Dirty Little Secret
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters. The story, however, is my own, my preciousssssssss (LOTR rocks!).
A/N: uhh, hey, guys. so this chapter has been a long time coming. but, well, the reason this is soooooo brutally late is because last year senior year hit and well, i didn't have the strength to hit back. i was always busy- mostly for school- cause i was taking four ap classes and had tons of extra curriculars after school. so, i was swamped. but i've always said, if i start a story on here, i'll finish it (though, i did just start college…gulp). but, don't worry. it may take a while between some updates, and i apologize for that, but all my stories will be finished. i already have a few new stories in the works- including a sequel to You Had Me at Hello (yay!)- so you haven't quite gotten rid of me yet. on that note, here's chapter 2 of Dirty Little Secret, and i hope you enjoy!
Chapter 2- Of Keepers and Crime
"But, Harry, Neville's perfect for you! You two have so much in common! And from what I can tell, in a purely analytical sense, he's not bad looking either. So, what's the problem?" Ron cried.
Harry rolled his eyes. Straight men. "Honestly, Ron, gay men aren't as fixated on looks as people think we are. Contrary to popular belief, personality is a big part of attraction for us, too."
"But, Harry-"
"Besides," Harry continued loudly over Ron, "Neville and I would never work. See, as we were sitting there eating, I kept expecting a toad to pop out of nowhere and for Neville to shout 'Trevor!' and run after it." Harry shrugged, "Old impressions die hard, I guess."
"Oh, Harry," Ron rubbed his eyes tiredly, "You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?"
"Umm…huh?" Harry cocked his head to the side.
"It's my goal for you to have a date for my wedding. Someone you like. Someone you're dating. I will succeed," Ron said determinedly.
"Oh Merlin, Ron. Is that what this is about?" Harry groaned, "Why do I need a date? I always go stag, anyway!"
"Geez, Harry, yes you do! Me and 'Mione are worried about-"
"Don't you dare drag me into this!" Hermione admonished from her place at the kitchen table. She clucked her tongue and made a note on yet another list, "This was your idea, not mine."
"Yeah, but you helped by giving me your address book!" Ron pointed out sulkily.
"Hermione! How could you?" Harry cried, feeling betrayed.
"Sorry," she gave him an apologetic smile, "But you know Ron. If I hadn't given him something, he would have just kept bothering me…"
"Hey!"
"Yeah, but you didn't have to give him something that would actually help!" Harry whined.
"Well, no, but he is smarter than we give him credit for, Harry. He would have eventually figured out I was leading him in circles…"
"I'm right here, you know!" Ron cut in loudly.
"Yeah, you sure as hell are," Harry muttered under his breath.
"I heard that!"
"I believe you were meant to, Ronald," Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Anyway," Harry cut her off before things got ugly, "this just isn't gonna work, Ron. You can't just start randomly pairing me with people and hoping to strike gold. Things don't work that way."
Ron sighed heavily, "God, Harry, why couldn't you have just found the perfect someone in school like I did?" He smiled fondly at Hermione, who gave him a small smile in return.
"Too easy," Harry smirked. Ron frowned. Harry sure had been smirking a lot lately.
"Yeah, you have to do everything the hard way, don't you?" Ron ran a frustrated hand through his hair.
"He's Harry," Hermione shrugged, as if that explained it all perfectly. And in a way, it did.
"Umm, right here," Harry waved, "But, anyway, I don't think it's fair that you have Hermione helping you, Ron. I mean, she could knock down the Great Wall of China just by glaring at it."
"Yes, she's quite wonderful, isn't she," Ron winked, "But a bit of a know-it-all, really."
"Yeah," Harry agreed.
"Just once, I want to know something she doesn't know, ya know?" Ron sighed wistfully.
"Yes, yes I do," Harry replied solemnly, his mouth twitching.
"Oh, honestly, you two! You know I'm right here!" Hermione said shrilly.
"Yes, you are," the two men said together and then burst out laughing.
Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered something about annoying little boys.
"We're right here, 'Mione!" they shouted as if on cue. They started giggling again.
Hermione groaned.
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"Where the hell are we?" Harry questioned Ron cautiously.
"What does it look like to you?" Ron asked kindly, as if he were speaking to a two year-old. When faced with Harry's stubbornness, he may very well have been.
Harry scratched his head thoughtfully. "Well, it looks like a monster truck rally, but you probably have no idea-" he petered off at the grin on Ron's face.
"Bill and Dad love them. And so does your date!" Ron gleefully shoved a ticket into Harry's hand.
Harry's face immediately darkened, "Another blind date, Ron? Honestly, I thought I'd gotten my point across with Neville- I'm happy the way I am!"
"What? You're happy being all alone in that huge house? I think not!" Ron shook his head sadly.
After Harry had defeated Voldemort, the entire wizarding world had decided to show their gratitude by donating a huge pile of gold to build a new house next to Harry's childhood home in Godric's Hollow. The place was enormous. But Harry, being Harry, couldn't bring himself to refuse living there since they'd already gone to all that trouble…
"I'm very happy, thank you," Harry retorted, the hint of a snarl in his voice. He loved Ron dearly, but this scheme of his was really starting to grate on Harry's nerves…
"I just wish you'd tell me why you're so keen on remaining single," Ron murmured sadly.
"Because I'm sick of everyone poking their noses into my business! When I want to settle down, I will! Merlin, Ron, I'm only twenty-three!" Harry glared at his best friend.
Ron was nothing if not persistent, "At least go tonight, mate. Your date paid for the ticket."
Harry deflated almost instantly. If the guy had went to some trouble on his behalf… "Fine," he agreed through clenched teeth, "But this is the last one."
Ron smiled cheerfully, "All right. I have a good feeling about this one, anyway!" And he pushed Harry over to the short line of people waiting to get inside. "See ya, mate!" He hurried off.
Harry glanced at his ticket warily: he, unlike his redheaded best friend, had a very bad feeling about this…
He grudgingly handed his ticket to the man collecting them and started to maneuver his way through the sizable throng of bodies to find his seat, and inevitably, meet his date.
He finally reached Row K, Seat 5 (he had to admit, they were good seats) and was surprised to see no one there. Shrugging, he sat down and tried not to pay attention to the rowdy men who reeked of beer sitting behind him.
Harry was really getting into the tune he was drumming on his legs when a rough voice wheezed, "Hey, pretty boy!"
Harry paused for about a second until he realized he was being presumptuous and the person was obviously not speaking to him. "Oy!" another slurred voice chimed in, "pretty boy with the black hair and glasses!"
Harry's head snapped up. Well, that narrowed things down a bit. He turned slowly to look at the drunken men behind him. "May I help you?" he asked stiffly, while moving his right arm to feel the familiar weight of his wand up his sleeve.
A particularly large, nasty looking brute leered at him, "Yeah, pretty. You can either come back here, hang with us, and leave with us, or we can come down there and knock your block off."
Harry's eyes, well-trained from the war, darted around quickly to access his surroundings. He immediately noticed two things: the growing interest in the scene from those around them, and the startling lack of security anywhere nearby.
That ruled out his wand and screaming for help like a little girl. With the way their neighbors were eying the men up, he doubted he'd get any support from anyone. He sighed. Nothing for it then. He'd have to talk his way out of this one.
"Hi, boys," he purred suggestively, tugging at his collar (he hadn't acted overtly sexy in a while, but it was all he could come up with), "I'd love to join you lovely gentlemen, but let me go to the bathroom first and freshen up." He stood up slowly, keeping eye contact with the ring leader the entire time (it showed the person you weren't afraid).
He'd made it to the end of the row when the burly man growled, "Just wait one second…" And he suddenly grabbed Harry roughly by the arm. Harry tried desperately to wrench his arm away, but the man was a lot stronger than he looked. Harry was just resolving himself to use his wand and risk getting in huge trouble with the Ministry, when an angry voice snarled, "Let go of him, you bastard."
Harry turned around gratefully to see who his savior was, and was shocked when he saw Oliver Wood standing there. "Wood?" he asked in a surprised tone.
"Hiya, Harry," Wood said with a pained smile. He walked right up to the leader (Wood was about three inches taller than Harry and therefore an inch shorter than the leader of the rowdy men) and growled in his face, "What did I say?"
The leader gulped while glancing nervously at the muscles bulging in Wood's arms and suddenly slackened his grip on Harry's elbow. Harry quickly scurried behind Wood and peered over the tall Keeper's shoulder at his attacker. The burly leader shrugged and turned back to his seat and friends, who were laughing at him. Wood looked over his shoulder at Harry and smiled, "I know you're tough, Harry, but try not to get into fights with guys twice your size. It's not very wise."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Thanks for that. And thank you for coming to my rescue. Who are you with? I'm waiting for a blind date to show up," Harry grimaced, "but he doesn't seem to be here yet."
Wood's smile broadened, "I just saw my date."
Harry perked up, "Oh, where is she?"
Wood laughed, "I'm staring at him."
Harry blanched. Oh.
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Harry glanced over at Woo- Oliver and smiled at the exuberated expression gracing the man's face. He clearly loved monster truck rallies and wasn't afraid to show it. Harry liked that in people. Not to mention the fact that the years had been good to his old captain. He was incredibly well-toned and the boyish roughness he'd had at school was gone from his face: replaced with smooth, Grecian features. And he was just so nice. And rich. And popular. And- Harry shook himself. What was he thinking?
"So, Oliver," Harry questioned hesitantly (Oliver had insisted that they'd known each other too long to still be using surnames), "you're still primary Keeper for Puddlemere, right?"
Oliver nodded and smiled wistfully, "Yeah. You lot beat us out for the British Cup last year, remember?"
Harry grinned, "Yes, I do seem to remember that…"
"Seeing as it was you who caught the snitch right out from under our Seeker's nose and won the match…"
"Aww…that's not true…"
"Anyway, if I remember correctly, your Keeper is fantastic."
"Who?" Harry blinked, "Jason Greene? Nah. He's good, but not as good as you."
Oliver wiggled his eyebrows, "In more ways than one, I'd bet."
Harry gulped, "Uhh, right. Okay, so…monster trucks? What's the point?"
Oliver shrugged, "The huge trucks destroy stuff and the stuff tries to get away. Anyway, are you telling me you never slept with Greene? He's pretty hot, Harry, and seeing as how you're a flaming homosexual and all…"
Harry bristled, "Excuse me? Just because I'm gay doesn't make me flaming. Just because I don't like to watch large muggle machines demolish smaller muggle machines doesn't make me flaming. Just because I couldn't beat up a guy a half a foot taller than me doesn't make me flaming. Just because-"
Oliver laughed and started to wave his hands, "Harry, Harry, Harry! I was kidding! Merlin, do you always get so defensive about your orientation?"
Harry scoffed, "No. I just don't like being called a flamer. I know a flamer and I am not one."
"Who?" Oliver questioned innocently.
"Err, that's not important," Harry muttered.
Oliver laughed again, "Anyway, why not Greene? I'd do him."
Harry stared at him, "That's nice, Oliver. I happen to dislike engaging in acts of meaningless sex with others. And, if you must know, he did ask me out, but I'm a happy bachelor right now."
"Ohh, I see," Oliver nodded superiorly, "That's what you say, now, Harry, but I bet you'll be thinking differently by the end of the evening."
Harry rolled his eyes. "I don't know about that," he muttered to himself as Oliver turned back to that most gracious sport of trucks ramming into (and running over) each other.
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"So, Harry," Oliver asked casually an hour later as they were flooding out of the stadium with all of the other spectators thronging around them, "do you want to get coffee somewhere?"
Harry glanced sideways at the tall Keeper and shrugged, "Sure, I guess so."
Oliver suddenly pulled him into an alleyway and with a crack (and an uncomfortable squeezing sensation), they were standing outside of a small coffee house named Café Fino. Harry blinked at the bright sign and eventually questioned curiously, "Italian coffee?"
Oliver nodded, "Italian coffee is highly underrated. They invented cappuccino, you know."
"Uh-huh," Harry murmured distractedly, not really listening. Instead, he was staring hard at the back of a blond head he could see through the café window. "You know, Oliver? I'm not really feeling like coffee right now. Too much caffeine and I won't sleep a wink tonight. So, I'll just say goodb-"
"Ahh, ahh, ahh!" Oliver tutted, grabbing onto Harry's arm again, "You can't get away with that excuse, Mr. Potter! You can drink decaf!" And he started to drag Harry towards the small shop. Harry sighed, resigned to his fate.
"Hi!" Oliver beamed at the barista skulking behind the drab counter, "I'll have a café latte and my friend here will have a decaf cup of regular ole joe with…what d'you take in your coffee, Harry?"
Harry blinked, "Uhh, milk and two sugars."
"You heard the man," Oliver smiled, "Milk and two sugars, please."
The barista made short work of their order and was soon handing over two mugs while Harry supplied the money (he'd insisted since Oliver had bought the tickets). Oliver led him over to a small table in the corner by the window. Harry winced and-
"Malfoy?"
The blond head Harry had seen earlier jerked up and whipped around. "Wood," Draco Malfoy snarled, "what're you doing her- Potter? What are you doing here?"
Harry sneered, "I happen to be on a date, Malfoy. Why are you here?"
"A date, Potter? Why would anyone want to fuck you?" Malfoy asked innocently, hate clouding his eyes.
"I-"
"For your information, Malfoy, Harry here is a virgin. He doesn't believe in sleeping around, and I, for one, admire him greatly for it," Oliver said angrily.
Malfoy chortled, "Judging by the look on Potter's face, Wood, you're way off."
Oliver looked over at Harry, who was scowling at him. "What?" he shrugged.
"I never said I was a virgin, Oliver: just that I don't sleep with every person I meet with a dick," Harry spat, "So, don't make assumptions and say something like that to my mortal enemy."
"Sorry, Harry, I just thought-"
"You obviously didn't think," Malfoy smirked, "because if you had you would have realized Potter's too gorgeous to go without getting buggered for long."
"Are you on Harry's side?" Oliver asked, a confused look on his face.
"And I'm the one who bloody well does the buggering, you arse," Harry spat at the blonde.
"Oh, I see," Malfoy murmured, "well, there's no need to sound so offended, Potter. I, myself, love to take it." And Malfoy stood up slowly, gathered the papers spread in front of him, smirked at Harry (and completely ignored Oliver), and sashayed out of the café.
"Well, that was weird," Oliver decided.
"Yeah," Harry agreed, "Look, let's just drink our coffee and leave, okay?"
They sat down at the table Malfoy had just vacated and started to sip from their still steaming cups. "Wait," Harry said suddenly, "Did he say I was gorgeous?"
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"So, Harry, I had a lot of fun tonight," Oliver smiled shyly at Harry as they approached Harry's doorstep.
"Yeah, it was fun. Well, except for the drunken men trying to rape me, the alarmingly intimate discussion about my Keeper, and the confrontation with my old school rival. Other than that, it was bangin'."
Oliver grinned sheepishly, "Yeah, well, when you put it that way…"
"Well, good night, Oliver. I guess I'll see you around the Quidditch pitch, eh?" And Harry started up his front steps.
"Harry!" Oliver cried, "Can I see you again?"
Harry blinked at him, "Umm, no."
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"Ooh, Harry, that was harsh. 'Umm, no'? Wow, we need to work on your people skills," Hermione admonished the raven-haired boy the next day as she was sticking push-pins rather violently into a large cork board with Seating Arrangements emblazoned across the top.
"Well," Harry shrugged, "it was true. We've been over this a million times, 'Mione. I don't want to go out with anyone. I'm happy just being by myself right now. I'm still recovering from everything's that happened in my life. A relationship would just complicate my mind, not to mention my seeking. You know I'm hardly ever home because of practice and games, anyway."
"Well…that's true…"
"Hermione! Don't let him sway you to the Dark Side!" Ron cried as he entered the living room.
Harry gave the redhead an odd look, "How do you know about the Dark Side?"
Ron shrugged sheepishly, "Hermione let me watch all six Star Wars movies in a row the other day."
"Is that even possible?" Harry questioned Hermione curiously.
"Apparently."
"I can do anything I put my mind to," Ron said smugly.
"Except for one thing," Harry said pointedly.
Ron blinked, "And what would that be?"
"Setting me up with someone I'd actually want to date."
"Don't write me off just yet," Ron smirked, "I think you'll really like the next guy."
"Ron," Harry spat angrily, "I-"
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"I refuse! Not another one! Never!" Harry cried passionately even as Ron pushed him towards the mini-golf green.
Ron shook his head, "You're already here, Harry. And your date has already seen you." Ron nodded towards a slim brunette loitering by the entrance, looking out of place in his black slacks and light blue button-down shirt.
"Who's that?" Harry asked.
"Your date," Ron replied.
"Ron…" Harry responded in a warning tone.
Ron sighed. "Fine. He's a guy from my office, all right? He's actually, uhh, my secretary," Ron's ears turned pink.
Harry whirled around, "You're seriously setting me up with your secretary? That's low, even for you, Ron."
Ron bowed his head, "I know. But I'm getting desperate. When I found out he was gay, I couldn't help myself. He's kind of cute, right?"
Harry rolled his eyes. The man they were approaching was beyond cute. He was drop-dead gorgeous. "Hey, Jacob," Ron greeted the short man (he was about 5'8) warmly, "How are you?"
The guy looked up at them and beamed, "I'm great, Mr. Weasley. And how are y-oh wow, is this him?" He stared at Harry with open admiration.
"Yes," Ron pushed Harry forward, "This, Jacob, is-"
"Hi, I'm Harry Potter," Harry smiled, holding out his hand.
The man grabbed the proffered hand and shook it enthusiastically, "It's great to meet you, Harry! I'm Jacob Everett, Mr. Weasley's secretary and an ardent supporter of the Canons!"
"He's a huge Canon fan," Ron grinned, "And you're his favorite player, mate."
"Naturally," Jacob agreed.
Harry was surprised. It was still weird to meet people who admired him because of his Quidditch career and not his defeat of What's-His-Face. He was actually rather grateful. "Well, thanks for your support," he beamed, "it's always great to meet fans."
"I don't want to intrude, so I'll just leave you to it, then," Ron said quickly, and before Harry could even process the words, the wizard had dashed behind a corner and apparated with a crack.
'That bastard,' Harry thought mutinously even as he smiled at Jacob and murmured, "Shall we?"
Jacob eyed him happily, "Yes, let's!
Harry sighed. He was going to put a Leg-Locking Curse so powerful on the youngest male Weasley that he wouldn't be able to walk for a week.
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An hour later, Harry was laughing hysterically as Jacob did a startlingly accurate impersonation of Dolores Umbridge next to the eighteenth hole. "Hem, hem," Jacob coughed girlishly into his hand, "I believe it's my turn to putt, Harry."
Harry grinned, "Ahh, so it is, Professor. Please don't hurt yourself from the physical strain."
"Oh, you're so kind to think of me, Harry! Though, I'm afraid I'll have to take away your Quidditch privileges now," he mock-glared at the Seeker.
"Oh, no! Whatever shall I do?" Harry cried, throwing an exaggerated hand over his heart.
Jacob suddenly broke character and started to giggle helplessly. "Wow, Harry, you're really funny, too! I'm having so much fun," he stopped laughing and smiled shyly, looking down at his feet.
Harry smiled softly. "I'm having a lot of fun, too," he admitted, a tone of surprise evident in his voice. He was shocked he was having so much fun with a man Ron had set him up with. He hadn't thought of dinner with Neville as a date, and he'd been too traumatized by his evening with Oliver to have fun. But this…well, this was nice.
"Oh! I win!" Jacob exclaimed, staring at the scorecard he'd been scribbling on, "I beat you!"
Harry grinned. "Congrats. You played quite well." He didn't have the heart to admit he'd let the younger man win.
"Will you, umm, apparate me home, Harry?" Jacob asked hesitantly. At Harry's amused look, he rushed to add, "It's just, I'm the worst at apparation. I don't know how I passed my test. I-"
"I'd love to," Harry broke in gently. Jacob's eyes lit up. Harry took the smaller man's hand, walked him over to a dark corner of the complex, and, with a crack, they were gone.
To be continued…
A/N: heh. so, yeah. you're gonna have to wait till the next chapter to find out what happens. cause i'm evil like that. this should be updated relatively soon, as i feel i'm finally back in the swing of things. again, i apologize for the ridiculous delay, and thank you for sticking with me. and keep guessing on who harry's gonna end up with. it may not be who you think! ((wink)) i love you all. please review!!