Per Solum Lacuna: By Words Alone

by wintermoon2

Enchanted diaries bring solace to unlikely lost souls. It's a wizarding twist on the classic tale of penpals. What will happen when these mystery writers finally meet? HD Completed!

8. Tainted Love

Note: Due to formatting limitations on this site, the following key is needed to read the diary entries.

Bold Flash's Diary Entries
Italics Luc's Diary Entries
Underline something 'special' happening in their entries
Per Solum Lacuna: By Words Alone

Per Solum Lacuna: By Words Alone
Chapter 8: Tainted Love

Sometimes I feel I've got to run away
I've got to get away
From the pain you drive into the heart of me
The love we share seems to go nowhere
And I've lost my light
For I toss and turn I can't sleep at night

Once I ran to you
Now I'll run from you
This tainted love you've given
I give you all a boy could give you
Take my tears and that's not nearly all
Tainted love

Don't touch me please
I cannot stand the way you tease
I love you though you hurt me so
Now I'm gonna pack my things and go

--ooOoo--

The time between Oliver's birthday and Valentine's Day had been a busy one for Harry Potter. Naturally, just when he wanted time to make plans to surprise his lover on Valentine's Day, he found himself thrown into a busy patch at work. He was quite pleased to find that his input was requested as his superiors began to review plans for the next semester of Auror training. Harry found himself spending hours at the office just fine tuning the curriculum and preparing lesson plans. It didn't matter that he would only be teaching a part of the course – just the fact that they had asked for his input and had barely questioned his ideas, made him feel really special.

In between this extra surge of work and his Valentine's planning, Harry managed to find time to pick up a couple of new books, and found himself delving in areas he never thought possible. All this discussion with Luc had made him feel guilty over his own lack of potions knowledge, so he found himself revisiting his old potions school books. There was no valid reason why he shouldn't at least attempt to learn more about such an important subject. A conversation with a few of his colleagues also had him checking out a book on Elemental Magic. That topic had never been covered at Hogwarts – the war had replaced the subject in their syllabus with more defensive work. He found it a fascinating topic, and was keen to learn more.

In an unexpected trip to Hogsmeade, Harry found himself scouring a second-hand store, and chanced across a very old, yet charming I Ching set. Harry had never been one for Divination, but the set seemed compelling, and he found himself handing over the few Sickles for its purchase. It was one of the more ancient and well respected methods of Divination. Considering how wizards had been using it in China for centuries, he found a begrudging respect for that Divinatory way. How difficult could it be to simply throw the coins, record the results and look up the hexagram? His last attempt was a bit confusing, though. He'd thrown hexagon number twenty-three; "Tear up old ideas and eliminate what is unusable. An unavoidable period of collapse, misfortune, and destruction." It made no sense to him, especially since everything seemed to be going so well in his life. The sheer dearth of activities Harry found himself enjoying gave him a pleasurable feeling of accomplishment – as if his life was finally starting to settle down.

Harry was getting ready to Apparate over to his long-time favourite restaurant for lunch with Ron, when he heard the chime that accompanied the floo.

"Hey there Ron! Nearly ready?" Harry enjoyed the fact he could still have a boy's day out with Ron, and Hermione didn't begrudge them this time together.

"Sorry Har, I just got a call from the boss. They need me to come into work. Something urgent has come up." Ron sounded disappointed, yet mildly intrigued.

"But it's Saturday Ron, don't the Goblins understand the concept of a weekend?" Harry seemed a little disappointed.

"Har, you should know by now not to mess with the Gringotts Goblins. If they told me to come into work at 2am, who would I be to argue? Can we take a rain check on lunch?"

"Merlin Ron, I thought you said this job of yours at Gringotts was going to be nice and quiet. You didn't want any more excitement after the war."

Ron laughed. "Yeah, I did. But the entire Special Investigations team is being called in on this one. I suspect it's something to do with the Ministry Treasury, but I'm not supposed to know that. Dad may have accidentally let something slip at dinner the other night, but I have to act surprised when they tell us." Ron tapped the side of his nose to let Harry know that he shouldn't pass on what he just heard.

Harry nodded. "Sure thing Ron." He tried to hide the disappointment on his face, but with so much to keep him busy, he certainly wouldn't be lazing around doing nothing all afternoon. "You have fun now. Don't get too excited from counting other people's money, now will you?" It was the standard joke between Harry and Ron. After Ron's role on the head strategy team during the war, he felt a quieter change of pace was needed. A plumb job in what was called the Special Investigations team at Gringotts had fallen into his lap, and Ron now worked to audit and double check the large transactions that came through the bank nearly every day. Not a single Knut slipped through the redhead's fingers – a legacy of his money pinching childhood. Harry just referred to him as a glorified bean counter, but only Hermione understood the context of that remark, and they kept trying to tell him that accountancy was in his blood – his mother's second cousin had been an Accountant after all.

Harry stood around for about five minutes, wondering just what to do with his afternoon, when he realised he didn't have to cancel lunch after all. A quick handful of floo powder and one call later, Harry found himself looking into the DADA staffroom at Hogwarts, and at the visage of a very happy Remus Lupin.

"Harry! How are you! I must say I was thinking of flooing you in the next few days!" the werewolf sounded genuine.

"Beat you to it! Hey, you got any special plans for lunch today? It's just that Ron and I were planning on lunch, but he's just piked out at the last minute. I thought you might appreciate the lunch instead. Besides, I'm starving, and you won't find a better Italian meal this side of Italy!"

Remus couldn't deny a sales pitch like that. "Well, I was thinking of heading down to the Great Hall, but I guess I just got a better offer! Where are we headed?"

"Oh, I'll just leave the floo open, and we can walk from here. It's Muggle though, so you might want to rethink the robes." Harry checked over the simple, yet well cut robes Remus was wearing.

"No worries Harry. Give me ten minutes."

Harry nodded, and took his head out of the fireplace, checking out his own appearance once more. He was glad he remembered the day he ran into Remus at the ministry, and their promise to soon have lunch. He had intended to talk to Luc about the unexpected desire he'd felt for both Charlie and Remus that day. He'd hoped that Luc could help him put it into perspective, see some sort of logic in it that would show that his feelings for Ollie could be very real and he could still have this reaction to other men. Harry glanced at his desk, wishing he had time to write about it now. It had been a week since his last conversation with Luc, though, and nearly two weeks since the incident in question. Surely he could handle this on his own. After all, Valentine's Day was just six days away. He'd be surprising Ollie for a wild night of love and passion. That would surely get these urges out of his system.

Satisfied with his train of thought, Harry heard the werewolf as he stumbled out of the fireplace. How he managed to change into the Muggle attire so quickly, and look so good, Harry couldn't begin to contemplate. The simple tan trousers and white shirt, teamed with a simple suede jacket suited the werewolf, who was looking much healthier than Harry could remember. The colours accentuated his own colouring, and brought out the amber highlights in his eyes. Harry's stomach grumbled embarrassingly and both men laughed.

"See, you've just saved me from death by starvation." Harry said happily as they walked the short distance to Punicelli's. As the two men entered, they paused a moment just inside the door to take the obligatory deep breath. The freshly baked garlic bread always sent the most mouth-watering aroma wafting through the place. Harry sometimes wondered if the food was really that good, or if it was power of suggestion because the bread smelled so fragrant and heavenly. The pair chose a table in an unobtrusive, yet light and airy corner.

"Harry, this place smells wonderful. If their food is as good as it smells, then you've found yourself a gold mine!"

"I told you it was my favourite place. You didn't think I had bad taste, did you?" Harry remarked with a hint of mischief in his voice. Harry, in all his innocence, missed the raised eyebrow and lascivious grin.

"Of course not," was the only reply he got.

Thankfully, all thoughts of sexual desire were far from Harry's mind as he and Remus perused the menu and engaged in casual small talk. They both decided on the daily special of Seafood Linguini and were thrilled with the large bowls of steaming pasta and creamy sauce that were delivered to their table. Harry speared a lump of crabmeat and swirled his fork through the pasta as Remus reached for a slice of garlic bread from the basket in the middle of the table.

"And what about the teaching you've been doing? Have you managed to add to it?"

"Yes," Harry answered. "Actually, I've been reviewing their lesson plans, making suggestions on how to re-order some of the lessons, hopefully make things more efficient."

"I've always thought you would be an excellent teacher, Harry. You picked things up so well when I taught you in your third year. Such patience and determination. And from what I've heard, you were quite the competent teacher by your fifth year."

Harry shrugged. "I suppose so. I was sort of thrust into that. You know the DA was all Hermione's idea, right?" The werewolf nodded. "Well, once I agreed to it - hell once she suggested it - I just felt like I had no choice. I had to do it. We had to be prepared and there was no way Umbridge was going to do any of us any good. I must admit, now that Mr Weasley is the Minister, I'm looking forward to some changes and improvements at the Ministry. I've requested that I be allowed to be more involved in the training sessions, but I don't know if they'll accept the change in my position. They're quite willing for me to write the curriculum, and are happy for my suggestions for changes, but I don't know if this will get me more time in front of a class. I really don't have the desire to keep pushing quill and papers for the rest of my life. Where's the fun in that?"

"They'd be fools not to give you more classes Harry." Remus spoke emphatically, showing his confidence in his best friend's son.

Harry grinned, "Well then, it should be a cinch, now that they've replaced the biggest fool of all. I've never really used my position or my contacts to get my way, but a word or two in the Minister's ear might just be the thing." The two of them had a good laugh over that and continued to catch up as they finished their lunch.

--ooOoo--

Harry went flying that night, just trying to clear his head, enjoying the sensation of tension draining out of his muscles as if the breeze were carrying it away. He felt a surge of energy as he worked muscles he hadn't used in ages, dipping and twirling and swerving around in the night sky, thankful for the public pitch in a nearby wizarding town which offered him a local place to fly undisturbed.

He was flying again, but this time, he was chasing a snitch. It was late at night, with the barest wisps of clouds in the sky and a nearly full moon. The moonlight glinted off the tiny golden ball, offering Harry the briefest moments of knowledge about its location. He knew he could do this, though. Knew he could find the snitch, despite the late hour and the limited lighting. It was instinct. He closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on his surroundings and was struck with the knowledge that the snitch was roughly five metres below him, over to the left side of the pitch. Quickly turning his broom in that direction, Harry caught another flash of reflected moonlight and knew he was on the right track. The snitch put up quite a chase, but after a few more minutes of zigzagging around the pitch he finally closed his fingers around those fluttery little wings. Pulling his broom up to an abrupt stop, Harry smiled to himself as he opened his hand. The smile quickly faded, though, when he realised that he held, not the snitch, but a slug.

Harry started awake in his bed, gasping at the image of the slime-covered creature in his hand. What in the world was that about? He pondered the dream and the question for a moment before sliding out of bed, realising that he wouldn't be getting back to sleep any time soon.

--ooOoo--

By the time Valentine's Day finally rolled around, Harry was anxious, excited and frustrated. He'd spent hours stressing over his plans, worrying that Oliver would be upset or offended again. His sleep had been increasingly sparse, as the strange Quidditch themed dreams had continued throughout the week. It seemed he was always chasing the snitch in these dreams, which was the only part that made sense to him. The dreams were so real, so vivid, he felt his heart racing in excitement and anticipation, felt the twitches in his stomach as the broom swerved up and down, felt the energy of the crowd cheering him on as he reached for that one little golden ball – the one thing that the crowd knew he should have. The location varied, but there was always something familiar. His team was often wearing Gryffindor robes, frequently included one or more Weasleys and nearly always included Oliver. Sometimes they were at Hogwarts, but at other times they seemed to be flying over some meticulous gardens situated behind a stately manor home. The endings were quite similar in that he always caught the snitch, but it turned out to be something else. Harry had finally decided after the fourth or fifth dream that he was supposed to be getting a message from this, but he couldn't put his finger on it. The snitch turned into slugs, spiders, soap bubbles that popped and disappeared, flobberworms, even lemon drops or cubes of sugar. In retrospect, he began to notice that these items always fit one of two categories; they either faded away quickly or they were some nasty creature that he would rather not deal with. A further toss of the I Ching coins and a consultation of the hexagram, and Harry found that he had again thrown twenty-three, with its accompanying fortune that rivalled Trelawney for its doom and gloom. He didn't need anyone to tell him that perhaps it was trying to tell him something.

Harry padded around the kitchen, brewing a cup of English Breakfast as he pondered these revelations. Last night's dream had broken the trend. After having as many as four of these dreams every night for a week, Harry had awoken this morning with quite unexpected images in his head. He had dreamed of being back at Hogwarts, standing on the Quidditch pitch in his scarlet robes. He wasn't flying this time, wasn't chasing anything; he was just standing there, waiting. Off to one side, he saw a flash of green, and suddenly, in a moment fairly reminiscent of his first year face-off with Voldemort, he felt an unexpected weight in his pocket. He reached in and gingerly grasped the cool, round item, and pulled it out; somewhat surprised to see that it was the snitch. Closing his hand around it (because his dream self remembered the other dreams), he waited a moment, then looked again. It was still a snitch. From somewhere, although he couldn't quite discern where, a voice seemed to whisper, "it was there all along."

Harry was jolted from these memories by the hot dribble of tea running down his bare chest. He quickly grabbed a kitchen towel to clean up the mess, then headed into the living room to finish his tea, thankful that he hadn't spilled enough to soak through the blue flannel lounge pants that served as his regular sleep attire. He sat at the desk and almost absentmindedly opened the journal, surprising himself with the enthusiastic reactions when he saw that Luc had written just that morning. By the time Harry finished reading, the last droplets of his tea were long cold and he was feeling at least a little more awake and functional. He decided to take a few moments to reply to Luc's entry.

February 14, 2003 Luc, I must admit that I'm more than a little nervous about my plans to surprise Ollie. What if it blows up in my face like his birthday? I think of it as an important holiday for lovers and that this is a romantic notion, but he and I don't always see things in the same light. Of course, I'm sure that even if he doesn't hold Valentine's Day in as high a regard as I do, things will still work out all right. After all, the wine and music and candles are just a part of it, right? The wild abandon and passion of the evening is the ultimate goal. And I most certainly intend to take full advantage of his passionate tendencies. Surely he can't say no to that? Wow, the dinner with your petite mère and the chance meeting with Jean-Paul sound wonderful! It certainly seems that you are taking your time with this man; do you think maybe he's 'the one'? I've always thought the relationships that start off really slowly with lots of intrigue and anticipation and getting to know one another and overcoming hesitations and finally culminating in a beautiful and mutual declaration of love were the most romantic. I sometimes wish my relationship with Ollie were more like that. I mean, there was interest and friendship, and now I love him, but I used to imagine things would be more exciting, more intense. I guess that's what I get for imagining things, right? Anyway, enough about that. About your happy memories. How could I possibly hate you for how you feel? You are entitled to your own views and emotions and I certainly wouldn't be much of a friend if I were going to judge you on them, now would I? Besides, the story of your parents and your own desire to see your mother happy is beautiful. It's sad, but the feelings behind it show a depth of love and strength of character that you apparently don't realise you possess. Those poignant images you paint of Queenie and your love for her also tug at my heart strings. I'm glad you were able to identify these happy memories, even if they are bittersweet. Luc, honestly, I wish I were there in person; I would give you a hug. Do you really think that analysing your feelings is a bad thing? It seems like it's helped you get in touch with yourself and understand what you want and need. That's what it takes to evolve as a person, Luc. And you are more than welcome to continue it within the journal, especially if this is the only time you open up and examine yourself like that. You can't know yourself unless you learn, and you can't be happy unless you know yourself. I know what you mean about that 'something missing.' I have that sensation often. Perhaps that is a part of knowing yourself. Once you begin to understand yourself better you'll know what that missing thing is. I think maybe, now that Ollie and I are in love, that my missing piece will finally click into place. I mean, this is what people wait their lives for, right? I know I've been waiting for a while. I have a few really close friends, all of whom seem to have found a peace within themselves. Most of them have also managed to find their ultimate love, waltzing around like they haven't a care in the world just because they love someone and that someone loves them back. It's almost nauseating at times. But then I suppose I get that way about Ollie and just don't realise it. My point, though, is that I don't know that I've been as discriminating in choosing my lovers as I have in choosing my friends. I tell you this because it sounds like you may have the same problem. Consider your reasons for being so selective when you decide to make friends with someone. Did something happen that caused you to be that overcautious when offering friendship? Is it because there are certain types of people you enjoy spending time with? Certain values that you believe those close to you should share? Certain interests you want to pursue with your friends? If these types of ideals are criteria in choosing to form a friendship, shouldn't they be just as important in choosing a lover? Think on that. Consider it your next assignment. As for the Muggle television, it sounds like you were unfortunate enough to run across what's called a soap opera. That is far from quality television in my opinion and not the best first impression for you to have had. If you are ever interested in trying again, let me know and I'll tell you exactly what you need to watch. And yes, the Lord of the Rings movies are fabulous! I, too, am certain there were a few wizarding names involved in the making of those movies. Technology in the film industry may be well advanced, but I think it takes a magical touch to make it that real and captivating. I think of it, in a sense, like potion making. You could hand a Muggle a cauldron and a stack of ingredients and a sheet of instructions, but you won't get the same results. The innate magic of the brewer accentuates the ingredients and brings out the magical qualities of the potion. Am I right? You know I didn't do well in potions class, but I think that's one detail that my snarky git of a Professor managed to drill into my head. That, and always wash your hands after handling potions or ingredients. Anyway, I should be off now, I'll be late for the date that Ollie doesn't even know about. Oh, and in answer to your question… I'm a Leo. Does this mean we should shag now? grins Take care, Flash

--ooOoo--

Harry listened to the end of the game on the Wizarding Wireless Network, gleefully cheering his boyfriend on with every announcement that Wood had blocked another shot by the Magpies. He was pleased to hear that Puddlemere won the game by 240 points. It was a resounding victory. As soon as the game ended, though, Harry was quickly gathering his things for the evening. He knew from experience that he would have somewhere between two and three hours from the end of the game to the time when Oliver would arrive in his rooms. Harry had a great deal of preparation to do in that amount of time.

Harry Apparated to the hotel and quietly let himself in to Oliver's suite in Montrose. Looking around the room, Harry couldn't help but understand what Oliver had meant when he said Puddlemere United really appreciated their players. It was huge! The sitting area was the size of their living room at home, and through the archway on his right, Harry could see a decent sized kitchen with an eating nook. The cosy little table looked perfect for a candlelight dinner. Not that I intend to spend that much time eating, he thought with a sly smile. Along the left wall, a fireplace stood alongside the open door to the bedroom. A set of French doors at the back of the sitting area lead to the balcony area. Being on the 14th floor of the exclusive Wizarding hotel offered a lovely view of the city and Harry could just imagine how it would look at night with all the city lights twinkling. The sun was just beginning to set, reminding Harry that he didn't have much time left.

He stepped into the bedroom, carefully stowing his overnight bag in the closet after retrieving a few specific items from it. Into one nightstand drawer he placed a bottle of the ultra-sensitive, flavoured lubricant that he and Ollie had grown to love, and the scented massage oil he would later use on Oliver. Every Quidditch player held a deep appreciation for a warm, slick and thorough massage after a long game, and this is exactly what Harry planned to give Oliver. In the bathroom cabinet, he stored the bath oils he had brought, pleased to see that the suite had a large tub - more than accommodating for the two of them. Harry left the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He was pleased to note the strength of the silencing charms in this hotel. Not only was each suite warded to avoid disturbances, but each room appeared to have additional layers of silencing magic surrounding them. A very expensive hotel indeed.

Harry quickly reached into the additional bag he'd brought with him and retrieved a tiny package. After enlarging it to its original size, he checked the contents to ensure that the dozens of candles within were unharmed. A few flicks of his wand and these candles were distributed all around the room, even some on the balcony in tall glass containers so they wouldn't be blown out by the wind. Checking the clock again, Harry rushed into the kitchenette. He set out the fresh sweet cream and the bowl full of ripe, juicy strawberries. Conjuring an ice bucket, he carefully placed the champagne inside, speeding up the chilling process with another quick charm. After thinking about Oliver's birthday, Harry had decided to indulge the Scotsman with his favourite beer and brought himself the best bottle of wine he had on hand. Placing the wine and beer in the magically charmed icebox, he surveyed the kitchen and decided that his work in there was complete.

Back in the sitting room, Harry was in front of the fireplace carefully arranging the satin covered throw pillows he'd just enlarged from his bag when he felt a subtle shift in the wards around the suite. He looked up, expecting to see Ollie walking through the door, hot and tired from the game, but Ollie wasn't there. After a few moments, he shrugged and went back to the pillows. When he was satisfied that it was just right, he stood and surveyed the room again. Perfect. Now for the final touches. With a few simple waves of his wand, he had a blazing fire in the fireplace, all the candles glowing and flickering around the otherwise dim room, and a never-ending charm set to play ballads and love songs from Ollie's favourite musicians. Now there was nothing left to do but head back into the bedroom to change into the black jeans and royal blue silk shirt he'd bought for the occasion.

Humming along blissfully with the music, Harry crossed the room and entered the darkened bedroom. He'd made it about halfway to the closet when his mind alerted him to the fact that he was not alone. Harry turned quickly and was about to smile, but his mouth remained open in a half smile. Ollie was there – on the bed. Harry stood in stunned silence, some rational part of his brain recognizing that the earlier shift of magic must have been a result of the wards being breeched for Apparition. The rest of his brain was gogging at the scene before him.

Oliver Wood was on his knees in the middle of the large, scarlet covered bed. He was naked and sweating.

Harry felt a cold hand, mildly reminiscent of the Dementors, reaching into his chest and grasping at his heart. Before he could speak, or even remind himself to breath, Oliver leaned over, gasping "Oh, yes, Simon!"

Harry couldn't be sure – perhaps he needed new glasses, but something else blurred at the corner of his vision. Blinking rapidly at the moisture clouding his eyes, Harry finally became aware of a third body in the bed. This man had his head thrown back, his light brown hair hanging past his shoulders.

All three of them held their positions for a moment or two as they came down from their zealous activity.

Through it all Harry just stood there. He was suddenly and rudely awakened from his dazed stupor when he recognised the blissful expression on Oliver's face. It was that look. The look that was all for Harry, the look that Harry had believed was born from pure love and satisfaction. Harry gasped, crying out in devastation as he felt the icy hand squeeze harder and tear at the tortured heart within his chest. The wand in his hand quivered in outrage as he raised his arm high. The last thing he saw before casting the spell and Apparating home was Oliver's face, looking up in staggered shock and recognition.

--ooOoo--

Harry stood in front of his own hearth, unable to move, unable to think coherently. He wished several times to wake up from this horrid nightmare, but the cold lump in his chest told him that he really wasn't dreaming.

I can't believe that utter bastard said he loved me. He had the nerve to say he loved me and to, to… he made me love him! Harry sniffled and looked up to wipe the tears from his eyes. The first thing he spotted was the photo of him and Oliver that took pride of place in the centre of the mantelpiece. Harry picked it up, looking at the sheer joy on his own face, and the happiness that was on Oliver's face. Harry watched the photo as renewed tears clouded his vision. Was he lying to me? Was he ever faithful? How do I know he wasn't always with someone else? All that time he's been away. He wasn't surprised when the glass in the photo cracked, then shattered into smithereens. Harry's anger peaked at the force of the anger that fed his wandless magic. Tossing the remnants of the photo into the fireplace, he knew what he had to do.

Harry stormed through the flat, methodically gathering up everything that belonged to Oliver. A few items spontaneously combusted or shattered just from a look, but Harry took little satisfaction in their destruction. He knew on some level that he was being irrational, perhaps even childish, but this is what he felt he needed to do, and the anger fuelled his rage. The potent magic was crackling throughout his body. On Valentine's Day! Of all days to cheat on someone, Valentine's Day, birthdays and anniversaries are the worst. Ah fuck. Any day is a bloody wrong day to cheat on someone you said you loved. You'd think after knowing him all this time I would have realised that he's an utter, heartless, tosser! I can't believe I told him I loved him! Harry hastily shoved an armful of Oliver's clothing and personal belongings into the fireplace before pointing his wand with great satisfaction.

"Incendio!"

--ooOoo--

Oliver was bright enough to stay away from Somerset for a full twenty-four hours. He had seen the look on Harry's face and was none too proud of himself for hurting Harry that way. He hadn't truly thought about it, hadn't realised Harry would be so upset by his having a little fun, but then again, he hadn't expected to get caught. Somehow, though, he just felt like it would all be okay. Harry would forgive him, after all, hadn't he just professed his love a couple weeks ago? And Harry obviously wanted to stay together, considering the surprises he'd been preparing all over the hotel suite. Deciding that yes, he could explain it and make Harry understand, and that a full day was long enough to let Harry calm down, Oliver Apparated to the familiar flat. It must be okay, he hasn't locked me out of the wards! Despite this confident action, he was utterly unprepared for the sight that greeted him.

The flat was empty, but Oliver could tell that Harry hadn't been gone long, as a cauldron was bubbling away on the stove. He hoped the younger man would be returning soon and decided to make himself comfortable while he waited. In the kitchen, as he tried to identify the source of the odd acrid smouldering smell in the air, he reached for his favourite coffee mug, only to find his fingers sliced open by the sharp ceramic shards that were in its place. Confused, he left the cabinet alone, and ran cool water over his hand to try and ease the stinging. He walked through the flat toward the bathroom to get the healing ointment, only to be shocked by the state of their bed clothes. They had been shredded, torn into nearly unrecognisable strips of useless fabric. The lamp on his side of the bed was broken in two, his favourite books ripped in half and his first medal from Puddlemere had been magically melted into an asymmetrical glob.

His sense of dread was increasing by the moment. He had a hard time believing Harry would do this, but it was confirmed when he ran to the closet to find that all of Harry's clothes were still hanging in their normal orderly fashion, but his were nowhere to be found. Something finally clicked in his head and he ran back to the sitting area to check the fireplace. There, just as he had feared, scattered about in front of the fireplace, where the smouldering stench still lingered the strongest, were the charred remnants of Oliver's wardrobe. He recognised the scrap of Armani robes that hung from the edge of the grate, the bit of his souvenir Gryffindor Quidditch robe that lay in the ashes, and the sleeve of his favourite casual shirt that had been thrown onto the hearth. It was this discovery that made him realise that Harry was not going to be the sweet, insecure and understanding young man he'd been throughout most of their relationship. And it was at the moment of realisation that the young man in question decided to come back home.

"Get the hell out of my home." Oliver turned quickly at the low and steady voice and was momentarily taken aback by the fury in those familiar green eyes.

"Harry, wait a minute. Just calm down. I know you're upset abo…"

"You don't know anything about me – about how I feel, and I'd like to keep it that way. Just leave."

"And go where? This is my home too. Not that I have any belongings here. You took care of that, didn't you?" He hadn't intended to fly off the handle, but Harry was being completely irrational. "What were you hoping for Harry? That I would be devastated because you burned my clothes? That I would cry over our ripped up bedding? I'm sorry honey, but that's not going to happen." Oliver was as pissed off as hell about it, but he didn't want to give Harry the satisfaction of knowing that.

"All I was hoping for was that you would stay far away from me. I thought you had plenty to keep you occupied for a while. Oh, and don't you dare use any endearments on me – you've lost that privilege."

"My, my, don't you seem all high and mighty." Oliver's next words were quickly cut off when Harry stepped up to him. They stood toe to toe, Harry's index finger resting ever so gently at the base of Oliver's sternum. Harry never raised his voice, but rather, lowered his tone. To Oliver, it was somewhat similar to Professor Snape's deep, steady timbre, complete with the eerie sensation that suggested it took much more anger to bring out this control than it did to bring about a shouting rampage.

"Listen to me, Oliver. We're through. I've worked my butt off trying to please you, only to have you throw it all in my face. I don't give my heart away easily, and I certainly don't intend to allow someone access to it unless they are going to cherish it. I don't want to hear your excuses or explanations and I certainly don't want to hear your apologies or your insults. You've played me for a fool, and nobody does that. You have proven yourself to be a gormless shite with no sense of compassion or common sense or consideration for anyone else's feelings. You're a contemptible little bitch who deserves nothing better than the likes of that Simon wanker and that other bit of fluff. I hope they were fun and I hope they were worth it. You all deserve each other. Now, get out."

Harry put his hand down and stepped away from Oliver, motioning toward the door. Oliver considered a moment, and decided that Harry really meant what he was saying. They were through. For now anyway. He sighed in resignation and started toward the door. Just before leaving, he paused and turned back to his lover – ex-lover now. "Harry, just so you know, you need to do some personal inventory. You're a mess kid. You don't have a clue what you want, or how to deal with a perfectly normal situation. I guess it's because of the way you grew up, but it just seems like you're clingy. You attach yourself to someone when they offer the least bit of affection and you give your heart away in an instant. I know you say you don't, but that's not quite true. I've had your heart for months now, you just couldn't admit it aloud. That's another of your problems. You have to learn to be objective in loving, but express it when you do love. And you should know that the wizarding world doesn't look at relationships in the same way Muggles do. What I did yesterday is normal. It's called being open." He took a step closer to Harry, gazing deep into his eyes. Harry, despite the ludicrous words he was hearing saw nothing but sincerity in Oliver's eyes. Merlin! He really believes what he's saying! "You think about this stuff and let me know when you're ready to try again, okay?"

Oliver turned to leave again, but was stopped short by Harry's snort of laughter. "Oliver, don't hold your breath for that, darling. Oh, and by the way, you know that nice, new Firebolt HP model that you have? The model that was named after me?" Oliver's eyes widened in panic momentarily as he thought about his beloved broom. He realised quickly though that it was still in his motel room in Montrose, so there was no way Harry could have placed his hands on it. "Be sure you hold on to that broom – it'll offer you the only chance you'll ever have to ride Harry Potter again."

--ooOoo--

Harry puttered around in a bit of a daze for the next week, barely paying attention to anything at work, not bothering to contact any of his friends, and not even showing interest in his DVD collection, or any one of the dozens of half started projects he had around the house. Once or twice he considered writing to Luc, but he wasn't sure what to say. He kept running Oliver's words through his head. Was he really a mess? Did Oliver have a point in all that, or was Harry just letting his insecurities get the best of him? He finally got around to some quick cleaning charms a few days after the confrontation with Oliver, glad to be rid of the evidence of his rampage. He slept on the sofa, unwilling to face their bed alone and completely unmotivated to replace the bedding he had destroyed.

He had been somewhat grateful on Saturday morning when he received the message that there was a minor problem which left the local Ministry office short handed. He spent the better part of the day filling in at work with plenty of mindless activity to keep him occupied. However, once he returned home, Harry was left to face his maudlin thoughts again. Alone. He was so tired of being alone; tired of waiting and wishing for someone to just be there for him, no matter what. He was tired of second guessing himself, worrying over every word said to him during their fight. By dinner time that evening, the thing Harry was most tired of was thinking - of Oliver. He picked up a bottle of wine, deciding that perhaps getting out of his own mind would help him to get the Scottish bastard out of his mind as well.

Two bottles of wine and the better part of a bottle of Brandy later, Harry was feeling quite self-pitying and suddenly determined that what he really needed was to talk to someone. He should have spoken with Ron much earlier than this, but the thought of seeing him so happy with Hermione had put him off. Besides, he was busy with whatever new project they had him on at work. Despite this, he knew that Ron could set him straight. Ron had years of experience helping Harry to deal with his feelings. Thinking about this brought about thoughts of Luc, and how easy it was to open up to the Frenchman. He smiled as he thought of Luc's comment about how Charlie was checking him out in that Daily Prophet photo. Harry had since watched the picture again, and discovered that Charlie had indeed been watching Harry more often that his own family. It had been somewhat enthralling to know that out there, someone actually did want him that way. He couldn't help but remember his own thoughts about Charlie that day.

As his thoughts wandered to Charlie and away from Ron, he inadvertently cast the Apparition spell at the wrong moment, when his focus was divided between the two Weasleys. A moment of doubt during the transportation led to the suspicion he might be splinched. Perhaps he really had drunk too much and should not have attempted to Apparate – it felt like an eternity before he found that all movement had ceased, and he was firmly in one place. He breathed a sigh of relief after opening his eyes and verifying that he was indeed in one place, and unharmed.

Unfortunately, the relief was short-lived as he realised that he was not in Ron's living room – he wasn't even in the country, and the head of red hair that had been sound asleep only moments before did not belong to his best friend. His loud gasp of shock woke Charlie from his slumber with a start. After all, it isn't every day that someone Apparates into your bedroom – especially when that bedroom is in Romania, and the traveller was previously in England.

"Harry?" Charlie blinked and rubbed his eyes as he cast a low light charm.

"Sorry, Charlie," came the sheepish and embarrassed reply. "I wash thinking Weashley, and washn't thinking clear enough… or thinking, or something." Harry was obviously uncertain as to his coherence, and therefore refrained from speaking any further.

Charlie stood, wondering why Harry felt the need to Apparate to any of his family members in the middle of the night. "Is everyone all right? Has something happened?"

Harry nodded his head in answer to the first question, then shook it rapidly side to side in answer to the second. This, of course, reacted to the wine and brandy in his stomach and they threatened to retaliate. He stopped moving his head and stumbled before placing one hand on Charlie's chest to steady himself.

"You're drunk, aren't you?" Charlie's voice was gruff, slightly rougher than normal as a result of having been woken up. The quiet, sensuous tones shot straight through Harry's system and into his groin. He swallowed heavily and smiled up at the slightly taller redhead. His hand was still on Charlie's chest, and he began to curl his fingers around the soft, reddish chest hairs he found there.

"I suppose you could say I don't have much blood in my alcohol stream," Harry grinned stupidly as he looked up at the dragon handler.

Charlie mentally translated that sentence, before nodding. "Perhaps I could help you with that Harry." As Charlie walked back over to grab his wand, Harry couldn't help but notice the strong muscles of his back and the firm curve of his buttocks.

"Sobrietus." Charlie murmured to Harry, helping his brother's friend to sober up. Harry gasped and faltered, not ready for the sudden sobering effects of the charm. His head swam, but his equilibrium soon returned. Harry looked up to Charlie to thank him, but he stopped. All thought ceased as he looked into those brown eyes – a memory of what he had seen in that photograph took hold, and Harry suddenly realised what he wanted – what he needed at that moment.

Charlie deliberately took a step back after seeing the feral desire in Harry's eyes. Unfortunately for Charlie's intentions, that step back caused him to bump into his bed, which knocked him over a bit and sent him directly into Harry's arms as he overcorrected for his lack of balance. Harry took a deep breath and smiled at Charlie coyly. Charlie's mental voices warred over the appropriateness of touching the man who was his youngest brother's best friend, not to mention the man who had been too inebriated to Apparate properly. Desire and the twisted logic it sometimes creates finally won out and Charlie leaned forward to close the distance between them.

The first kiss was tentative, Charlie hesitating in case his advances were unwelcome. The second kiss was harsh, needy, and hot with fingers tangling in hair and tiny, whimpering moans echoing from both men's throats. Harry pulled back and looked at Charlie intently. "I want you to know that I know exactly what I'm doing and you are not taking advantage of me." Charlie nodded, grateful that Harry understood his hesitation, then took the man at his word and proceeded to ravish him.

Harry grabbed at Charlie's pyjama pants – pulling their bodies to align perfectly. Harry felt the warm flesh ripple under his touch, and the telling hardness pressed against his thigh. "You want this too." Harry murmured in a husky voice – a statement more than a question. Charlie's fervent writhing against his body and a low hum against his neck was answer enough for Harry. The pyjama pants were soon gone, with Charlie standing firm and naked and throbbing in Harry's arms.

NC-17 scene deleted

Charlie rested his head against Harry's back as he regained his breath. Harry quickly fell back to the bed, his own spent and abused body disconnecting suddenly. Charlie promptly fell beside Harry, his arms reassuringly surrounding the younger man's chest. He watched the strange play of emotions flicker across the green eyes momentarily as he felt Harry's heartbeat return to normal. The look. It's not there, Harry thought absently as he realised he was waiting for something he really didn't expect to see, or particularly want to see again.

The emotions churning through Charlie's mind were evident as Harry looked across into his face. "I meant what I said Charlie. I knew you wanted me, and thanks to you, I'm sober enough to know exactly what I wanted." Harry smiled and kissed the tips of Charlie's fingers, before yawning deeply. He was soon asleep, and Charlie laid a soft kiss on his brow as he lay awake a bit longer, wondering what in the world could have brought such a totally enthralling yet emotionally confused young man to his bed at two in the morning.

He knew it wasn't a dream – those pleasurable aches and pains were not something from any dream. The smooth and steady rhythm of Harry's breathing as he curled into Charlie's willing arms helped deliver him to his own slumber.

Only a few hours later Harry was once again waking Charlie. It wasn't quite daylight, but Charlie found no room for complaining when he came to consciousness with Harry's hands roaming his body and Harry's tongue doing unimaginable things along his spine. From the sporadic movements of the warm, wet tongue on his back, Charlie guessed that his tattoo had been discovered. After a few more unsuccessful attempts to capture the wizard drawing of a golden snitch, Harry sighed in frustration. "Let me just say that this tattoo is a helluva turn-on. I'm not sure I've ever had so much fun chasing a snitch." Harry caught the pleasured moan as his tongue travelled lower and lower on Charlie's back while his hand mirrored the same movements along his stomach.

NC-17 scene deleted

"Charlie." Harry's voice was slightly tentative, a striking contrast to the surety he had exhibited earlier. Charlie simply smiled at him, hoping to be reassuring. "You don't know how long I'd wanted to do that. I gave up hope long ago of ever…"

"Shhhh." Charlie put a finger to Harry's lips, not wanting to hear any apologies from Harry's lips.

"You know, I used to have this particular fantasy… about you…"

"Oh?" Charlie grinned and winked, wondering what subconscious secret Harry had just inadvertently revealed.

"Well, sleeping with you in general used to be a fantasy of mine," Harry ran his fingers along Charlie's bicep and collarbone, forcing himself to hold eye contact. Charlie's wink and comforting embrace emboldened Harry and his voice grew stronger as he found the courage to continue. "Another fantasy of mine was to wake you up with sexual attentions… I even thought about sneaking into your room at the Burrow once, when you came home for the holidays during my seventh year… Anyway, I have another, if you're willing… and up for it…" At this, Harry's voice trailed off, embarrassment quickly gaining momentum again.

"I'll admit to a few similar fantasies. Tell me what you want, Harry."

Harry paused, unsure if he wanted to tell one of his deepest and darkest secrets. Seeing that Charlie wasn't running screaming in the opposite direction, he gathered all his Gryffindor bravery. "I want you to tie me up, blindfold me, tease me and taunt me and tempt me and torture me and then finally, I want to you to fuck me so hard that I feel you for days, my glasses are useless and I don't know my own name."

Charlie's eyes dilated slightly and his heart rate rose at Harry's words. He paused for the length of a single breath, then reached for his wand and cast the charms that would bind Harry's hands and feet to the bed. He grabbed a woollen scarf and transfigured it into silk before tying it snugly around Harry's eyes. Harry lay there, shivering with anticipation as he heard Charlie rummaging around for a moment. He was about to ask what was going on when he felt the bed dip as Charlie rejoined him. Harry tingled where his thigh was pressed against Charlie's nude hip. He felt something incredibly soft sliding gently across his chest, around each nipple, down his torso, tickling him and bringing those nerves to attention. That was quickly replaced by a slightly rough surface mapping a similar course around Harry's body. It felt slightly scratchy and Harry couldn't imagine what it was but it was the most erotic sensation he'd ever felt.

The sensory depravation from the loss of sight heightened each and every touch, and Harry began to crave anticipation of the next feel of the dragon tamer's touch. Charlie began placing random kisses on Harry's torso, hips and thighs as he continued to tease the sensitive skin with a variety of textures. Harry hadn't even noticed when the scratchy feeling went away; he was too distracted by the tongue that swirled slowly around the inside of his upper thigh.

NC-17 scene deleted

--ooOoo--

When Harry woke up later that day, he could tell by the sun shining through the window that it was late afternoon. What he didn't know, at least for a moment, was where he was waking up, why his vision was blurry and how he had acquired the feeling that his body was full of jelly. When he remembered the entire night (and the early part of the morning), he felt a wave of fear. What will Charlie think of this? What kind of needy idiot would show up in another country, wake a person up and proceed to throw himself at that person? Oh gods, oh Merlin, oh fuck, Oliver was right! I have to get out of here. I can't face him right now. Harry sat up gingerly, realising that despite his post-coital trepidation, he had definitely been physically satisfied. Charlie had indeed fulfilled Harry's fantasy wishes, and fortunately, seemed to be as worn out as Harry felt, considering the fact that he barely moved while Harry searched around, disoriented, for his glasses, then quickly threw on his jeans. He grasped his wand in one hand, his shoes and shirt in the other, and Apparated home.

Once there, Harry immediately locked the floo and closed his wards so that no one, no matter how close they were to him, could get in without his permission. He sat down on the sofa and proceeded to stare at the wall, silently berating himself for adhering to the dismal picture Ollie had painted of him. Harry thought back, considering the fact that none of his relationships lasted longer than a few months. In fact, Oliver had been the longest. It seemed that dumping the Boy-Who-Lived was a favourite pastime of many of Britain's most eligible young men. For some, the novelty and notoriety of being his boyfriend wore off quickly. Those few who had seen beyond the scar and the glasses had later dumped the young man's need for no obvious reason. One said he felt stifled by Harry; another couldn't deal with the yoke of fame that surrounded him; yet another was frustrated by Harry's desire for attention and simultaneous lack of trust.

Finally, he had grown to trust Oliver only to have that trust shattered in the worst way he could imagine. Now, it seemed, he had once again reached out, subconsciously seeking attention, and in the process had likely alienated a good friend. Possibly two, if Ron ever found out. Harry couldn't help but think back to his days in Snape's classes when the Potions master accused him of enjoying his fame and seeking out the spotlight. He briefly wondered if that were some deep psychological truth that he'd never learned to recognise.

Harry sighed and considered a good stiff drink to take his mind off the stupid mistakes he'd made. Of course, thinking of that, brought about memories of last night after a few drinks, and the events that followed. What is wrong with me? I should know better than that. He glanced at the journal sitting on his desk, thinking of the many conversations he and Luc had shared through those pages. The troubles Luc had with Antonio, the mistakes he'd made afterward, and the regret he expressed all came flooding back to Harry's memory. And to think I tried to advise him about those things! I told him when he should go find someone to shag. I told him when he shouldn't. I suppose I've taken my own advice and now I see just how stupid it was. Harry's gaze wandered across the room as he briefly considered various activities that might distract him from these maudlin thoughts.

He still had no interest in watching his DVD's, even his favourite show, "Buffy," just didn't strike his fancy at the moment. Everything that reminded him of his school days also seemed to remind him of Oliver, so his photo collection was out of the question. Finally, his eyes rested on the I Ching set he'd found weeks ago. He thought about it, remembering the odd compulsion that led him to buy it. Tear up old ideas and eliminate what is unusable. An unavoidable period of collapse, misfortune and destruction. As he thought back over that description of hexagon twenty-three, Harry finally realised why it hadn't made sense to him before. He'd had no idea that his love life was about to fall apart, no reason to think that his sense of stability and safety and love was about to be ripped out from under him. He had certainly torn up some things though, and while he wished there had been a way to avoid the collapse and misfortune, he felt quite vindicated by the destruction he had wrought.

His thoughts were interrupted by the rustle of pages at his desk. He glanced over and saw the journal had opened. He could just make out the green colour of the writing that was now appearing on the blank page. Looking at the clock, he was amazed to see that he had been sitting there, brooding for nearly two hours. After a pause, he finally meandered over to the desk to see what Luc had to say.

Février 23 Dear Flash, Hey there. Thought it high time that we caught up. I guess it's been quite a few days since your grand plans for Valentine's Day. I'm guessing from your complete silence on the matter, and from your complete absence, that you have other things in hand at present. Ollie no doubt has been keeping you very busy, I'm sure...

Harry snorted sardonically at that, considering the notion that Luc couldn't be more wrong. Deciding that perhaps a chat would do him some good, he found himself reaching for a quill and wondered briefly where his purple ink had got to.

I have actually spent a lot of time this week thinking about you – wondering. You seemed so excited about your Valentine's plans. I was even excited for you, and I must confess that I've thought often about how wonderful it must have been. I actually was insanely jealous of Ollie for a bit - not having anyone who cared enough to think to do something like that for me on such a romantic day, but I'm not totally unhappy about being unattached at present. What I mean to say is that I really don't have much to say about my own love life, but I do know that Jean-Paul has been constantly at the forefront of my own romantic thoughts.

He finally located the small pot, only to have it tip precariously and come close to pouring its contents across the journal and his lesson plans. He managed to catch it and ended up with a small spot of ink on his right thumb, so small, in fact, that he didn't notice it until it rubbed off onto the journal, creating a purple smudge at the edge of the page.

Flash? You there? Luc! Sorry, nearly spilled the ink all over the desk. I'm here. I ahem, didn't interrupt anything, did I? No. I was just staring into space. And let me just say before you ask, that your reasons for being jealous of Ollie were misdirected. Misdirected? Why? Didn't you go ahead with your plans? You sounded so sure of what you wanted to do. Oh I was sure, and I did it. I set up candles, I lit the fire, I had champagne and strawberries and cream. I charmed the suite to play his favourite love songs. I planned to give him a massage and then get in the bath with him; I bought a new royal blue shirt to wear because he told me that's his favourite colour on me. Unfortunately, things didn't work out as I had hoped and planned. Ollie was otherwise occupied by a couple of fans...

Harry paused. He hadn't talked about this yet, but he knew he needed to get it out, express his hurt to someone, and he knew that Luc would listen.

in his bed! What? You mean occupied as in occupied - and fans - plural? He cheated on you? Why the duplicitous cretin! Yes, he cheated. I walked into the bedroom to change clothes, only to find that he and these two bits of fluff had Apparated in and were drilling into one another like they were looking for oil. Merde! Oh Flash, I'm so sorry. I can't even begin to imagine how you felt. I've never been in that situation. I've never cheated and I don't think my ex partners ever did that when we were together. They probably knew what I 'could' do to them if they had. I'm guessing you didn't put your extensive Dark Arts experience to the test, did you? You aren't in Azkaban for murder? Sorry, bad humour... I just... I just honestly can't write words to express how sorry I am.

Harry was momentarily confused as he watched Luc write. For a moment, the whole journal was blurry, then, when he blinked his eyes, the overall effect faded, but one spot became blurry, then another, and another. He finally realised he was crying, something he couldn't remember truly doing in years.

Oh Merlin, hey Flash, it's okay to cry. Let it all out. Thanks. I don't know what was worse - walking in on that… that… scene, or arguing with him when he came home the next day. You try telling my uncle that it's okay to cry - he raised me to believe crying is for sissies... Of course - since I'm a useless poof, I guess it just makes sense. Why did you feel bad about arguing? Didn't you tell him exactly what you thought of him? I hope to hell that if you didn't throw every Unforgivable his way you threw him out (not that I condone the usage of the Unforgivable curses, but I'm sure the Wizengamot would allow for extenuating circumstances in your case!) Hey, now don't let anyone tell you that you are a useless poof. Even those over blown macho women loving types need to cry now and then. It just shows you are human. It's a perfectly natural reaction. Sometimes I wonder about that, too... the human bit. I didn't feel bad about arguing with him, I just didn't like it. I didn't feel like facing all that. I came home and destroyed everything he owns, breaking it, crushing it, melting it or burning it. That felt good, but only for a few minutes. Then he came home and started acting like he could just give me a reasonable explanation and I would accept it and everything would all be okay. He started talking to me about open relationships and my being insecure and all sorts of shite. He had the nerve to tell me that it was a normal part of wizard relationships to be open. First I've heard of sleeping with two other guys behind your boyfriend's back as being normal. He tried to tell me that I would want him back after I thought about it and learned a few home truths. I told him in essence, to get stuffed and that he shouldn't hold his breath waiting for me. Well good for you. Open relationships – what a crock. If you told him you loved him, then he should have been faithful. Please tell me you didn't take his words to heart? Merde, I should talk, I believed every word Antonio told me. What exactly did he say to you about being insecure? Would you like me to mix up some potion to make him impotent, or perhaps make his gonads shrivel up and die? Sorry, that was uncalled for. I can't believe he'd do such a thing! Oh he said I'm clingy, I attach myself to people the moment they show me any affection, I don't understand wizard relationships and that I don't know what I want. At the time, I would have taken you up on that potion offer in a heartbeat, but now - no. I think he's right. And I can't seek revenge for his accuracy, can I? Oh, you are right. Vengeance is fun for a while, but not healthy for long term happiness. You know there is nothing wrong about being in touch with your inner feelings. You have always seemed to be quite in touch with them, which is refreshing. Thinking back on all those things you wrote in this journal - those troubles you've had with him in the past - it seems your original instincts were right. You thought that something was amiss a while ago. Just remember that. It seems obvious that he's easily lead by his dick (hmmm, guess I should know about that!). He's making me so angry now. My wand hand is twitching to throw some curses at someone. Think I'll have to vent after this. I hope you have managed to throw a good fit of anger over him. You threw him out I assume? I did throw him out. I haven't seen him since, either. Hope I never have to again. I can't believe you're getting this angry about it, though. You don't even know him. Oh, I think I'm just angry on your behalf. I'm guessing from your reticence that you've been wallowing in self pity for the past nine days? I'm angry because you threw your heart on the line and told him you loved him. He's got to be a low life to cheat on you after that. You were so excited – he built your hopes up, and because I was living vicariously through you, he had my hopes up too! I suppose. I mean, I got angry that night and let it out by destroying his things. Then I held my own the next night when he came home. I told him I didn't intend to let anyone have control over my heart unless they were going to cherish it and that he was a contemptible bitch with no feelings. It wasn't until a day or so after that when I started to wonder if he was right about these things. Then of course, I don't know if I made things better, or worse. I drank myself into a stupor last night and ended up Apparating to the wrong house. I know, I know - it's stupid to attempt Apparition under the influence, but I was hoping to talk to my old school friend, and then thoughts of his rather sexy and very gay brother entered my head, and so I ended up at his brother's place by accident. That was just another horrible decision on my part - I slept with him. Sweet Merlin. He was willing, wasn't he? Or did you... Thank you, though, for your anger and concern on my part. It really …

Harry paused again, sniffling as he watched two more tears drop onto the paper, giving it a slightly wavy, warped affect.

Damn I'm crying again... it really means a lot. Yes, he was willing. And I was more than willing. Truth be told, I'd had some interest in him before, but the opportunity never arose. Now I'm regretting it, though. Not because it wasn't good, but just because it seems like such a rash and needy thing to do. Now that I can help you with. Does the name Devon ring any bells? Biggest mistake I made on the rebound. I take it you and your friend's brother haven't really talked yet? Is he likely to want to talk to you? You know, the worst thing about it... when Ollie

Another tear fell, despite Harry's efforts to hold them in.

Damn, after he and his little tossers were finished, he looked up...

Harry paused again, looking at the damp smudges scattered across the page from his tears. Damn, he couldn't seem to control it, though he was beginning to feel as if something deep in his chest was unclenching as he wrote, and that urged him to continue.

And he had that look on his face! Oh Flash! That look you thought was only for you? Yeah - that's the one. And Charlie - well no, I haven't talked to him since... I kind of panicked when I woke up and just left as quickly as I could. But you obviously needed the emotional and physical release with your friend's brother. I'm sure you'll still remain friends with him if you let go any guilt. You have NOTHING to be guilty about. Ollie is the foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach in this scenario - not you. Perhaps you need to talk to this Charlie. He hasn't tried to contact you? Umm, I don't know. I've got my floo heavily warded at the moment - don't really feel like company, you know? It's only been a couple of hours since I got home. Hell, he doesn't even know why I was there or what's happened. I just showed up, drunk. We kissed, I told him he wasn't taking advantage of me, and then we acted out a few of my old fantasies. I had never imagined I'd have that chance, but it was fabulous, and just went on and on and on... so it was well after daylight when we fell asleep, and I woke up this afternoon and came straight home without waking him. And now you're full of guilt and regret? Merlin Flash, aren't we a pair. I say don't wallow. Take that lock off your floo and talk to him. I'm guessing you're still stuck in the place you and Ollie lived? Perhaps you need to get away for a while. But don't torture yourself over what you did with Charlie. Talk to him! Take the floo wards off now! Yes sir!

Harry sighed with trepidation at the thought of opening his floo and allowing the outside world to reach him again. He had closed himself off because he was so uncertain of himself. His doubts and insecurities led him to believe that he would react horribly to seeing anyone in person… after all, he certainly hadn't handled things with Charlie the way he had intended. Despite his fantasies, he wouldn't have actually planned for that to happen. Luc's concern made him feel better though. Somehow, he couldn't help believing that this friendship with Luc was healthier than many of his other relationships. This thought brought a small smile to his face as he dutifully unlocked the floo and lightened his wards just a little.

Okay, done. You know - I can't believe this, but I am feeling a little better. Even crying. I mean, I never really thought about it. I've never cried much, about anything, even during the war with all the friends and family I lost - I don't remember crying. You brought that out in me. And I didn't even know how much I needed it. I just smiled, and I think it was the first time since leaving Ollie's hotel. Hey, you know I'm always here to talk to. I could get angry and say that you should have talked earlier, but it wouldn't help. I thought I'd do the gentlemanly thing and give you some time for what I thought would be other activities. Crying is good. I admit it feels good. Although don't ask me to admit that in public. Hey, isn't that why I'm here? You sure helped me get over my own silly mistakes. We both know who's the better man from all of this, and it isn't Ollie. You know what you need to do next? After talking to this Charlie? What? Can you take time off work for a bit? Probably. They're pretty flexible with my position. Is this where you suggest that we meet up and shag like bunnies, now that we know each other's zodiac signs? Well, take a holiday. Get right away from everyone and everything. Do something totally indulgent for yourself. I'm guessing everyone and everything is reminding you of that prat. You said in your last entry that your friends all are in relationships? Well, you need to get away from them too. And no, no shagging like bunnies. I suggest a celibate path for a little while, unless your friend Charlie is more than willing to carry on from last night. Nah, you know I'm no longer one for indiscriminate shagging, no matter whether our star signs are totally compatible. I see you are a little more cheerful if you are joking! (Besides, I'm the one who's supposedly sworn off shagging, remember?) Besides, if Ollie is an Aquarius (you said his birthday was Jan 27), then you should have foreseen this. He was either going to be the one for you, or it was all going to come crashing down in a great big screaming heap. A holiday. That does sound nice. Just me and the world, away from everyone. Any suggestions? Well, somewhere you've never been before. A REAL holiday. You should talk to a travel agent. I mean, if money is no problem, you could go anywhere in the world. The south of France is lovely this time of year, but I'm biased. Indulge in all the things you loved that you knew Ollie hated – get your revenge that way. Show the prat that you've moved on without him. Don't give him the satisfaction of giving in to his harsh words. He only said them to hurt you. Hang on. I'll be back in a moment. I just need to look up something.

Harry sat and thought about that for a moment. He did need to get away. The four walls of the flat were getting to him, and a change of scenery and faces would allow him to get out of his head. The idea of payback to Oliver by getting on with his life sounded so – rational and adult.

Okay, you need to contact Trimble's Travel - my agent Pierre, here in Paris, used to work for their London branch. I think they are in Diagon Alley. They always suggest the best destinations. My family always used that agency for their trips when I was a child. Indulge yourself! Or why not the Muggle world? You seem to know your way around there comfortably. That would be a total change of pace, wouldn't it? I would like that. Perhaps I can find a wizarding hotel in or near a Muggle city... then I can have the best of both worlds. See... and you could go and see Lord of the Rings every day. Or even watch television. But you know, I think you need to go back and read what you first wrote in this journal before you do that. You were questioning your relationship with Ollie then. Just remember that perhaps these horrid things happened to you for a reason - I know you don't want to hear that right now, but let me play devil's advocate. What if you didn't surprise him? What if you gave away more than your heart to him, only to find out the truth in a year or two years, or Merlin forbid, even ten years from now? You have limitless opportunities ahead of you. Don't let horrid cads like Ollie control you anymore. Live your own life - please only yourself. If you do find Mr Right, then make sure before giving away any more of yourself. None of this was your fault. Thanks. You're right, of course. And offering such sage advice. I'm lucky. I'm lucky I found out now. I'm lucky it wasn't worse. I'm lucky to have a friend like you. I do know that I could have come to the journal earlier, but I was well and truly stuck in my own little rut – guess I didn't want to seem clingy and go running to you. I haven't done much of anything this past week. Then tonight, I saw the journal open and I thought about ignoring it. I've just been so depressed that I haven't felt like doing a bloody thing. And you've been so considerate and so helpful. I guess... well I'm starting to sound quite sappy now - but I guess it just means a lot to know that you care that much. I felt upset for you when I read your last entry – all those bittersweet memories, and I wondered if it was just me. If I was taking things to extremes, especially after all the things Ollie said to me about being clingy. I'm rambling senselessly here, but what I'm trying to say is thank you. I can't tell you how grateful I am for your friendship. Hey, I was feeling a little guilty that I seemed to be telling you so much about my own troubles, and not reciprocating. I guess I've hopefully made up for it now. Besides, as we've both said, we really can't hide behind these journals, can we? I mean, the words just want to flow. I think our own emotions are also sucked out into it. If you were just in the coffee shop, as one of my friends, telling me about all this, I probably wouldn't have been half as helpful. Hiding behind my masks and trying to put on the usual act in front of everyone. Guess we can't hide at all here. But in response to your thanks - you're welcome. I'd say 'anytime' but I know we won't need to have this same conversation again. Neither of us is going to make those same mistakes.

While Luc was writing, Harry reached for his coins, deciding that another I Ching hexagram might give him an idea of how to proceed, or what to expect. He felt a sense of poetic irony when he read the notes for hexagram fifty-one. It was just what he needed to hear.

Let's hope not! I've written down your travel agent's name and will be contacting the London branch tomorrow. I'm thinking that a week or two of near solitude will help me get in touch with myself and overcome the doubts Ollie planted. I've just checked with the I Ching - the only divination I care much for, and it tells me this is a time to start all over - it will bring storms, but they will clear the air and enable new beginnings. I Ching eh? Well perhaps divination isn't totally useless after all. Not that I ever paid it much mind – I never really studied more than the horoscope, and that's aligned with Astronomy, which is much more grounded than some divination methods. But I'm sure you don't want to hear my own dissertations on the faults of divination, do you? Now, are you going to floo this Charlie and talk to him? I can tell you all about my rather mundane existence another time. Everything I was going to tell you today pales in comparison with what's been going on in your life. Well, I'm in no incredible hurry to face him again, but if you really think I should, I suppose I can. Your existence can't possibly be that mundane though. It's your life; therefore it's got to be important and interesting! Hmm, let's see... working here, school work, then helping out in the store - having a couple of very polite coffees with my Petite Mere and exchanging the odd owl with Jean-Paul - I'd say it's mundane. If he were here I could just drop down on my knees and ravish him at any moment mind you, but I'm definitely not letting my hormones run wild - except in my imagination. Guess they can't do any harm there. Hey, if you're up to exchanging owls, I'd say it's moving out of mundane territory with Jean-Paul. That's special! You'll have to be sure to keep me updated... oh - floo chimed...

Harry quickly looked at the fireplace, patently unsurprised to see Charlie's face there. "I'll be just a moment, Charlie." He turned back to the journal, thankful once again that Luc had managed to get him to open up and get through the beginnings of accepting what had happened with Oliver.

Well, speak of the devil - Charlie's calling. Thanks again Luc, I'll be in touch soon - I promise! Flash Hey, well his ears must have been burning! I'll write soon.
Take care, and don't forget that I'm here and you don't need an excuse to write how you're feeling! Remember, the words will just flow! Your friend,
Luc.

Charlie was waiting patiently when Harry made it back to the armchair closest to the fireplace. "Hi, er, sorry about that. I was just… finishing up some stuff."

"That's not a problem Harry. I'm just glad I finally got through. I've been trying to reach you for a while."

"Yeah, about that… listen Charlie, do you want to just come on through? It seems silly to have this conversation through the floo."

Charlie nodded before his head disappeared, and only moments later he was stepping from the green flames and gently brushing his clothes off. He had obviously had a great deal of practice with the floo network, because, like his sister, he still looked amazing. He hadn't bothered with a robe and the tailored black slacks he wore hugged his hips, hanging just right to accentuate the firm body Harry had discovered last night. The white button-up shirt was only buttoned about halfway up and when Charlie raised one arm to run his hand across his hair, Harry noticed that the bottom two buttons were also undone, offering a glimpse of his toned abdomen. That little triangle of skin captured more of Harry's attention than he cared to admit and he shook his head, trying desperately to rid himself of the notion that he should go press his lips against that skin.

"Have a seat." Harry motioned toward the other armchair, grateful that he'd had the forethought to avoid the sofa. He didn't think he could handle being that close to Charlie; his body was still tingling from their earlier activities and he wasn't completely certain he could trust himself to keep things on a platonic level. The comfort of forgetting was too tempting. "I guess you're wondering about…"

"Harry, there's no need to be nervous. If anything, I should be the nervous one. You're roughly a decade younger than I am, and my little brother's best friend. I know what you said last night, Harry, but I can't help thinking I took advantage of a situation that I didn't even know about. I won't say I regret anything we did, just some things we didn't do."

Harry just raised an eyebrow at that, wondering what on earth Charlie could have wished for.

"Talking, Harry. We didn't talk. I know you well enough to know that something had upset you, and it wasn't until after I woke up and found you were gone that I realised what that something probably was. You were dating Oliver Wood, weren't you? Did something happen between the two of you?"

"Yes. No, not exactly. To be precise, something happened between Oliver and a couple of his fans. I guess it seems silly to you for me to be upset about it, but no matter how common it is for wizards to have those kinds of open relationships, it's not something I can handle. I want someone who doesn't want anyone else, you know?" Harry tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice as he mentioned the events that had brought him to where he was now, but he wasn't terribly successful.

"I can certainly understand that sentiment. But where did you get the idea that open relationships are common? I mean, yes, some wizards do it. Some Muggles couples do it. Straight couples, gay couples, but it's not the standard." Charlie sounded a little confused by Harry's words.

"Oliver said…" Harry trailed off as he realised that Oliver's snide comments had been intended solely to cover his back and demean Harry's intelligence. Oddly enough, that came as a relief to him, simply because it provided him with the knowledge and comfort that he wasn't even more unusual for wanting a monogamous relationship. "Well, never mind. It doesn't matter now."

"Harry, I should have talked to you about this before… well… but I have to ask…" Charlie seemed more uncomfortable than he had since arriving. "What are you hoping for?" And suddenly, that sense of discomfort made perfect sense to Harry.

"Oh! Nothing. Really, Charlie, I'm not hoping for anything special. I mean more special. I mean, last night, and today, was really… er… well – wow! And thank you, I really think I needed that. But now, I just want to be me, you know? I'm sorry; I didn't mean to… that is, I hope you weren't…" Harry stopped, forced himself to stop actually, not wanting to hear himself babble in such a nonsensical manner any longer.

"No, I wasn't planning on anything else, either," Charlie smiled. "Like I said earlier, I'll admit to having had a few fantasies about you – Hell, I got so caught up in it once that I even considered using a couple of hairs from your pillow in Ron's room to have someone make some polyjuice. I wouldn't, of course. I mean that's hardly fair. But last night, that was great, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself, but I'm in no position to offer my heart to anyone, and I get the feeling you aren't either."

Harry was struck by those words. He momentarily put aside the notion of Charlie having sex with a polyjuiced Harry Potter. It was the rest of his statement that truly caught Harry's attention. Having just had his heart broken, he hadn't put any thought into Charlie's love life and what the older man might have been dealing with recently. "Oh, I'm sorry, are you seeing someone?"

"No, just too wrapped up in my own life at the moment to spare that much attention for someone else on a regular basis. And you know, the thing is that I really enjoy it. I love my job, and how busy it keeps me, and I love the freedom of living on my own where I can spend my free time doing whatever, or whomever, I please. Oh, someday I'll find the perfect guy for me and we'll settle down and have a quaint little house and a puppy. But for now, I'm perfectly happy living out my life as I see fit and learning more about myself. So long as I throw in a good shag with a close friend every so often, I don't feel I'm missing anything."

Harry relaxed at that, pleased to know that he and Charlie could still talk to each other, and that he was still considered a close friend. He also noted that Charlie's description of his life sounded thrilling, like just the thing Harry had been looking for. If Charlie was still happy to live like that, and he was so much older, then perhaps Harry was being a little too rash in trying to settle down. He would have to think more on that when he had the time.

With the initial awkwardness out of the way, Harry went about playing host, offering Charlie a drink, and eventually dinner, while the two of them simply talked, catching up on each others lives and behaving, to all intents and purposes, like old friends should behave.

--ooOoo--

Harry was practically skipping on his way home from work that Monday. His request for a two-week vacation had been approved and he immediately contacted the travel agency recommended by Luc. Sharon, the agent he spoke with, suggested a beautiful chateau in Roussillon, France. The owner had just recently had the place checked out and arranged for a portkey to be available for use by guests. Harry had never been to the South of France, but was anxiously looking forward to it. He thought it best to follow Luc's advice – that the South of France was beautiful at this time of the year. This place was situated in a wizarding village, but also within an area that catered to many Muggle tourists, and – perhaps the one thing that completely sold Harry on the idea – it had its own vineyard.

He quickly packed his bags and set them by the door, anxious to be on his way. He stood at the desk, looking at the journal, debating whether or not to take it with him. It might be nice to have someone to communicate with while I'm there. He nodded in agreement with his thoughts as he picked up the book and reached for his inkpot. On the other hand, if I'm truly left to my own devices, I might find out more about myself. Harry cocked his head to the side, considering this as he ran one hand through his hair. Finally, he decided that two weeks of solitude and self-reflection may well lead to the need to get things off his chest or talk things through with someone understanding. That settled it. He picked up the inkpot, a couple of quills, and carefully placed them, with the journal, in his bag.

After checking around the flat to be certain everything was just right, Harry reached into his pocket to retrieve the small velveteen bag from the travel agent. Sharon had instructed him to use this portkey to reach Apt, and that the office there would be able to give him the portkey directly to the chateau. Taking a deep breath to steel himself against the unpleasantly familiar tugging sensation, Harry firmly grasped his bags in one hand and the pocket knife from the velveteen bag in the other hand. Freedom and self-discovery… here I come!

---

-TBC-

Publish Date: 24-May-2004
Updated: 28-February-2005

Censoring in this chapter: You may have noticed that there are three, yes 3 sections that say censored in Charlie's Scene. In Oliver's 'big scene' there are also a few sentences taken out and replaced by … just to be on the safe side. For those of you who want to read the uncensored version of this chapter, a full nc17 version is available at the Skyehawke archive under Azhure's profile.

Author Notes: Well, thank you all for joining us on yet another excursion into the hearts and minds of the wizarding world's finest. I would like to quickly take this opportunity to mention that while there were a number of requests and speculations regarding Oliver's activities of this chapter, these actions were set in motion long, long ago! I can't even remember how many of you guessed precisely what would happen, but I hope you still found it an engaging read despite your magical pre-knowledge of the events. grins And now, on with the replies!

Emily22, Serpent of Light, Benjis VIP, AncientHistory, DarkJade1, Maridale3, Kyaukii, Kaaera, CuriousDreamWeaver,

Adventure Diva: Thank you and welcome to the story!

Silver-sunn101: Thanks! I hope your geography homework went all right for you!

Dragonphly Yes, indeed! It will be a while yet before they realise the identities of their pen pals. I suppose your curiosity about Oliver has been taken care of now.

Menecarkawan Well, as you no doubt have learned, they didn't 'exactly' see each other on Ollie's birthday… just a little tease to keep you guessing! Thanks so much for following this and reviewing and all… I love hearing from you! grins Are you glad Oliver is gone now?

Jiro: Thank you! That's incredibly sweet!

Louise4: Thank you thank you! Trust me when I say you are not alone in wanting them to meet soon, but these things take time. Patience… or just lots of anxious waiting, whichever you prefer. As for the slashfest… well, consider this part one, I suppose. And as for Harry/Remus – all I'll say is that Harry hasn't been a student for quite some time now. evil grin

Fayee You know, I didn't used to be this evil and wicked and bad… I think Azhure has rubbed off on me. Okay, fine, I admit I was always a little wicked and bad, but she's still rubbed off on me! Glad you liked it though!

CelestialDrgn Thanks! Yes, our Harry is always leaking pheromones… haven't you noticed? Glad to know that you can appreciate the wonder and beauty that is James Marsters!

Sailor Grape: Yes, he does have a way with that, doesn't he? Thanks for the review!

Tainted Androgyny: Well, who's hotter can be debatable, but I'll have to agree on the deserving bit. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!

Trivium well, this answers your question, doesn't it? A little secret… that wasn't truly an autograph, it was Ollie's info so the 'fan' could find him during an upcoming game… It makes me grin a big goofy silly smile to know that our work can make you shudder in anticipation. Thanks so much for the review and don't worry, there's plenty more to come before this story ends!

Silvia-Silver: I'm glad you're still enjoying the show! Yes, coming between Harry and Draco can be a negative point to the lovely Scotsman, but just remember that as of now, there is no "Harry and Draco" to come between! I don't know why you would think either of us would want to kill you, but I can tell you that we don't have any plans for them to meet for at least a few more chapters. It's all about the anticipation, you know!

AlongCametheSpider Well, we'll just have to find ways to drag more reviews out of you! We both love to know what our readers think about the events as things go along! Thanks for reading!

The Mauraders Dragon: I'm sorry, I hope some inclusion of Lupin doesn't turn you away from the story. Harry's talked to me about it all and he's just really confused about a great many things right now. It's not his fault, you know. Poor boy has led a difficult life and really doesn't know which way is up sometimes. And especially after this chapter, well, he's just confused and downtrodden and trying to find himself. You remember trying to find yourself? It's a rough time, isn't it? Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. Do keep in touch and let us know what you like and don't like as the story continues to unfold!

Roguemessenger Thanks! You're wonderful and lovely, did you know that? I do hope this chapter helped with your 'issues about Oliver' and that you are still working on the patience in regards to H&D getting together. That deliciously slow pace you mentioned would be non-existent if we put them together now, you understand. blushing Thank you ever so much for the compliments. I assure you, we are having so much fun with this fic that it's like playtime! Now, get up off your knees (unless you have a more interesting reason for being there) and just relax until chapter 9 comes out. I don't think it'll take too long. I have it on good authority that Draco has been telling Azhure all about his life lately and he's quite anxious to get it all out there to share!

Romie Thanks! I do thank you dearly and sincerely for pointing out Harry's impossible perfectness. The thing is, it's not so much that he's perfect, as just that he doesn't have any major physical flaws. As for his other flaws, well, have you noticed how wishy-washy and insecure he is? The poor boy has major self-esteem issues and is trying to work through them, but it's taking some time. I hope the adjustments in Harry and Draco's love lives during the last two chapters have eased your mind a bit about the fairness of the situation. I know that Azhure and I both greatly appreciate this kind of feedback. It allows us to check over our plan and see if there are changes needed, etc. Never fear… this is, essentially, a Harry & Draco fic… it's just taking its own sweet time getting there! Keep reading and reviewing and thank you!

Tangledhair hehehe, eating, sexual, spoon, what a suggestive sentence! I'm so thrilled that you liked it! Thanks for the review, and the appreciation of the smut, the likes of which would indeed never been seen here on grins Be sure to check out the group page for more inappropriate smut!

Jen Red Robe: Nope – they won't be finding out this soon. Yes, the conversations are actually written between the two of us using MSN! I would have added you to my contacts, but I don't have your email address. Thanks for the review, always a pleasure to hear from you!

Okay – thanks again to all those who reviewed and also to the anonymous and invisible readers! There were over 1,000 hits on this chapter alone! I'm in awe that there are so many of you out there reading this! Remember that we love feedback and enjoy knowing what you think about it, like, don't like, etc.