A few days later, Harry went over to Ron and Hermione's for dinner. He still saw them fairly frequently, though his break-up with Ginny had caused a bit of a rift at first. Partially because Ron was still overly protective of his sister (which irked her more than it irked Harry), and partially because they had become somewhat of a foursome over time.

It was a thing, Harry had learned, for couples to be friends with other couples, and when they suddenly weren't Harry-and-Ginny and Hermione-and-Ron anymore, it was harder to remember how they'd once been Harry, Ron, and Hermione. But they were beginning to figure it out. It helped that he and Ron were in Auror training together and saw each other frequently during the week.

"I've missed you, Harry!" Hermione said, passing him a plate of rolls. "Where were you last weekend? You missed the Gryffindor night at the Leaky Caldron on Friday."

Harry wet his lips nervously. He wondered how they'd react if he said Actually, I was at a Muggle gay bar. They'd be supportive, he thought, but hurt that he hadn't told them sooner. They'd worry about what Ginny would say if she knew. Would she be hurt? Harry didn't know.

Their breakup had been relatively amicable, considering that they'd been together for so long. "We were so young when we started," he'd told Ginny, chewing on his bottom lip. " Maybe we're just meant to be friends." It was the truth, but it wasn't the whole truth.

If Harry were telling the whole truth, he would have said something like "I still like women, but I think I'm also interested in men, and I need some time alone to figure that out," but he didn't say that to Ginny. It was quite a while before he was really even able to say it to himself.

Harry supposed that he had always just assumed he was straight because he everyone else did, too, and he'd been too busy trying to survive the Dursleys, Hogwarts, and the war that he hadn't exactly noticed that he was much more interested in men than women, and probably always had been. Once Ginny had started traveling with the Holyhead Harpies, though, he'd finally had some time to himself and to think about who he was and what he'd wanted, and was dismayed to find out that his current life wasn't really it.

His inner Hermione rolled her eyes every time he thought about this. "Honestly, Harry," she would probably say. "Only you are so unobservant that you wouldn't realize that you're bi."

In any case, once he did realize it, he felt like he had to escape his already strained relationship with Ginny and try something new. He just never expected that the "something new" would be shagging Draco Malfoy.

So he didn't tell Ron and Hermione about the gay bar, and he definitely did not tell them about Malfoy.

"I wasn't feeling up for the Gryffindor pub night," he said finally. "Long week."

"I hear that, mate," Ron latched onto the excuse, much to Harry's relief. "The last year of Auror training has been awful." He launched into a lengthy description of the grunt work he'd had to do that week, and Harry, knowing it all already, let his mind wander.

This was another thing that he couldn't tell his friends: He didn't like Auror training. "Nobody likes Auor training," Ron would say, but Harry really didn't like it. He hated the first year, which had all been lessons and theory, and he hated the second year, which was mainly doing paperwork for Aurors in the field. Everyone said it got better in the third year, when you actually got to go out in the field, but Harry hated that, too. Stakeouts were boring, and when there actually was action, it was stressful, and reminded him of the war.

After particularly bad days, his old nightmares would flare up, and he'd take Dreamless Sleep potions to get through the night. He knew he couldn't keep that up either, but he didn't see how he could get through the rest of his training without it.

"But Harry," his inner Hermione asked him. "What will you do when you're actually an Auror, and you're in the field every day ?"

He didn't know. That was another reason he liked going to the Muggle pub. He could have a few drinks and be totally anonymous. He could try forget that he was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived to Not Know What to Do With His Life. But then he started sleeping with Malfoy and mucked that up, too.

"Harry!" The real Hermione was waving her fork in front of his face. "Honestly, you're still just as absent-minded as you were at school. I was asking you, what day are you going to the Weasleys for Christmas?"

"Oh, I don't know," he said blankly. "Maybe the day before Christmas Eve?"

"Andromeda and Teddy are coming this year," Hermione said. "Molly invited her."

"Yeah, I know," Harry said, grinning. "Teddy told me all about it when I took him to Zonko's last week. They're coming for a week so he can get some family time."

"Yeah, since his only family are the Lestranges and the Malfoys," Ron said, grimacing. "Lucky he's got you, Harry."

"Yeah," said Harry, trying to keep his face neutral at the mention of Malfoy, who probably didn't even know that Teddy existed. It was odd to think that Remus Lupin's son-Harry's godson-was related to the man he was shagging. Harry supposed it was easy to forget given that he and Malfoy never spoke.

He wondered idly what Malfoy would do for Christmas, with Lucius in Azkaban. Maybe he'd spend it with his mother, or maybe he'd go to the Muggle bar. Maybe he'd go home with some bloke who wasn't Harry. He wondered if Malfoy ever spent longer than one night with anyone else, wondered if there was someone else lounging on Malfoy's silky sheets right this minute, sliding a hand up Malfoy's pale thighs, reaching under that plush white robe. Harry felt a surge of irritation at that image, followed by irritation at his own irritation. Malfoy could sleep with whoever he wanted, Harry thought, stabbing a potato with his fork. Why should Harry care?

Sex with Malfoy was just sex, and chances were that it was never going to happen again.

"Harry?" Hermione was saying with a laugh. "Goodness, where is your mind today? Ron just asked you if you'd heard that Charlie was coming in for Christmas this year?"

"Why would I care?" Harry said, too rudely. Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise. "I mean, yes, sorry, I had heard," he amended quickly. "Someone must have mentioned it. It'll, ah, it'll be good to see him."

Charlie was the one who had mentioned it, actually, but Harry wasn't about to tell Ron and Hermione that. Harry still had the note from Charlie in his pocket, as a matter of fact. He'd received it last week, and hadn't yet responded. He felt a sudden stab of guilt in the pit of his stomach at the thought. He'd planned to respond on Friday, but then he'd run into Malfoy and completely forgotten.

Mum says you'll be at the house for Christmas, Harry. I'll be there too. Pick up where we left off last time? Looking forward to it. -CW

"Charlie never used to come home for so many holidays," Ron said, frowning. "The last year or so, he's been home more than ever. Wonder why."

Harry thought he had a pretty good idea why Charlie was coming home so often, but he wasn't about to tell Ron and Hermione that, anymore than he was about to tell them about the bar, or Malfoy, or hating Auror training.

Because Charlie Weasley was another one of Harry's secrets.