17 - Fine


Harry sighed when he saw who walked into the bakery. Not because he didn't want to see Nick - he actually liked the guy. No, because he recognized that glint in the detective's eyes. Nick Burkhardt wasn't just here for coffee and a muffin.

"Monroe ratted me out, didn't he?" were the first words the resigned wizard said to the far too cheerful looking detective.

Nick blinked and looked slightly embarrassed for a moment, but the man shook it off easily. "He's worried about you," the Grimm said, and Harry could read in those earnest eyes that Monroe wasn't alone in that worry.

The wizard sighed, again, because as much as he liked Nick, the man was tiring sometimes. For a Grimm he had a rather protective streak - Harry supposed it was the cop in him.

"Well, he doesn't have to worry." Harry said, while his hands followed the familiar pattern of preparing coffee in a travelling cup, "I'm fine."

But his distraction cost him - the words were too flat, he realized, as he turned to the detective to give him the coffee. They had rolled off his tongue automatically and sounded as hollow as they were. Because Harry had always been 'fine' - if anyone even bothered asking.

Even when he wasn't. Especially when he wasn't.

And of course Nick picked up on it, because even after everything the cop still saw him as someone barely out of childhood - and an unhappy one at that. And today, of all days, the man was obviously looking for something to worry about.

"Detective..." Harry started, and almost winced because that was obviously another mistake - insisting on that distance between them now, after all this time of calling him 'Nick'.

And sure enough the man frowned, before smiling that gentle, disarming smile of his. "I'll drop by tonight, if that's ok," Nick said, with a quick glance at the customers waiting behind him.

"You really don't have to." Harry tried, even though he already knew it was a futile attempt.

"I know. But I'll be here."

And without giving him any more chance to protest, the Grimm, with that dratted smile of his, turned and walked out the door.

And Harry shook his head, wondering why he bothered with these people – with Nick's impossible stubbornness and his way of bulldozing into someone's life. With Monroe and that awkward honesty of his, and Rosalee with her fierce gentleness and enthusiasm about rare ingredients or Wesen. With these three people that cared. Because, perhaps, they cared too much – they came too close to being a vital part of him like Ron and Hermione were – are – would always be.

But Monroe wasn't Ron, and neither was Nick, and although Rosalee was similar in a way, she was not Hermione. These were not the friends that had stood by him, the friends he had shared everything with.

His friends here didn't know Harry Potter.

Just Harry.

And that was just perfectly fine.


Word Count: 500