Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter characters and the whole world created around it; all belong to J.K. Rowling, who we all worship and serve. I just love to manipulate them to serve my own selfish needs.
But I do own Alex Ladon, Finbar Ganad, Darragh Ganad (and their mom), The Zabini Family (bar Blaise of course), and some minor characters (Orion, North, Gloves, Rufus…). DO NOT USE THESE UNLESS YOU HAVE MY PERMISSION!

The plot comes from the voices inside my head. You have been warned.


Chapter Ten – Praise You

"Of course as a friend, as what else?" – Draco Malfoy

Straightening from his bent-over kneeling position gingerly, Harry groaned as muscles pulled painfully all over his stiff back. Hoping to see any significant progress in the time, he gazed miserably at the clock. Little more than ten minutes had gone by since the last time he'd checked. It didn't really matter anyway, since he didn't get to leave unless all the benches were done. If not, and Snape would very much do his best to ensure it was so, then he'd have to come back to finish it another day, plus added penalty. And if this was a mild detention, he didn't want the added penalty.

"If it wasn't for you, we wouldn't be in the situation in the first place."

Harry pressed his eyes shut forcefully in an effort to contain his anger.

"I'm not supposed to be here in the first place. Because it is all your fault and-"

With a strange sound, something between a profanity and a roar, Harry flung his rag at Draco full force. Not that it did him any good, except making a nice, disgusting and most importantly wet sucking noise as it hit Draco on the side of his head.

With a look of shocked outrage –because not only did he have detention because of Potter, now the cretin was flinging dirty rags at him too- Draco made a move to throw something back, but decided the knife might be somewhat too extreme. He didn't quite know how he was going to explain that anyway, with Potter bleeding to death on the ground and only half of the benches cleared of all chewing gum from the underside. Instead, he threw his sponge, which bumped almost harmlessly off Harry's shoulder.

They glared at each other, and then, almost perfectly in sync, looked at the clock. Five minutes had gone by. Both heaved a deep, woeful sigh and resumed the scraping and scrubbing of the tables.

"You lads want sumthing ta drink?" Came Hagrid's gruff voice from the doorway.

Coming up from behind the tipped-over table, Harry said, "Yeah, sure Hagrid, I'd appreciate it."

Good old Hagrid, a giant man with a somewhat wild if not vaguely threatening look about him, was the only other person besides the two of them that was left in the school-building. Harry very much liked the unusual man, having been helped around by him over the course of the first week. It seemed Hagrid was responsible for everything and nothing, like now watching over the two of them during their detention.

"Whot, 'bout ye, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked when there came no response from his corner of the classroom.

When his already violent scraping at some stubborn patch of gum reached a new level of potential hazard, they knew he was purposefully ignoring the query.

Harry cast is his eyes upward to the ceiling, "Just get him a coke."

After Hagrid had returned with their drinks and went about to do some business of his own somewhere else, time seemed to stretch on and on, until even a minute was an unbearable long period to wait out. Harry didn't even realize how long until suddenly, someone prodded him out of his blissfully numb state of mind.

"Potter, wake up." Draco hissed, giving him a sharp nudge.

Unfolding himself from the curled-up position he'd apparently been lightly dozing in, Harry blinked up at the blonde. To his credit, Draco had not been using the tip of his shoe to nudge him, and instead crouched next to him, with a lightly amused smirk on his face. Maybe he wasn't such a prick after all.

"Did you know you drool in your sleep?" Draco pointed out.

Scratch that, he WAS a prick, an obnoxious one at that, too. Harry scrambled to his feet with a most disgruntled look on his face, turning his back to the other youth.

With distinctly more grace and a certain smugness on his face, Draco stood up as well. Frowning at the room, he seemed to decide they were more or less done. They'd split the number of benches at the beginning, to stave off any arguing later on. And even though Draco had insisted that Potter take two benches more, as it was very much his fault they had detention, the other had still managed to finish before him, nodding off to sleep afterwards.

Harry stood watching their work with him, "Well that's that." He said, wrapping his arms around himself to still the faint shivering. Sleeping on the stone floor had chilled him to the bone, and being tired didn't help it one bit.

With a non-committal humming noise, Draco strode out of the room as if he couldn't stand to be there any longer. Harry trailed out after them, snatching his backpack up from the floor in the progress, very relieved at the prospect of going home. If he'd had his mobile phone with him, he might have called Sirius and pleaded for a lift. As said phone was plugged into the charger back at the apartment, he'd have to walk his cold butt back home.

Harry rolled his eyes to himself as Malfoy sashayed into the bathroom with much flair, as if he had an imaginary audience. He trudged in after him, thrusting his hands under the cold water from the tap to rid them of the sticky strings of gum clinging to his skin. God knows whose drool was all over it.

All the while, the blonde next to him sighed and huffed dramatically, as if the manual labor might leave some sort of permanent mark. Harry clenched his jaw, annoyed at the infuriating behavior. Speaking of infuriating, the young man was dressed in nothing but a button-up shirt and appeared completely unaffected by the chilly air. Not only that, but he was preening at his reflection in the long, low mirror that ran above the edges of the sinks.

Harry peered at his own mirror-image, and as always found it odd to have two green eyes, that he reluctantly had to come to recognize as his own, staring back at him. They were partially obscured by the shaggy hair falling over the rim of his glasses. The harsh light in the lavatory made him seem paler than usual, almost sickly. When another shiver crawled down his spine, he decided it was time to go home.

"It's still your fault, really."

Harry was most reluctant to cease squinting at the mirror, and pretended he didn't hear.

"I'm going to make you pay for it, somehow." It didn't really sound like a threat, more like a petulant manner of making sure he was the injured party and was privy to retribution of some kind.

"I'm trembling in fear. Really," Harry muttered dully, casting a glance at his watch. "Please, oh please, protect me from the ferret and his shaking fist of doom."

Opening his mouth again, ready to utter a string of profanity, Draco suddenly blinked. "Ferret?"

"Inside joke," Harry retorted with a small smirk of his own –which looked strangely natural on his face. Using the brief window of Draco's speechlessness, Harry merrily waved at him, "Well Malfoy, see you at school tomorrow. Adios."

Draco sneered at his back and lingered just a little longer in front of the mirror to straighten his hair. Just when he hauled his rucksack over his shoulder, he heard Harry's voice loudly at the end of the hallway, the echoing making the words incomprehensible.

Arching an eyebrow, Draco walked out into the corridor, wondering what the cretin had gone and done to himself. What he saw however was far more disturbing than he would ever have thought. Harry was hanging with his full weight on the handle of the door, pulling fiercely, eventually putting his right foot against the wall next to it to add even more strength. Just as Draco came up behind him, Harry whirled around, face flustered and breathing heavily.

His nose not even an inch from Draco's, Harry bellowed somewhat hysterically; "We're locked in!"

Ears ringing with the volume of the other's voice, Draco took a step back and blinked at him in a bewildered manner, "What?"

The youth was tugging at the door with almost aggressive jerks, "Hagrid must've thought we were done and had gone home, while we were in the bathroom and left as well. But he locked the door." He gave one final pull at the handle and then stomped away angrily.

Eyes widening, Draco stepped into his place immediately, rattling the doorknob. "Nonononono…" he chanted almost frantically. "Not happening. This is not happening." And then even went as far as planting both feet on the wall either side like he was abseiling, pulling on the handle with all his might.

Chewing his lower lip anxiously, Harry slowly spoke, "Maybe we can climb through a window."

Briefly a hopeful glimmer sparked in Draco's eyes before he suddenly sneered, arrogance reasserting itself, " And break our necks? Potter, we are on the fourth floor!"

"Then what, genius? You have a better idea?" Harry replied sourly.

"I do." The blonde bit out sharply, before taking a moment to think of one. "Just call home or something, they might get hold of a teacher."

Harry sighed, "I don't have my mobile phone with me, so you'll have to do it."

Before he knew it, Draco had seized him by the front of his long-sleeved shirt and was shaking him until his teeth rattled, "What do you mean you don't have it? Are you stupid? Do you want to spend your night here?"

Harry shoved him away somewhat breathlessly, head pounding, "I don't have it, you ass, so lay off. Why can't you do it?"

"Because there isn't any money on it! And because my parents won't care if I show up or not, and unless someone else decides to call me, I can't contact anyone. Just be called!" He all but roared.

"I though you were a fucking rich-boy Malfoy, now don't tell me you can't pay for your own phone bills. And if you're too stupid to do it, won't your daddy?" Harry snarled, directing all his frustration at him. "Or doesn't he like you? Maybe he knows what kind of asshole his son is and that's why he doesn't bloody care!"

"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!" Draco spat at him and gave a powerful shove, so Harry stumbled into the wall. Then he turned, in another attempt to get the door to yield.

For much longer than Harry liked to dwell on they took turns at struggling with the door in stubborn silence. Nothing proved successful; Draco tried picking the lock, Harry somehow unbalanced its hinges by levering it up with the handle of a broom. In the end Harry even went as far as throwing all his strength and weight into it, and after a while Draco joined him, ramming against it with their combined efforts. The door itself, made from fine oak, didn't even do as much as shudder.

Cold beyond any belief, angry, confused, very tired and hungry, Harry slid down the wall, a gloomy set to his face. Draco jiggled the handle quite desperately, not able to cope with the dismal scenario that had presented itself.

"Give it up, Draco." Harry mumbled softly, pulling his glasses off his nose and putting them carefully in his lap, "We're just going to have to sit the night out and hope somebody will miss us and come looking."

Too tired to be angry at him any longer, Draco slumped down to the ground next to him, allowing his head to sink into his hands, silvery strands of hair poking out from between his fingers.

"At least we've got a lavatory and a vending machine on this floor," Harry offered with a weak smile.

Peeking at him from between the locks of hair dangling in front of his face, Draco shook his head incredulously, "How can you be so fucking calm?" His voice came out unusually small and trembling.

Harry smiled encouragingly, " And the coffee machine." He nudged him with his knee.

He nudged back, and was trying to return the smile, though he failed to see how Potter could so easily forget their words from earlier and now even try to cheer him up. But he was more than fed up with their situation to care at the moment, and also realized in some dim corner of his mind that he'd better go along with it. As it seemed they would be in each other's company for the rest of the night.

Meanwhile Harry had heaved himself up and was offering him a hand, "Let's go check it out. Maybe if we can get you some coffee, you'll calm down."

"It's that obvious, is it?" Draco asked, referring to his 'coffee addiction'.

"Quite." Harry said, and grinned at the blond's frown.

Some time later, past midnight even, they had made themselves as comfortable as possible near the door, sitting opposite of each other, coffee, sodas and snacks littered the floor between them. Draco was soaking a bar of chocolate in the coffee, bringing it up after it had melted to suckle on it. When he caught Harry watching him, he offered the last morsel, and the other accepted it, despite its stickiness and the fact it melted even further between his fingers.

"Coffee?" Draco tentatively suggested lifting his plastic cup, as he watched Harry lick his fingers clean with obvious relish.

"Yes please." Harry said, and took a big gulp that almost scorched his throat. At least it made him feel a little warmer.

As they continued the strange ritual –with Draco dipping chocolate in coffee and offering every other morsel to him- Harry found himself relaxing, besides still shivering from being so chilled. He was quite unaware of Draco's private nervousness at sharing such a gesture, as it seemed strangely intimate to him.

Meanwhile they chatted about everything and nothing, but not without the occasional awkward silence.

"So what are you planning to do?" Harry asked, feeling he'd been holding some sort of monologue while he had talked about his plans for after school.

After a small silence, during which Draco opened another candy bar, and dipped the chocolate into his cup again, the blonde looked up with a somewhat thoughtful expression. He crested his light colored eyebrows in a slight frown and pursed his lips. "I don't know. I've always wanted to do documentaries abroad… freelance, you know. But, well…" he trailed off, and belatedly realized his chocolate bar had been so long in the warm liquid it had started dissolving. Hastily he put it into his mouth, the chocolate running down his fingers as he did so.

"Why not?" Harry asked curiously, having recognized the 'well' as if the whole notion was improbable.

"I don't know." Draco mumbled, "My mother said it wouldn't get me anywhere in my life."

"As long as you love what you're doing, if it makes you feel okay, then why don't go ahead with it." Harry pointed out, " And it'd be interesting; you'd see loads of places and meet interesting people."

For a moment Draco was quite unsure how to respond to that, because it was Potter who was pep-talking him and actually encouraging him. He put down his candy and blinked into his cup, not quite sure of what he was feeling.

"What?" Harry prompted after a while.

"I just haven't… well; though about it like that. Just doing it because I want to." He admitted in that same small voice that seemed to wrench something in Harry's gut.

Harry was incredulous, "Of course you have to do what you want, and especially if it feels like it's something you have to do. You can't expect to run your life by someone else's standards."

Silent, Draco stared hard at the tiles of the floor. Harry had just brushed over the one subject that hurt the most. "I guess you're right." He whispered after a while.

"Of course I am." Harry said lavishly.

"Now you're getting cocky. I'm quite sure the world just spun out of its axis. Enjoy the moment while you can." He said, regaining something of his cool, slightly aloof attitude.

Harry grinned and threw a crumpled wrapper at him. Then he gestured at his face, "You've got chocolate on you chin."

"Where?" Draco demanded, scrubbing with the back of his hand over his face.

"Just there…" Harry pointing at his own face, "Oh, just let me…" and he crawled on hands and knees over to Draco's side of the hallway, and rubbed his thumb just under the curve of the blonde's lower lip.

Draco quite forgot how to breathe for a moment, with Harry so up close in his personal space. His first instinct was to flinch away, but he managed just to freeze and hold still. Wide-eyed he gazed at the other's face, and noted that the tip of Harry's tongue was caught between his lips as he concentrated. The strange pressure in his chest increased when Harry glanced up, looking into his eyes, and startled to find what must have showed on his face.

Draco remembered to breathe again when Potter was safely back where he should be, and puzzled about his own reaction just then.

Harry ventured to break the silence, wishing he knew what was circulating in Draco's head that could make him look so very frail and isolated. He didn't quite understand everything that they had just talked about and felt he was missing something very obvious. Most of all, he was afraid that he'd made Draco uncomfortable by coming so close and touching him thus; boys didn't do that with one other.

The night wore on, and both grew tired, but sleep was elusive. Draco sprawled against the wall, eyes heavy-lidded. On the other hand, Harry was huddling, knees drawn up to his chest and arms around them.

"So how did you get that scar anyway?" Draco asked, peering at the profile of the youth's face outlined in blue shadows.

Harry's chest heaved as he drew in a deep breath. "I got it in a car accident when I was two."

"Some car accident," Draco said with a snort, referring to the small size of the scar.

"Yeah well, it did kill both my parents and send me crashing through the front window." He said with an acid edge to his words.

Draco went very still. All Harry could see of him were two light grey eyes, blinking at him owlishly, not quite able to hide their shock. "I'm sorry." He said softly.

"Yeah, me too." Harry replied, but without the venom in his voice.

Draco stared at his hands. The small sounds of the autumn night filled up the big rift between them for quite a while.

"I don't remember much of it. Just the screaming of my mother as the car flipped and finally crashed into a tree. I live with my Godfather now." Harry sighed, leaning his chin upon his knees, "They wanted to show me the sea."

Nodding, but not quite sure why, Draco didn't offer any words of sympathy; they'd all be empty after a revelation like this anyway. He wanted to ask so many questions now, some borne out of a morbid curiosity. Instead he studied Harry for a while and again realized that besides the shaking, his teeth were clattering now, too. He zipped up his backpack, and fished out his sweater, now very rumpled from being balled up in a space so small.

Harry caught the garment that was tossed at him. He looked at his companion with a bemused expression.

"Your teeth are clattering so loudly it's getting on my nerves." He claimed by ways of explanation, but there was a warmer undertone to it too.

Grateful, Harry tugged the garment on. As he pulled it over his head, he breathed in the clean smell of soap mixed with what was Draco's own scent. His belly went very warm. He could feel it spreading up over his chest and then flush his cheeks. Harry could only be very grateful that the night cloaked the color. Pulling his legs up and wrapping his arms around it, Harry surreptitiously breathed in again, and closed his eyes for a brief moment.

A long silence, but one that was not heavy and uncomfortable spanned the next few minutes. Harry eventually even drew up the hood of the sweater, and at long last managed to still the clattering of his teeth. Opposite of him, Draco slumped against the wall, and kept rubbing his eyes as they went scratchy with exhaustion.

"Draco."

"Hmmm."

"Why is it that you pick on Ron?" Harry asked. The blunt question rang sharply into the darkness of the hallway.

There was a small silence. Then, "Dammit Potter! Damn you. Why do you have to go and ruin it? Can't you just leave it? No, you have to go and poke at it like a child picking at a scab."

"Regarding your behavior back then, I think it is a very valid question," Harry bit back at him, "Besides, what was there to ruin? It's not like I'm your best buddy or anything."

Draco opened his mouth, his lips pulling back in a sneer, and then abruptly, and then abruptly he stopped, choking back what he'd been about to say. Setting his jaw, he glared at a spot on the wall somewhere to the right above Harry's head.

As always, when it was too late, Harry realized his grave error. He had not recognized the very subtle extending of reconciliation between the two of them until he had gone ahead and trampled it. "I didn't mean to…" he began, but Draco cut him of in an almost violent fervor.

"NO! Of course you didn't, nobody ever means it, but then they go ahead and do it anyway." He snarled at him, baring his teeth in a feral way.

"HEY!" Harry roared back, but just to get his attention, "I'm sorry okay, I didn't mean to ruin…this. I just… Look, Ron's my friend and I want to protect him. But…I like you, too, and I just wish we could…"

"We? Good gracious, Potter, there is no 'we'. There is you and Weasley and there is me. And just…" he trailed off, the anger ebbing out of his voice, as his brain finally processed all Harry had said. He stared, mouth still open at what he was about to say, but was now forgotten.

Harry blinked, wondering why Draco was sort of gaping at him. He lifted an eyebrow inquiringly.

"You like me?" he asked, voice gone small.

"Like you? Oh um…" Harry winced at the sound of his own voice. He though he'd already gone through that part of puberty already, so why did his voice have to start squeaking all of a sudden? "Like I friend, I meant." He added hastily, nearly hanging on the word 'friend' in his frenzy to get it out.

Harry was hyper-aware of his body at the moment, and suddenly decided he must look like a fool to sit as a huddling child. So he all but flung his legs into a sprawled sitting-position, similar to Draco's and all but almost accidentally kicked him in the progress. Did his hair look weird? Did it stuck up again in the back? He wished he had paid attention to his reflection earlier that evening. Wait. Could Draco even see his hair in the dark of the night?

Arching an eyebrow as he hastily pulled his leg away from the sudden spasm the other made, Draco continued their conversation, "Of course as a friend, as what else?" he demanded incredulously.

Harry felt his mouth open to say something disarming, but no words came out. As if that wasn't enough, he made another big mistake by looking straight into Draco's eyes. With some sort of a jolt he saw the other's eyes widen suddenly.

As he groped for words he did not find, the door slammed open so powerfully that Harry narrowly avoided it smashing his face by half leaping to his feet and stumbling sideways.

Before any coherent thought crossed his mind, Harry found himself enveloped in a bone-splintering embrace by a scarcely dressed Sirius Black, and a bleary-eyed Remus Lupin standing several paces behind him, reserve-key in hand.

--

"I can't believe I said that." Harry groaned into his hands, "I just hope he's as blond as he looks and doesn't interpret it wrong."

Cedric managed to hide most of his grin behind his teacup and exchanged a glance with Sirius, before saying, "Well, you kind of meant it that way, if you're honest. You do like him with romantically related interests in mind."

As response, Harry groaned only louder in his hands, and started rubbing his temples with his fingertips.

"You've always been horrible at lying Harry; you can't do it without keeping your face straight." Sirius remarked airily, as if by some way it might console him that he were doomed to fail anyway when a conversation around that topic turned up.

A baleful look was all Harry managed at that, before taking a scoring gulp of his steaming coffee, which he felt go down all the way. Even that didn't distract him from the pounding headache he had acquired after his late-night misadventure with Malfoy. Not only had he slept for only four hours, now he had a headache and an anxious feeling to deal with as well.

"You are blowing it out of proportion anyway, if you ask me." Sirius went on, waving his hand in dismissal.

"Well, I'm not asking you and neither will you have to handle the shit when my homosexuality comes out," Harry grumbled sourly as he stared out of the window of Everlind's. Outside on the little square an old lady was feeding the birds, tossing breadcrumbs around for them. The first touches of autumn were visible on the yellow-going-red leaves that clung dryly to the branches of the trees. At Saturday before noon business at the deli was slow, and but for four more occupants it was deserted.

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic, kid." Said Sirius, and let out his familiar bark of laughter, not at all daunted by Harry's sourness.

Setting his mug of coffee on the table with a sharp 'clunk', Harry retorted, "Well, this is not the city, but a small village, people here are not so open-minded and-"

Now it was Cedric who snorted in his tea, "Such clichés, you don't really believe this yourself, do you? It doesn't matter where; there will always be people who will be disgusted, or suspicious, fanatic or aggressive. Just as there are people who don't care and still want to be friends of you despite all prejudices. It's never easy."

"Yeah," Sirius followed up, nodding, " And you've never been a coward, it never daunted you before. Why is it so different now? You'll only look more ridiculous if it comes out through a bit of gossip."

Slumping back in his seat and staring at his faint reflection on the window morosely, Harry lied awkwardly, "I don't know." And at Sirius' eye rolling and Cedric's sigh, he corrected, "I'm not sure, really, and if it is why I think it is, then it's so ridiculous that I'd rather not talk about it.'

That was as close he could come to admitting to himself that he'd rather not have Malfoy know it, lest he would pull a one-eighty and go all nasty to him, too. Though, on the other hand, Draco tolerated Darragh perfectly well, going as far to have established a sort of friendship with him. Harry drew in a breath and held it, thinking to himself it would get awkward between them anyway. More awkward than it already was, and at least now they could interact without the added tension.

"Well, that was nice and cryptic." Sirius scoffed, interrupting Harry's train of thought.

Cedric was frowning, "You're being ridiculous," was all he had to say to that.

At that, Harry felt even more down, because now his childhood friend dismissed his behavior as ridiculous. It hurt even more because he knew Cedric was right. So:

"I know," he ground out, raking his fingers through his thick hair, "I know you're right." Saying those words helped to bolster his resolve, and he sat up straighter, declaring: "Okay, right, I'm ending this bloody shit as soon as possible. Who cares what they think or do about it? They can kiss my hairy butt."

Cedric sipped from his tea, "Your butt's not hairy," he said from over the rim of the cup.

"How would you know?" Sirius prompted, pretending to be quasi-suspicious and wagging a cookie at him.

"Hello? Trying to make a point here?" Harry raised his voice, as Cedric got throttled by his dessert.

"Yeah, though mate, we got it. You don't care; everybody kisses your butt… as long as you pass them by me for inspection." Said Sirius; leaning his chin on his fist lazily and peering at the remainder of his cookie.

"Talking about people kissing each other's butt…" Cedric began, and Harry knew that the tone could not mean anything good. "How are you and Remus doing?"

Harry half sprayed a mouthful of coffee all over himself. Coughing weakly he managed, "Talk about a change of topic."

Shrugging casually, Cedric said, "Just interested."

Fascinated as to how this new train of conversation was going, Harry sat back down on his chair, one eye coming out disturbingly clear between his overgrown fringe. He would never have dared to ask such a thing so boldly, not that he was any good in this kind of heart-to-heart and love-life conversation. He tended to avoid those with particular enthusiasm, only Darragh and Cedric seemed to get him so spill a little, though even then mostly reluctantly.

Sirius was very much engrossed with his cookie, so that if he stared at it any harder his eyes might just plop out of his head.

"Still like that, eh?" Cedric mumbled, nodding sagely.

"Still like that." Harry confirmed.

"Denial."

"Yup." Harry said.

"Tragic."

"Tell me about it. He's been pining after him since-" Harry paused, rubbing his chin, smudging his face more so with coffee, "Since when again, Sirius?"

Sirius mumbled something that sounded like 'ommtwenyer'.

"What?" both Harry and Cedric chorused.

Sirius ground out slowly, "Over twenty years…"

"TWENTY years?" Cedric all but shouted, not even caring to hide the genuine shock on his face.

"Twenty friggin' years…" Harry echoed numbly.

"Blimey, you must really be getting desperate-"

Harry threw a cube of sugar his way, which hit him square on the forehead. Though it silenced him, Cedric had said enough to have Sirius' face take a turn towards what could be described as a cloudy weather-forecast with chances of thunder and lightning for the next few days.

"You and your big mouth," Harry hissed at him.

Cedric frowned as if to say, hey, it's the truth.

The black haired boy just slapped his forehead and shook his head.

Trying to smooth over the awkward moment, Cedric mumbled, " Anyway…" he drew out the word long and dug helplessly in his mind for a decent thing to say, and only ended up pronouncing the uncomfortable silence even more so.

Harry glared at his friend, and Cedric shrugged again in apology. Harry tried for a new line of conversation, "So, Alex called this morning –you know the girl with the dreadlocks- canceling our project thing, because she had to go to a tattoo parlor or something. We're meeting up Sunday now."

"Oh," Cedric nodded, before his face twisted in a manner that suggested he had suddenly remembered something, "How about you? Is yours coming along any time soon?"

"Not until he's married and I'm dead, it is." Sirius muttered loud enough for both of them to hear.

"Says he who's got a whole chest full of ink and tried to pierce his own ear with a needle when he was sixteen…" Harry retorted smartly, pulling his long legs up on his chair to sit in Indian fashion, "Besides, I do believe you said, and I quote-" he made quotation marks with his fingers in the air, "okay, okay, just stop whining about it! But don't you think I'm paying as much as a penny to help you ruin your body."

Cedric put up his finger, "I was there, I was there! I'm witness!"

"That was not an official okay for you to get a tattoo, you little twerp." Sirius grumbled sourly.

"Hey, no crawling back, I got a summer job, remember, and earned enough to get one, and I've turned seventeen and am allowed to get one with your permission." Harry reasoned, counting off on his fingers.

"Aw, c'mon Sirius, you're not being fair, you did say he was allowed to get one if he paid for it himself…" Cedric said, leaning sideways to peer into Sirius' face.

"I just don't want him to regret it… and sometimes it might give you a hard time getting a job…" he told them, picking on the hem of his sleeve as if it had done him some personal injustice.

"Yeah, I'll be sure to get one right on my forehead that says 'Yo' mamma sucks'" Harry said with a sarcastic roll of his eyes.

Cedric let out a hoot of laughter and ended up splashing tea on the front of his shirt, while Sirius, leaning back in his chair made a ha-ha-very-funny face as he crossed his arms.

"I'm just saying, that I'm not as stupid as you seem to think I am, I do have some sense. Besides, I was thinking about getting something a little more…well special. Not on my arm, chest or shoulder." He explained, smirking behind his mug of coffee and feigning innocence. His left foot bounced up and down rhythmically, a rainbow colored sock he had not ever remembered buying, peeping out from his sneaker.

"Sure, fine!" Sirius exclaimed, throwing up his hands in defeat, "You get your bloody tattoo, and you can put it on your ass for all I care! But don't say I didn't warn you!"

Nudging his mug aside, Harry all but crawled up on the table to ruffle his Godfather's hair "Thanks, Sirius!"

Scowling and giving another tug at a stray thread of lint somewhat harshly, Sirius turned to Cedric, " And if anything goes wrong, I blame you."

Cedric just gave him a pleased grin in return and exchanged a meaningful look with his friend. "Well then, that's settled." He declared, " And I am afraid it is time for me to go home."

Feeling his mood darken again, Harry nodded numbly, "Yeah, I guess."

Cedric was leaving for London again today, and they had gone for a cuppa at Everlind's before Sirius drove him off to the station. The days had flown, as they always do just when you wish for more hours in a day. Watching Cedric shrugging on his jacket and leaving some money for the tea was almost enough for Harry to speak up and plead him to stay just a while longer. He did not want his friend to go. It hung unspoken between them that Harry could-no would- not go with him to the station, to wave him off. Their goodbyes had already been said, and dallying at the platform would only leave them both with an empty feeling.

The look on his face must really have been tale-telling because Cedric leaned down, captured his face between his hands and kissed him on the forehead. Harry couldn't say anything, and just tried to convey what he wished to say by looking his friend in the eye. With a fond smile, and a ruffle through Harry's wild black hair, Cedric turned and followed Sirius out of the deli.

Harry saw him go, and stared through the window. Unbidden, his lips formed the words, "See you next time, my friend."

Remarkably, Cedric halted as he was ducking into the car, turned his gaze unerringly at where Harry was, and winked.

It was like that that Harry remained sitting there by the window, pouring himself full of coffee, and generally having a morose feeling of discontent about him. He was picking at a scone as he wrote the fundaments of a short-story, when he became aware of a rather familiar voice in the booth next to him. He knew that not so long ago, twenty minutes or so, two people had taken place there, but then he was too engrossed in his writing to have paid any mind. Of course what caught his ears was enough to disperse his rapt attention of his work and to –to his great shame- begin to eavesdrop.

"-it's nothing to with what Draco's said about it." A raw contralto voice said harshly. "This has nothing to do with anyone else but you and me."

"I know he doesn't like her ever since she said…well, you know." replied her male companion.

There was a disgusted scoff. "That being as bad enough as it is, don't change the fucking subject." There was a somewhat Irish accent in the voice that betrayed her identity.

"Actually it's none of your business, you know. Just hers and mine." The male got defensive now.

Alex's patience was rapidly giving way to her anger, and the tone in her voice betrayed it, "None of my business? Well, that's nice to know. Nice indeed. It seems that your dear, lovely Reya has gotten what she wanted, isn't it? Time for me to disappear from the picture, never mind that you are as close as I've ever had for family." A mug was set down with such force that Harry was surprised that he didn't hear it shatter.

"Don't you dare use that against me now, just don't. And don't talk about Reya like that." The young man all but growled.

"As you wish, I am sure." Alex said disdainfully.

The other person took a deep breath, as if to steady himself. Harry was very aware that what he was doing was wrong, and no doubt what he was hearing was very, very private. But he could not seem to help himself. He sat very still.

"Reya and I love each other… why can't that be enough for you?" Now there was pleading in his voice, and a tremor.

"Gloves," Alex said and swallowed audibly, "Why do you make me repeat it when you know the bloody answer?" There was a silence which was almost a plea from her to not make her say it. But the silence lengthened, and now it was Alex's time to draw a deep, trembling breath. "She doesn't love you. Not in the complete way you do her." She spoke almost aggressively over his indignant reply, "No, you made me say it, damn you, so I fucking will. If she loves you, why then does she still say your hands disgust her, that you should be grateful that she even allows you to touch her with them? Why then, does she now, only after you inherit that fortune, want to live with you? You have a job, you earn your living more than enough, but now, when you are by default rich, she will demand that it is time you live together. And suddenly, lo and behold, she's supposed to be pregnant? Does she really think it necessary to try and make you feel obliged to provide for her? Though, honestly, there will be no baby by next year, if you ask me. Nor for the years after that, imagine what havoc it could wreak on her figure, the thought alone-"

"Enough." The word was spoken soft, but clearly, and a great deal of mixed emotions was shielded behind it. "Don't you dare cheapen what is between us. What do you know about it? Maybe Reya is right, you're only jealous because you've hoped that it would be us that would live together, but instead I've chosen my girl."

"Oh, don't be such a dolt. Of course I've wanted for us to live together, we've done so for almost three years now, and longer before that. But I love you as a brother, and I would be able to let you go graciously if it were not for that little lady friend of yours… and now I am risking everything between us to make you understand just what you are committing yourself to. And by the Gods, it's not only me, it's Draco and Blaise, it's even Datum and Jinx, and Rufus and-"

"None of you understand!" Gloves all but shouted in the little restaurant, making several heads turn abashedly, " And you are just a selfish, ungrateful little-" a pause and then a shuddering gulp of breath, "As I said: enough. I don't need to hear this. If you can't be happy for me, then it's better that you… that we don't see each other again." By the thick quality of Gloves' voice it was clear that there were tears.

For more than a few painfully bleeding heartbeats, Alex was perfectly silent. "Very well, then, my brother. Goodbye." Her voice was so controlled that she almost sounded cold.

"Alex, I-"

"Goodbye, Gabriël. Don't forget your gloves, lest Reya sees you without them."

There seemed nothing for them left to say. And thus, after a few seconds, footsteps moved towards him from the booth next to him, and Harry glanced up at the person that stormed by. He vaguely recognized him as the scar-faced man he had seen once when Ron, Hermione, Dean, Finbar and he had met here at the very start of the school year. With a loud bang the door slammed shut behind him as he disappeared into the dreary rain outside.

After a few moments, Madam Rosmerta drifted over to the booth next to him. "Are you alright dear? Is there anything I can get you? It's on the house."

"Thanks," her voice sounded parched, and most of all weary, "Hot cocoa, if you don't mind."

"Of course, dear." And she disappeared to get just that.

Harry sat torn between his heart and his mind. The rational part of him said very clearly that it was a bad, bad, baaad, idea to go and sit with Alex. Besides the few times they had worked on aesthetics and the few conversations they'd had, they knew nothing of each other. If he sat down by her, she would know he had overheard, he did not know how she would react to that and lastly; he had no clue what to do. He was socially handicapped if it came to situations like these, and avoided them wisely. More so, he hated situations like these.

Yet his heart told him that it was the least it could do; to sit by her.

After a few struggling moments where he juggled the pros and cons, he eventually dragged himself to his feet and shuffled to the booth where Alex sat, her face hidden in her hands. It was only when he sat down next to her that she looked bewildered up at him.

"Harry."

"Hi." He said somewhat sheepishly, glancing sideways to her face.

To her credit, there were no tears. On the other side, the look in her eyes suggested she was way beyond those. The pallor was a sickly sheen beneath her tan and her usually freakish glowing eyes were dull.

"You don't have to feel like you-" She began somewhat awkwardly.

"It's alright." He interjected hastily, "I don't know what to say anyway." He added with a little laugh.

Alex smiled, too, but there was no positive emotion in it at all. "Neither do I."

In the silence that followed, Rosmerta returned with Alex's cocoa, and somehow with a second one for him, which she offered with a fond wink. Well, Harry thought to himself, at least Madam Rosmerta appreciates my gesture.

"I know it's none of my business…" Harry began with difficulty, "But if you…well, oh, I'm no good at this." He scowled, feeling himself hopelessly inept and useless.

This time there was a real smile on her face, "Oh Harry, you make it hard for me to wallow in my self-pity." She bumped shoulders with him playfully, before gingerly sipping from her cocoa.

Harry felt himself grin in return.

"Maybe, you're right, if I just talk about it to someone who isn't already caught up in this mess. If you…if you don't mind." She added belatedly.

"The offer still stands, though I thought you had to go to that tattoo parlor." He queried, nipping from his own mug and inhaling the soothing fragrance of the drink.

"Yes, I should still. But Rufus will understand I think; besides I've got two hours left." Alex answered, dipping the cookie in her cocoa.

And it was thus that Harry learned the truth.

Alex was an orphan, her mother having abandoned her father, to go live with another, wealthier lover, leaving her two 'mishaps' with the grief-stricken man. Her dad had all but wasted away two winters later. She didn't over-indulge in the details of her past, but it was clear that Gabriël was the reason she had been plucked off the streets. The scar on his face was an evidence of that. What had exactly happened to her older brother, she didn't say.

She had lived together in a small apartment with six other youngsters, all either parentless or having run away out of sheer desperation, for the better part of her life. Around the age of ten, she had been spotted and turned in at an orphanage together with Gabriël. Quickly enough she was adopted, but the by then sixteen year old Gabriël had never had a chance against the younger competition. He was scarred in the face, and his hands horribly disfigured by an accident in a burning building, that being why he always wore gloves. Hence the nickname.

The young Alex, rebelling against separation from what she had become to see as her brother, was passed on from one family to the other. Then there was a part she brushed away, something that had happened at her previous school, which led to the final expulsion from an adoption family. So now she still lived at the orphanage, up until recently with Gloves, both doing a generous amount of chores around there and trying to scrape together money to pay at least a little back to the wonderful staff who allowed them to stay. Hence why Alex modeled nude, it was a way to earn her scholarship fee. Dumbledore, kind as ever, had arranged that that was all she needed to do to earn her education and ultimately her diploma. She had doubled her share of years while being juggled from one family to another in different parts of the country, and was now quite bored in class, as she was already far beyond the current level.

All that accounted in a small way to the present. Gloves, now twenty-five, had fallen for a young woman named Reya. The latter had all but scorned him in the beginning, finding him ugly and a person dangling on the lowest rung in society. That compared to the sheer wealth of her family and her unsurpassed beauty had resulted in behavior towards Gloves that was usually reserved for the worst kind of criminals. And then, maybe because Gloves had the power to attract people, or maybe with some ulterior motives, she had turned to him after finding out her current boyfriend had slept with another girl. Gloves, poor besotted fool, had welcomed her into his life. Reya didn't like Alex. And Alex most certainly didn't like Reya.

"Gloves says I'm very good at holding grudges, and that her despicable behavior was normal seeing the circumstances." Alex was saying.

Harry was shaking his head, "I don't think there are ever circumstances that would allow someone to call another person a 'misshaped mongrel'." He said, recalling what Alex had said earlier.

"Well, yes, that was what I said. And of course, the only conclusion was that I was jealous. Oh well, anyway; she has been turning his head so badly he can't tell his back from his front. And now, gods know why that person has never, ever before tried to contact him, but an uncle has bitten the dust and left Gloves filthy rich. Funny how things turn out. And, yes, now of course, Reya says she's pregnant, and that he had better look for a house and a better job, and a car and… so on and so forth." She nodded to herself, "Well, and that's what that shit was about a moment ago." And as if to conclude that, she tossed back the rest of her cocoa.

"Well damn." Was all Harry could offer.

"Exactly my thoughts." She said with a sigh. "It all sounds like some bloody soap-opera, but I think my life is a lightening-rod for seriously fucked-up situations."

Harry, his chin nestled on his arms, peered up at her face, "I don't know what to say. I wish I could tell you something that was more than just some words, but…" he conceded somewhat timidly.

"You've done more than what most people would have, Harry. You don't know me, and still… well, thank you." she said, gazing earnestly into his eyes.

Baffled at such genuine gratitude, Harry just nodded at her.

A few minutes later they were strolling over the little court, the miserable rain weighing Harry's hair down in thick tresses. They were sort of ambling in the general direction of the tattoo parlor, taking a round about route through the park.

Harry had wrapped a red and golden-orange striped scarf around his neck, so that only his eyes peeped over the rim. The old leather jacket from Sirius was buffeted with the gust of rain and wind, but kept him surprisingly snug. His hair was flapping around his head in a wild dance of soggy black.

"Seems like we ended up spending the afternoon together anyway," Harry commented after a short time of walking in companionable silence.

Alex smiled up at him. She was dressed in a way Harry had not seen before; wearing red stockings and a short denim skirt. She was huddling in a thick, beige turtleneck sweater, and a colorfully knitted cap was pulled over her dreadlocks. Her red converse shoes were dark with the rain. The two of them made a rather funny sight.

"Ah, well, I don't think I'd have the mind for much brainpower and school-related subjects at the moment. And I don't think you'd have either, with your midnight escapade with Draco," Said Alex, kicking a pinecone in front of her, in a direction so he could intercept it and then pass it back to her.

Harry ducked deeper into his scarf to hide his expression, "Heh. Yeah."

"Man, Draco was such a cranky ass this morning when I called him, he sounded really rough." She revealed to him conspiratorially.

His body went taut with dread, "I just hope he doesn't go all nasty on me now… like with Ron. He's made it clear he doesn't really like me." It sounded petulant, even to his own ears, and he belatedy wished he'd chosen his words differently.

Alex let out a throaty chuckle, "Oh don't worry about that. He only acts that way towards you because he doesn't want to admit to himself that he likes you."

There was a stark silence in which Alex look flustered, as if she'd said something she wasn't sure if she should have. While Harry bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood in an effort to keep the monstrous grin from his face.

"Well, anyway." Alex sort of announced out of the blue, "Gloves also had a weekend-job at the local grocery store, but seeing as it is something below her Highness's status, he had been forced to give it up. Poor old Madeye probably won't know what's gotten into his employee. Gloves had been working there for almost seven years."

Harry tried to keep his face straight and actually understand what she was telling him. But the sudden change of topic was not nearly enough to keep his spirits from soaring. After mulling over her words longer than ordinarily necessary, he exclaimed, "Job?"

"Uh, yeah." Alex said, peering up at him suspiciously, "At Madeye's."

"Oh." His mind raced with the possibility of a new job to earn some money, "Hm, d'you think you could tell me where to find the grocery? I think I might hear if he'd like to have another hand to help out in the weekends."

"Sure. But I'm warning you, Madeye Moody is a weird and cranky old badger… most of the time he acts as if he's running a military encampment, instead of a grocery. But for all his paranoia, he pays fairly well." She confided to him.

Harry found himself both curious and wary of the first encounter with the old man. In any case, as Alex was calling him 'Madeye' it promised to be interesting.

They wandered from one topic to another, and finally indulged themselves in school gossip. "Snape sent them straight to Dumbledore's office. But later Hannah sort of told me he'd only recommended them a better cupboard than the one on the fifth floor." Alex said with a fond grin.

Harry was smiling in return, his regard for the old headmaster elevated every day. "Though I doubt they'd use it now, seeing as the whole school knows about their little tryst."

"Hannah is mortified, the poor lass." Alex said with a shake of her head. " And by the way, Harry, way to go." She nudged him with her elbow. "Trying to keep it a secret won't do, you know. D'ya think you could spare me some juicy details?"

His look must've been so nonplussed, that Alex almost immediately sensed that they weren't at all on the same level. The corner of her mouth dropped somewhat, as the grin melted from her face.

"Cho?" Alex prompted, looking somewhat uncomfortable.

"What about her?" Harry asked, a rather sharp edge to his tone.

"Whoops." She sort of muttered to herself, "Well, she sort of…kind of… Oh, I don't want to be the one to tell on her."

"Well, you had better tell me, 'cause it seems I've been doing some stuff I'm not really aware of," said Harry somewhat darkly.

Alex seemed genuinely torn, between her honour of wanting to tell the truth and not wanting to blab on Cho, and perhaps thus hurt her feelings.

"Enlighten me please, oh fair maiden, and none will hear from me that the word of truth came from your lovely lips." Harry tried with a foppish little bow and innocent green eyes.

A shove was what he initially got in reply, before she muttered "Oh, ok, she sort of let it seem that you'd appeared very interested in her. And oh…" Alex scratched at her nose to hide her face from him, "That you-might-have-done-something-with-her-in-the-attic-classroom."

"WHAT?"

She pulled him to her side by his sleeve and shushed him, "I might have just read into it to much, maybe she was joking and I didn't get it." She sort of made a failing attempt to keep Cho out of harm's way.

"But I haven't done anything with anybody!" he protested loudly.

And Alex hushed him again when an elderly couple looked up with proper scandalized expressions at the assumption that anyone would do anything with someone. Or something like that.

"I know that now. Hoo-boy. Me and my big mouth." She said sheepishly, " And even so I guess you're not 'the kiss and tell-type', are you?" Alex looked up at him with sparkling eyes.

"Of course not!" The idea alone mortified him. He could see it happening already, with him boasting 'yeah I snogged that real hot bloke from sixth grade, bit of a screamer really' and then getting a mob of animalistic homophobes all over him, who would probably bury him chin-deep next to the lake and then throw stones at him. And his remains would be left behind for the giant squid that was rumored to dwell in the depths of the lake.

"Good man, Harry, good man." She praised him, unknowing that momentarily Harry was keener on protecting his hide and hair than worrying about some poor sod's dignity.

"But do try not to be too hard on her? 'Cause it seems she really likes you." she added softly.

"If she really liked me, she wouldn't be saying things like that behind my back. We've hardly ever spoken to each other." Was his indignant reply. Sure, Cho was really pretty, and he dared say that if he was interested in girls he would probably have returned the sentiment. And then this rumor would have been flattering.

She left him to mull over that as they continued to plod through the miserably weather. When eventually she did grind to a halt before a glass window, Harry sort of wondered how he had end up spending almost his whole afternoon with Alex of all people and why he had even followed her to the tattoo parlor.

"Here we are." Alex announced unnecessarily, as if the photos, examples and posters of tribal patterns and other flashy body-art were not enough.

"I can see that," he said with a slight smirk and the he nearly pressed his nose up against the window to look at some piercings displayed neatly in a glass cabinet with rotating platforms. He arched an eyebrow at a certain kind of piercing that came rotating into view.

"Ouch." He said sympathetically, even though the body part in which the barbell winked was made out of plastic.

"…'S supposed to feel good though." Alex said dryly.

"Not for us, I bet." He responded with great conviction. At which Alex laughed heartily at his intonation.

Still snickering, Alex pushed open the door, which swung open with a tinkling of a bell, alerting the patron of customers. Harry immediately detected the smell of sterilized equipment and distillate. With a quick glance he was relieved to learn that it was actually rather pristine inside, small but well-foreseen.

"Hullo."

Harry nearly jumped right out of his skin as both he and Alex whirled around. He had to crane his neck back to look up into the man's face; he was easily over 6 feet tall. Unlike most tattooists this one wasn't nearly covered completely in tattoos, though he did have a black tribal mark trailing the underside of his left eye, as well as some tribal tattoos on his lower arms. But that wasn't quite what struck Harry so badly, it was the fact that this man had even redder hair than Ron's that was quite a shock.

"Damn it, Rufus. Don't sneak up on me like that." Alex rebuked him, clutching her chest dramatically.

For all her bravado, she didn't even reach his shoulder. She looked somewhat ridiculous compared to the sheer size of the man. Despite his shocking height alone, he was also very obviously well-built. Not in an ugly way, but most certainly in a way that suggested you didn't want any trouble with him. His green t-shirt strained around his well-proportioned shoulders. He was kind of hot.

In a scary way.

"So, how's business?" she asked him conversationally.

"Slow, I guess. As is expected this time of the year. Most people want to show off their ink when they take stroll on the beach in the summer. Plus that most conventions are over." He gave a shrug with one shoulder.

"You did pick a dump to start a business." Alex said in a way that betrayed that she'd cautioned him more than once.

"I get by. I'm taking courses in sculpting now." He said.

"Oh nice, you finally got over your initial shyness. Like it?"

"Yeah, quite. Tutor says I got the feeling in my fingers and an eye for the aesthetic." He looked somewhat proud at admitting this.

It was then that Harry realized that he was not so much older than them, maybe only six years, eight tops. But the word shy was not something he would ever have thought of associating with this Rufus guy. Already his neck was starting to strain from having to look up all the time. He tried to remember how it was to be a child, and why it was they never seemed to have any trouble with peering up all the time. If it was somewhat similar to this, he was surprised their necks didn't permanently stick in the same position. From now on he resolved to crouch down when talking to kids, to spare them the trouble of straining their necks.

Alex nudged him sharply, jostling him out of his wayward imagination. Obviously Rufus had just said something to him and he had simply blandly smiled back.

"Oh, uh, hi." He sort of muttered belatedly.

"Right." Rufus uttered with a roar of laughter.

Alex was shaking her head at him. Harry wondered what the hell he had just answered to.

"You're something different. I like that." Said Rufus and clapped him heartily on the back.

So heartily, in fact, that Harry's knees nearly buckled. All that brawn was not just for show then. He resolved to never be on the wrong end of that fist. Within the next few minutes Harry found himself being served fresh mint tea and sort of exploring the little shop. It was not long before he found himself flipping through the example books for tattoos. After a while Alex even handed him some post-it notes to mark his pages when he started running out of fingers.

There were many designs he rather liked. Most of them were even rather original, and soon Rufus proudly informed them that all of them were drawn by his hand. Also, he told Harry gravely, he never made the same one twice. And as he had suspected, both Alex' elaborate leg markings and Finbar's chest design were his work.

It was not long before he realized he was actually making a choice, with both Alex and Rufus peering over his shoulder and offering comments and suggestions. He began to get nervous when they were in the middle of a discussion of where to put it.

Was this really such a great idea? Wasn't this more on a whim than actual careful consideration? He would never be able to get rid of it again. Would Sirius approve?

When he was staring to chew his nails, Alex put a calming hand on his shoulder, "Hey, you look quite tense. Don't think we're trying to talk you into it. You just seemed so confident a while ago. I never intended to bring you here to force you into anything."

"Don't apologize, I'm just well…" he trailed off, thinking it sounded somewhat cowardly.

"It's good that you truly consider it." Rufus pointed out, "It's something that will be with you for the rest of your life."

Harry nodded absently, brushing his lips over the rim of his mug. Absently he was somewhat surprised that with the amount of coffee, cocoa and tea he'd had this day, his bladder hadn't spontaneously exploded on him already.

Fingers trailed the tattoo that had most of his favor lightly. He tried to imagine it with Alex's wonderful suggestion and Rufus' sketch to alter it as such. Forever on his body. In his mind's eye he saw Finbar's and Alex'.

Then he was dialing Sirius' number on his phone. He got more or less the answer he had anticipated. Next thing he knew he was shedding the clothing needed to expose his body. Rufus was laying out some instruments and Alex was hovering nearby. When she asked him if he needed to go to the bathroom before they started, Harry realized he was sort of dancing on the spot with urgency and whisked himself away to relieve himself.

Suddenly Rufus was coaxing him into a position that was somewhat comfortable, though his state of undress made him feel vulnerable. Especially with Alex' meaningful grin and choice remarks. The pattern was drawn onto his skin, and modified over and over again until both Rufus and he were satisfied.

When the prickling, burning sensation of the needle began, Alex was sitting at his head, keeping him distracted by asking all sorts of questions about his previous life in London. Which was enough to keep him occupied, because he wasn't about to blab he was gay just yet.

It took a long time. More than three hours. The only respite he had was that he had to alter his position thrice, with a short stroll each time to stretch his protesting limbs and back.

Alex went out for a short while, and when she came back she was clutching a bag of sweets in her hand, which she then proceeded to feed to him. All in all, he had expected the pain to be more severe, and had only twice needed to take a deep breath when Rufus went over a rather bony part and then over a patch of very sensitive skin.

The sky was long since darkening when Rufus finally told him it was done. Gingerly, he heaved himself to the edge of the table, before sliding down. Carefully, he put his hands on the small of his back and pressed, hearing the satisfying pop of each vertebra.

Rufus was leaning back in his chair, eyeing him with the eye of an artist critically observing a masterpiece. As if that was not enough scrutiny, Alex was sort of hiding most of her face behind her hand, but her green eyes were wide.

"Please tell me you don't have a secret girlfriend anywhere, because I would love to vouch for that position now." She said impishly.

"What about Draco?" he asked.

"Who's Draco?" she asked with such perfectly sweet innocence that he had to laugh.

"All that for a tattoo?" Harry said, daring himself to look at it for the first time.

"I've seen enough to know what I'd be getting." She all but leered at him and at his genuine shock, burst out in uproarious laughter. "But honestly, take a look at yourself."

She guided him to a man-tall mirror, and he had to clutch his garment to him to avoid flashing the whole room. When he stood before it, he barely believed his own eyes. All doubts were instantly expelled. He loved it. He told Rufus so.

The impressive man had the grace to look down, "Well, it's nice to know it's appreciated. You never know what a customer may do."

"No, really, it's amazing." He said passionately and even allowed himself to vainly turn and twist in front of the mirror to get a better look at it. In the reflection over his shoulder, he caught Alex wagging her eyebrows, and he immediately balled up his shirt and flung it at her. She caught it and clutched it to her face, muffling her laugher in it.

Her honest appreciation was incredibly flattering, and Harry had not known that the opinion of a girl could still matter so to him. He was blushing and the harder he tried to stop, the redder he became.

It was like this how Sirius walked in.

Remus was tagging behind and all but walked into Sirius motionless frame. He pushed him aside and demanded, "What's the matter? Is it that ba-… oh."

Harry wondered if it would be any more ridiculous if he hid behind Rufus. Having two fairly unfamiliar people staring at him was bad enough, but with his godfather and Remus, it was just down right horrible.

He sort of managed to stay where he was, and croak out, "Hi Sirius. Remus."

Sirius just stared. Glanced at Remus, though the other man had a look of profound amazement on his face, and then decided to stare some more.

Finally he managed: "Damn Harry, you shouldn't have taken it so literally."

LIEK ZOMG SHE UPDATED!11

…and yes aren't we all proud of me? I know I am. Despite it having taken longer than half a year… for which I've got good reasons… which we will talk about another time, savvy?

ANYWAY, all hail the almighty beta: bewildered-muse. (and I will add that I made loads of stupid mistakes, which she all doggedly purged from this chapter, so you guys would have a nice, typo-free, fanfiction-thingy to read)

Title credits: Praise You from Fatboy Slim.