Disclaimer: I do not own "Harry Potter" or the characters from it. I am making no money from the writing of this story.

Chapter Two: Unforgettable Unforgiveables

Harry hung the plaque on the maroon Gryffindor walls. He stood back and admired its placement, the gold coincidentally making the House colours of Gryffindor. The light reflected on the plaque, making the name FRED WEASLEY stand out emblazoned on its engraved surface.

He bit his lip, and adjusted it to make it straight on the wall. Then he moved onto the next memorial plaque.

There was something to be said for doing it the Muggle way. The students and alumni that had died during the War had died for their beliefs or blood. Putting up their memorial plaques the Muggle way just seemed appropriate.

REMUS J. LUPIN, the next plaque said. In honour of all fallen Gryffindors, regardless of species, Harry had designated one wall of the Gryffindor Common Room. He had begun with plaques, and had put a golden vase on the wall, filled with flowers. He considered charming some sort of verse onto the wall, but couldn't think of one appropriate.

All of the Heads of Houses were putting up some sort of memorial in their common rooms. Harry couldn't imagine what Slughorn was doing in his common room – was it right to put up a tribute to Crabbe? To those who had died fighting for not against Voldemort? Snape deserved a small tribute for his efforts, but a lot of the other Slytherins who had died had questionable loyalties.

The Gryffindor memorial wall had a great percentage of the War deaths on it. Remus Lupin, Albus Dumbledore, Fred Weasley, Katherine Wood, Paul Bell, had all been in Gryffindor. And that was just the tip of the iceberg.

And if you had only killed Voldemort two hours earlier, so many of them would still be here. Fred, Remus, Paul…

But if he was going to play that game, why not back up to four years earlier? Had he killed Voldemort in the graveyard in the end of his fourth year, Sirius would still be alive. It was a ridiculous game, however, as Voldemort still had most of his Horcruxes at the graveyard. When Fred had died, there had still been at least two Horcruxes to be destroyed… the exact sequence of events that night had long ago blurred together.

Sirius can't even have a plaque on the wall, because no one knows what happened to him. Missing in Action was what Sirius legally was. Legally declared dead, as his magical signature could not be picked up in all of Europe.

He was just hanging up the plaque that read COLIN CREEVEY, when the gaggle of students came in. Led by Sharron Waters and Stuart Treadaway, the first-years looked wide-eyed and opened-mouthed around the room, and at Harry.

"Hello!" Harry said. Breaking the rules, he had not been down for supper. He hadn't wanted to see all of the first-years come in, hadn't wanted to see all the noticeably absent students he had grown up with. It was embarrassing, and he would never admit it, but he didn't know if he would be able to take it. He didn't know if he could keep himself from breaking down like a girl.

So he hadn't gone down. Rather than representing Gryffindor at the Head table, he had stayed in Gryffindor Tower, doing the memorial he had purposefully procrastinated on for that purpose.

None of the first-years spoke in return to him. They all stared at him, mouths agape, just like almost everyone else Harry had met in the past several months.

The rest of the Gryffindor students came in behind the prefects and first-years. The rest of the students didn't really seem to give a damn that he was the Harry Potter – they had, after all, not only met him before, but many had fought alongside him.

Despite their relationship with Harry, regardless of whether they knew him or not, they stood quietly, waiting for him to speak.

Harry swallowed nervously. He was not the best at public speaking, despite how many speeches he had been asked to give in recent months.

"These plaques represent all who died fighting against Voldemort. Four months ago tonight, most of these people died within these walls. Remus Lupin was hit by the Killing Curse, Colin Creevey fought bravely in the Great Hall, and was fired in the back by a coward." He looked levelly into the eyes of Dennis at those words. "A lot of you know about loss and pain now; most people could say you lost your parents, brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, and uncles too young. But you know what? I lost mine, too, and I learned it's not about what you lost, but the fact that they were here in the first place."

He motioned to the wall behind him. "This wall isn't about sadness, grief, and tears. This wall is about remembering those we lost, and remembering how to honour them in the best way possible. It is to remind us to be grateful for our lives and our freedom, things we are very lucky to have."

Harry didn't know who all knew about how he almost died in the Forbidden Forest, but he did not offer how very lucky he was to have his life. He had went up against Voldemort; people knew that, already.

"Now, things are going to be a little different this year in Gryffindor Tower. There will be a seventh-year from last year who was unable to pass his NEWTs." The seventh-years stared in shock; it was very rare that a student did not pass one of their NEWT subjects; it only took an A to pass, after all. "That was through no fault of his own; he wasn't here to attend school. He is required to take their courses again here at Hogwarts. This student will have special privileges – he will be allowed a two-day Hogsmeade weekend, every weekend. He is allowed spirit drinks such as Firewhiskey, but not on the premises. His curfew is two hours later than yours. He is not allowed to change the rules or boss you around, so don't let him bully you, but he does know how things work around here, so you might consider listening to him."

Harry didn't see Ron in the small crowd of Gryffindors, but that didn't surprise him. Ron was probably wandering aimlessly around the Tower, taking advantage of his later curfew.

Hopefully he is not hiding behind a tapestry, snogging someone. Harry had, perhaps a bit selfishly, had enough of lovey-dovey melodrama for a lifetime.

Because Ron and Hermione aren't together anymore. Harry still couldn't believe they hadn't told him. He had thought they told each other everything. Or, well, most everything. The important stuff.

He motioned towards the vase. "But we're going to keep this filled with flowers, okay? Any colour flowers, it doesn't matter. We've got 'bout sixty students, give or take – I haven't seen the list yet – so that means one person filling the vase a week should be plenty. Their job will be to find the flowers, fill the vase with them and water, and use the proper Herbology charms to keep them alive." His eyes narrowed. "No sabotaging anyone's work. This is about honour, not acting like small children, even though I know a lot of you are."

"Vase-fillers will be assigned by the middle of the week. During the winter, when there are no flowers outside, money will be given to the vase-filler for the flowers. Any questions?"

A very small firstie raised his hand. He was so small – Harry couldn't remember being that small. "Were ya scared to kill You-Know-Who?"

Yes. No. Yes. I didn't have a choice. He cleared his throat. "That's not the kind of question I was talking about. I was, um, talking about the vase, and the House rules."

A little girl raised her hand. "Is it true you got married to her?" She pointed at Ginny.

Harry flushed and looked up at Ginny, who smirked. She always managed to find things hilarious, even when they really weren't. "Um, no, actually. We're not dating anymore. So-"

"You broke up?" A third-year asked, incredulously. She looked at the both of them with disgust. "Why? You were cute!"

"We-We didn't break up!" Harry had not wanted the conversation to go that way. "We're just not dating anymore. We mutually decided that we had other interests and that, me being best friends with her brother, that it was best for us to just-"

Ginny coughed. "Harry."

Fuck. He hadn't meant to share that much. "Any questions concerning this year at Hogwarts?"

"You're our Head of House?" A fifth-year doubtedly said. "Aren't you supposed to be, like, older to do that?"

"Professor Snape was not too much older than me when he became Head of Slytherin." Harry assured the student. "And it's probably only this year, until Hogwarts and everyone can get back on their feet. Now, any questions that do not concern me or Voldemort?"

A shudder ran through the Gryffindors at the name, but no one raised their hands.

"Okay then, great. Go up to your dormitories – your uniforms have been charmed their appropriate house colours by the house-elves, so you don't have to worry about that tonight. Don't stay up fiddling with your tie tonight, but if you know how to tie one, make sure your dorm mates know so you can help them in the morning. It would be good if you would learn how to tie them, though, or learn the charm to tie them. You'll be here for seven years, and tie one almost every day that you are. Goodnight."

He left the Gryffindor common room after he was sure the prefects had everything under control. He lingered a bit, under the pretence of wanting to visit with Nearly Headless Nick, but really, he was waiting for Ron.

Who never showed up, even when it was time for his curfew.

Harry sighed, and went down to his new quarters. Ron was older than him, and his best friend; who was he to get him in trouble, and to make sure he got tucked in on time?

o-O-o

He arched his tanned, built body, as he lay down on the bed. His toned stomach rose and fell lightly as he breathed. His body was finely dusted with hair. The trail of hair on his stomach led down his abdomen to a sizeable cock.

Harry twitched. If he were caught in this type of situation by a fellow staff member, or God forbid, a student, he would never live it down. It was such a huge risk, bringing a bloke into his rooms; the rumours would spread like wildfire at Hogwarts.

"This is incredible," Kelvin murmured.

Is? It was. Had been. Two sweaty blokes lying breathless in bed were hardly incredible.

"Hmmm." Harry sat up, groaning at the feeling inside him. He was going to feel that in the morning.

He got out of bed and strode over to the back of his door. He took his dressing room of the hook, and wrapped it around his naked body. "I think we needed more lube."

Kelvin laughed, rolling over to his stomach. His eyes twinkled. "I thought you were tough enough to take it."

What was the point in being tough when they had a huge container of lube? It was always better to use too much than not enough. It was stupid to pretend it didn't hurt when one used little or not enough lube. Justin had taught Harry that.

But Harry tried to play it cool. "And what gave you that impression?" He motioned to the closed door to the loo. "The loo is there if you want to clean up."

Kelvin stood and sauntered over to the loo. "You're Harry fucking Potter." His voice echoed as he went inside the loo. "You're supposed to be able to take pain. Then again, you're also not supposed to be gay." A chuckle. "I still can't believe it."

Harry's gut twisted. He had purposely picked up a squib, not being able to take a Muggle into Hogwarts and not having the balls to come out to the Wizarding world. He had hoped a squib wouldn't care whether he was Harry Potter or not.

Does it matter if he cares? Harry used a spell to clean himself out. It's just sex. It's not as if you were looking for a deep relationship.

He grew increasingly nervous as he realised the possibilities. If he's so excited to have had sex with me, he's going to tell everyone. It's not like he's going to keep it quiet, even if he promises; he's going to kiss and tell. Everyone will know.

Who will they believe? Some random squib, or the-Boy-Who-Lived? He knew the answer to that, though; it had not been so very long ago that he had been Undesirable No. 1. The Wizarding world had a very short memory.

Harry crept, barefoot, over to the loo door. Kelvin had left it open. He held his wand tightly.

One of the cruellest spells in the world was the Obilivation spell. To make someone forget parts of their lives, things they'd done… it was not funny. It was terrible.

However, it was not an Unforgiveable. Unforgiveables could never be used for good; so consequently, anything that wasn't an Unforgiveable could be used for good. Oblivation was one of those things that could be used for bad and good. Usually bad, but there was good, like a situation like this.

"Oblivate." He whispered, pointing his wand at the tanned blonde.

An hour later, he was alone in his quarters, smoking his second cigarette. Alone and miserable, but no one knew, and that was the important thing.

You're ridiculous, he ridiculed himself. You don't have to come out to the whole world right away, but you're scared to tell Ron and Hermione, even. Why? And they wouldn't tell anyone if you asked them not to. They're not those kinds of people.

He had to tell his friends. He had to tell them because, inevitably, someday the rest of the world would find out his preferences. That night had been a close call, and he had been wholly unprepared.

He needed his friends to know for practise telling him, and for support. He had a feeling he was going to need it.

Coming Up Next in Close My Eyes…
Chapter Three: Like the Advert Man