Sorry for the delay - I meant to post this on Saturday. Enjoy an extra-long chapter and thanks for the reviews!


Friday morning dawned bright and sunny, as just about every other day that summer had done so far. The heat from the recent sunrise was drying a coating of dew on the neighborhood lawns. A light accompanying breeze floated along the street and through Harry's open window, tousling his hair softly. It was truly a beautiful and pleasant early morning. If only the weather matched Harry's disposition. It was much too soon in the day to be so cranky, but somehow Harry had managed it. A scowl was already forming on his face and it wasn't yet 7am.

"I hate mornings," he grumbled to himself. He was sat on the edge of his bed, squishing his bare toes into the dark gray bedroom carpet. The soft pile was soothing under his feet, but, like the weather, was far away from comforting Harry's mind. He'd had a fitful sleep, alternating between tossing restlessly and having rather…disturbing dreams. The brunette was glad that Ron had fallen asleep in the other room and wasn't subjected to his midnight muttering like he was during their Hogwarts years. Although Harry could have dealt with sleepy declarations about Transfiguration, trips to Hogsmeade, or even Ginny. The fantasies about men however, he could have done without.

Harry didn't know what to make of his feelings for Tim. He wasn't really certain if he'd ever noticed a male for their outer appearance before. Sure, Harry liked him as a friend. It would be hard not to. The duo had met a few months back when Harry was wandering aimlessly through Quality Quidditch Supplies in Diagon Alley. He'd had every intention of flipping through several of the sports magazines on the rack to cure his boredom for a while. But when he walked through the door and caught the eye of the man behind the counter, his plans went awry. Tim was a clerk there at that time and was helpful without being overbearing. Friendly, but not cloying.

While perusing the broom section, Harry had made a comment about how the new Pinnacle 400 was hard on the ass. Tim had looked at him in surprise, as if he wasn't expecting that type of comment from someone of Harry's reputation and proceeded to laugh before teaching him a special cushioning charm that wouldn't interfere with the inherent magic of the broom. Harry wound up spending the rest of the afternoon in the shop with Tim, trying out different products and listening to Tim's Quidditch stories from the private wizarding school he'd gone to. Sadly, Harry had failed to keep in touch with Tim after that day, but when it came time to begin bringing in candidates for staff at the camp, he was at the top of Harry's list. Harry was just thankful Tim was still working there.

Was it really so unusual for someone to click like that on a platonic level and then have it progress into something more? Probably not. Would it really be so terrible if he was attracted to another bloke? Harry wasn't sure. If he was completely honest with himself, he did recognize Tim's physical attributes. His brown hair was straight, but always arranged in a sexy bed-head manner that Harry envied. The intense blue of his eyes was stunning and they always shined with mirth as he laughed with Harry about the antics of their students. He even had nice lips, which was something he never thought he'd find eye-catching in a man, but the list went on and on. Well-defined muscles in his upper arms and chest were made even more tantalizing with the tight t-shirts Tim favored. And his ass was so phenomenal that it tended to make Harry's stomach churn with something akin to hunger. Harry's morning erection grew even harder at the thoughts.

He pulled himself back into the present and huffed in annoyance. The clock read 6:55 now. He was going to be late for work if he continued ruminating on the side of the bed. His scowl grew impossibly deeper. Work. Tim would be at work. And Harry would have to make excuses for running out of the bar and possibly face up to what he alluded to last night. Instead of going to grab some breakfast and take a shower, Harry flopped back on the bed and tugged a pillow over his head in exasperation.

"Ron, can I stay home from school today?" Harry's muffled voice called out petulantly.


It turned out that he couldn't stay home. The depths of his pillow were no hiding place from Kreacher. Ten minutes later, the house-elf was determined to rouse both Harry and Ron. He stood out in the hallway between both bedrooms and clanged what sounded like pots and pans together. Try as he may, he just couldn't ignore that racket. Especially when combined with Kreacher stating that 'the half-blood and the blood-traitor are needing to go to their jobs so that Kreacher may do his.' That woke Ron up, and he stumbled past Harry's bedroom and waved a parting hand, but not before glaring at Kreacher and holding his head in pain.

So now Harry found himself skulking under the bleachers at camp, torn between running for the safety of the office in case Tim apparated in behind him and staying put for the fear that Tim had already arrived. He chewed his lip and rocked on the balls of his feet with nervous indecision. Harry imagined what he must look like, a grown man lingering in the shadows of a Quidditch pitch, muttering to himself.

Get on with it Potter, he thought to himself brusquely. This is just one man we're talking about. If you can face down a dark lord, surely you can survive a day with your sort-of crush.

His feet moved slowly at first, one in front of the other, and then gained confidence his brain didn't feel while striding toward the office. Twenty paces to go. He told himself that it wasn't cowardly to cast a Homenum Revelio before entering the building and then sigh with relief when no other presence was sensed. He was just being cautious. Who knew what dark wizards would show up at his camp and try to snatch one of the children? Harry was just being a responsible adult and looking out for the well-being of his campers.

Right.

Upon entering the office, he headed for the back of the room and sat down at his desk. Even though it was just past eight in the morning, he was alone while reviewing the day's activities. A random thought flickered in his mind when he noted the lack of staff.

It is Friday isn't it? Not Saturday?

He was halfway to the wall calendar between Sophia and Marco's desks to check when he caught sight of an owl swooping through the open window near the front door. The buff-colored bundle of feathers alighted on Harry's shoulder and held out his leg, hooting cheerfully. Harry reached his hands up and untied the letter from the owl, lightly nuzzling his cheek against the soft feathers of its breast. He was rewarded with a nibble on his ear.

He unrolled the parchment and stared down at Phil's immaculate penmanship.

Harry:

It seems that Allie's daughter has caught the Griping Bug too. As if it's not already enough of a challenge trying to determine what a two-year old is complaining about. I've got my hands full taking care of her and Allie, so I won't be able to make it in today. I'm really sorry, but both of us should be back in on Monday.

- Phil

Harry sighed and then grabbed a new piece of parchment and a quill from his desk.

Phil,

Don't worry about it - we'll be fine. Hoping Allie and the little one are feeling better soon.

- Harry

He rummaged through the jar on his desk and pulled out a treat for the owl and sent it on its way with his letter to Phil. A large sigh escaped his mouth and he dragged a hand through his hair. This was going to be a longer day than he thought.


Marco and Sophia arrived closer to nine o'clock, looking flushed and winded, muttering apologies as they joined Harry on the sideline to distribute equipment and brooms. He raised an eyebrow in curiosity, but said nothing other than, "Phil won't be coming in today. Heidi caught the bug too and now he's taking care of them both."

They spent a few minutes sympathizing for the little girl as they worked and Harry was glad for the distraction until Sophia asked, "Is Tim sick too?"

Harry didn't look up from fixing the bristles on one of the more ragged brooms when he responded. "I don't know." He refrained from adding, "He seemed fine last night," to the end of that statement and then cringed.

Was Tim mad at him for running out the way he did? He tried to think about how he would feel if it had been the other way around. Wouldn't Harry be upset if he practically admitted he liked someone without knowing how they felt and then that person rushed off with barely a goodbye? The answer made Harry's stomach clench with guilt.

Harry cast a hopeful glance over to the apparition point, but no one was there. His shoulders slumped with a heavy dose of disappointment and shame. He resigned himself to the fact that he would definitely have to apologize to Tim when he came in.

If he comes in.

Harry's lips pursed before he took a bracing breath. "Since he's not here, I'll need to split you two up between the intermediate and advanced groups. Unless one of you wants to work with the beginners?"

"Merlin, no!" Marco exclaimed, before he could stop himself and Sophia was emphatically shaking her head no.

Harry allowed himself the first chuckle he'd had in what felt like weeks and filled Marco in on what the advanced campers were working on.

They had a revised schedule in place and were guiding the arriving students into their groups for warm-ups when Harry started to get worried. He absently-mindedly tossed a Quaffle to one of the nine year olds to begin the drills, his mind turning over thought after thought. What if Tim had gotten really drunk and never made it back to his house? Was he lying in a ditch somewhere, barely conscious, just waiting for someone to rescue him? Had he hurt himself and was unable to send an owl to let Harry know where he was?

Harry briefly considered dashing back to the office to jot out a short "Where the hell are you?" letter when a flash of color by the bleachers caught his eye. He squint his eyes, but could tell it was Tim, even from this distance. And he didn't appear to be hurt based on his steady gait.

Harry exhaled with relief, but the emotion was quickly overtaken by panic. Now that Tim was here it meant that Harry would have to talk to him at some point today. He quickly turned back to supervise the morning exercises, hoping that he hadn't been caught staring.

"Harry."

Damn. Tim was standing right behind him and with Harry right in front of the students, he couldn't show how much he wanted to bolt. He turned slowly and met Tim's visage.

A closer inspection revealed his face and body to be completely intact. There were no glamours to conceal an injury, no slings, casts, or crutches. He looked fine except for some weariness in his eyes.

"Tim. I see you've made it in." Harry winced. He hadn't meant the sentence to sound that sharp. It was supposed to sound encouraging so that Tim would tell him why he was late instead of Harry having to ask.

A pained expression crossed Tim's countenance. "I know. I'm incredibly late and I should have sent an owl, but I'm really sorry." He licked his lips nervously and glanced out at the children as they reached the end of their warm ups. "I'll explain, I promise. Just…not here."

Harry searched his face for an emotion other than sheepishness, but found none. "Ok," he said quietly. "Will you please work with Marco and his group today? Phil is out so we're really short."

"You don't - " Tim looked at him for a moment and then seemed to change his mind. "Sure. I'll see you later." He walked over to the far side of the pitch and joined Marco in explaining and demonstrating the Typhoon Spin they'd been dying to learn.

Harry watched his retreating figure for a beat and then turned to his group. "Great warm ups today everyone! Now let's get started on those weaving maneuvers."


Harry spent the remainder of the day giving Tim a wide berth. While he was curious to know what had held the man up in getting to work that morning, he was more concerned about his impending apology. He ate lunch at his desk instead of outside on the grass with the others, claiming the need to send an owl to the Ministry. And when an argument broke out amongst his group over accusations of cheating, he solicited Sophia's assistance in calming everyone down instead of Tim's. By the time the end of the day rolled around, Harry was exhausted. It was hard work avoiding someone.

"You're coming to my house tomorrow, right Coach Harry?" Scorpius asked, once again startling him while he was gathering up equipment. He was going to have to start paying more attention. Harry blinked at him vacantly before remembering their private lessons. He'd almost forgotten them in all the pandemonium with Tim.

"Oh yes Scorpius, of course. Is there a pitch near your house or do you want to come here to practice?" Harry smirked at calling Malfoy Manor a 'house.' They probably had enough rooms to hold each of the campers and their families with space to spare.

Scorpius' gray eyes shone. "We have our own pitch out back. Father had it built when I was little."

Harry smiled, unwillingly touched at the thought of Malfoy building a pitch for his son. "Brilliant. I'll see you at one o'clock then."

Scorpius smiled and then darted back to the field to pick up his broom and wait for his dad.

Harry smiled and began his daily task of floating the equipment over to the shed and waved a hand at Sophia and Marco. "Have a good weekend, you two!" he called out.

"You too!" they yelled before reaching the apparition point and disappearing out of sight.

And then there were two.

Harry could feel Tim's presence before he even pulled out his wand to lock the shed doors. He turned around to see him waiting near the front door of the office, a lopsided grin thrown in Harry's direction.

"Care to tell me what's going on?" Harry asked from where he stood, a self-assured tone belying the crashing waves in his belly.

Tim walked over until he stood directly in front of him. He looked uncertain and almost scared, expressions Harry was not used to seeing on his friends face.

"I was late this morning because…I felt bad. I obviously offended you last night at the bar and I didn't want to make things more awkward. So I was going to just stay home but realized that you deserved an explanation."

Harry didn't know what to say. After spending the whole day guessing that Tim would say something along those lines, he still could not pull out an appropriate response. Did he want to comfort him, or gently tell him that nothing could happen between them?

Harry lifted a hand to voice an opinion, but Tim continued doggedly on.

"Harry, I'm sorry that I made you uncomfortable." He shook his head in frustration. "And don't try to tell me I didn't. You wouldn't have avoided me all day if what I said hadn't bothered you."

Harry's mouth worked soundlessly. "I was just…do you really feel that way?" he blurted out.

Tim took a deep breath. "Would it make you feel better if I told you that I was only half-joking?" he tried with a hesitant smile.

Harry's heart fluttered and he took an unconscious step forward. "What about the other half?" he whispered.

"The other half makes me want to do this." Tim closed the gap between their bodies and ran a finger down Harry's cheek before leaning in and bringing his lips to hover millimeters away from Harry's. They weren't touching, but they were so close if Harry licked his lips out of nervousness, his tongue would undoubtedly graze Tim's as well. He didn't want to break the moment, he really didn't, but he had to say it.

"Tim I- I've never done this before." He closed his eyes momentarily and shuddered again as Tim's breath mingled with his own. It smelled sweet, a faint trace of the lemonade served at lunch.

Clear blue eyes gazed at Harry penetratingly. "That doesn't matter to me. What does matter, is knowing if you want to." Tim's voice was so husky Harry had to bite the inside of his lip to hold back a whimper. "Do you want to Harry?"

Merlin, yes.

Harry passed on answering and instead leaned forward to place his lips on Tim's. He held still, breathing unevenly as if it had taken all of his energy just to get to that point. A small sound escaped from the back of Tim's throat and then the next thing he knew he was kissing Harry back. He inhaled deeply at the insistence of Tim's lips pressing against his and steadied himself against the wave of unfamiliar emotions. He was standing out in the open, in front of a Quidditch shed kissing someone he'd been working with that was really nice and sweet and just happened to be a guy. For some reason, that one sentence comforted Harry more than a Calming Draught. If he thought about it that way, considered who the person was on the inside first instead of automatically thinking of that person being male, well, it didn't seem quite as frightening.

Think about the gift inside, not the outer package. But the thought of "package" made Harry laugh, and he couldn't hold back a grin in the middle of their kiss.

Tim pulled back and looked at him worriedly. "Is this – is this ok? Do you not like it?"

Harry boldly placed a hand on Tim's chest to reassure him. Even through his shirt, the pectorals felt warm and strong beneath his fingertips and he suddenly had another mad urge to laugh. "I like it. Just seems…surreal."

Tim's responding smile was dazzling. He brought his left hand up to entwine with Harry's. "It does. Do you know I've wanted to do that since that day we met in Diagon Alley?"

Harry's breath caught in his chest. "Really?"

Tim kissed him again lightly, as though to test that he was truly there. "Really."

Harry smiled again and brought his other hand up to cup Tim's cheek. "I've just been so scared. Since we started working together I knew that I was beginning to think of you in a different way. It's been overwhelming."

Tim worked his free hand around Harry's waist to pull him closer. "We can take this as slowly as you need to. I'm just glad that I didn't scare you away."

Harry grinned ruefully. "You did at first. I had a hard time sleeping last night."

"Dreaming about me already?" Tim asked, waggling his eyebrows before leaning in to nuzzle his nose against Harry's cheek.

He chuckled. "No, prat. But I was thinking about what you said while we were out and I couldn't really get you out of my head."

"And now you don't have to." Tim dipped his head again and kissed Harry, this time tentatively running his tongue along the brunette's lower lip. Harry's body went into autopilot and he parted his lips for Tim, allowing the slick muscles to twist and undulate together. All of his nerve endings were on fire. With each flick of his tongue, Harry could feel Tim's hand tightening around his waist, prompting Harry to grow hard and shift his hips forward almost imperceptibly.

Oh yes. If this was what being gay felt like, Harry could definitely get on board.