Disclaim Her: I Own Nothing, NOTHING! well, I do own Ambrose, he's the pool boy.

Chapter 11 y'all!


Harry was awoken in the wee hours of the morning by the pounding on his front door as well as the insistent ringing of the doorbell. Pulling on a robe over his night clothes, Harry quickly made his way down to the front door, irritation growing with every step.

Upon reaching the large front door, he wrenched it open, only to find an obviously very drunk Seeley Booth staring at him through bleary eyes.

"Cancomein?" he slurred. Harry sighed and stepped back, allowing the inebriated man to stumble in. Locking the door behind him, Harry led Booth to his office, just off the foyer.

"S'nice place, you must be f-fil-oh fuck." Harry watched with mild bemusement as Booth passed clean out on the floor. Shooting a mild sobering charm at the drunk Agent, Harry waited for him to wake up.

"Where am I?" Booth asked, looking around.

"You're in my office. You blacked out for a second." Harry explained. He helped the taller man up and then deciding on a change in the venue, led the man to the informal livingroom.

After playing the good host, with coffee and chocolate biscuits, he sat on the chair opposite Booth and crossed his arms and legs.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" he said cooly.

"Didn't know where to go." Booth moaned miserably.

"About-?" Harry needled.

"I've just been told something that has, destroyed my world." Booth said hiding his face in the palms of his hands. 'Very fine hands' Harry thought absently.

"Parker's not your son?" Harry guessed.

"No! Parker is still my beautiful little boy." Booth groused, before falling silent. Harry rolled his eyes, and stood, vanishing the coffee and biscuits. Agent Booth had fallen into a stupor, leaving Harry with the choice of either leaving him there, sobering him up and sending him on his very distressed way, or giving him a bed for the night.

Deciding on the latter, Harry pulled the man to his feet, and then struggled to get him up the stairs, thanking his lucky stars that Booth was too out of it to notice he was being carried by a man smaller than him.

Once Booth was tucked in, Harry turned to go, when an arm snaked around his waist and pulled him down onto the bed. Booth snuggled into his back and fell back asleep. Sighing, Harry banished his robe to his closet and relaxed in Booth's iron grip.


A groggy Harry awoke to someone lazily nosing and kissing the back of his neck, their arousal resting on the cleft of his cheeks. He 'hmmd' in appreciation before rolling over and locking lips with his guest.

It took nearly a full thirty seconds of snogging for his brain to wake up and realise that he was frotting with FBI Special Agent Seeley Joseph Booth, who had showed up at his house blind drunk at three in the morning.

He quickly untangled himself, resulting in him falling to the cold floor, and Agent Booth to let out a loud snore and roll onto his back. Rolling his eyes skyward, Harry prayed for strength, and then proceeded to poke and prod Booth until he was greeted with a red eyed glare.

"What?" Booth asked, covering his eyes with a forearm.

"You need to get up." Harry said, crossing his arms.

"Why?" Booth whinged.

"Because you've got work in an hour, you're in my house, and because you've got a lot of explaining to do." Harry said. Booth groaned like a petulant child. "Start talking Seeley."

At Harry's tone and use of his first name, Booth took a peek at him and saw the no-nonsense way he stood and thought it best if he did.

"My ex Rebecca came over lat night to drop Parker off, she said we had to talk. I thought it was going to be about custody again or money." Booth shuddered dramatically. "But it was so much worse."

"She's a lesbian?" Harry guessed.

"No. I don't want you to think I'm crazy. Hell, I think she's crazy."

"I've heard it all before I assure you." Harry said, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

"She said she was a squib." Booth blurted. Harry missed the bed completely and introduced his arse to the floor for the second time that morning.

"Well shit." Harry muttered lowly.

"So it's true then?" Booth asked, sitting up with a wince. He assumed that, by Harry's reaction to the word Squib, that Rebecca was telling the truth. "All of it?"

"That depends." Harry said, climbing up onto the bed with a huff. "On what all of it is?"

"Rebecca said that she comes from a long line of witches and Wizards, but that her parents were born Squibs, and she was as well. She thought Parker was a Squib as well because I'm a mu-moogle?"

"Muggle. It means non-magical person." Harry said absently. Booth's eyes widened at Harry's casual acknowledgment and verification of Rebecca's story. He jumped to his feet, gripping his hair tightly.

"So it's true? All of it? My son's a-a freak?" the next thing Booth knew he was on his back, pain radiating across his face from his lower left jaw, staring up into the blazing green eyes of Harry James Potter.

"You get your stuff and get the hell out of my house." Harry growled, before stomping off, leaving a very confused Seeley Booth on the floor. He laid there for an indeterminable amount of time before a beautiful woman, easily in her early thirties, entered.

"I must apologize for Harry. He should have never resorted to violence." she said, kneeling by his side. She gently touched the rapidly forming bruise. "I can heal that if you'll allow."

Booth, still pretty out of it, nodded. A cooling sensation overcame the pain and he worked his jaw a little to test it.

"That was incredible."

"That was magic." she said. "I am Andromeda Tonks nee Black. Teddy's grandmother."

"So, magic is real." Booth said, feeling a panic begin to rise in him. Trying to tamp it down, Booth asked another question.

"Why'd he hit me?"

"Harry didn't have the best of childhoods. His relatives near starved him, over worked him, and beat him mercilessly. His strong reaction to that word, stems from the fact that until he was four he thought it was his name." Andromeda left then, after sitting his folded up clothes and shoes on the end of the bed.