The Business of Recovery

Quippery

I do not own Harry Potter or Ouran High School Host Club.

Summary: After ending the war and inheriting the titles of the Potter and Black families, Harry decides to create a future of his own by pursuing his education at Ouran Academy to run the family businesses.

Author's Note: I had never realized how important reviews were to authors until I started receiving them myself. There's nothing that can quite compare to the rush of encouragement and inspiration one feels when getting an actual response from someone. With that in mind, I've made a strong effort to reply to other stories I read.

Not that you care about that though, haha.

A couple people asked if this was going to have a slash pairing. The answer to that is yes. Speaking of which, thank you all for participating in the poll. I'll leave it up for a couple more days, but I'm pretty sure I know whom Harry is going to be paired with.

Anyways, onto chapter 4!

Chapter 4

"How did you know that I would agree to join the Host Club?" Harry asked curiously as they waited for the new hairdresser to arrive. There had been a hairdresser present when the twins had dragged Harry into the clubroom, but he had taken one look at Harry's hair and walked out.

"Truthfully, we didn't know for sure that you would," Tamaki replied from his position n a nearby couch. "But who wouldn't want to join the Host Club?" he finished excitedly.

"What Tamaki is trying to say," Kyouya said, shifting his glasses to hide his rolling eyes, "Is that we were quite certain that we could appeal to your better nature. Also, the Host Club's single-mindedness and determination were sure to make you agree eventually, if only to sure them up," he finished with a smirk.

The twins opened their mouths to object before pausing, looking at each other, and shrugging, "He's kind of right."

"Fair enough, I suppose," Harry chuckled.

"Anyways," the twin on the left piped up, "this whole waiting thing is boring."

A mischievous glint entered the twins' eyes, "Let's play the "Which One is Hikaru?" game!"

"The what now?" Harry asked, confused.

"Again?" Haruhi asked in disbelief, "I thought you only played that with the guests."

"Usually we do," the twin on the right responded, "But Harry here has never played before, so we have to see if he's any good."

Both twins seemed to pull hats out of nowhere, placing them on their heads and moving to stand before Harry. "So, Harry," they said, identical mischievous grins on their faces, "Which one is Hikaru?"

"That's the whole game?" Harry asked, incredulous. The only response was everyone looking at him expectantly. "Okay, then," he continued, "The one on the left is Hikaru, making the one on the right Kaoru." Oblivious to the twins' shock that he had guessed correctly, he continued, "I don't really understand this game, though. Is it supposed to be hard or something?"

The amazed stares of all those in the rooms told him that, yes, it was supposed to be difficult. The twins, especially, seemed to be frozen in shock. Was it true that they had met yet another person who could so easily tell them apart?

"How did you know who was who, Harry-chan?" Mitsukuni, or Honey-senpai as Harry had found out he usually went by, asked him, cake laying on the table, forgotten in his surprise.

"Well, experience, I suppose," Harry shrugged.

"How so?" Kyouya asked, black notebook open as if to jot down notes about it.

Harry's mind's eye was filled with images of twin red-haired personifications of mischief. A small, sad smile made its way across his face, "I was friends with twins who were similar to you two," he gave a nod towards Hikaru and Kaoru, who had finally taken off their hats and were leaning against the couch where Tamaki sat. "Well, similar in the fact that they were identical twins and were grand mischief-makers. They even had a game that was similar to your "Which One is Hikaru?" game." His eyes got a far-away look as he became lost in his memories, "They didn't just leave it at a simple question, though; they went all out."

"How so?" the twins leaned forward, excited at the prospect of a new game.

"They would plan ahead for nearly a week before asking if anyone knew the difference between them. During that time they would completely switch personalities with each other, down to the clothes they wore, the seats they were assigned, and the food that they ate. Then, right when you thought you had the right answer, they'd switch back seamlessly," Harry waved his hands around as if to emphasize just how crazy the whole thing was. "And that's not even taking into consideration the way they finished each others' sentences," he laughed, "It drove the teachers absolutely bonkers. Eventually they began to call themselves "Gred" and "Forge" instead of "Fred" and "George"."

Haruhi's brow furrowed as she tilted her head questioningly, "I couldn't help but notice that you used past tense when describing them; did something happen to them?"

The flash of sadness that shadowed Harry's face made her sorry for bringing it up. Before she could apologize, however, he went ahead and answered, "They passed away last year. I hope you understand me not wanting to talk about it."

Haruhi nodded solemnly. She knew what it was like to have lost someone, and Harry spoke about these twins as if they were all very close.

Silence reigned in the clubroom, no one really knowing what to say. Luckily, they didn't have to say anything, for at that moment the replacement hairdresser arrived. She was a female, appearing to be in her late twenties, with brown hair pulled into a messy bun on top of her head. She wasn't extremely tall, but Harry was disgruntled to find that, as he stood to either greet her or attempt escape, that she was an inch or so taller than himself.

She looked about questioningly as all the club members pointed at a startled Harry. Tamaki had only one request, "Fix him, please."

To give her credit, her eyes only widened a little bit as she took in the mess that was Harry's hair, and her only hesitation was to take a deep breath and square her shoulders.

'Really,' Harry thought to himself as he was positioned in a barber chair that the club members had prepared before he arrived, 'These reactions to my hair are going to give me a complex.'

The room was soon filled with the metallic 'snip snip' of the scissors and the advice called out from various club members. Finally the hairdresser, Kimi-chan as she had asked to be called, stood back and wiped the perspiration from her forehead. "He's finished," she said followed by the clapping and cheering of the Host Club.

Before Harry could even look at himself in the mirror, however, he was shoved into a small practice room with a new uniform. Confused, he looked from the new uniform in his hands to the now closed door in front of him, "But I already have a uniform!"

Huffing at not receiving a reply, Harry began to change out of his perfectly fine uniform. As he was about to put on the new shirt, Honey-senpai opened the door, "Hika-chan and Kao-chan are on the phone, but they wanted me to tall you that this uniform is tailored an-," Honey-senpai gasped, his eyes going wide and tearful as Harry turned around to face him, "Harry-chan, what happened to you?"

Harry's eyes went wide as he realized that his back had been fully visible to Honey-senpai. Normally, that wouldn't have been a big deal, but, normally, people didn't have scars across their back. A particularly long, ropey scar started at the top of his right shoulder and curved around to his side, under his left ribs, which is probably what had shocked Honey-senpai so badly, Harry figured. He threw on his apparently tailored uniform, determined not to think of just how the Host Club had gotten his exact measurements, "I," he looked at Honey-senpai who was nearly in tears and the rest of the Host Club who had gathered about to see what the commotion was, "I have to go."

Before anyone could respond, Harry slipped past them and out the door. He maintained an even walking pace for only about five steps before his panic kicked in and he took off at a full run and didn't stop until he had arrived in his apartment and locked the door behind him.

He leaned his back against the wall and slid down, hugging his knees to his chest. He didn't make a sound as he sat there, desperately doing everything in his power not to think of the horrified faces of the club members he had left behind. Silent tears fell in time to the beating of a weary heart.

Author's Note: Well, that wasn't depressing. Don't worry, Harry will cheer up eventually. It's just that to recover, you have to have something wrong first.

As I said before, the poll will be up until Friday. Also, I illustrated chapters 1 and 3 and posted the pictures on my profile. You don't have to look at them, but they were fun to make.

Reviews are what keep me motivated, and I appreciate even the smallest comment!