Leopold didn't quite know what to do with himself.
He'd spent Saturday in his flat, fluctuating between staring at the walls and making himself cup after cup of unnaturally strong coffee. Whenever he caught himself in either act, he'd jump up and grab a book off of the shelf and attempt to read. The result was a lot of briefly read books strewn around him among about six coffee mugs.
"What is wrong with me?" He wondered aloud, after catching himself again in contemplation of the wall.
The truth was, he didn't know what was wrong with him. On the one hand, he was vaguely concerned about Potter. He'd dropped the man off at his brooding abode, leaving him unceremoniously splayed on his bed with a large jug of water and an empty bucket. That wasn't quite the payback he'd intended for Potter after being taken care of in a similar situation, but he couldn't possibly bring himself to stay over Potter's house. For one, he didn't know which room he should stay in and he was fairly positive that their friendship wouldn't be the same if Potter woke up to find Leo sleeping with him. Not that sleeping with Potter was acceptable in any way, shape, or form.
On the other hand, he wanted to avoid Potter at all costs. Something odd and unnerving overcame him whenever he was around The Boy Who Lived, and whatever it was, it wasn't something Leopold liked feeling. The uncomfortable tingling when Potter touched him, the worrying flutters of his heart when Potter looked at him, the irritating desire to smile when Potter genuinely smiled at him; it all made for a strange situation that Leo never enjoyed being in. What was going on, anyway? Why did it become so awkward to be around Harry Potter?
His life had spun out of control the moment Shacklebolt called him into his office that day, and it was getting to the point where Leopold didn't find the situation tragically comical any longer. Killing his sex life was one thing, making Leo uncomfortable was something entirely different.
When five o'clock rolled around, he readied himself to go to Michael's, but paused. Could he really face Potter? More than that, could he handle Roger's constant goading about their newlywed status while keeping his usual cheerful and nonchalant demeanor? He turned on the spot and vanished with a crack, arriving, not in Michael's place in Surrey, but at his parents' place in Brighton. He needed some mothering.
"Leo! Don't do that, you scared the wits out of me," his mother greeted him, picking up the book she'd dropped in surprise. She took a steadying breath and gave him a warm, motherly smile when she recovered. "How are you doing, dear?" Leo sighed, looking around at a room he'd looked around for twenty-one years. The familiarity somehow soothed him slightly; the pictures of him and Stewart on the mantle, the family portrait above the fireplace, the multiple Hogwarts awards and accolades bestowed to him and his mother, his father's ministry certificates of achievement. Everything reminded Leo of a stability his life had once had before he had allowed Kingsley Shacklebolt to thrust Harry Potter into his otherwise uneventful existence.
"I want some pie," he said after a while.
"That's it? No 'I'm fine, mother, how are you? I missed seeing your lovely face so I came by to visit'?"
"All of that was implied within the pie request." She laughed, standing up and heading to the kitchen. "Where is my illustrious father?" He asked as he followed his mother. She began digging around, searching for ingredients.
"Oh so your father gets to be illustrious, I just have to be fetcher of the pie." Leo kissed her on the cheek before dropping into a chair. "He's off visiting Amos Diggory, poor fellow." A cup of tea appeared in front of him and he took it gratefully. "Work not going so well, my love?"
His mother took pride in being the only person who could read him perfectly. She called it Ravenclaw intuition, whereas his father called it a mother's instinct as a refusal to allow Ravenclaws any more talent than they already had. To her, a desire for pie was not just the plea of a rogue sweet tooth; it was the call for help from a desperate mind. And Leopold was not too old or too proud to run to his mother when he was feeling down.
"I should have gone into Magical Cooperation like you wanted me to," Leo muttered as she tossed a few eggs into a pot. She glanced over her shoulder and frowned at the look on Leo's face.
"I think you would have liked Magical Cooperation, Leo, I didn't just want you to follow in my footsteps," she replied, using her wand to splash milk into another bowl. "I hate to see you so down, dear, what's wrong?"
"You know that assignment Shacklebolt gave me?" She sat next to him, leaving the bowls behind her to stir themselves. She summoned a cup of tea for herself and nodded.
"The one involving you and Harry Potter engaging in questionable activities as documented by the Daily Prophet?" She hid her smile behind her teacup, but Leo was too distracted to care about her good-natured tease. "And the almost scandalous activities documented in Witch Weekly?" He also refrained from pointing out the time she said it would be a cold day in hell before Victoria Ackerley read trash like Witch Weekly.
"Right."
"What about it?"
"I think it's gotten out of hand."
"You think? What makes you think that other than the fact that you stand to go down in love triangle infamy?"
"It's changing my life." She hesitated, playing with her long plait. She watched him for a moment, blue eyes intense and calculating. He could almost see her choosing her words carefully.
"Well, as I don't know the whole situation, I can only speculate. Obviously this isn't a welcomed change, or you wouldn't be here begging for pie. So the way I see it, you have two options. Either you ask Kingsley to reassign the job to someone else or you look at the change as another stage of life that you need to deal with. I know how much you hate to hear this, my love, but you are a grown man. Things are bound to change."
"I think Shacklebolt will fire me if I ask to be reassigned."
"Then that's something you need to consider, isn't it? Are you fit to be an Auror?" She stood up to finish her pie making, leaving him with the heavy question to which he had no answer.
"You sure know how to cut a man down, mother."
"It's how I trained your father. He was hopelessly unmanageable before I got to him."
"That is completely and utterly untrue. Ackerley men do not need to be trained. Our untamable nature is what makes us so sexy." She laughed again, returning to the table with two slices of pie.
"You made it seem urgent, so it's not my fault if it's not as good as it usually is," she said, handing him a fork.
"Everything you create, my darling mother, is perfect."
"You're just entirely too modest for your own good." And they ate their pie, talking and laughing, Leopold consciously ignoring the fact that talking to his mother really hadn't helped the situation at all, and he was just as upset and irritated as he had been when he apparated into the house. When he finally decided to leave, significantly fuller but no less confused, he kissed his mother goodbye and apparated back to his flat. It was already dark and he was going to get crap about missing poker night, but he figured the best way to get back into his usual charming and exceedingly enjoyable demeanor was to seclude himself from people.
"We have replaced you with Harry Potter for missing poker night," was what he was greeted with when he appeared in his sitting room.
"I really shouldn't have told you how to get through all my protective spells," Leopold replied, scowling at Roger, who was sitting on the couch reading theProphet, his feet propped up on the coffee table. Leopold could see a small image of himself peaking out from one of the pages and he sighed. "Get your disgusting feet off my furniture, by the way."
"Whine, whine," Roger said, standing up from the couch and following Leopold into the kitchen. "Why did you ditch us, then? We were waiting for you."
"Sorry. I went to see my mother. She was in desperate need to see the face of her favorite son."
"But since Stewart is at Hogwarts, she had to settle for you?" Roger burst out laughing at his own joke. Leopold waited for the laughter to subside, eyebrow raised and arms folded across his chest.
"Ah, Roger. Your laughter at my expense shall never get old."
"I know," Roger replied, pawing through Leopold's cupboards. "You really ought to go shopping, you know. This is pathetic."
"I am an important ministry trained Auror. I do not have time for shopping."
"Just like you don't have time for your devoted friends. Muggle games are not nearly as much fun without your money. I mean, your company."
"I'm sure you all got on fine without me. Pucey is horrible."
"Yes, but we cleaned him out within minutes. Good thing Potter is a pretty terrible player, so we managed to make his pockets significantly lighter. The firewhiskey fund has been replenished."
"I can sleep soundly tonight, then."
"Potter seemed concerned about your absence. And aren't you supposed to be with him at all times? You wouldn't want his admirers thinking your marriage is on the skids." Roger popped open a bottle of butterbeer he unearthed from somewhere Leo could only guess. Leo put on the kettle.
"Merlin forbid. I'm sorry, I intended on going, but then something came up. I am not one to ignore the call of a woman in need. Especially not a woman who makes delicious pie." Roger sniffed, snagging an apple from the basket on the counter. He leaned against the sink, watching Leopold carefully. Leo tried not to squirm under Roger's calculating gaze, thinking of witty retorts for anything Roger would possibly throw at him. Roger was unfortunately very good at reading Leopold's moods. Leo turned back to the kettle, trying to look busy.
"What's the matter? You seem upset about something," Roger said, taking a large bite of the apple.
"What would I possibly be upset about? I didn't lose any money tonight."
"Come off it, Leo. You've been rather mopey for a while now. Are you actually upset about this Harry Potter thing?" Roger hopped up onto the counter alternating between swigs of butterbeer and bites of the apple.
"This 'Harry Potter thing'? You mean the thing that has started to ruin my life? I'm glad you can take it so lightly, Roger, as it's not something you have to deal with." Roger frowned, tossing the apple remains into the wastebasket. The kettle began to whistle and Leo moved it with a flick of his wand. They were both glaring at each other, though neither could explain how the conversation turned so quickly into an argument.
"What's that supposed to mean? Are you saying I don't care about anything that doesn't concern me?"
"If the shoe fits."
"May I remind you, Leo, that people become friends with those who they feel they have things in common with. You're not exactly set to win the Prophet's Wizard of the Year award. Before this, you were quite content with being wrapped up in your own world."
"Piss off, Roger, I wasn't and still am not, that egotistical." Roger barked out a sarcastic laugh.
"Please! It's always about you and how things effect you. Even back when we were in school." Leo reached into a cupboard, pulled out a coffee cup, and slammed it down. It shattered, sending pieces of ceramic across the counter and slicing a good sized gash in Leo's finger. He whirled around, glowering at Roger in a fit of passionate hatred. Roger scowled back, folding his arms across his chest. Leo tried not to think about the fact that he was so angry with Roger because Roger was so right. And since he couldn't direct his fury at himself, he was forced to unleash it upon a man who was doing nothing more than being a good friend.
"If it bothered you so much, Roger, why be friends with me?"
"Because when you're not whining about stupid things you're actually enjoyable to be around. I'm not telling you this to be mean, Leo, I'm telling you so you're aware. We're both like that, it's how we get along so well, I suppose. I've been your best mate for years, I'm not going to dump you now."
"Whatever. I'm glad how you really feel about me is finally out in the open."
"There you go again, victimizing yourself. The world isn't out to get you. Have you ever stopped and thought about how horrible the situation is for Harry? Do you even care about him?"
"You know what? I do care about him. And that's the bloody problem." Roger paused in mid-tirade. This was obviously not the confession he'd expected to come from Leo, just as much as Leo had not expected to say it. But there was no taking the words back now and Leo wasn't sure he would want to take them back if he could. And so there it was: the source of Leo's discomfort. The possible reason why Harry's touch brought chills to Leo's spine, why Leo would go to great lengths to see Harry smile.
"You…care about him how, exactly?" Roger inquired carefully. Leo growled, stalking out of the kitchen. Roger followed closely behind, waiting eagerly for an answer. "Leo?" Leo realized he couldn't ignore the question for much longer and groaned in frustration. Roger just had to get all concerned for him; he couldn't have just accepted that Leo was grumpy and move on.
"Ugh, I don't know. He's a pain in the arse." Roger suddenly grinned knowingly. Leo dropped his head in his hands, dreading what was going to come next.
"You're totally in love with him!" Roger pointed almost accusingly at Leo, then proceeded to do possibly the most effeminate jig Leo had ever seen a man perform.
"No, I'm not," Leo said weakly to the floor. Roger threw himself on the couch next to Leo, elbowing him amiably. "Stop it, I'm not."
"You totally are! I should have recognized it sooner! Does this mean you're gay or do you swing both ways, eh?" Roger seemed to be on the verge of jumping up and down in excitement. Leo, for the life of him, could not figure out why this new development would be such a source of joy for his friend.
"God, Roger, shut up," Leo whined. Roger ignored him.
"You should thank Shacklebolt, now, you know. This part of you would have been suppressed for Merlin knows how long, forcing the rest of us to deal with your built up frustration and subsequent angst. I think you probably swing both ways. I saw you checking out that witch I went home with last night."
"She was beautiful, you lucky bastard." Roger smiled again, probably remembering all the things he did with said witch the night before. This did not help Leo in the slightest. He wondered if Roger would ever forgive him if he kicked him out of his flat.
"So what are you going to do now that you've tapped into the gay within? I personally, don't care, but it might make things with Harry far more awkward than they are."
"Hm, you think?" Leo replied, sarcastically. "I'm not going to do anything. Who knows, this could just be a reaction to Potter. All those women chasing him would probably agree."
"You don't just turn things like this off and on, Leo. Why fight it?" Leo rolled his eyes, shaking his head. This revelation, while probably good in the long run, was taking its toll on his composure. Roger was making him think about things he didn't want to think about.
"Where would I be in accepting it? Potter will never feel the same way: he's in love with the wrathful Weasley."
"You never know, it could all just be a front. I'm not saying you should tell him, it's up to you either way, I'm just saying you might feel better if you did."
"I think I'll feel even better if I keep on going the way I am and ignore it."
"Your choice, but I think you're making a mistake. Love is not something that should be bottled up."
"And you would know being the world's foremost expert in love and all." Roger snorted, leaning back and patting Leo on the arm. Leo never would have told Roger this, but he did feel better now after having this talk than he had after his talk with his mother. Perhaps Roger was right; frustration was what made Leo so miserable.
"I always wondered why Summers gave you the eye all the time. He could sense it!"
"Sense it? Like he's some sort of wolf hunting for injured prey?"
"You know what I mean."
"I do, and that's the scariest part of all." Leo summoned the firewhiskey from the kitchen, placing him another step toward alcoholism. Roger held up a glass, wiggling it a little to indicate that he wanted to imbibe as well. "Can you keep this to yourself? I hardly know what's going on, I don't need all of our friends treating me weirdly on top of that."
"Half of them already think you're gay anyway. I only told Cho, Michael, and Terry about the job Shacklebolt gave you. Pucey, of course, already knew." They lapsed into silence, Roger probably letting Leo think through this new understanding.
"Merlin. Am I really in love with him?" He muttered, more to himself than to Roger. He found it hard to believe that he had such strong feelings for a guy that, if asked before his talk with Roger, he would have said he loathed. Then again, would he have said that? When did Leo's hatred of Potter's existence transform into a desire to be, as Witch Weekly so eloquently put it, Harry's Chosen One?
Roger nodded with a chuckle, pouring himself another glass of firewhiskey. He took a large swallow before replying.
"I think so, mate. But that's all right, it'll make the marriage a bit more believable, yeah?"
"Not according to Shacklebolt."