolf or not, he did not deserve this kind of job with his educational background.

Remus promised Harry that he would go talk to Neil by himself. Harry would not allow that. “I will not let you be in the same room with that prick again. At least let me come with you.”

“Harry…you don’t need to do this…I can handle it by myself.”

Giving a glare at Remus, Harry continued. “I’m coming with you when you go officially resign there. And if Neil, whatever his name is, lays a hand on you, I will personally transfigure something into a very long banana and stick it up in his arsehole!”

Luckily, Harry didn’t have to resort to that. In fact, Neil’s daytime secretary was there, and Remus handled all the resignation with him. However, when they were leaving the place, Neil came back and stopped them from leaving. Before he could say anything, though, Harry spoke first.

“Okay, Neil,” Harry sneered and imitated Severus Snape’s trademark glare. “Remus officially doesn’t work for you now. So there are no reasons for you to be contacting him anymore. If you do want to contact him, you will have to get through me first. And trust me, you don’t want to see me ticked off.”

Remus raised an eyebrow at how similar Harry and Severus could be, and he nearly had to stifle a laugh.

Neil, however, didn’t get the hint and said, “Look, who are you to barge in here, make me lose one of my best workers, and then tell me what I can or cannot do!?”

“You idiot…” Harry said. Remus could see Harry having to force himself not to reach for his wand. Remus put a reassuring hand on Harry’s arm and then stepped up to Neil.

“It’s done, Neil. I do thank you for letting me work here these past three years, but it’s my time to move on.” Remus paused a bit. “I doubt we’ll ever see each other again in the rest of our lifetime.” With that said, Remus, holding onto Harry’s hand, walked past Neil, ignoring the sputtering, angry cries from the short man. Once outside in an area out of view from straying eyes, Harry and Remus Apparated away from the place, never to go back there.

With Remus finally not working at that place, Harry happily awaited for his birthday. He was glad that he’d be able to finally celebrate it with his lover.

He sleepily woke up in his bed, arms extended to feel for Remus. He touched the cold spot where Remus should have been. He sat up and looked around, wondering where Remus was.

Remus then walked in with a tray, filled with Harry’s favourite breakfast food and tea.

“Remus…?” Harry was pleasantly surprised.

“Happy Birthday, Harry.” Remus set the tray down on the night table next to the bed and bent down to kiss him softly on the lips. He wasn’t surprised to see that Harry was naked with the exception of only a thin sheet covering his groin area. He was tempted to move the sheet as he breathed in sharply to tone down his desires.

As if reading his mind, Harry smirked. “See something you want?”

Remus backed away and shook his head. “After you eat…eat up while it’s warm.”

“There’s a handy heating charm I could use you know…” Harry trailed off seductively, as he picked the sheet up in his hand. Hard already, he wanted Remus. “I wouldn’t mind something else this morning. It is my birthday, after all.”

Feeling his hesitation dissolve, Remus approached Harry and wrapped his arms around him. He took a deep breath and said, “I love you.”

“Remus…” Harry eyes shot open at that simple statement. “That’s the best birthday present I could ever receive. It’s the first time you’ve said that.” Harry hugged Remus with all his might. “I love you, too.”

With that, the two shared a passionate kiss. Remus, only in his dressing gown, propped himself onto the bed and straddled Harry, not once breaking their kiss. Both of them felt each other’s desire pressing against them. Harry threaded a hand through Remus’ soft honey and grey coloured locks. He flipped them over until he was on top of Remus.

“How about –” Harry broke the kiss and panted for air, “– I get an early dessert?”

Smiling, Remus said, “Fine by me…fine by me, Birthday Boy.”

Hermione came close to bursting as she waited for the afternoon to come. Not only did she, Ginny, and Ron want to go give Harry his birthday present, but she had some great news to break to Harry and Remus. However, she rationally figured out what the two would be doing in the morning, so she wisely decided to be patient.

When the time came to go see Harry, the three of them Apparated to Harry’s place. Harry and Remus were in the sitting room, with drinks and food already served on the table. After everyone shared their greetings and gave Harry his presents and birthday wishes, Ginny held up a giant box.

“Here’s the cake that I promised you, Harry. Your favourite ‘Death by Chocolate’ cake.”

Harry grinned. “Awesome! Nobody else can bake that cake like you do, Ginny.”

Ron pointed at his sister, with a playful disgusted look on his face. “I agree, but can you believe that she refused to let me have a taste?!”

“Oh, Ron.” Ginny rolled her eyes. “If I’d let you have a taste, there wouldn’t even be crumbs left for Harry!”

Everyone laughed as they settled down into various armchairs and couches while Harry went to grab some plates, forks, and knives for the cake.

Ron lighted the candles and they all sang the mandatory birthday song.

“Harry, don’t forget to make a wish!” Ron exclaimed excitedly for his friend’s benefit.

“I don’t need to make a wish.” Harry stared into Remus’ eyes lovingly. “I already have what I want.” He blew the candles out and soon cut the cake for everyone to have.

With the cake and other snacks and drinks, they ate. Soon, Hermione said, “Guess what, Harry?”

“What?”

“Fudge resigned, and Mr. Weasley — Arthur — took over.”

Harry’s eyes lit up. “No way! When did that happen?! How come we didn’t see this in the Daily Prophet?” He glanced at Remus to see how he’d take the news.

“Oh, it will be official tomorrow, but of course the whole Weasley family already knows the news.” Ginny smiled widely, happy for her father’s and Remus’ sake.

Remus smiled lightly, still hesitant to raise his hopes up. “That’s wonderful.”

“Yes!” Ron shouted. “I’m glad to see that sod out of the office now.”

“Oh, and also, the first thing my dad’s gonna do tomorrow is to reform the werewolf laws.”

“This is the best birthday ever.” Harry beamed at Remus. First my lover says he loves me, and now the news that he can get an actual job like everyone else…could my life get any better?

Ginny slyly said, “Oh…I’m sure there will be ways Remus can make it even better for you.”

Hermione blushed as she looked down into her cake, and Ron choked on his tea and said, “Ginny!”

Another round of laughter went through the happy group and they spent the rest of the afternoon talking and catching up on stuff.

The next few days passed by in a whirlwind. The news about Cornelius Fudge resigning and Arthur Weasley taking over was the only thing everyone talked about. Arthur made a speech over the wireless, apologising on the behalf of the Ministry and their unfair treatments to the werewolves.

The entire Wizarding World was enthusiastic about the change, with a few minorities saying that the werewolves obtaining equal rights like themselves was completely preposterous.

Several days after the hype went down, Harry and Remus had two surprise visitors. Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy.

Remus and Harry invited the two formidably dressed wizards into the sitting room. Harry went to get some tea while Severus and Remus remained in the sitting room to talk. Draco followed Harry to the kitchen so the two could chat, too.

“You seem happier, Remus.”

“Yes…I am, Severus. How’s your job as the headmaster of Hogwarts?”

“I’ve seen some better days. Honestly, I don’t know how Albus handled all the paperwork that comes with the job. At least disciplinary issues went down since I took over.”

Remus hid a grin, knowing that with Severus as the headmaster, that was to be expected. “I see.”

Harry and Draco came back with the drinks, the two talking about Quidditch. The two of them finally became friends during the war, with Draco defecting to their side.

When things settled down, Severus sat up straight in his chair. Before he could say anything, Draco said, “See, Severus? I knew Harry would like the gift I sent him.”

“Yes…Quidditch merchandise does seem to fit his small mind very well.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Good to see you haven’t changed much, Severus.”

“As much as I’d like to see you two get along famously with bantering, Severus, why don’t you get to the point?”

Draco received a raised eyebrow from Severus. “I would, if a certain Potions Master would not interrupt me.”

“Oh!” Harry flashed a grin at Draco. “Anybody blowing up your classroom, yet?”

“Sadly, I do have couple of brainless gits in my classes, but otherwise the classroom is still standing.”

Severus cleared his throat in annoyance. “May I continue?”

Nodding, Draco wisely remained silent. Behind Severus’ back, he rolled his eyes and winked at Harry.

“I’ve come on the basis to offer a job proposition to the both of you.”

Harry and Remus blinked at Severus. “A job?” Harry asked.

“Yes, Madame Hooch is retiring, and I know you are interested in that job.”

“That’s great! I would love to take that. Do I need to do anything, like get approvals?”

“No. With your status and your expertise, it won’t be necessary. And you have already proven to me and Madame Hooch that you are capable to teach by volunteering with us.”

“You said the both of us…?” Harry waved a hand to Remus. “What about Remus?”

“Ah, that. Well, a certain teaching position is opened, and yes, it’s the Defence Against Dark Arts teaching position. I would like you, Remus, to retake it and break the curse by staying more than a year. I am positive that you will be able to stay longer than a year.”

Remus stared at his hands. “I…I don’t know. I don’t want to hurt the children…”

“Draco or I will be responsible for brewing the Wolfsbane potion, and we will definitely make sure you take it at all times.”

Remus thought silently to himself. “I am honoured that you’d offer the position, Severus, and grateful, but I don’t want to bring any trouble into Hogwarts…many people will object to your choices on the matter.”

“Nobody has the guts to tell Severus he’s wrong. His presence alone makes them take their comments somewhere else. Besides, a lot of people know you are capable to teach the subject. With proper precautions, nothing will go wrong. And on days you need recuperation, one of us,” Draco waved a hand to indicate the three of them, “can take over for you.”

Harry grabbed Remus’ hand and squeezed soothingly. “They have a point there. You are capable, and you were the best DADA teacher I’ve ever had. I will be more than happy to help you in every way. Think of this as a new door opening to you for better chances in life. This is your time to shine, Remus.”

“Harry…” Remus looked and saw the tenderness in his eyes. He looked at Severus and Draco, both looking at him expectantly. Harry is right, he thought. I need to leave the past. I need to leave James, leave the idea that werewolves cannot be apart of the society like everyone else, and leave my insecurities aside.

“Thank you, Severus. I’ll accept the job.”

Severus and Draco stood up to leave. “Then I expect you two to come to Hogwarts the day after tomorrow, so we can resolve all loose ends. Come at nine in the morning, and don’t be late, Harry. Tardiness among teachers will not be tolerated as well.”

Harry and Remus hugged them before they Apparated back to Hogwarts. Alone, Harry sat back on the couch, with Remus in his embrace. “I’m glad you took the job…I was afraid you’d decline.”

“I was going to turn it down. But…” Remus sighed. “With you by my side, I feel like I could do anything now. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Remus.” Harry planted an affectionate kiss on his forehead and the two sat there, holding each other well into the night.

The Great Hall was filled with various cacophonic noises. Older students talked loudly with their friends, comparing their schedules with one another. Every once in a while, an adoring fan would stare at Harry at the head table. Everyone was present except for Professor Sprout, who was going to lead in the first years. In the middle of the hall, the stool was there, with the Sorting Hat on top. It already composed a new song for the year, ready to continue the tradition.

Harry and Remus sat next to each other, in their new teaching robes. They talked to each other in low voices and when others talked to them, like Hagrid, they would join in the conversations.

As the door opened, and the first years walked in, conversations slowly came to a halt as all the eyes went to the new generation of their future.

Underneath the table, Harry squeezed and held onto Remus’ hand. The two shared private smiles and they looked forward to their future.

Harry woke up suddenly with the sounds of honking outside his and Sirius’ flat. He blinked twice, grabbed his wand from the night table, cast a silencing charm around the bed, and then snuggled back into the arms of his lover.

Unfortunately, he was wide-awake now. He went through all the trouble of getting rid of the noise so he could sleep more, and now he was awake.

How bloody ironic.

He groaned and lay still to reflect on the past couple weeks of his life. Make that the last six months of his life.

Ever since the news of Harry and Sirius being lovers went public six months ago, life had been a hassle for them. Almost the entire wizarding world seemed to be against their relationship from the beginning and things hadn’t changed. Many of the younger – and sometimes, the older – women were upset that Harry hadn’t chosen one of them to be his wife. Tears were shed over the Daily Prophet article about him coming out and being in love. Everyone had thought he was single and they had all wanted their paws – er hands – on the Boy-Who-Lived.

Some believed since Harry was the heir of Gryffindor that he should continue his lineage, which wasn’t possible if he was dating a man. Of course, many still considered Sirius to be a homicidal maniac, and they believed that he would kill their saviour in the near future. Some went to extremes and believed that Sirius had raped the poor soul. And lastly, some just found homosexuality disgusting.

In conclusion, the majority of the wizarding world hated the fact that Harry Potter was a queer.

Oh, his friends did stick by him, but not very many. Hermione was appalled at first, but after seeing how happy her friend was, she decided to accept the relationship. Unfortunately, her husband, Ron, didn’t see things that way. Ron, in his narrow-minded manner, blew up at his friend. He didn’t seem to mind that Harry was seeing Sirius, but rather that Harry had kept a very important secret from him for a long time. In Ron’s defence, Harry hadn’t told him until a year after they had graduated from Hogwarts.

Remus was supportive, but his lover wasn’t. He wasn’t able to comprehend what Harry saw in the “mutt” as he called Sirius. Unsurprising, since Remus’ lover was none other than Severus Snape. During the war against Voldemort, which ended during Harry’s seventh year, Severus and Sirius worked together, but they still hated each other’s guts. The feelings had always been mutual and would remain that way for the rest of their lives.

Harry’s train of thought was suddenly interrupted by incoherent mumblings from his lover. Sirius hugged Harry closer and said something about bunnies.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Harry’s mouth as Sirius said that. Merlin knew why, Sirius had a fascination for rabbits. Harry mused that the fixation was a side effect from being a dog in his Animagus form. “His inner-Padfoot coming out in his normal form”, he had stated after finding out about the obsession.

Harry was so glad that this was a Saturday morning. After deciding to leave the wizarding society, with Hermione’s help, they both got Muggle jobs. Sirius, who was helpless in everything Muggle-related, fortunately understood one Muggle concept, which happened to be motorbikes. With that fact in mind, Hermione helped Sirius get a job at the local motorbike shop. Due to great interest in Quidditch and the similarities with football, Harry took up coaching at a local public school. Sirius, regardless of being a Chaser in his Hogwarts years, wasn’t able to see why Harry was interested in football. Like Ron, he didn’t understand how anything so dull could be as exciting as Quidditch. Both of them liked their new jobs, but the stress of their occupations left them, nevertheless, craving for the weekend, which had finally come.

Besides starting their new jobs, Harry slowly introduced Sirius to Muggle society. Sirius came from a pureblood family of several generations and his family had chosen not to merge their wizarding life with the Muggles. Sirius was a clueless git in the Muggle world. If it weren’t for Harry, he’d have gone nuts by now.

Today’s plan was to take Sirius bowling. Hermione introduced the game to Harry a few months earlier and he’d taken a liking to the unique sport. Nothing could be compared to Quidditch, but trying to keep the bloody ball out of the gutters was challenging enough. He figured that Sirius might enjoy bowling as well, and would understand the concept of throwing the ball down a lane.

Sirius opened his sleepy eyes to find them staring straight into the emerald eyes of his lover. He loved his first sight in the morning to be anything belonging to Harry in his focus. After so many mornings in Azkaban, after nights full of nightmares, this was definitely a better way of waking up.

“Good morning, love.” Harry smiled. “Sleep well? Last night’s activities must’ve tired you out.”

Sirius groaned. “Don’t mention it, it was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Oh?” Harry raised an eyebrow. “Does that mean that the previous sessions weren’t up to par?”

With eyes wide open, Sirius sat up quickly. “Oh no, Harry! That’s not what I meant.”

Harry’s voice lowered huskily. “Relax, Siri. I’m just joking. Besides, every time we make love is the best ‘sex’ we ever have.”

The effect of Harry’s voice was most obvious at a certain appendage of Sirius’ body. He groaned as he pressed his morning erection against the sheet. Harry flipped him and straddled him. “Harry, you got too much stamina. Haven’t you had enough?”

“So? I’m twenty, what do you expect?” He kissed him thoroughly and let him go after several minutes of intense snogging. He grinned impishly. “Still not up for it?”

With a growl, Sirius flipped him over so he could be on top, and started attacking his mate passionately.

After their serious lovemaking, both fully satiated and content, Sirius decided to ask Harry what the plan was for the day.

“Bowling.”

“What in Godric’s name is that?”

Smirking, Harry got out of bed. “Well you won’t find out if we stay here all day, now will you?”

“While the idea sounds tempting, I know you will force me out sooner or later, so I have no choice,” Sirius grumbled.

“Of course.” Harry sniggered and went to take a shower.

After two hot, steamy showers and platefuls of late breakfast, both men were in a cab taking them to the nearest Bowling Alley. The ride there was uneventful. Sirius was bored in the cab. He hated cars. He very much preferred his motorbike, but unfortunately his bike was in the shop for repairs, which he planned to do the following Monday. Since Sirius loved the exhilarating feeling he got from riding his motorbike, Harry planned to take him to an amusement park sometime in the near future.

They entered the building, and the minute they opened the door, all that could be heard were different cacophonies. Groups of people were talking and yelling, announcements were being heard on the intercom, balls were crashing down the gutters, and the pins falling added much to the chaos.

Both of them stumbled through the crowds and got to the sign-in to rent a lane and shoes.

“Excuse me, we’d like a lane and two pairs of shoes, please,” said Harry, very politely.

“Yes, sir,” said the counter clerk. “May I have your names, and what are your shoe sizes?”

Harry answered and paid for the shoe rental. They walked over to their lane, sat down, and put on their shoes.

“How come we need these funny shoes?”

“These bowling shoes help you slide when you bowl. Our regular shoes don’t have the padding at the bottom to support that, and well, if we were to bowl in our socks it’d be too slippery and we’d be falling down a lot or slide right into the lane itself.”

After tying his shoelaces, Harry got up and led Sirius to the rack of balls. Sirius picked up one of the balls and held it in his hands.

“Wow, these are light. So do I use this?”

Harry glanced at the ball and smirked. “Unless you want to throw that ball into the ceiling and fancy having people think you are a weak little kid, I think not.”

Sirius put the ball back. “So I should use a heavier ball?”

Harry nodded and gave him one. “Here, is it too heavy for you? It should be heavy enough for you to be comfortable with it, but not too heavy for you to have to release the ball with two hands.”

As Harry said that, Sirius’ upper body nearly fell over from the extra weight. Harry quickly took the ball and gave him another ball. Sirius held it and nodded to confirm that this was just right.

“By the way, what are the holes for?”

Harry paused. “That sounded just so wrong… but anyway, you stick you fingers in there.”

Sirius quickly stuck in his thumb, index, and middle finger. “Like this?”

“No. Use your thumb, middle, and ring finger.” Harry demonstrated it on his chosen ball.

Sirius copied Harry’s example. “Ah, got it.”

“Are the holes too small or big for your fingers?”

Sirius paused and tested it. “Fine.” Harry took Sirius to the ball return and sat down to put their names into the computerised scoreboard.

Sirius sat down in one of the chairs and looked at his lover. “I never knew this, but this sport sure has a lot of innuendo.”

Harry blushed and let the comment slide. After finishing with the scoreboard, he pressed “start” and got up.

“Let’s bowl the house down!”

“Okay. You see those arrows on the ground? I usually step on the second from the right, on the top row. But since you have longer legs, I think you should start from the bottom row. Here, step up.”

Sirius stepped up and stood where Harry pointed. “Now, professionally, four steps are the minimum and maximum.” Harry positioned himself, and took four large steps and pretended he was bowling. “Pretend you are kind of running and walking at the same time and slide a little bit at the end of the fourth step. The speed adds to the strength of your throw. Since you are right-handed, your right foot should go first and end with the left foot and stick your right leg out to an angle. It’s all about the pose. Try it.”

He did, and Harry’s calculation was right. Sirius, with his long legs, had to start at the bottom row. Yet, he had forgotten to tell the older wizard not to slide too much or he’d go over the foul line. And he did, causing a loud buzzer noise to go off and giving Sirius his first ball score area a huge F.

“What was that?!” Sirius exclaimed.

“Um, a foul. Don’t go over that line, Siri, even if you get a strike, it won’t count with that. That’s one thing you got to be careful of.”

“Now you tell me,” Sirius smiled good-naturedly. “What’s a strike?”

“In bowling, you have something called a frame.” Harry brought Sirius in front of the scoreboard. Those boxes represent a frame. In a frame you have technically two balls to roll. But if you get a strike, which means you knock all ten pins down on the first ball, then it’s only one ball and then it’s the next person’s turn. On the first ball, if you don’t get a strike, and for an example, get an eight, you get to bowl one more time for that frame to get a spare. A spare means that you had knocked all the pins down on the second ball. Yet if you miss, well then it’s a no pointer.”

“I understand.” Sirius went up and grabbed his ball.

Harry walked up with him. “To hold the ball, stick your fingers in the designated holes, and then hold the ball up with your right hand facing the bottom and have your other hand somewhere else on the ball. As you go up there, pull the arm with the ball back for some leverage, release it, don’t throw it, but release it gently with power.” Harry walked back down and motioned him to go.

Sirius concentrated and then took off. He was about to release the ball, when it slipped off in mid-air and bounced behind him. It bounced twice, loudly, and Harry caught the ball before it fell off the raised area so it wouldn’t bounce again. Obviously Sirius wasn’t really paying attention about whether the holes were too big or too small.

They looked at each other and Harry took the ball back and waved him over.

Dryly, he said, “I think we need to find one with smaller holes so it doesn’t slip off like that.”

Sirius took his hands. “I just noticed that you sounded like Hermione when you gave out that bowling lecture.”

Harry gently leaned upward and kissed him. “Of course. She’s the one who taught me. She’s better than me, but she’s a good teacher to have in cases like this. She rubbed off on me.”

With that, it was ball hunting all over again.

“Bloody hell!”

Sirius was about to throw the ball at the floor when he thought better of it. He was frustrated. Bowling looked so easy to him. It should have been another simple Muggle activity that he could overcome, but it wasn’t.

He had thrown more gutter balls than he’d intended. When he finally released the ball properly it didn’t hit any pins, but rather went straight into the gutter. He didn’t understand why the ball turned so oddly. Harry had explained to him about how even the slightest turn of a wrist or fingers when releasing the ball will make the ball curve on the lane. No matter how he tried to keep his wrist and fingers straight, it didn’t work. It was as if some magnetic force was always drawing his ball toward the doomed area.

What was worse was that Harry was ahead by seventy points. Harry had gotten a few strikes and spares. Sirius had none of those. He did manage to hit one pin on occasion or two, but other than that it was the gutter.

Meanwhile, Harry was thinking of another tactic for Sirius to try. He noticed that Sirius’ ball tended to curve to the left relentlessly. Judging by the way Sirius was standing, he was probably going to do the same thing again

“Sirius? This time start at the second to the last from the left arrow and do it from there.”

He grumbled to himself as he did Harry’s request. With suppressed anger, he went up and threw the ball. He watched it go to the edge of the right side, and then it curved hard toward the left. The ball hit the left side of the middle pin and he got himself a strike.

Harry started clapping and Sirius was standing there, catching Bertie Bott’s jellybeans in his opened mouth.

Harry got up to where Sirius was standing and gave him a hug. “You finally got one! Siri, good throw!”

Sirius turned around in Harry’s embrace and swung the lithe man in the air. “Yes. All thanks to you, Mr. Potter!”

“And you are very much welcome, Mr. Black.” Harry smiled widely. “Now you have two more balls to roll, get with it.”

Puzzled he let go of Harry. “But I got a strike? That filled the frame.”

“Oh! I forgot to tell you that in the tenth and last frame, if you get a strike or a spare, you get a total of three balls to roll. Consider it a bonus.”

With an impish look, he went and got his ball.

“Let’s see if I can do it again, Coach!”

And he got a nine on the first ball and a spare on the last one. That certainly boosted his score.

The two lovers were lying in bed fully dressed. They were too tired from the long day to take their clothes off just now. Their bowling escapade ended on a fairly good note. Sirius admitted that he enjoyed the experience and asked if they could go back next weekend. His new goal was to see if he could at least hit a hundred points game. He had ended up with a score of a sixty. He claimed that his challenge now was to keep the ball out of the gutter as much as possible.

As they were leaving, they ran into Hermione and Ron. Ron still acted like a prat, but he did grudgingly challenge Harry to a bowling game the week after. Harry accepted hesitantly, but knew that this was a giant step in Ron and his friendship. Since Ron started talking to him, Harry took it as a good sign.

“Don’t worry about Ron, Harry.” Sirius brushed his messy hair out of his eyes. “He’s coming around. I got a feeling that Hermione is probably blackmailing him by not having sex.” His eyes gleamed mischievously.

Harry gave Sirius a look and burst out laughing. “Perhaps. I can imagine her doing that, too. Getting into her S.P.E.W stance mode and giving Ron her ‘Don’t-argue-with-me’ look.”

Sirius grinned and yawned. “Thank you, Harry, for taking me bowling. It was annoying at first, but I think I might be able to get a handle on it now.”

“That’s what I love about you, Siri. You don’t give up easily.” He kissed Sirius and both fell into a peaceful slumber.

Every night I talk to the stars pretending it’s you. It acts just like you, far away and never replying to my questions. — Anonymous

Another lonely night has come
Where I sit by myself.
With nothing but a chess set and
The stars right above me.

My inside’s all confused and bleak,
I want to scream out loud.
So I grab some pen and paper,
To let my feelings out.

I hear you inside the Burrow,
All love-struck and content,
But that just makes me more upset,
As my hands come alive.

I know you like the pretty girls;
I do respect that, but
My heart cannot differentiate
Dreams from reality.

When did I start to feel this way?
Why did I fall for you?
I wish the stars would answer back,
Giving me some guidance.

Of all the people on the train,
You chose to befriend me.
Our friendship started on that day,
Going through ups and downs.

As time went by, my feelings changed.
I saw you in new lights.
You, unaware and secretly,
Began to drive me nuts.

I longed for our relationship
To evolve over time.
But it didn’t; I’m glad to say,
Since you’d push me away.

Yet I’m the one with many faults;
I’ve acted like a prat,
Where in the past, my stubbornness,
Has almost cost me you.

As sentimental as this sounds,
I have to say it now.
If our friendship ever ended,
I will wish I was dead.

I think of morbid, angry thoughts,
And think of ways to end
Your relationship with Ginny
So I can fully win.

I know my flaws and weaknesses,
Like knowing my own name.
Hot-headed and impulsive, too,
I try to tone them down.

Though I have many other faults,
Including being mean,
Compared to my much younger self,
I’ve come a long, long way.

Brooding, I continue to write
These feelings that remain.
The very same, exact feelings,
I’ve forced on someone else.

That proved to be a big mistake,
As Hermione knew.
She figured out what I could not,
Instantly like a shrew.

She scolded me for using her,
She lectured me too long,
But in the end, she sympathised
And kept my secret safe.

I take a break, I look above,
I ask the stars again,
I ask the stars to grant my wish,
I ask one final time.

It’s pointless, and I know that well.
I do it anyway.
Oh, I close my eyes so tightly,
And take a long deep breath.

Hark! A door slam interrupts me.
I see a flash of red.
My sister hurries down the path,
With Harry calling her.

He stops and stares and sees me here.
His face stays neutral.
But in his eyes, I see the signs
Of guilt and something else.

I have to ask, I have to know.
I ask what has happened.
In a very despondent voice,
He tells his tale to me.

“I’m gay,” he says, “and I told her
That I can’t stay with her.
I had to stop this horrid act,
Or I’d regret it all.”

My heart stops beating when I hear
This most surprising news.
Did he really say he is gay?
Or am I hearing things?

“You’ve got to be joking,” I say.
“Or are you serious?”
I stand up to move close to him,
And he just shakes his head.

His eyes, the windows to his soul,
Covered by the glasses,
Close tightly as he takes deep breaths,
And gives me wary looks.

Too surprised by the shocking news,
I stare at the chess set.
A very tense and stiff silence
Comes and wraps around us.

He probably thinks I’m pissed off
Because he sighs and says,
“I’m sorry, Ron, for hurting her,
Oh, please, do not hate me.”

I clear my throat, which has gone dry,
Making me cough a bit.
I look at him, I smile at him,
And catch him by surprise.

Patting his shoulder, then I say,
“Thanks for being honest.”
A cheery smile lights up his face,
And he goes back inside.

Now all alone, out on the porch,
I look up at the sky.
I see the stars and the full moon.
I sense new hope inside.