This chapter wasn't designed to be two parts, but it's so long that I made it this way. So forgive the slight discontinuity between last chapter and this one.

Chapter Eleven part 2

"Leo!" a few of his friends shouted as he headed over to him. "We almost thought you weren't coming," Terry Boot said congenially, thumping Leo on the back.

"When have I ever missed a chance to come drink?" Leo asked, gratefully accepting the glass of firewhiskey being shoved into his hand.

"Well, with the stories all over the press, we thought you might want to lay low," Michael said, pulling up a stool next to Leo.

"That's just what they want me to do," Leo replied, downing his glass in one gulp. In all his chastising of Potter, he had forgotten about the incriminating articles. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to act, now that he was supposedly a newly outed and married gay man. He didn't know how his friends would act toward him either.

"Yes, and you're never one to do what they want you to do," Roger quipped, handing Leo a shot glass. "To Harry Potter, who was recently made the luckiest man on Earth." The group laughed as they downed their shots.

Leo ordered another drink. They seemed to be treating him the same as usual. Perhaps Roger had told some of them about the secret mission Shacklebolt had charged Leo with. Or perhaps, like the good friends they were, they didn't actually care. Leo was suddenly reminded that he did not enter the Leaky alone, and searched over the sea of heads for one particularly black one.

"I must admit, Leo, I would never have guessed that you of all people were of that persuasion, but I can't say that I'm disappointed," Jonathan Summers remarked, eyeing Leo almost hungrily.

"Ah, well, thank you, Jon. I shall keep that in mind?" Leo replied, edging away. Eddie Carmichael sniggered, patting a disappointed Summers on the back. He shrugged, looking amused when Leo threw him a questioning look. Leo made a mental note not to be alone with Summers in the near future.

There seemed to be more people there than usual. He spotted Cho talking to Susan Bones at the other side of the bar and he waved at them when they looked up from their conversation. Cho gave him her trademarked impeccable smile, making Leo wish, not for the first time, that she'd chosen him instead of her other lackluster suitors.

Leopold managed to tear his eyes away from Cho long enough to finally spot Harry, who was standing off to the side, glaring up at the ceiling. Leopold sighed, ordered two firewhiskeys, and headed over to the antisocial nitwit.

"Really, Potter, this isn't the Yule Ball. You can actually talk and interact with people," Leo observed, handing Harry a glass. Harry chugged it quickly.

"I feel awkward," he admitted, when he was done, wincing at the strength of the drink. Leo refrained from making a snide comment about Potter being used to butterbeer.

"Why? They won't bite, I promise. I mean, Roger will tease you and Terry probably will too, and Summers may just attack you, but it's all in good fun. Except Summers. I'd watch out for him. Anyway, stop acting like a teenager."

"I am a teenager."

"You don't have to act like one." Someone turned on music and a great cheer rose from the crowd as the tables were swished off to the side to make room for dancing. Leopold spotted an exceptionally beautiful brown haired witch dancing with Pucey. He could feel himself gravitating toward her, already thinking of ways to get her away from his friend. He could remark on Pucey's hygiene. Or maybe he could inquire if Pucey had his rash checked out lately—

"Are you guys celebrating something?" Harry asked, always the killjoy, bringing Leo back to Earth. He was watching the boisterous group dubiously. Leo was busy wondering if it was ethical to actually hex a rash onto Pucey in order to make his potential lie more believable.

"Are we what? No! I told you, this is our Friday night. Although Roger may be telling everyone this is our wedding reception or something," Leopold shouted over the din of the room, keeping the witch in his line of sight. He wished he could have her by the end of the night. "Now if you want to see a celebration, you should wait until one of us gets a promotion. The night Cho was accepted into the Healer program, well, I can't really tell you because I don't remember most of it. But it was a good night, that's for sure." Leo chuckled, however Harry didn't join him as Leo had anticipated. He really did look as though he felt supremely awkward. Leo sort of regretted inviting Harry, simply because of what social interaction was doing to the man.

"What are you lovebirds gossiping about?" Roger asked, coming up to them holding three drinks in his hand. He gave one to Harry and Leo.

"I was just reminiscing about Cho's party over the summer. Remember that?"

"Merlin, no. But that's the sign of a good party, right?" Roger and Leo laughed in agreement. "You own me ten galleons, by the way."

"Why?" Roger nodded over to the bar where Leo discovered that Susan Bones had abandoned her conversation with Cho in favor of more recreational activities with Ernie Macmillan. "Well that's not ministry appropriate now, is it?"

"Depends on your definition of Ministry."

"And your definition of appropriate," Harry supplied. Roger and Leo looked at him, clearly shocked that he managed to make a joke, then burst out laughing. Harry smiled in a surprisingly unsmug way, which softened his usually grumpy face. Roger clapped him amicably on the back.

"You're all right, Potter. I'll buy you another drink." Before Harry could protest, Roger dove into the crowd on his drink-fetching mission. Leo glanced at Harry, who did seem significantly less uncomfortable with the situation.

"Firewhiskey treating you kindly?" Leo asked, trying not to smile at the sort of glazed look forming in Harry's eyes. Leo knew the man was probably feeling the familiar warmth of a good drunkening coming on. To Leo, it was almost like watching his son take his first steps.

"Mmm, yes," he grinned sloppily. Leo snorted in amusement. Potter was a lightweight. Leo decided that he must take Potter drinking more often.

Roger returned with four glasses in hand, giving two to Harry and one to Leo.

"Why does he get two?"

"Because he made me laugh. And not at him, which is usually the case with you." They watched Harry as he gulped down both glasses without taking a breath. "And look at him! He's a pro!"

Harry continued to show how much of a pro he really was the rest of the night. Leo eventually lost count of how many drinks the man consumed once his own drink count reached past the ten finger limit. By the end of the night everyone was dancing on tables, singing belligerently, and generally enjoying the life of a wizard. Leopold was torn between trying to get the attention of the pretty brunette and keeping Harry close to him.

Leo wasn't sure why he wanted to keep Harry in his general vicinity, it was just an instinct that took over and wouldn't allow him to pounce on the brunette, no matter how much his libido told him to. He kept telling himself that Harry was a big boy and could hold his own among Leo's friends, who had actually accepted Harry into the fold without question, even Pucey, who was more Slytherin than he'd probably admit. But for some reason, whenever he couldn't see Harry, strange feelings overcame him along with a slight panic until the bespectacled savior of the wizarding world was back in view.

When closing time rolled around, those inebriated few who were left, spilled out onto the sidewalk, trying to be quiet in that hopelessly drunk way.

"Is it poker night tomorrow, gents?" Pucey asked, stumbling slightly. He was held up by Terry, who looked slightly strained under his weight. The mention of their favorite muggle game riled everyone up again. Poker night funded their weekly romps to various pubs; winners were forced to give half their winnings to the firewhiskey jar.

"Your galleons are our galleons, Puce," Roger slurred. He was holding on to, much to Leo's disbelief, the pretty brown haired witch. He looked significantly less drunk and far more excited than anyone else in the group. Leo tried not to be consumed with envy as he glanced at the black haired fiend he was forced to go home with. "Is it your week to host?"

"I hosted last week!"

"It's Michael's turn to host," Terry interjected, shifting Pucey on his shoulder.

"Then I shall host!" Michael exclaimed, closing one eye and looking deep in thought. "My flat, tomorrow at five, you ghouls." They all made sounds of drunken agreement and turned to part ways.

"Hold on there, is Harry coming, then?" Cho inquired, arms wrapped around Michael half in affection and half in support. Everyone stopped and looked at Leo curiously.

"Er—" Harry croaked, stumbling. Leo caught him. "Of course!"

"Good," Cho smiled warmly, causing Michael to frown and Harry to smile wider than he ever had. Everyone bid farewell to their debauched companions. Harry and Leo turned toward Grimmauld Place, preparing for the longest walk either had probably experienced. Apparition took too much concentration and brain power than either of them could muster at that moment.

"That was—hic—a goo' nigh'," Harry said as they passed darkened buildings. Every so often he stumbled on the verge of falling, but miraculously kept himself from breaking his face on the sidewalk. "We should do that aga—again."

"We do it almost every week," Leo replied solemnly, using all his concentration to keep himself upright. The one foot in front of the other situation was far more complicated than he previously thought. The benches just looked so inviting and if he could just sit for a little bit and maybe rest his eyes for a while—

"Can I come nex' time?"

"Sure. We've always wanted a Gryffindor in the crew," Leo lied. No one had ever said anything about Gryffindors joining the group, but then again, none of them really knew any Gryffindors to invite.

"I was 'spose to be in Slytherin, you know. The 'at thought it was a goo' idea." Harry shrugged, causing him to stumble again, but Leo caught him again.

"What changed its mind?"

"Me. I told it I didn' want to be. Sooo it said okay." Harry waved his hand dismissively, almost slapping Leopold in the face in the process. Leo ducked, keeping his arm around Harry in case of future stumbles.

"I don't think you would have made much of a Slytherin, anyway. You're very Gryffindor."

"Than' you." Leopold laughed which caused the chain reaction of Harry laughing, as well. They laughed for a good five minutes before Harry stopped abruptly. Leopold glanced over to make sure he wasn't lugging around an unconscious Chosen One. Harry was awake, but not as cheerful as he had been seconds prior. And they said Leo had quick mood swings. "Why do you hate me?" The question caught Leo entirely off guard and he was pretty sure it would have even if he hadn't just finished drinking more glasses of firewhiskey than he had fingers.

"I don't hate you. Who said I hated you?"

"You."

"I never said I hated you."

"I don't have a lot o' friends, you know. Jus' Ron and Hermione. And when they ge' married—" Harry seemed on the verge of tears which brought that strange feeling over Leo once more. He hadn't realized that all his ribbing at Potter's expense had really affected the man. He, like everyone else in the world, had apparently forgotten that Potter had feelings, too. Leo vowed to keep the teasing to a minimum. If only he could remember that vow in the morning.

"I don't hate you, Harry," Leo answered, rather softly. "It's actually quite the contrary—"

Harry froze in mid step. "What? What's wrong?" Without answering, Harry turned and vomited in the nearest bush. Leopold gently pushed him forward so that he did not spew all over his pullover. "Merlin, Potter! What did you eat today?" Harry was too preoccupied to reply. He fell to his knees and vomited again.

"Oh god," he muttered, hunched over and heaving. Leo couldn't help but sympathize. He had been there before. Perhaps not in the middle of London at four o'clock in the morning, but the general sentiment was the same. Potter was miserable now, but he'd be a train wreck later on. "I'm sorry—" He vomited once more, tears streaming down his face. Leo knelt down beside him, patting him soothingly on the back. Harry looked mildly panicked, as though he couldn't believe what he was doing.

"It's all right, calm down. You keep hanging with us and you'll get used to it." Harry whimpered a little and let his head fall against Leo's chest. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. Leo had almost completely sobered by now, which was wont to happen when someone barely misses throwing up all over his shoes, and he looked down at Harry's vaguely pained face. Leo chose this moment to notice how exceedingly handsome Harry really was and that strange feeling welled up inside of him once more.

They sat like that for a moment or two before Leo realized where they were and what the scene could possibly look like to a passerby. "Potter. Harry, you can't sleep here. We're almost to your place." Harry moaned, nuzzling Leo. Leo let out a long breath, ignoring the funny jump his heart made. "Harry, wake up. I can't carry you." Harry's breathing became deep and regular. Leopold could feel the soft puffs on his neck and his skin tingled. He sighed.

"The things I do," he muttered, hoisting Harry to a standing position. Harry groaned this time, and Leo held him at arms length in case there was more in his stomach. When he was sure no more vomit was coming, Leo hefted Harry into a piggyback. Harry's chin rested on Leo's shoulder, a not entirely uncomfortable weight. "If you vomit on me, I willhate you. I will hate you to death."

"I like you," Harry mumbled slightly incoherently into Leo's shoulder, as though this would counteract any future puke. Leo paused, looking at Harry out of the corner of his eye. If he didn't know better, he would have sworn the man hadn't said anything at all.

"I like you, too."