CHAPTER TEN: Keeping Secrets and Not Keeping Secrets

Physically, Harry was fine when he woke up the next morning. His body felt perfectly rested, and he got out of bed feeling like he'd slept in just the right amount: enough to make him feel snuggly and luxurious, but not so much that he felt sluggish and sleep-logged.

Mentally, though, he felt like shit. Though he could not immediately recall his night last night, he felt bad for no reason. His heart had sunken in his chest. His shoulders were hunched. His brow automatically furrowed, and his lip turned downward in a pout. He felt straight-up bummed out.

He slipped out of bed, still not fully sure how he'd ended back in his dorm at the end of the night. He was fully dressed, however, so he took that for granted as he searched around for his wand. He found it a moment later on his bedside table, where he normally put it, and he sighed and gave his body a little shake. Time to get rid of those doldrums.

At that moment, a Patronus glided into the room in the form of a tabby cat. "Harry," it said, "Don't forget we have training in 15 minutes."

"Shit!" Harry muttered out loud. He'd totally forgotten that he and McGonagall had set up their Animagus training for this Saturday at 10:00. He'd have to skip breakfast.

Still swearing to himself, he went to put on his shoes, only to find they'd been on his feet all night. So all he did was slip on a robe and hurry to Professor McGonagall's office.

She was waiting for him with a smile on her face and a cup of tea in her hands. She offered him the tea, and he took it gratefully, glad to have something in his stomach since he apparently missed out on Draco's semen.

Oh shit! That's what he was supposed to do last night!—meet up with Draco. And he hadn't. Goddamnit. He wasn't sure what happened, though… all he remembered was cleaning and dressing himself up, getting together with his friends in the dorm to take the plumleaf, and then a few minutes after 8:00, everything was blank.

"Are you ready?" McGonagall asked. Harry shook himself and turned his attention towards his professor.

"Yeah," he said, pulling out his wand. "So how do we do this?"

"You can start by putting that away," she said, nodding at Harry's wand. "You won't be needing that. Being an Animagus is not about waving your wand and muttering an incantation. It's about something deeper: it's about tapping into the core of your very magic and finding an entire other part of your being."

It went without saying: Harry was intrigued and excited. Despite the side effects of the plumleaf, he felt his old well of curiosity spring within him, as familiar as a long-lost buddy. "I'm ready," he said, slipping his wand back into his holster and then rubbing his hands eagerly together. "How do we do this?"

"First let me set the mood," McGonagall said, and with a wave of her wand she dimmed the sconces in her office. Their flames took on a calming, bluish hue.

She Conjured a soft mat onto the middle of the floor, and they sat cross-legged, facing each other. "We are going to do an exercise concentrated on helping you find your form," McGonagall told Harry. "First you need to clear your mind. If you're good at Occlumency, this will be easy."

"I suck at Occlumency," Harry said honestly.

McGonagall glared at him. "Divest yourself of that attitude," she instructed, attempting herself to divest of the reprimanding tone. "Forget Snape's abysmal teachings, forget that I mentioned Occlumency. Just close your eyes and think of the blue torchlight above you."

So Harry closed his eyes and pictured the sconces in his mind. Funnily enough, it helped that his short-term memory was still shot from the plumleaf. It allowed him to put aside the recent past and focus on the present. He sank into the fuzziness that was still his brain. Fuzziness and blue light.

"Are you picturing the blue light in your mind? Now let them fade. Let them fade to black, and sink into the darkness."

Easy enough. Now it was just fuzziness. Harry took a deep breath, and when he exhaled even the fuzziness began to fade. Now it was nothing. Now he was floating.

In a violent shock, a figure lashed through the darkness, hissing and spitting, its scales flashing and its teeth sparkling. Harry jerked backwards, nearly toppling over, and his eyes flew open.

Professor McGonagall stared at him. "That quick, Potter?" she marveled.

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"You saw your Animagus form!" McGonagall said. "I could sense it. Good gracious, Potter, you are precocious. It takes most people hours, or sometimes days."

"I-I guess I found my form, then?" Harry replied, breathing heavily. "Wh-what was it?"

"Close your eyes again, and clear your mind once more," McGonagall instructed. "Do you mind if I use Legilimency on you?"

"Go ahead," Harry said. Taking a few calming breaths, he closed his eye and cleared his mind again. It took him longer than before, but eventually he had sunk back into the fuzzy nothingness.

"Legilimens," he heard McGonagall whisper, her voice far away from his consciousness. Her presence brushed against his mind, inquisitive but never intrusive. She was an observer, not an invader.

And then the figure lashed out at him again, coiled and angry, spitting venom and fury.

Both their eyes snapped open again, and McGonagall goggled at Harry. She stared him down, almost disapproving. "A snake?"

"It was pretty much the worst," Harry told Ron and Hermione a couple hours later as they sat at the lunch table in the Great Hall. Lunch was fading into afternoon tea at this point, and Harry was helping himself to way too many finger foods.

"I mean, it's not so bad," Hermione said lamely. "So what if a snake is synonymous with Slytherin? That's not how it is the whole world through."

"C'mon, Hermione," Ron said, "a snake is pretty damn Slytherin."

"And we're not talking about the whole world through, either," Harry added. "We're talking about here in Hogwarts, in a lesson with fucking McGonagall. She hates Slytherin. She hates snakes."

Hermione patted his hand in sympathy. "I'm sorry," she cooed. "Was the whole lesson shot?"

"No," Harry admitted, reluctant to end his whining. "She got over it in a minute, and we continued. We went over theory for hours, and then she gave me a hell of a lot of reading to do."

"Good thing you only sleep four hours a night anyway," Ron said, his lips quivering.

"Ugh, like I want to be spending the wee hours of the morning reading books," Harry groused. "I should spend it fu—"

He stopped himself and nearly clapped a hand to his own mouth. He had almost said fucking Draco. Holy shit, that was close!

"Well, I'll help you study," Hermione offered. "I've been meaning to read up on Animagus theory anyway."

"No, Hermione," Harry countered, "I want you doing research on how to defeat Voldemort. Where have you gotten with that?"

"It's a bit of a broad topic, to be honest," Hermione admitted. "But right now I'm in a particularly promising part about ancient Celtic rituals."

This triggered Harry's memory, and suddenly part of last night came back to him. He remembered when the high was first starting to build that Ginny and Hermione were talking about Celtic magic and something to do with the physical properties of magic.

"Celtic rituals?" Harry said slowly. "Is this related to that book Ginny was reading for Muggle Studies?"

"Not really," Hermione said. "That book was a metaphysical speculation made by a Muggle. A fascinating one, to be sure, but it has no basis in wizarding history. My research is based off of firsthand accounts and compilations by real sorcerers."

"Hmm," Harry said. "I mean, I didn't read the book, but maybe it could have some insight?"

"You are correct, Harry," Hermione said dryly, "you didn't read the book. Just focus on your training and leave the research to me."

At this moment, Ginny, Luna, and Neville ambled up to the table, all three of them looking mighty pleased.

"Morning, everyone!" Neville said smugly.

"It's afternoon, Neville," Ron replied. "How late were you up?"

"Super-duper late," Neville said, still refusing to get rid of his grin. "What about you?"

"Hermione and I fucked ourselves into a stupor by about midnight," Ron said.

"Ew, stop!" Ginny cried. "I didn't need to hear that!"

"By midnight?" Neville said, waving a hand at him. "Pff, amateurs."

Another piece of the night came back to Harry: Him and Neville, leaving the dorm to have a talk about something serious (what about, again?), and Neville saying he was going off to the Hufflepuff dormitories.

"So," Harry said, grateful his memory was beginning to serve him again. "Did you succeed in fucking Eloise?"

"Yes." Neville puffed up his chest and added, "but that's not all! I took Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones to bed, too!"

Everyone's jaws flapped open in astonishment. "One right after the other?" Ron breathed in awe.

"No, all at the same time," Neville said. "It was glorious! Hannah was riding me while Susan sat on my stomach and made out with her, and Eloise sat on my face while I licked her out."

"No…" Ginny whispered. "Holy shit!"

"You can go into more detail, you know," Luna suggested.

"I will in a little," Neville promised, "but first I wanna hear what happened to the rest of you!"

Ginny shrugged. "Seamus and Dean played with that vagina model for far too long. And Luna and I sorta… we were on your bed, Neville, and, uh…"

"We fooled around a little bit," Luna offered up. "Nothing much, and by now Ginny's too sober to want to talk about it. But we're good now, still friends, everything back to normal. The timing's not right, anyway."

"Okay, but," Neville said, "if I give you more detail, I'll expect you to give it in return."

"But what about your night, Harry?" Ron interjected. "What happened after you and Neville left the dorm? Surely you didn't join him in his foursome?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I sure didn't. But… uh, to be honest, I'm having a hard time remembering everything that happened last night. I just know I woke up feeling like shit."

"That was the comedown," Hermione said. "That's the only negative side effect—that bummed out feeling you get when it fades away."

"The only negative side effect?" Harry asked. "Then what about my blackout? When I woke up, I couldn't remember any of the evening; it's only now coming back to me in bits and pieces."

The other looked at each other and shrugged, then turned back to Harry. "I remembered everything just fine," Ron said.

"Me too," Ginny added.

"Me too," Luna said.

"And me, thank fuck," Neville grinned.

Hermione shrugged. "I think you know I'm going to say this, but me too. Harry, it may be that you experienced an extra side effect, since the plumleaf hit you so hard. But you're saying it's coming back to you?"

"Bit by bit," Harry said. "I remember most of the evening up until Neville and I left the dorm."

Neville waved his hand to coax Harry along. "But your plan for the evening was to seduce Draco."

"Yeah…"

"Did you succeed in that?"

"Well, I woke up in my own bed," Harry said slowly, "So I guess not."

The others deflated with little sighs. Hermione tsked at Harry and said, "You shouldn't have been so high."

"Yeah," Harry said. "I must've just wandered the halls and…"

Then it did hit him: everything, the whole night. When he'd admitted to Neville that he was going to hate fuck Malfoy. When he got to the Slytherin dorm and let himself in using Parseltongue. When he had no intention to hate fuck Draco, but to fuck-fuck, to make love. When he'd let himself into Draco's four-poster bed and then tipped his hand. When he let Draco know that he actually cared about him.

It hit him square in the gut. Yet immediately as it came to him, he knew he could not let his friends know. So he slammed the feeling down and took it all inwardly, his insides emptying as his face remained calm.

Placidly he looked up at his friends as his stomach churned, and he murmured, "I… I think it's coming back to me. I… I think I just wandered the halls and then went to bed."

Slowly and smoothly he looked at his watch. "Oh," he lied matter-of-factly, "it's almost 2:00. I'm supposed to meet Dumbledore for some extra training."

He stood up and left, abandoning the two tea sandwiches that had been in his hands. Then he walked out of the Great Hall, his heart racing.

What the fuck possessed him to say what he did? The plumleaf, obviously, but holy shit! Draco knew now that Harry was falling for him. Draco knew Harry cared, and that gave the Slytherin the complete advantage of this situation. There was no way Harry could possibly sneak any secrets out of him now!

Even worse, an insidious thought crept up on Harry: that he no longer wanted to seduce secrets out of Malfoy. He just wanted Draco. He wanted to have Draco, but not as a conquest. He wanted that boy for keeps.

He took a couple of deep, calming breaths, but they did nothing to calm him. On the contrary, they brought him to the verge of hyperventilation. He needed to let this out. He needed to tell someone. But he couldn't tell Ron and Hermione and Ginny and Luna and Neville. He couldn't tell his best friends for fear of disappointing them. They'd been counting on him to make this plot work, and he was failing. So he had to tell someone else first—maybe so he could work it out, or maybe just to get it off his chest. But who could he possibly tell?

A few hallways down from the Great Hall, he heard footsteps behind him, and he saw Neville by himself, running to catch up.

"Hey, Harry!" Neville cried. "Wait up!"

Harry slowed his pace, but he didn't stop entirely. "What is it, Neville?" he said shortly, avoiding his friend's gaze.

"Harry, what really happened?" Neville pressed him. "You didn't just wander the halls and end up in your bed. You know that's a lie."

"It's the truth," Harry lied. "I got way fucking high, and I meandered around a little while before I got paranoid that Mrs. Norris would find me. So I went back to our dorm."

"No, you didn't," Neville said. "You were going to find Draco and hate fuck him."

"Yeah, I was," Harry said evasively, "but I didn't, okay?"

"But you tried," Neville said. "You did try. So what went wrong?"

"You want the truth?" Harry cried, spinning around to face Neville, yet still focusing his gaze on Neville's chin instead of directly in his eyes. "If you must know, I went to the Slytherin dormitory and waited for two hours, but Draco never came out. I got stood up."

"Oh," Neville said, his body slumping. "Sorry to hear that."

"Yeah," Harry said, scuffing his foot on the floor. "It sorta sucked."

"But why didn't you tell the others?"

"Because it's embarrassing, all right?" Harry said. "I don't like to throw this card around a lot, but I'm Harry Potter. I'm not exactly the type of person someone stands up."

"Very true," Neville conceded. "Maybe Draco's trying to play you. Maybe it's time to regroup and restrategize."

Harry sighed. "Yeah, maybe. We can talk about it after the Order meeting on Sunday, during our normal meeting time."

"Or we could call an emergency debrief right now, if you want," Neville offered.

Shaking his head, Harry sighed and turned away from his friend. "No, it's okay. Debrief during our normal meeting will work just fine."

Throughout Saturday afternoon and Sunday daytime, Harry kept a close eye on the Marauder's Map, trying to find a time waylay Draco again. He wasn't sure what he'd do or what he'd say to overcome his behavior on Friday night. He just knew he wanted to see Draco and talk to him. To say something… anything.

But Draco spent most of the weekend in his dormitory, so the Sunday evening Order meeting arrived without Harry having a chance to run into the Slytherin again. Feeling a little morose, he arrived at Grimmauld Place with Dumbledore, this time a couple minutes early. The kitchen table was mostly full already, though a last few stragglers were slipping in to take their seats.

Harry took a seat next to Lupin. His former professor turned to him with a pleasant, "How's it going, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "Okay, I guess."

"You guess?" Lupin raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that?"

Harry hesitated for a moment. He wondered if he should go into more detail. Maybe just a little. Maybe he'd say that he was having a bit of a personal problem at school.

But before he could formulate an answer, Arthur Weasley burst into the room with an enormous grin on his face. "Attention!" he cried, clapping his hands together. "Everybody, I have something you all simply must try!"

The Order members eyed him warily. Snape frowned at McGonagall, who frowned back at him and shrugged. Some of the other members rolled their eyes. Molly Weasley, meanwhile, slunk in after him and quickly found her seat, fighting a blush in her freckly face.

Arthur waved his arms open grandly and announced, "I have just tried cocaine for the first time! It's simply wonderful! You all will love it."

Snape cleared his throat and raised a hand in warning. "Arthur? First off, where did you get it? And secondly, I really don't think we—"

But it was too late. Arthur clapped his hands, and a very disgruntled Kreacher entered the room, magicking behind him a long row of plastic McDonald's cups. He floated one to every Order member in the room. Some of them grabbed them instinctively out of the air, while others allowed them to settle on the table in front of them, not daring to pick them up.

"I found it at a Muggle food place!" Arthur cooed proudly. "It's so sweet and fizzy! It makes my tummy feel bubbly and happy." He grabbed his own cup out of midair and took a long sip out of the straw."

"Won't this stuff kill you?" Elphias Doge said, his voice trembling.

Mundungus Fletcher shrugged and took a sip from his own cup. His face lit up, and he nodded at Arthur in appreciation. "Sweet as hell, but mighty good!" he said.

Arthur turned to Snape and said, "By the way, you were wrong. Muggle kids totally use cocaine! Every single child in the place was taking it. I even saw a baby nursing a cup full of cocaine!"

Harry tried not to laugh as he took a sip of his drink. Instead, he watched as Snape pinched the bridge of his nose in profound exasperation.

"Weasley," Snape ground out, "When you went into this Muggle food establishment, did you ask for cocaine?"

"Yes!" Arthur said brightly. "I went in and asked for it, and they gave it to me. It only cost a sickle extra on top of the fatty, greasy meal they served up!"

"No, Weasley," Snape said, his voice rising, "Did you say, 'I want cocaine?' " He glared at the redheaded wizard. "Or did you say, "I want Coke?' "

"Oh," Arthur said. "Well, the latter. I was doing my research, and I learned that all the young people call it coke, so I didn't want to seem suspicious, calling it by its scientific name. So I played it cool and went out into Muggle London asking for coke, and a lovely gentleman who happened to be homeless pointed me in the direction of McDoddle's. And so I went in and asked for coke, and I got it! It's not illegal at all! You really need to do your research, Snape."

"First off," Snape snapped, cutting Arthur Weasley off, "It's McDonald's. Secondly, cocaine is not a scientific name. Benzoylmethylecgonine is its real scientific name, but let's not get into the weeds here. Thirdly—oh sweet fucking Merlin—they gave you Coca-Cola! Not cocaine!"

"What?" Arthur said, sipping absently at his Coke. "I don't understand."

Snape clenched his fist but somehow retained his calm. "You know when a word is spelled the same but can have more than one meaning? Like lie, or left, or foot? Well, coke is one of those words. It is short for cocaine, which is the drug I was talking about last week. It is also short for Coca-Cola, which is a carbonated Muggle drink. You got the latter, not the former. And everything I said last week about cocaine is still accurate. You are just a bleedingly dumb twat."

Arthur deflated slowly throughout the length of Snape's diatribe, and by the end he looked quite morose. But then he turned his gaze back down towards his cup, took another sip, and began smiling again.

"It may not be cocaine," he conceded, "but it's mighty tasty! I think I'm going to buy more Coke from Muggle food joints."

"You do that," Snape said, his voice low with exasperation.

"...and I'll keep looking for cocaine while I'm at it," Arthur added happily.

"I really don't suggest it," Snape said, echoing his advice from last week. But Arthur was no longer paying attention, and Dumbledore was sending brief Legilimency vibes at Snape, accompanied by an impatient wave of his hand, so the Potions master shut up and allowed the meeting to begin.

Same as the last, this meeting was fruitless. Harry was prepared to take mental notes for the sake of his friends, but after half an hour he realized he needn't bother. There were no new updates.

Afterwards, Harry stood up and was able to walk over to join Dumbledore, but Lupin stopped him and motioned for him to follow. So Harry stood up and followed Lupin out of the kitchen, and they went off to one of the drawing rooms on the first floor.

"What's up?" Harry said as they took a seat on one of the old leather couches.

"I just wanted to see if everything was okay," Lupin said. "It seemed you were about to tell me something before Arthur interrupted us with his, ah, coke presentation."

Harry smiled a little, still amused by Arthur's antics. Then he sighed and said, "I mean, things are okay…" Weighing his words carefully, he added, "Just a little confusing."

Lupin waited patiently for Harry to continue speaking. Harry shot to his feet and started pacing the floor in front of the couch. His heart beat a little quicker as he contemplated coming clean. Lupin was a safe choice—they already had a camaraderie from his Third Year, and he wasn't as tremendously worried about disappointing Lupin as he was his best friends or Dumbledore.

Finally Harry opened his mouth and said, "Well, I'm having a little… romantic trouble, I suppose."

Lupin nodded and waited for Harry to continue.

"I… I think I'm falling for someone, and I shouldn't really be falling for them."

"Fraternizing with the enemy?" Lupin said, his lip quivering with amusement.

"Yeah," Harry said sheepishly. "Well, not the enemy, but a Slytherin. I don't think I should be falling for a Slytherin."

"Depends," Lupin said. "Not all Slytherins are bad. Just ambitious and power-hungry, bless them."

"This one's bad, though," Harry said firmly. "At least… on the wrong side. I think maybe this one might not be as bad as we think… but then I tell myself that I'm probably blinded by my feelings."

"Being on the wrong side doesn't make someone bad," Lupin said fairly. "Sometimes, due to family or circumstance, a person starts out on the wrong side, but then ends up coming to the Light. Look at Snape."

Harry scoffed. "Snape is pretty bad, though!"

"His personality could use some improvement," Lupin said, trying not to smile, "but he's actually a good guy. Deep down, he has good intentions."

"He should work on showing them more," Harry said, his lip curling.

"Maybe we should get back on topic," Lupin suggested calmly. "Tell me what's so bad about falling for a Slytherin?"

"Well, I…" Harry said, avoiding Lupin's gaze, "I… the hardest is thing is that I can't tell my friends."

"You can't tell your friend?" Lupin repeated. "Or won't?"

"Won't," Harry admitted sheepishly. "I just… well, it doesn't seem like a good idea. I'm afraid they'll be very disappointed with me."

"Because you have feelings for a Slytherin?"

"That, to some extent," Harry said.

"Is it because it's a specific Slytherin that they particularly hate?" Lupin said shrewdly. "Harry, may I ask you it is you're falling for?"

And, despite everything Harry had revealed up to this point, he shook his head, finally looking Lupin in the eye. "I'd rather not. Sorry, Profess—erm, Remus."

Lupin smiled and shook his head in amusement. "All right, I won't press it. But tell me a little more: What is it you like about this girl?"

A long, awkward silence passed as Harry started pacing again, looking down at the carpet, then up at Remus, then down at the carpet again. He coughed a few times and cleared his throat.

Finally he said, "Uh, um… that's another little complication. Like not a big deal, I'm sure my friends will be fine with this part, but it might be a little confusing for them."

"What do you mean?" Lupin said, surprisingly calm despite Harry's teasy bait.

"Well, uh… I'm not falling for a girl at all," Harry admitted. "I think I'm falling for a boy."

Lupin actually had the nerve to chuckle as this! "You think you're falling for a boy, Harry?"

"Okay, so I am!" Harry said irritably. "Wait, what—aren't you surprised or anything?"

"Do you want me to be surprised?" Lupin asked. "Is it bad that I'm not really that surprised?"

Harry blushed at this and stammered, "Uh, no, it's not bad you're not surprised… it's not like it's shameful for me to like another guy. It's just different."

"Just different," Lupin repeated. "I like the way you put that. At its core, it's neither better nor worse: just different. A lot of wizards don't see it like that, though. Especially the old Pureblood vanguard."

"I know," Harry said, "but what do I care about them? Half of them outright support Voldemort anyway. I don't need them on my side. I don't need anyone on my side—just my friends and the people who love me."

"Your friends will be on your side," Lupin promised him. "Hermione and Ron are like a brother and sister to you. Neville and Luna and Ginny have your back, too. You should go ahead and share with them what you're going through. And if you don't want to tell them about your forbidden Slytherin love right off the bat, maybe just ease them in by coming out to them."

"I could…" Harry said hesitantly, "but if I do that, they'll be immediately suspicious about… well, about the person who I'm falling for. Or not suspicious, but weirded out by the situation… ugh, it's weird and complicated. It's just the way everything is now, I'm not sure if it's best to tell them just yet. Maybe in a month or two when I've… moved past this situation?"

"Sounds complicated indeed," Lupin said, flashing Harry a quick grin. "But do you really think it's such a good idea to hide from your best friends?"

Harry sighed. "No, of course I don't. I love them dearly, and I hate keeping secrets from them. It's just—and this sounds silly, since I've fought Voldemort five times and lived to tell the tale—it's just I'm scared."

Harry stopped pacing and looked Lupin directly in the eye. "Do you think they might already know?" he asked.

Lupin shrugged. "They might suspect something. Friends always do. There's a reason they're your friends."

"You didn't seem too surprised when I told you," Harry said. "Or too concerned, either."

Lupin smiled and said evenly, "No, I wasn't very surprised. But I'm good at sensing these things. You see, I myself am gay."

"Oh," Harry said, quite taken aback at this sudden confession and the casualness of its delivery. "Hmm, you've never told me that before."

"I never get laid, so there didn't seem much of a point," Lupin said, his lip quivering. "It'd be like telling you that I'm an aspiring jazz musician. I can be it all I want, but nothing's really gonna come of it."

"Oh come now," Harry chided him. "Surely you mustn't have such a hard time with dating! You're such a sweet guy!"

"It's very hard in the Wizarding World," Lupin said. "It's already a small community as it is, and the gay community is even smaller. Most people don't want to date me because I'm a werewolf, and literally every gay wizard in Britain already knows this. The last gay in Britain willing to date me had a weird bestiality fetish, and he kept asking me to turn into a werewolf, even though it wasn't the full moon. He also had a dreadful personality."

"Well, that sucks," Harry pouted. "You don't deserve that at all! Have you thought of dating Muggles?"

Lupin sighed and nodded. "I have. It's hard, though, going out into the Muggle World and then trying to establish a relationship while both hiding the fact that you're a wizard and a werewolf. There's so many lies to catch me in—what I do for a living, why I'm absent for a few days every month, my entire back story. Nobody wants to build a relationship with someone so secretive.

"Hmm," Lupin hummed with a sad smile, "I don't think I've been laid in two years. I've sort of given up on finding someone, to be honest."

Harry sat down on the couch next to Lupin and put an arm around his shoulder. "Well, Remus," he said sagely, "you could always try party drugs and go to a Muggle gay club for anonymous sex. It seems to work for Lockhart."

"Ugh, don't mention Lockhart," Lupin said, flapping his hands in disgust. "He was the guy with the bestiality fetish. And please don't ask me why I dated him in the first place—I was at a very low point in my life. Anyway, Harry, I'm not into anonymous sex. Call me old-fashioned, but I'm looking for a relationship."

"You'll find it," Harry promised him. "There's the perfect man out there, just waiting for you."

"Honestly, Harry," Lupin said with a little chuckle, "I don't even need perfect. At this point, I'll settle for mediocre but sincere."

Harry laughed a little, too, but he felt indignant on the behalf of his former professor. Lupin was a perfect guy! Anyone would be lucky to date him. Hell, if Harry was twenty years older, he'd take Lupin out on a date right now. But they weren't the same age, and Lupin was Harry's father's best friend, not to mention a former professor, so… that was out of the picture.

"You want my honest advice, Harry?" Lupin said, turning his head so they were looking each other eye-to-eye.

Harry nodded, still holding on to Lupin's shoulders.

"Go after this boy," Lupin said earnestly. "No matter what your friends think, allow yourself to fall for this boy. Allow yourself to romance him, to love him. May it be the most torrid and scandalous Hogwarts affair of this generation, but do not deprive yourself a chance of love.

"I believe your friends truly love you, and when someone truly loves you like that, they do understand. Maybe they'll be a little surprised that you like men. Maybe they'll disapprove of the man you have fallen for. But in the end they will accept you and love you, and they will appreciate your honesty."

Lupin put his own arm around Harry's shoulder as well and gave it a firm squeeze. "Go after him, Harry. Take it from me: love does not come along often enough."