Lie no. 13:

So bartending is fun! He had so many odd regulars!

Ok, so maybe he should elaborate.

After the new year, Harry told Sirius he was definitely moving out. To which Sirius said that the Black family had a home in the countryside that was never used and that Harry should stay in their apartment; Sirius would move to the Black home. He didn't want Harry to lose their memories at the home, which was incredibly kind of him.

Skip another month and he had found a job bartending in Palermo (which was apparently Vongola Famiglia territory). It was nice place. Didn't have much work in the middle of the day, as expected; but when it got late, people (who were all obviously mafiosi -obviated by their guns and the way they carried themselves-) made their way in as if they were a tide coming into shore. There were a few altercations in the bar, which -yet again- was completely expected with the amount of alcohol consumed.

But, all things considered, it was great.

Lie no. 14:

It was early on a Saturday morning when he stormed in, about two hours before closing. Any patrons who were still there avoided him as he sat himself down at the bar. He had long silver hair and there was just… something about him. Maybe it was the way he hid his sadness behind a facade of unbridled rage, like the way Harry hid his cynicism behind jokes and easy going smiles.

Harry placed the glass he had been cleaning down gently and made his way over. An ambiguous smile was on his face as he asked: "What would you like?" A myriad of emotions flickered over his face before he settled on a neutral mask and asked for a beer. Serving it up, Harry easily went back to drying glasses in silence.

The man looked up for a moment or two, watching his moving. He opened his mouth, as if he was about to say something, before closing it a beat later.

Lie no. 15:

Since then, the man would show up every Saturday morning. This continued on for about a month before he finally said something to Harry. "Voi," the man began "What's your name?"

"Harry." he replied, not saying a word afterwards.

"Not gonna ask me mine?"

"Do you really want me to ask?" he inquired, looking up at him before returning to cleaning the bar with an old rag.

"My name is Squalo."

Lie no. 16:

He wasn't sure when, but Squalo had made himself a normality within Harry's life. He'd spend most of the daylight hours in bed sleeping, maybe even at Sirius' new home watching their soap operas. Most nights were spent at the bar, joking around with patrons; giving some an easy smile and compliments in hopes for a tip or more orders.

But Saturday mornings were different. Squalo would waltz in, take a seat in front of him and spend the entire time brooding and would stay until closing. Sometimes Harry would even join him for a drink if he got depressing enough. The man was obviously a high ranking mafiosi with the way other ones avoided him like the plague, ergo he was incredibly dangerous. Yet… all Harry saw was a very sad man.

Lie no. 17:

"You don't say much do you?"

"It would be a waste of energy."

"Why do you say that?"

"Didn't you know? Words are the catalyst for lies."

"What?"

"The truth is subjective to the viewer, therefore it can be interpreted as a lie depending on the view of anyone else. Opinions and bias cause events that are true, to be twisted into lies simply because of the purpose of their speech, the emotions of the speaker and the time they speak, which can have catastrophic results. What's the point in talking when, inevitably, it's all a lie."

Lie no. 19:

Harry started getting worried when Squalo didn't show up one Saturday about three months after they met. He started freaking out when he missed two Saturdays in a row. By the third, he was nearly pulling his hair out when Squalo walked in just before closing, his hunched form walking over with tears in his clothes and the occasional bruise.

He jumped over the bar (thankful that there was no one else in the bar) and helped his friend(?) To a seat, despite loud protests. Pulling out a beer from behind the counter, he uncapped it with his teeth and passed it over to the injured man.

"Aren't you going to ask me what happened?" Squalo asked before taking a gulp of alcohol

"No. Despite how little I know about you, I know you will tell me if you want to."

"And you aren't going to ask me where I've been?"

"Again, if you could or wanted to tell me, you would. I will wait for that moment."

They sat in silence for a little while, as Squalo kept drinking; Harry watched as he got drunker and drunker. "Voi, pass me your phone," he ordered. Passing it over, he watched as injured man typed in a number and called it. A default ringtone went off from a phone I'm his pocket and he cancelled the call. "Call me on Saturdays if I'm not here by closing," he told Harry "You're not intolerable."

Lie no. 20: -six months later-

A dial tone. Ringing.

"Hello?"

"So you finally decided to call me?"

"Firstly, it's been my only opportunity to use it since you gave me this number; and secondly I thought I would wait until closing to make sure."

"Whatever…

"so why do you stare at people?"

"That's what you want to know?"

"It's the only thing that interests me,"

"That hurts. I thought I was more interesting. Anyway, to answer your questions, when people try to lie they have micro-expressions on their faces. It's a brief flicker of their true emotion that they can't hide. It helps me know when people are lying."

"So you're like a human polygraph test?"

"Ugh. Don't even get me started on those. If you want I can send you my dissertation for university?"

"Sure."

A moment of silence between callers.

"Voi, I gotta go. I should be back for next Saturday,"

"See you then."

Lie no. 21:

Squalo was indeed back for the following Saturday morning. By the time he got there, everyone had already left and Harry was just cleaning up. He sat down before him and Harry took out a beer for them. Uncapping his drink, he leaned into the wooden bar. He let out a placid sigh as he took a swig and looked at his seated friend blankly.

"You never did tell me why you hate polygraphs?" the silver haired man asked, a grin on his face as he watched Harry's smile twitch with barely concealed contempt. "The thing about polygraphs is that they react to the change in heartbeat. And sure that has its ups and downs. But what people don't take into account is the fact that your heartbeat doesn't only change when you lie, it also changed when you go through intense emotion! I mean honestly! Ask a person baseline questions and then have a person they would be attracted to ask the same questions after and the subject would fail everytime! And it's due to simple arou-" he ranted before coming to a stop once he saw the amused expression on Squalo's face.

"I should charge you double for that."

Lie no. 22:

He wasn't sure when he got home. Everything was a blurry mess. He couldn't remember anything after threatening to charge Squalo double and drinking some more. Rubbing his hands over his face, he couldn't help but think 'at least I remembered to take my glasses off'. A buzz went off on his phone that was to the side.

Feeling around for his glasses, he put them on after finding them and stared at his phone for a few seconds. '7:00am' it read, which meant he had forgotten a good five hours. 'How much did I drink?' he asked himself, beginning to panic a bit until he felt movement beside him and an arm went over his waist. Looking over his shoulder he saw a shirtless Squalo looking at him through bleary eyes, who went on to say "Turn that light off and go back to sleep."

Shooting up the bed and into a seated position, he looked under the covers and said "I'm naked."

"Yup."

"And so are you,"

"Absolutely,"

"What happened last night?"

Lie no. 23:

Somehow 'early Saturday mornings at the bar with Squalo' became 'early Saturday mornings at the bar with Squalo and late Saturday mornings in bed with Squalo'. Yet he couldn't really find it in himself to be that bothered. The two had known each other for about a year, by this point. Sure, he had no idea what Squalo worked as (even if he had some guesses), and sure, he only really learnt his last name recently (but then again, Harry had only given it recently as well so technically they were even) and sure, sometimes Squalo would look at him and Harry may or may not have the sudden urge to tell Squalo everything.

But that didn't mean he had a problem. Oh, who was he kidding, he definitely had a problem.

Truth no. 1:

Harry Black (previously Potter, prior to his migration to Italy) was in love with Squalo Superbi.

So yeah! Harry's relationship isn't conventional by any means. The two are just guys with shitty lives trying to avoid them in their own ways. Their relationship is somewhat convoluted, like them, and they don't go about it in normal ways. Squalo doesn't because he's devoted to the Varia and because he's too proud, whereas Harry is too cynical. At the end of this, Harry and Squalo are now twenty three, because they have 'known each other for a year' by this point.