Hi! This is my first story on here, so enjoy and give lots and lots of feedback!
All that junk about all of this belonging to the great goddess J.K., I own nothing. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction anonymously would I?
Anyways enjoy lovelies!
Harry Potter craned his neck to see over the bustling crowds whipping back in forth in the craze of the city, his hands shoved casually in the pockets of his jeans as he walked. He was searching the dusk for one sign in particular amidst the chaotic sea of flashing neon …aha! A large, blinking arrow caught his eye from a few blocks down. He brushed a wayward strand of unruly fringe out of his eyes, growling under his breath at his uncooperative raven locks. His habitually messy hair was, well, messy as ever, although Harry had finally given in to Hermione's mothering and cut it short in the back and on the sides. However, no matter how much she bugged him, he refused to raze it all, leaving him with long, messy bangs in the front that, no matter how hard he tried, always managed to get caught under his glasses and itch his nose mercilessly.
Dodging wizards and muggles alike, he ambled along to his destination, humming tunelessly under his breath. Since the war, he had taken to using a glamour while out and about on the streets; the appearance of The Chosen One going about his daily business was often far too scintillating for the reporters to handle. He had been forced to abandon his daily ventures to cower in his flat far more times than he'd like to admit when he had a particularly overwhelmingly fan club-y day. Plus it was oddly fun to experiment with his appearance; a few days of aqua hair and purple eyes had been rather freeing. Nearing the entrance, his feet slowed as he examined the brightly oscillating naked woman adorning the sign that proclaimed this building a muggle strip club. However, due to Harry's friends' worry about his love life, (or lack-there-of) he knew this building was not all that it appeared. Half smiling, half grimacing, he recalled the horrendously awkward conversation that had led up to him promising a visit to this nondescript venue.
"So Harry, what have you been up to lately?" Hermione said, turning to her friend with angelic purity practically radiating from her pores. He glared at her. She looked back innocently, swirling the dark red liquid in her glass.
Harry inwardly sighed. Sipping at his wine, he sank deeper into the engulfing black hole that they called a couch in her and Ron's modest but comfortable flat. The couple's flat had become a second home to him, and this sort of question had become almost a weekly routine at the dinners that were a weekly to twice weekly occurrence.
"Haven't you told her that, by know, I know all her little tricks to find out about my sex life?" Harry said, grinning innocently to his best friend Ron, who was seated in an arm chair across from him.
Ron laughed and Hermione turned a delicate shade of pink. Running a hand over his recently shorn, carroty hair, he replied "I dunno mate, at least she hasn't gone as far as to straight up ask you if you've had a nice shag lately." Hermione smacked her husband on the arm glaring at him. Ron yelped, rubbing his arm, sending the rambunctious brunette a wounded look. She crossed her arms and stared back. Ron sent a helpless look towards Harry. "Women," he mouthed, earning him another smack.
Laughing at the couple's antics, Harry looked back at Hermione saying pointedly. "I have been up to nothing Hermione, the exact same kind of nothing I've been up to for a long time."
"A long, long, long, long time," he thought to himself, staring meditatively into his long stemmed glass. It had been a long time since he'd been up to anything with anyone. He sighed. That was the price he paid for being a healer; the hours were ridiculously long and incredibly random. He often got calls to come in the middle of the night for a "medical emergency" that often constituted of him squeezing pus out of boils that an amateur potions brewer had inflicted on himself with a Glowing Skin potion gone wrong, or something equally un-urgent. Of course the fact that he was a closeted gay didn't help. The last time he'd been with anyone was a hot and heavy one night stand with a hunk he'd found in a muggle bar. At this point, he figured he'd shag almost anything. It could be a 250 pound house elf with halitosis and a flatulence problem; if it had the right junk, he'd still shag it.
Well…maybe he wasn't that desperate yet, but he was getting damn close.
"Well that's your fault isn't it?" Hermione sniffed, interrupting Harry's inner bemoaning. "You'd find a lot more options if you'd just come out of the closet you know."
Harry rolled his eyes at the return of that rusty argument. It was mentioned at least once a month by Hermione, and even occasionally Ron, who thought he would be much better off just telling everyone he was gay.
"Yeah, and let The Prophet have a field day with it!" he snorted. "The Golden Boy becomes The Rainbow Boy. Harry Poofter! I can see it now."
Ron snickered but still attempted reason, replying "C'mon Harry, what does it matter what The Prophet says? If you're gay, you're gay. They can deal with it."
Hermione nodded encouragingly at Ron. "Yes Harry, and besides what about your…urges?" she said, blushing lightly again. "You're still a male, and a young one at that. Going without...sex…for too long can't be healthy."
Harry cheeks burned with mortification to hear his best friend talk about his "urges". She was normally quite prudish, and he was perfectly fine with that. "Come off it Hermione, I'm fine. I like my closet, my clothes and shoes keep me very fine company. You know what, it's even big enough for two! It's just not big enough for everyone I know, plus everyone who reads The Prophet." He replied, cheeks still burning as he skillfully avoided her eyes. "Then again, maybe I could rush out and lock them within to burn in the fiery pits of hell for eternity," he said, looking thoughtful. "That sounds like a much better plan."
Ron, who had been staring at his wife in abject horror since she had mentioned Harry's sexual needs, shook himself out of his shocked state and commented dryly to Harry, "Well she's getting bolder."
Harry snickered as Ron quailed under his wife's fierce gaze.
Turning back to Harry, Ron grimaced and said, "Hate to go there mate, but you know she's kind of right. I doubt you've been with anyone for months, and that's just not healthy. Come on, when was the last time you had a decent shag?"
Harry smiled dryly at Ron's intuition, and, in typical Harry Potter fashion, ignored the question. "You know it's not just me being in the closet that's keeping me from seeing anyone," he remarked to the couple, heaving himself up from the couch. He headed to the kitchen to refill his almost empty glass. "You know my hours are insane, and besides, have you ever considered the fact that maybe I don't want to see anyone?" he called, grabbing the wine from the counter.
"No." The couple replied in unison.
Harry's hand stilled on the bottle, and he sighed. Sometimes they just knew him too well. It had been too long…and he knew it, but the last few times had been okay at best, and he just wasn't ready for more disappointment yet. The only time he'd ever really felt something….he shivered as the memory went straight to groin. He sighed again, padding back into the living room, bottle in hand. He seemed to be sighing a lot lately. Looking up at his friends from his re-occupied niche in the couch, he shook off the memory of heated kisses and frantic groping. That was to be revisited later that night, without the company of his two best mates. While he had been zoning, Hermione had grabbed something off of the desk in the corner and was trying to hand it to him.
"-ought to be able to help you out," he heard her say. He blinked. "Sorry what?" he said, reaching out automatically to take the brochure she was handing him.
"I said," Hermione said exasperatedly, "that this place ought to be able to help you out."
"Oh bloody hell Hermione," Harry burst out upon looking down at the brochure. It read Hot Encounters: Sex Bar for Witches and Wizards. "I can't even believe you picked this up." He said, picturing the prim witch at the kind of strip club that would carry this kind of advertisement.
Hermione blushed a deep magenta and said primly, "It was an experience I'd rather not repeat. I was trying to help you, so appreciate the effort and at least read about it."
Harry rolled his eyes at her and sent a desperate look at Ron who shrugged back helplessly. Leafing through the brochure, his eyes grew wider and wider with each article until they were practically bugged out his head.
"It's got all sorts of diagnosing charms…is that the right word for? I suppose it is. Anyways it has lots of diagnosing charms that tell the matching witch who to put you with, like sexual preference, kinks or fetishes, the type of personality you would be attracted to, all sorts of things that you might not even know yourself!" Hermione prattled on, oblivious to Harry's mute embarrassment that grew with every further word that came out of his friend's mouth.
"They cast a ruddy blinding spell on you!" Harry burst out, aghast.
"Well yes Harry, it's to preserve identity." Hermione said, blinking at him as though it were obvious. "I mean how awkward would it be if you spotted the person with which you just had promiscuous relations out on the street? Or worse, you find them at your work place?!" She shuddered delicately. "That would be horrid."
"I see your point," Harry muttered. "They really take this 'blind date' thing a little far don't they?"
Obviously finding the entire situation hilariously funny, Ron had been, until that moment, attempting to hide his laughter, but he abandoned all efforts at his wife's use of "promiscuous relations" and he was openly guffawing. Recovering slightly, under the unamused gaze of both Harry and Hermione, he wiped his eyes and said, "Alright Harry, I get that you don't want us prying into your life anymore, but would you promise us you'll at least check it out? C'mon, you know you need it."
"FINE!" Harry practically shouted. "Anything to get you two wankers off my case," He muttered under his breath, shooting a wary glance at the mildly terrifying bit of paper in his lap.