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Written for Auction Prompt -D29/2. Kingsley Shacklebolt
Word Count - 427
Late Night Traditions
"Are you okay?"
Harry looked up, and Kingsley saw his green eyes were rimmed red, a letter clutched in his fist. "My, uh. My aunt died. This is off my cousin, Dudley."
Kingsley sat down on the step beside Harry. "I'm sorry to hear that."
He knew Harry and his muggle relatives hadn't always had the best of relationships, but they'd raised him, however reluctantly, and it was no surprise it had hit the young man. He'd seen so much loss in his years, and he was only twenty seven.
"You can take the day off, you know? Bereavement time is allowable, especially since it's someone that raised you."
Harry shook his head. "It's… I'll be okay. It was just a shock. I, uh. Well, I didn't even know she was ill, so it kinda came out of nowhere, you know?"
Kingsley nodded. "Well, if you need to take a few days, just let me know, okay?"
…
"Harry?"
"I just… couldn't sit at home," Harry said, wiping his hand over his face. The funeral had been that morning and it had been… tough. Seeing Dudley had been nice but just standing there, he'd felt like the worst kind of hypocrite.
He'd never liked his aunt, and to be around people that did; it wasn't a good feeling.
The last thing he'd wanted when it was over was to return to his flat and ruminate alone. He'd done enough of that after the war to know it wasn't a path he needed to return to.
"Why don't you come and get a late dinner with me?" Kingsley offered. "I've looked at far too many files today, I didn't have chance to eat."
Harry snorted and looked at his own pile of files. Dinner with Kingsley sounded like a much better alternative. He nodded. "I. Yeah. Thanks."
…
It turned into something of a thing for the two of them. After a rough day, they'd seek the other out and go and eat together, talking about everything and nothing until the early hours of the morning.
Kingsley… while he'd always liked Harry, he'd never really known him. His admiration for the Auror only grew with every one of their meetings.
When, four months after his Aunt's funeral, Harry kissed him, Kingsley didn't hesitate to return it in kind, holding Harry close with a gentle hand on his waist.
"Yeah?" Harry asked shyly, pulling back a little.
The blush on his cheeks was the most enticing thing Kingsley had seen in a long time and he smiled slightly.
"Absolutely."
