Harry got up the next morning with a raging headache, blocked sinuses, and what felt like one-hundred pounds of lead in his stomach, which was surprising as he hadn't had all that much alcohol the night before. He did, at first, attempt to stumble out of bed and prepare for work before he gave up and threw a handful of floo-powder on the fireplace.
The sensation of flames flickering around him did nothing to help his head. "Cathy," he croaked, glad that the fireplaces on the reserve were wired so that they only had to say each others names. He really didn't feel like saying anything more.
Cathy must have heard her fireplace burst into life because, before Harry even had to open his mouth to call her, she was crouching down in front of him. Taking one look at him (he had yet to look in a mirror, but if he looked half as bad as he felt, then her reaction was justified) she asked, "How much did you drink last night?"
"Not much," Harry mumbled, and she raised her eyebrow in disbelief.
"Never mind," she said. "I'll floo Dumitru and make your excuses. You get back to bed - I'll be around in a bit."
"Thanks," Harry said gratefully, and promptly coughed violently, causing ash to fly up into his mouth. He had to pull his head out of the fireplace before he swallowed some.
After that, there was nothing left to do but get a drink, and then he followed Cathy's orders and crawled back into bed. But instead of sleeping, he tossed and turned. It was really warm - he wondered if he was getting a fever.
It was ten minutes before a knock at the door sounded and Harry, assuming that it was Cathy, called out for her to come it. He flinched; raising his voice was not a good idea.
"Young idiot," was the first thing she said as she bounced through the door. "You stay right there. I'll make some tea, and I've a potion that'll make you as good as new."
"It's not a hangover," Harry informed her.
"I know," she said. "I spoke to Charlie - he'll be over later by the way." Harry resisted the urge to groan. Charlie was not the person he wanted to see right now. "He said you hardly drank anything."
"It's probably some version of the wizarding flu," Harry said. Cathy shook her head.
"I doubt it. It's not the right time of year, and Romania never gets it as bad as Britain. I reckon you have scale pox."
"Scale pox?" Harry asked. He'd heard of dragon pox, and he wondered if that's what Cathy was talking about.
"Yeah, you get it if you suddenly start spending a prolonged amount of time around scaled creatures," Cathy said. "You can blame Edward."
"Great," Harry muttered, and Cathy laughed. He shut his eyes, finding that the sounds of her pottering around with the kettle over his fire very relaxing. He drifted into a half doze.
Before he could properly fall asleep, Cathy was shaking him awake, and helping him sit upright. She handed him a mug of something steaming that gave off a strong smell of peppermint. "Here you go," she said. "Drink this and you'll be as right as rain within the hour."
Harry doubted the likeliness of this, but took a tentative sip. To his surprise, it was sweet and tasted like honey, with not even a dash of peppermint to the flavour. Soon he'd finished the lot and within minutes he was already he feeling his blocked nose beginning to clear.
Cathy grinned at him again - was she ever not cheerful? - and got up to empty the kettle. Harry, who now had enough energy to care that it was rude to stay in bed while he had a guest, crawled out of bed and collapsed into the nearest chair.
"So," Cathy said, and Harry thought that it sounded like she was building up to something. "I was speaking to Charlie last night, when he came back from that bar off his head."
That would explain why Cathy had first assumed Harry had a hangover.
"It was a very interesting conversation," she continued idly. "He's under the impression we're sleeping together."
It took a moment to register. "What?" Harry said thickly.
"Do I really need to explain to you what that means?" Cathy asked. "I don't even want to know where he got that idea from. Anyway, he seemed very… distressed about it. Any idea as to why that is?"
"He thinks of me as a brother," Harry said, in monotone, as though using no expression would stop his heart from clenching painfully.
Cathy laughed. "Yeah, that's a good one, tell me another," she joked. When Harry's deadpan expression remained the same, she frowned. "Don't tell me you seriously believe that."
"It's what he said last night," Harry told her.
"Yeah, and I'm the Minister of Magic. Look, the way Charlie was talking, Harry, he was very, very jealous of one of us, which most definitely means that he's attracted to one of us. And I have it on a very good account that Charlie is gay, so I'm going to assume that that someone is you."
"Charlie's gay?" Harry asked. He wasn't sure whether it was the potion or the new piece of information, but suddenly the weight in his stomach lifted considerably. Then his eyes narrowed. "Wait, whose account?"
Cathy laughed. "Doesn't matter. The point is that you and Charlie need sort things out. I won't have half of the team sulking in their cabins because they're too thick to see that they like each other."
She was interrupted by a knock on the door, and she grinned widely. Cheerfully, she skipped over to the door. "Which is why I took the liberty of inviting him over under the pretence of an emergency."
Harry went beet-red, aware that he was in his pyjama's and probably looked very ruffled from sleep. He ducked his head as Cathy opened the door.
"'M here. What's the 'mergency?" Charlie asked. His voice was slurred, and, at first, Harry thought he was still drunk. But then the other man groaned and reached up to hold his head and he realised that Charlie was just very hung over.
"It's all sorted," Cathy said cheerfully. "Harry had scale pox, but he's better now."
Charlie stumbled through the door and collapsed at the table opposite Harry. "Great. So you mean you woke me up early and incited this horrible hang over for nothing?"
Harry didn't even think Charlie had noticed he was there. Cathy frowned. "Well, I woke you up for nothing, but you did the hang over to yourself. Now, I'm going to leave you two alone, and you can sort things out. I don't want to see either of you out of this room until you've kissed and made up. Or made out; take your pick." She walked over and placed a small bottle on the table. "A hangover remedy," she explained. "You can thank me later."
And with that she practically skipped out the door.
"Urgh," Charlie said. "Being cheerful so early in the morning should be illegal." He leant forward and rested his head on the table.
Harry, who felt a little sympathetic for him as he was only just recovering from a similar feeling of sickness himself, grabbed the vial. "How are you supposed to drink this?" he asked.
"With water," Charlie said. Harry grabbed him a glass.
He downed the small potion and the water in less than five seconds. "Feels better already," he said.
There was silence for a few minutes. Harry really wanted to mention what Cathy had said to him, but he didn't know how to start the conversation. Also, he was a little afraid that Charlie would shoot it down as soon as he mentioned it. His headache had almost completely gone, but it was replaced with butterflies as he contemplated what he could say next.
It was Charlie who broke the silence. "Cathy was here early," he said. Harry shrugged.
"I floo'd her as soon as I got up," Harry said. "I thought she should know that I wouldn't be working today."
"So she didn't spend the night?" Charlie asked.
"No," Harry said, and then he added, "We aren't sleeping together."
"Oh."
"Cathy said something interesting before you arrived…," Harry began, not quite brave enough to say it outright.
Charlie, who now had more colour in his face, looked up. "What sort of interesting?" he asked.
"She said that you're gay." It sounded really harsh when he said it like that.
Charlie looked down again. "Yeah," he said. "I am."
There was silence for a bit.
"She said something else too. She said that the way you were acting last night, about us being together… that it meant that you were jealous of one of us."
Charlie tensed, but still didn't look up.
"She says… she says you like me." The word 'like' sounded wrong, like he was a schoolboy talking about a childish crush, but Harry didn't know what else to say. He waited for Charlie to answer.
"I shouldn't," Charlie said finally. "You're my little brother's best friend. You're my sister's ex." He sighed. "I shouldn't, but I do."
There was silence for a moment, and Harry wasn't sure what to say. Finally Charlie stood up. "I'm sorry," he said, not looking at Harry. "You didn't need to know that. I'll just go…."
"No," Harry said, toppling his chair as he stood up in such a rush, clattering to floor and reminding him that his head was still complaining. "Don't go… I…."
He'd subconsciously stepped in front of Charlie, between him and the door, and he only just realised how close they were. Taking a deep breath, Harry prepared to do something that was probably immensely stupid, and he hoped like hell that it didn't go horribly wrong.
He took a step closer to Charlie, so that they were almost touching. "I like you too," he whispered.
Damn, why was Charlie so much taller than him? He felt really short, and it wasn't going to be easy to reach up and kiss him in an attempt to show him exactly how much he liked him.
Harry needn't have worried. For a second Harry thought that Charlie wasn't going to react, but then his face broke out into a wide grin and he leaned down. Harry's heart started racing as he realised what was going to happen next.
Charlie's mouth was warm against his and his stubble scratched against Harry's cheek. He moved forwards to fast and they bumped a little harder than they should have.
It was the best kiss of Harry's life.
Just then, the door flew open, and a familiar giggle rang in Harry's ears. He pulled away from Charlie, blushing.
"See Longtooth, I told you," Cathy said. Harry turned to see the two of them standing in the doorway.
"Well I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with me own eyes," Longtooth said, scratching his chin. "Meddling woman. Ah well, I guess I owe you three galleons then?"
"Do you mind?" Charlie asked.
"Sorry," Cathy said.
"Mornin', Weasley, Potter," Longtooth said. "We'll be on our way."
"Good to see you've recovered," Cathy said cheekily, as Longtooth shut the door, and Harry wasn't sure whether she was talking to him or Charlie.
When they turned back to each other, they were both blushing. "They bet on us?" Charlie asked disbelievingly.
Harry laughed. "Be glad they did, or Cathy might not have seen any reason to even tell me you were gay."
"Fair enough," Charlie said. "I don't really mind, as long as I get to do more of this." And he leaned down again and captured Harry's mouth in a kiss.
This time was less chaste, and Harry opened his mouth eagerly to accept Charlie's tongue. The red-head's arms wrapped around his waist and Harry found himself being pulled against him.
He became aware that he was reacting rather… appropriately to the kiss, and as he pressed forward into Charlie he could tell that he was hard too. He pulled away and grinned.
"You haven't even taken me out on a date," he joked.
Charlie grinned. "Fair enough. How about tonight?"
"Sure. About seven?"
"Okay. I'll pick you up from here?"
"Yeah."
"Now can we get back to kissing?"
Harry laughed.
A/N: Sorry for the shortness of the chapter, but I promise I'll make it up to you in the next one. It'll be a lemon, I swear! It will also probably be the last chapter.
I would have updated sooner, but the document manager ceased to work for me...
