HARRY POTTER GAY!
The Chosen One Chooses Men!
What Really Happened Between Harry Potter and His 'Girlfriend' Ginny Weasley?
What Really Happened Between Harry Potter and Voldemort?
Get the REAL Story Here!
Who was Harry Potter Away With For A Dirty Weekend? Pictures Inside!
Identity of Harry Potter's Secret Gay Lover Finally Revealed!
Harry pulled up the collar of his coat, ducking his head down, as he rushed along the street. Everywhere he looked, it seemed like corner stores and newsstands were covered with massive, awful headlines about him. Speculating on how long he had been gay, digging up any old picture of him standing beside a man, speculating that they had been secret lovers. It was all made up, not any truth to any of the sensationalistic crap the papers pumped out, looking for a quick buck.
It had been like this all week, and Harry had kept himself hidden away in the office or at home. His manager had given him a pile of old paperwork to work through, knowing he was too exhausted from it all to focus on work in the field.
His co-workers gave their support quietly, patting him on the back and giving him his space. Silently letting him know they were OK with him being gay. They were mostly younger men and women, raised in a time where the muggle and wizarding worlds were becoming much more tolerant of different sexualities.
But the general public was far more mixed in their reactions to the news. He was supported by some, insulted by others. Either way, it was a hot press item and Harry was heartedly sick of it.
He slammed the door of his house shut with a bang that rocked the walls. Shrugging off his wet coat, he hung it on the coat rack and kicked off his boots, not caring that they landed halfway down the hallway.
Clementine stood on the last step of the staircase, no doubt roused from her office by his noise. "My oh my, must you make such a racket?"
Her tone was teasing but Harry was in no mood for it today. He snarled, pushing past her to stomp up the stairs.
She was light-footed, running past him to stand on the second floor landing, blocking his way. "Enough, Harry. I'm sick of having you act like this in the house. Now get changed into some comfortable clothes and meet me in the drawing room in five minutes. We are going to work this out."
Her firm, commanding tone was backed up by an imposing glare that Professor McGonagall would have approved of. She didn't wait for a response from Harry, spinning to march into her office and slamming the door behind her.
Huffing in frustration, Harry continued to his bedroom on the third floor. He continued to slam doors and stomp around, knowing the infuriating woman was right below and could hear everything.
Sighing, he went back downstairs, and went in to the drawing room. He had calmed down a little, the door slamming working out a some of his frustration. Now he was just feeling exhausted, burnt out. He slumped on the sofa near the blazing fireplace, taking some comfort in the warmth and comforting crackle.
Clementine came in, setting a bottle of firewhiskey and two tumblers on the coffee table. She poured two fingers worth of the dark golden liquid into each glass, and clinked one against the other before taking a long sip. She gazed down at Harry until he shrugged and picked up the other glass.
The strong liquor burned as it slid down Harry's throat, and he set the empty glass down with a grimace. Firewhiskey had never been his preferred drink.
"I can't believe you gulped it down like that! This is one of the highest rated peaty firewhiskies of the year." Clementine poured him another drink, sitting back on the other sofa and crossing her legs.
Harry scoffed. "You are barely old enough to drink. You are probably still spiking your butterbeer."
The young woman gave Harry a calm, level look. "Highland Peak is initially aged in bourbon barrels before being matured in quarter casks. The nose yields peppery peat, coffee grounds and mild wood-fire embers. The palate is complex and rich, offering orange segments sprinkled with sea salt, dark chocolate, malt, and ever-present sweet peat. Lengthy finish, with darker, spicier notes."
Harry gaped at her for a minute or two, and then chuckled. "Orange segments sprinkled with sea salt? You completely made that up."
"I did a whiskey tour in Scotland with my last boyfriend. We sampled a lot." Clementine shrugged one shoulder. "Now, try the whiskey again. First, stick your nose in the glass and breath it in. Close your eyes and you may just start to notice the aromas, like spices and wood. And then just take a small sip, and roll it around your tongue. You will start to taste the other flavors, like the dark chocolate and the peat."
It was interesting seeing the other side of his assistant, and Harry followed her instructions. The liquid smelled like strong alcohol, and tasted like strong alcohol. But by the time he was sipping his third glass, he was pretty sure there was a hint of sea salted oranges in there somewhere.
"So, you demanded I come to this room so you could get me drunk?" Harry didn't mind so much, his earlier anger and frustration mellowed slightly now.
Clementine shook her head. "No, to talk about this." She grabbed a handful of papers from beside her, and dropped them on the coffee table.
The firelight flickered over the hateful headlines, and Harry turned away in disgust. "What? Were you shocked to find out your boss is gay? Are you going to quit before the press starts making up stories involving you as well?"
The ginger rolled her eyes. "No, you nitwit. I'm your assistant. Let me assist you."
Harry scoffed at that. "How? I'm making a mess of my life just fine of my own, no help required." He chuckled at his own lame joke.
"Your problem has always been that you let the press control you, when you should control them." She poked a finger at the top newspaper for emphasis.
"Oh, yes, like it's so easy to control dozens of reporters who spy on everything I do, eager for any speck of a story to publish." He finished his drink and reached for the bottle.
Clementine moved the bottle out of reach. "You control what specks you give them, of course." She gave a slow grin, looking fully confident in what she was saying. She flipped through the newspaper, and pulled one out. "First things first. Who is this?"
It was a grainy, slightly out of focus picture. The one that had started everything. "A friend."
Harry could only feel sad, looking down at the picture. It had been taken on the ferry, when Harry had kissed Draco in the car. Luckily, their positions showed Harry clearly enough that he was recognizable, but Draco wasn't. The photographer also got a shot of Harry standing beside Draco at the railing, close enough to be obliviously together. More of Draco's body was visible, making it clear he was a tall, slim man, but he was bundled up enough to again not be recognizable.
His assistant nodded. "Is he someone you are still seeing?"
Harry shook his head quickly, and then regretted it as he felt a bit dizzy from the alcohol. He had tried to see Draco when the article had come out, wanting to apologize and see how they would handle it. Knowing he was being followed by reporters, he had floo'd out to Ron and Hermione's place, and covered up with the invisibility cloak before asparating to the alley near Draco's place.
He had changed his appearance slightly, and buzzed Draco's flat. When there was no response, he buzzed the manager, and was told the man in 3B had moved out with no forwarding address. "Are you a friend of his? Because some boxes were just delivered here and I have no idea where he is."
The books. Harry heart sank, knowing Draco had truly gone if he was leaving books behind. He took them, storing them in an empty room of his large house.
He had done the same thing with the brothel, seeing if Monique had any clue where Draco might have gone. She didn't.
The only other place he could be would be his mother's, and if Draco had gone there, he wouldn't want Harry to show up.
"No. It's completely over between us. He doesn't want to be a part of all this. Any man would be crazy to want to be." Harry glanced at the newspapers and then back to the fire. Would he be alone his whole life?
Clementine threw a bundle of letters on top of the newspapers. "Apparently not."
Picking up the bundle, Harry eased the elastic band off and saw it was at least a dozen handwritten letters. He looked back at Clementine.
"They are letters from men. Gay men. Men who are interested in you and who are ecstatic that you are out." Clementine took the letters back, and fanned them out over the table.
Harry scoffed. "Attention seekers, crack pots and blackmailers. Just what I need in my life."
She leaned forward. "Let's face reality, Harry. You are famous, like it or not, and will likely always be. You say you want a normal life, so that is a little harder to get. And now you have been pushed rather hard out of the closet."
Harry nodded at her summary. Spelled out like that, he could see how hopeless it all was. "Maybe I should just move away and live as a muggle."
"And let those press assholes win? Not on my watch." Clementine said, determination and pride making her hazel eyes flare.
She reminded Harry a little of Molly, fiercely protective of her own children. Did that make Clementine his pseudo-mother? She was kind of 'taking care' of him, getting his charity and house in good shape. His slightly drunk brain found the idea of a younger woman being his mother quite amusing. "So, what do you suggest we do?"
"You are going to give them what they want. You are going to go out with man after man, give them tons of material for their papers until the public is damn sick of it. Harry Potter being gay will be old news in no time." Clementine looked quite proud of the plan, taking a long sip of her whiskey.
The idea was awful. "Isn't that just what they want? Lots of stuff on my private life?"
Clementine shook her head. "It won't be your real private life. We will put on a show for a few months, of Harry Potter dating many different gay men. Doing all the things people normally do on dates."
"Do I have to do interviews? Talk to press?" Harry hated that, always finding he was misquoted or they took his words out of context.
"No, just stick to 'No Comment' unless you are doing an interview you consent to do, like for your foundation." Clementine said firmly. "You should avoid talking to the press always. If they approach you about an auror matter, tell them to talk to the official spokesperson. It's not your job to talk to them."
This sounded wonderful, and Harry gave a wide grin. "No Comment. No Comment. No comment." He practiced the phrase, wanting it to become second nature to say it. "And where will I find all these men?"
Clementine scooped up all the letters. "Leave that to me. I'll screen them all, and make them sign a non-disclosure agreement before they can go out with you."
Harry scoffed. "An agreement? You think that will really stop them from talking if they get offered a lot of money?"
Clementine grinned a bit wickedly. "I think I'll casually remind them that you were powerful enough to stop Voldemort, and get them to consider what you may do to them if they cross you."
"Oh great. Fear and intimidation. The best way to start any romance." Harry drawled with a chuckle. "Are we done here?"
She nodded, getting up with all the letters and going into her office. She was already working on this plan.
Harry grabbed the bottle of firewhiskey and his glass, carrying them upstairs and starting a hot bath. Filling the tumbler almost all the way, he sunk into the water, letting the heat seep into every bone in his body.
He lit a single candle on the side of the tub, watching the flame as it flickered a warm glow around the dark bathroom. He sipped the whiskey, just wanting his thoughts to be fuzzy for the night.
Where had Draco gone? Had he sold the cottage already? Did he have enough money to be away a long time? Would he ever come back?
Would he see the newspapers or hear about Harry dating other men? Would he see that it was all a big show? Would he care either way? Was he done with Harry forever?
It hurt, the way he had just vanished, not even sending a letter by owl. Or leaving something with Monique. Or finding some other way. Yes, he understood that Draco was terrified of being identified as Harry's boyfriend or lover or whatever. But they had discussed this, knew there would be obstacles and difficulties to being together, and they had agreed to work on them together. To vanish at the first sign of trouble made Harry question if Draco ever truly cared about him at all.
Harry rested his half full tumbler against his bent knee, admiring how the amber liquid glowed in the candlelight. Would there ever be anyone willing to put up with the press and Harry's fame? Clementine was going to have him dating dozens of men probably, just to announce to the world he was here, queer, get used to it. But would it matter in the end if he was just going to end up alone?
...
-A/N: I warned you this would be a twisty-turny story right? ;)
-Whiskey: I took Clementine's description from an article reviewing whiskies, mixing together the phrases used. I'm intrigued to try of some these now. It's from Whiskey Advocate's "10 Highest Scoring Peated Whiskies from the Fall 2018 Buying Guide".