AN: FFN, WHY DO YOU CONTINUE TO IRK ME? It took forever to upload this chapter. Honestly, I was trying all morning.
Sorry for the delay! I had fun stuff to do, like recovering from finals and being overwhelmed by extended family members. It was somewhat disarming to see my more conservative relatives playing Cards Against Humanity.
Dear first Guest: In the summary and Author's Note, I specifically mentioned how there is a canon character's gender is different. In that case, it's Ginny because A) It's rarely Ginny and usually Harry and B) Why not? I have plans to try get more diverse with genders and sexualities in my writing, original and fanfiction.
On that note, thanks to everyone that's been reading this! The part at the end was partially inspired by the Veronica Mars binge-watching that I've been doing again.
Disclaimer: I own copies of the Dresden Files, not the actual rights for Harry Potter or the origin of this trope.
Title: You've Got the Love: Chapter Two: Keen Sting
Word Count: 3K
Summary: Harry has a small crisis regarding his sexuality when becoming someone's flatmate. He wouldn't be having this problem if he'd roomed with Neville instead. Partial Gender-Bend
"Can I tell you what I love about being off-season?" Gid pulled his sweaty jersey over his head. "Less restrictions about food."
"Your poor stomach." Harry's eyes flickered up and he got a good eyeful of what Professional Quidditch could do to a wizard's body. It wasn't like he was staring or anything, but he was…comparing. Aurors were built differently than Qudditch players, theirs chests and stomachs weren't as….toned. It made sense that Quidditch players needed to build up their core muscles so that they could do tricks, like flying their brooms without using their hands to steer. They needed that muscle while Aurors had more focus on their legs and arms from the constant arm-waving and running into danger.
Harry looked down at his own torso. Maybe he did choose the wrong profession? Then again, he had heard Gid complain enough about how exhausting that part of training was. Since Oliver Wood had joined Puddlemere years ago and was now their youngest captain of the decade, there were some changes for the team—like the exercises. Harry did not fondly recall them from his time on the school team.
"What I was saying," Gid said as he kicked his shoes off, and started walking to their bathroom. "After I take a shower, how about I make you dinner?"
"Don't do that. You'll only make me feel guilty, and then I'll want to make you dinner."
It was a constant request ever since Harry moved in two weeks ago. It was different than living with a loving couple, less need to be paranoid about Silencing Charms or wanting a glass of milk at two in the morning. There was more takeout and throwing popcorn kernels at the telly involved when living with Gid. So far they'd stayed up late for several nights talking enthusiastically about the upcoming season, been delivered a singing letter at work to buy some bread (and one sent back to buy more food), and was generally having a good time. Gid was able to take Harry's mind off the stress that the wedding was creating.
Up until now.
"Maybe that's my intention?" Gid opened the bathroom door, but looked back at Harry. "What are you doing there?"
"Um. The speech." Harry nervously tapped the tip of his quill against the wrinkled piece of parchment. There were balled up revisions on the couch and the floor. It wasn't a productive day that Harry was having. He wasn't sure how to get beyond the 'To my two dearest friends that kicked me out of their flat…'
"Tell that exasperating story about how long it took for them to get together?" Gid suggested.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "I don't feel like unintentionally insulting anyone." He knew that Lavender Brown was attending the wedding with her girlfriend Pavarti, and he wasn't going to be responsible for any arguments between them or with Ron and Hermione. But Harry really didn't want to make Lavender out to be the bad guy because of what had happened in Sixth Year. Everyone had made some really bad mistakes back then.
"Heh." Gid twisted his jersey in his hands, thinking. "Turn it into a really romantic story? People will eat that up, or you know, something that'll make Mum cry with happiness."
"Is this what you've learned from those books?" teased Harry, watching Gid's face turn to an incredible shade of red. It was a well known and poorly hidden fact that the younger wizard enjoyed the series of romance books titled The Dear and Dashing. They were the kind of books that Hermione regularly scoffed for the lack of plot, but had also read in the past. They weren't just restricted to the Girls' Dormitories, and they were passed from hand-to-hand in all the Houses, and were often read under the covers at night to avoid ridicule.
They were of the usual stock: flimsy characters with few interesting traits, recycled plots, and the sort of romances that would make a blushing First Year's heart go to a stuttering stop. Harry might have read one in curiosity, but had chucked the dog-eared novel across the room when Ron had entered.
Gid also had a small collection under the floorboard of his bed back at the Burrow.
Enjoying this, Harry straightened his back and continued. "Come on, Weasley, teach me the fine tuned skills that you've gained from those books. Was it in Cornelia's Charmed Courter? Dana's Doomed Desire—" Harry laughed as the jersey soared over his head. "Oh, was that your equivalent of giving me a flower? If so, yes. Yes, I'll be yours—" This time it was a sock that struck him squarely between the eyes. "Gross." He flung it away.
"I got another one and I'm not afraid to use it." Gid held his other sock up, his face still an embarrassing shade of red. "Keep that up, and you'll be writing this speech all by your lonesome."
It was tempting to ridicule him further, but Harry knew when to draw the line. He patted the spot next to him on the couch. "Come on, I need some help here."
Gid sat down next to him, legs stretched out resting on the coffee table that was in front of them. "Okay, what makes a good love story?"
Harry raised an eyebrow at his friend's shirtlessness. "Flatmates that keep their clothing on?"
"Close. What's another thing?"
The dark-haired wizard rolled his eyes. "True Love's Kiss."
Gid snorted at Harry's ignorance of the topic. He readjusted his weight on the couch so that he was facing Harry. "Boy meets girl. They're at odds at first, but they eventually warm up to each other. Feelings start to grow and you think it'll be simple from there, but life happens."
"Are you writing any of these novels?" Harry nudged his leg. "And in this love story is what?"
"You have the classic: Miscommunication," Gid went on, speaking seriously. "And it's not like Ron and Hermione have ever done that."
The dark-haired wizard laughed. "What's next?"
"Action! Adventure! The story goes on as the two kids have their lives at a constant risk. Any day could be their last—so much to say with so little time! Then in a single moment, one of them realizes something…" Gid's earlier amusement sobered into something more sincere. There was something captivating about how he was telling the story. Harry had a hard time looking away.
"What's the realization?" he asked.
Gid was looking directly at Harry. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright with the storytelling. "That there's someone out there. You look a them like they're the sun, and it's their brilliance that amazes you. It's not that they complete you, but how they exist with you. You know they're the one. So, you make that sudden proclamation of love, and you finally do something about it…" He trailed off suddenly and blinked, breaking the spell. "Yeah, that."
Harry shoved the parchment in his direction. "I can't," he said. "You go write it."
"And let you take the credit?" He pushed the parchment back to Harry. "No way. It's your duty as the Best Man, and I still need to feed you."
Harry pursed his lips together. Gid's words were swirling in his mind. He was expecting Quidditch metaphors, but this was better. Ron and Hermione's romance was like that. They had started out a little rough with each other, but they came to a sense of understanding and they knew by that point how they could work together. Then came the disasters with miscommunication, the highlights being the Yule Ball and the fiasco during Sixth Year.
After that it was the war, and them finally having that kiss after destroying the Cup.
Now looking back, it was almost like being at the cinema. He could almost hear the music in the background rising into a crescendo as the fangs were dropped and Ron and Hermione were suddenly kissing. Every argument, every interaction had arrived to that singular moment where something could be okay when all hell has broken lose.
And officially making Harry a third wheel—but that sounded more petty that anything else.
But it was hard being best friends with two people that were madly in love with each. They had their own thing to do, dates and their eventual wedding, all the building blocks for living a life together.
It made Harry feel somewhat lonely.
It wasn't like Ron and Hermione had pushed him out if their life; they tried to include him, but it felt weird seeing them plan such a happy future while Harry was…just Harry. There was no 'Harry and—' There was only him surrounded by happy couples.
Gid stood up. "I should take that shower before you complain about the smell. And what do you want for dinner?"
"Don't worry." Harry ran a hand through his uncombed hair, feeling suddenly frustrated. "Yeah, we can make dinner together or something. You don't have to do anything."
"Harry." He looked up and saw Gid's sincere face. "Let me do something nice for you."
"You're putting up with me as a flatmate, isn't that enough?" Harry fiddled with the Self-Inking Quill, smearing his fingers with ink. "Either we make something together or we order takeout again, and I think the guys that run the Chinese place are getting tired of seeing our sorry faces."
Gid snorted something and walked to the shower.
Harry paused his thoughts and crumpled up the parchment into another wad. "You've ever felt that?" he asked.
The redhead stopped and turned around. "Felt what?"
"That all consuming love you were going on about," he sighed. He threw the wad up in the air and caught it.
Gid didn't answer for a moment. He shrugged. "Have you?"
Harry couldn't answer.
The weird feeling more or less dissipated when they were cooking. The kitchenette was larger than what Ron and Hermione had, but it felt like that didn't stop them from banging into each other.
Gid almost dropped his handful of olives when he tripped over Harry's foot. "If I would have known that we were making pizza…"
Harry looked over his shoulder and stuck his tongue out. "Well, if only someone had gone to the grocers." He ignored his friend's look of mock pain and sprinkled the counter with flour. He crooked two fingers but the rolling pin never came into his hand. "Aren't you hungry?"
Gid dumped some more possible toppings into another bowl and placed it next to Harry. "It depends on what kind of pizza we're making. I mean, I'm a purist but you…" Gid shook his head, sighing sadly. "Ron has corrupted you." He passed Harry the pizza dough and put some before him.
The bright side of moving out of the Burrow was the experience to branch out with more food. While Harry very much loved Molly's cooking and could live off it forever, he also enjoyed exploring and trying the Thai and Indian places near Ron and Hermione's flat. Ron had especially enjoyed being very creative with pizza toppings, and Hermione…was nowhere near as thrilled and was content with her small cheese pizza as Harry and Ron gorged themselves with pineapple and anchovies or whatever they could add to their heart's desire.
"You're a Weasley," Harry said. "You have to love everything that goes into your stomach."
"I like peppers and pepperoni on my lightly browned cheese. Not that." Gid waved a hand to the bowl of olives. "Or that. Is that eggplant?"
Harry flicked flour at his face. "Shoo, let me enjoy making this." Flour as thrown back at him. Harry scowled and turned around and got more in his face. He blinked and took his glasses off. "Was that necessary?"
"Very." Gid handed Harry a towel. "You poke me so I push you back, that's how I work."
"Is that why you don't go out much?" Harry rubbed his glasses on his shirt and put them back on his face. "You know, I can't even remember the last time I've seen you on a date." He swiped the rolling pin and started making his pizza.
Gid made a face while he sprinkled cheese over the tomato sauce of his pizza. "Ugh, you sound like Mum. Don't give me that look, I'm sure the two of you enjoy gossiping about my lack of a love life lately."
"If we ever get past the wedding arrangements first, then I'm sure that's next on the list."
"Why go there? Quidditch takes up my life."
"I've noticed," Harry drawled. "Being a chaser for Puddlemere must make it so hard to find a date."
Gid turned away from his pizza. "What makes you say that?"
Harry shrugged. "You never answered me about feeling some sort of passionate love, and, well, you're a passionate person. I was just thinking that since you have this free time now…"
Gid dropped his elbow on the counter and rested his chin on his upturned hand.
"Oh, the Chosen One, you're the Boy-Who-Lived who looks dead fit in his Auror robes. But wait, when was the last time he felt Cupid's keen sting?"
Harry flushed. "Dear Merlin, we've become lonely workaholics."
"Very observant," Gid said. He wiped the flour off his hands with his jeans, and went to go put his pizza in the oven. "You're such an amazing Auror, Harry. I'm sure that sharp intellect is what always catches those Death Eaters."
"And does your charming personality help you catch that quaffle?" retorted Harry.
"You call that a zinger?" He took Harry's pizza and put it in the oven with his. He closed the oven door. "You and your anchovy pizza disgust me."
Harry leaned against the counter and pulled his wand out, trying to remember the incantation that would help wipe down the kitchenette. There was a book that Molly had gifted Gid when he'd first moved in, but knowing him it was probably being used to help prop a table or used as a doorstopper. "Who was the last witch you've dated?"
A high color flushed Gid's face. He stood with his back stiff against the oven, wearing a flowery apron that was doing nothing to help him. "How about you?"
Harry quirked an eyebrow. He searched his thoughts and tried to think of a time when Gid had mentioned seeing anybody. Actually, was there anyone after Hogwarts? "It was Daphne. You know that and stop answering a question with a question, it's getting old."
There was a moment's pause.
"It was nice at first and had ended in a trainwreck," Gid said, obviously omitting more details. "I think I'm just going to focus on my career for now."
"I'm sorry," said Harry. He awkwardly patted his friend's arm, thinking back to when Daphne had ended thing abruptly with him and how much that had hurt. He wanted to say something truly consoling. He mentally went through the list of names, but had a hard time figuring out who would be a good fit. She would have to like Quidditch a lot, be able to endure a Weasley Christmas Dinner, a sense of humor… "I think any witch would be lucky to have you."
Gid gave him a funny sort of smile. "The same to you. I mean, even though you're sorta all short and specky and everything."
"Shut up."
"And you nag," Gid continued. "You put weird stuff on your pizza and you're finicky about picking Quidditch teams, and let's not get started on how your slurp your noodles. I had hoped Hermione had instilled manners in you ages ago."
Harry poked him in the chest. "You're too tall and you're just covered in freckles. And once you get started, you never shut up about Quidditch and you get all petty when things don't go your way. You also have this weird thing about talking back to the wireless, and you snore so loudly that I can hear you in my room—and stop laughing!"
Gid rocked on the balls of his feet, his forehead nearly touching Harry's. He could breathe in the scent of the woodsy shampoo from the recent shower and the yeast from cooking dinner. The red-haired wizard's brown eyes were bright and lively again, and Harry had to smile at seeing him like his actual self. Seeing Gid despondent was like seeing a snitch suddenly lose flight.
"Thanks," he said. "I needed that."
"George, stop stealing all my beer."
"Never!" George proclaimed. He stuck his head out of the fridge and dangled a bottle from his fingers. "Not my fault that you have the good stuff, little brother."
"Come on," Harry said. "We're here to talk about Ron's bachelor party and not commitpetty thievery."
"Can you arrest him?" Gid asked. His nudged Harry's knee with his. "Please be my big, strong Auror."
"George," said Charlie from a chair. He had a bottle of something cold and a list in front of him. "We're supposed to be thinking of ways to torture Ron. It's time to do your brotherly duty!"
That got his attention. George cheered and jumped over the couch, landing between Harry and Gid. "Here is it, boys. We have two more to go after this."
"Two?" said Harry.
"You and Gid, yeah."
Bill pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ugh, let's not go that far. Harry, as Best Man, what are your plans so far?"
"Nothing," Harry admitted.
Gid swiped George's beer from his hands. "It's true. He's a hopeless Best Man. I don't recommend him for future weddings."
"Thanks."
There was a collection of groans from around the room. Harry had the rest of the Weasley sons sans Ron over to help plan the bachelor party. With his lack of a social life and little desire to go to clubs, he wasn't sure what to do exactly. Was a Canons theme a good idea? Should it be at the Hog's Head? Who would they invite? The more Harry thought about it, the more truthful Gid's joking words meant and how horrifying the idea was becoming.
What were Ron and Hermione thinking about making him the Best Man?
George clapped him on the back, making him jump. "But this is your chance! Imagine all the ways that you can humiliate them in front of their closest friends and family members! Think of all the gold that you have on them, think of how beautiful your speech will be!"
Gid opened his mouth to say that the speech was only half done, but Harry sneaked a hand behind George to pinch him.
He would think of something.
Eventually.
...Harry twisted around and elbowed Gid who was lounging behind him on the couch, barely giving Harry any room to sit. "Stop it, you're distracting me. I need to finish this."
Gid made a displeased noise before kissing his neck again. "Just think—" And another one at his pulse point. "Of this—" Then at the spot below the ear. "As inspiration. One epic love story to another." Harry hummed happily as the kissing continued to go down his neck. He dropped the quill, thinking that he'll get back to the speech later.
"And here I thought you were trying to seduce me, Gideon." Harry laughed as his glasses were taken off his face.
"Me? Seduce my boyfriend? I have no idea what you're talking about." Gid leaned in closer. His face was entirely transparent; the emotions showing through were brighter than the sparks in his eyes. Harry felt a warm glow grow inside of him. "Okay, maybe a little."
"Keep it coming. I think I'll be needing more inspiration." Harry yanked on the front of Gid's shirt to kiss him…
Harry almost fell out of his bed. His pillow slid out of his grasp, and his head hit the edge of the headboard as he stumbled back to wakefulness.
What the..? he thought, the images crashing into the surface of his conscious. Now feeling very awake, Harry was painfully aware of the echoing sound of Gid snoring nearby. That was normal, right? Friends could have dreams of friends or something like that?
I'm going back to sleep, Harry told himself. He picked up his fallen pillow and tried to get comfortable again. And I'm going to dream about Quidditch.
Instead the next dream was about a certain Quidditch player.
