A/N: I feel like I should apologise for the cliffhanger; I don't usually write them because they bug me!
I'm having a really wonderful time writing this story, it must be said. I tried reading Harry Potter fanfic years ago on Mugglenet and got squicked out very quickly. I think my problem was in trying to read Harry/ Ginny stories. That's never a good idea. Thank god I came across this pairing! Speaking of pairings, I am writing the Harry/ Charlie story. Keep me on author alert if you want to read it, because I have no idea how long it's going to take me to write!
Thank you to everyone who's reviewing, and to my lovely pre- reader.
Chapter 8- The Traitor's Curse
Ron and Stonestreet appeared only moments after Harry finished reading the letter, the Floo requesting their access which Harry quickly granted. As Ron introduced his boss, a tall, broad man with a military haircut and a no- nonsense attitude, Harry hung back and wondered just what Draco's reaction to all of this would be. He himself was still reeling from the Ministry's request for help... from Draco, of all people.
"I trust you received our owl?" Martin Stonestreet asked.
Harry nodded. "I must say I'm a bit confused..." he said cautiously, inviting the other men to sit down.
Stonestreet looked to Ron and nodded almost imperceptibly.
"We think we've located a group of missing people," Ron said as he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "The Ministry has been trying to locate them for months, and we've tracked them back to Yaxley Manor in Yorkshire."
"I know Yaxley Manor," Draco said softly. "I've been there a few times."
"Did you know anything about a group of prisoners being held there?" Stonestreet asked harshly.
Draco shook his head. "No. I told you everything I knew months ago. There was a lot they didn't tell me, Auror Stonestreet."
Stonestreet seemed to accept this. "We've had Ministry Aurors and code breakers trying to get in round the clock. But the place is warded up tighter than anywhere we've ever seen before."
"Which backs up our theory that that's where the missing people are," Ron added excitedly.
"It's taken days, but we think we've found out why no one has been able to cross the threshold," Stonestreet said.
"Well, you wouldn't be able to get in unless you've got a Dark Mark," Draco said.
The two men's faces dropped.
"You knew this?" Stonestreet demanded.
"Of course. It was standard Death Eater policy. If you'd asked me, I would have told you."
"Yes, well." Stonestreet seemed to shake himself off. "There are only two people left who have a Dark Mark, and one of them is in Azkaban."
"Ah," Draco said grimly. "You want my help."
"We just want you to go and take the wards down," Ron said, the petulant and patronising tone in his voice raising Draco's hackles.
"I want to negotiate terms," Draco said firmly, ignoring Ron and directing his words to Stonestreet instead. Harry watched the exchange and forced himself not to get involved. This clearly wasn't his fight and he had little say in the matter.
"Thought you might," Stonestreet said grimly. "Go on then."
"Release my mother immediately. And I want my father's sentence reduced."
"No way!" Ron exclaimed. Stonestreet glared at him and he shut up. Harry suppressed a snort of laughter.
"In my esteemed colleagues words, no way," Stonestreet said. "I can reduce your mother's sentence from five years to three. Your father's from a life sentence to twenty five years."
"After twenty five years in Azkaban he'd likely be dead," Draco said without emotion. "Ten years. And my mother out after she's served a year."
"Draco, there are people's lives on the line here," Harry said softly, interrupting for the first time. "Can we do this later? Afterwards?"
"Not now, Potter," Draco said, not unkindly, but firmly.
Harry decided to let Draco get on with it. The lives at stake might very well be Draco's parents', too.
"One year," Stonestreet echoed, carrying on around their conversation. "House arrest for one more. Community service for the year during house arrest and another year following that. Your father serves twelve years. I'm levelling with you now, Mr Malfoy, I'm not authorised to negotiate anything more than that. If you're not happy with my terms you'll need to take it to the Minister himself."
Draco nodded and held out his hand. "Done."
Stonestreet nodded and shook it. "Okay. Lets get going."
"Hang on, hang on," Harry interrupted. "I'm coming too."
"Alright," Stonestreet said with a shrug.
"We're looking after my godson at the moment," Harry said. "I need to get a babysitter for him."
"Take him to my mum's," Ron said immediately, and a little sheepishly. "I called her earlier and she said it would be fine."
Harry hadn't even unpacked all of Bear's things from his night at George's and he felt slightly guilty to pack the baby up again and ship him off to another Weasley relative, but this was something big. Something to make him feel involved again and there was no way he was going to give up the chance to be there in the thick of it all.
Molly was, of course, completely fine with watching the baby for a couple of hours and took Harry's rushed explanations with a wave of her hand. Back at the house, Draco had changed out of his Muggle clothes and back into the harshly formal, black wizard robes that had been his usual attire during their school years. He'd also slicked his hair back again, much to Harry's distress, and looked more like the sixteen year old schoolyard enemy than he had in the whole time he'd been living at Grimmauld Place.
"What... why?" Harry asked incoherently as he stood at Draco's open door, watching him button up the high collar and check his jaw to make sure it was smoothly shaven.
Draco shrugged and sighed. "It's a mask, Harry. A familiar one. They expect me to look and act a certain way, so it's easier to do that than rock the boat."
"I need to get changed too," Harry said absently.
"Yeah, you do." Draco met Harry's eyes in the mirror with a small smile. "It'll be fine. Don't worry."
"I'm not," Harry said, a little too quickly, and turned to go to his own room and find out a set of robes.
Yaxley Manor was startlingly similar to Malfoy Manor. The stone walls surrounding it were high and imposing, a pair of wrought iron gates giving a small glimpse of the huge house beyond a tree lined drive.
As well as Martin Stonestreet and Ron, there were three other Aurors present and a medi-witch, who was on hand for any seriously injured captives, although Stonestreet, who was heading the mission, seemed to think that the prisoners would either be dead or okay, having been kept alive by the house- elves.
Harry watched as Draco cricked his neck, pushing ear to shoulder on either side as he walked up to the gates, drawing his wand from the pocket of his robes. The air around them seemed to crackle with dark, intense magic. It hadn't escaped his notice that the other members of the Auror search and rescue team hung well back from the gates.
Slowly, with excruciating precision, Draco murmured words and drew complicated shapes with his wand, removing the complex wards that were keeping the Aurors out. After about five minutes he stopped and wiped his forehead with his arm.
"Bloody hell, how long have you lot been trying to get in here?" he asked.
"A few weeks," Stonestreet admitted. "Every time we attempted to take down one of the wards it threw up a few more in its place."
"I'd noticed," Draco said wryly. "Okay. Shut up now, I need to concentrate."
There seemed to be no activity at all amongst the gathered men and women; the crisp, cold autumn air stained Harry's cheeks pink but he dared not move, lest he break Draco's concentration. It took a further ten minutes until a rush of warmth seemed to rush past them from the direction of the gates and Draco's wand arm slumped, seemingly exhausted.
"Right. They're down."
Draco walked towards the gates, his left, Marked arm extended this time and easily passed through the iron as if it was thin air. When Stonestreet approached though, he walked straight into the solid metal with a loud clang. Draco, who had turned, seemed to bite back a snigger.
"Oh dear." He looked around and spotted a small metal box at about shoulder height, attached to he wall next to the gate. He rolled his eyes. "It's an entry system, you need to be in the house to open the gates. Give me a minute and I'll let you in."
He Disapparated and Stonestreet walked back to the medi-witch who checked his nose for any breakage.
"The kid takes down some of the most complex defensive spells this team has ever seen then gets foiled by a phone entry system," he griped.
"Is that what it is?" Harry asked, confused at the... Muggleness of it.
"Yeah," Stonestreet said. "You tap your wand against the box and it lets someone in the house know who you are, then authorised people can grant access. It's blatantly ripped off from the Muggle equivalent, but the Purebloods like the exclusivity of it. Apparently."
As he finished talking the thick black gates melted away to let them pass and the team around him sprung into action, each of them falling into position as they Apparated away one by one. Harry ran a little way up the path until he could see the wide front porch and concentrated his mind on appearing in a spot he'd never been before.
As his feet landed on solid stone again he felt a grip of tension, of distress, that he wasn't used to feeling since the war ended - something terrible had happened.
The front door was open and he hesitated for only a moment before barging through. He found Draco on the floor, blood pouring from his left forearm and the medi-witch already tending to him. The shock of the sight took him right back to the sixth year, and a flooded bathroom, and Draco lying on the floor and too much blood…
Panic gripped at his chest and punched nausea into his stomach. If something was to happen to Draco now - the thought was too much to bear. They were building bridges; their friendship was hugely important to him and the other thing between them, that tiny little bubble of happiness that had lodged itself under Harry's ribcage when they were together, well, he wasn't ready for that to burst just yet. It couldn't. It just couldn't.
"What the-" he started, grabbing one of the other Aurors to get an explanation from her as she rushed past him. Jamieson. That was her name.
"Traitor's curse," she said with a grim shrug. "Looks like it's resonated through his Dark Mark."
Draco's skin was sallow and pale, sickly looking as the red pool of blood around his arm grew and the few, shuddering breaths that Harry had been unconsciously watching were slowing, and Draco couldn't die, he just couldn't...
"Potter!" the medi- witch snapped, grabbing his attention back and permitting Jamieson to escape into the bowels of the house. "You need to take him to St Mungo's immediately. He's stable for the moment but he needs immediate attention. I've sent word ahead so they're expecting you. Fourth floor-"
"Spell damage," Harry finished for her grimly. "I know."
Draco seemed to be unconscious as Harry lifted him and nodded his thanks to the witch who frowned at him as he Apparated away. The moment he landed in the fourth floor welcome area there was a Healer and two nurses ready for him, levitating Draco on to a trolley and immediately casting a series of spells that covered Draco's body with an iridescent, bubble- like sheen.
No one seemed to notice Harry's presence as he followed the team through to a treatment room, or if they did, they didn't seem to be bothered with it. They seemed to speak in shorthand; one witch maintaining the protective spells while another Banished Draco's expensive designer robes.
Pale skin was even paler with all of the blood he'd lost and as Harry watched, Draco started to regain consciousness, writhing in pain and crying out.
"Shh," the nurse said, pushing him back down on to the bed and Summoning a bottle of potion from one of the white cupboards adjacent to the window in the small room. "Here, drink this."
She cradled the back of Draco's head and poured the acid green potion down his throat. Almost immediately Draco fell back on to the bed in a dead slump.
"Can't get the bleeding to stop," one of the other nurses said as she threw spell after spell at Draco's arm which was steadily leaking blood, the dark tattoo unrecognisable underneath all the red.
"Can't you just put pressure on it?" Harry asked desperately, his basic First Aid training coming into effect. The Healer stopped and stared at him as if only just remembering that he was in the room. He gave Harry a small smile.
"Certainly, Mr Potter, but that usually inhibits our ability to access the damaged area with spellwork."
Harry nodded, abashed, and stepped back so he was pressed against the wall once more.
After what seemed like forever, the Healer lowered his wand and nodded to one of the nurses, the redheaded one who had given Draco the potion. She went to the cupboard and removed a long length of gauze, then siphoned the remaining blood from Draco's arm and the floor surrounding it, then bandaged him tightly from wrist to elbow.
"You should go and get a coffee or something, love," the other, older nurse said to him kindly. "That potion won't wear off for a while yet."
Harry nodded his thanks and followed the directions to the canteen, buying for himself a large coffee in a Styrofoam cup that tasted more of Styrofoam than it did of coffee. He was completely shook up from the incident at the Manor, unaware that Draco was at any risk and unprepared for the consequences.
Back in Draco's room, only the older nurse remained. She'd changed Draco into a standard St Mungo's patient's nightdress that covered him to his knees. The white cotton blended seamlessly with Draco's white skin.
"He'll be in for a few days," the nurse said as Harry sat down in one of the visitor's chairs. "He lost a lot of blood so we'll need to keep him on a regular dose of Sanguanasis potion to replace that."
"What about his arm?" Harry asked in a hoarse voice.
"It'll be fine, dear," she assured him. "The main problem was the curse, but Healer Buck is one of the best on the staff here. When we learned that it was a friend of yours being brought in we called him immediately."
"Thank you. Really. I appreciate it."
"No problem, Mr Potter."
He'd never given her his name, nor had he asked for hers. He felt incredibly guilty for this lapse in manners.
As the sun began to set through Draco's window there was a light knock on the door. Harry rose to answer it, but Ron let himself in anyway.
"Is he okay?" Ron asked.
Harry nodded. "Yeah. It was a bit scary for a while, but he's stable now. I think."
"Good," Ron said. Harry studied his best friend. Seven years of knowing each other had its benefits.
"You knew something like this could have happened, didn't you?"
Ron flushed. "Well, there was always going to be a risk…"
"Don't bullshit me, Ron," Harry snapped. "How could you let him go in unprepared?"
"He was more prepared than any of us!" Ron argued. "You heard Stonestreet, it was some of the most complex protective magic the Auror office has ever seen, and Malfoy took it down like it was a simple Alohomora! If anyone knew about the curses on the place it was going to be him."
"You know what they call that curse, Ron? A traitor's curse. A traitor's curse. He went in there and played traitor to the Death Eaters for you lot and you just left him there to bleed to death!" Harry was yelling now and not caring.
"That was never going to happen!"
"How would you know? You buggered off before he was even stabilised!"
"That's why the medi-witch was there," Ron said, holding his ground. "We found them, by the way, if you even care. There were nearly thirty people being held hostage. It was only because the house elves had been given instructions to feed them before the Death Eaters left that they hadn't starved to death."
"Of course I care," Harry snapped. "It just wasn't fair to do that to Draco."
"To Draco?" Ron taunted him. "Draco is it, now?"
"I live with him!" Harry exclaimed. "Did you even stop to think what would happen to me if anything happened to him? To Bear? The poor child has lost enough people who love him already. I'm on my own now until he gets better!"
Ron looked slightly dismayed at this. "Mum will help you, you know that."
"That's not the point."
Ron sighed. "Look. I'm sorry he got hurt, I really am, but it was necessary to save all of those people. And he'll be fine."
"Sacrificed for the greater good, was he?"
"Don't, Harry. Don't make out I'm like them because I'm not. It was only Malfoy."
"Only Malfoy. Only a Death Eater. Doesn't matter if he dies, because he's only one of them, right?"
"I'm not going to argue with you over him," Ron said stubbornly. "I really do hope he's okay. I'll see you later."
Ron left, softly closing the door behind him and Harry paced a few steps towards Draco's bed, growling and grumbling in the back of his throat. He stopped short when he noticed a pair of tired grey eyes watching his progress.
"You heard all of that, didn't you?" Harry asked, blushing.
"A lot of it, yeah." Draco's voice sounded tired.
"I'm sorry. How are you feeling?"
Draco stretched in bed, trying to sit up and Harry hurried over to help him. "Rough. And like... my magic isn't all there. Like it's not as strong as it usually is. Does that make sense?"
"I suppose so," Harry said. "It's probably because you lost so much blood."
"Yeah. You didn't have to stick up for me. I know he's your best mate."
"Ron and I have never had a problem with telling each other when the other is wrong," Harry said wryly.
Draco snorted with laughter. "Yeah, I'd noticed. Harry - where's Bear? Can you bring him here? I want to see him."
"I'll check with the Healer if I'm allowed to bring him in," Harry said, understanding the need for the comfort Bear seemed to bring to their lives.
Since Draco was still tired, Harry left him to sleep for a while and made his way down to the Floo point in the main entrance to the hospital. He was surprised to note that the night had fallen around them, then not surprised at all. It felt like years since they'd left the house that morning.
Harry could have sworn he heard Bear's cries before he even stuck his head in the fire. As it was, he didn't wait for an answer to his call and just let himself through the Floo; any manners forgotten in the wake of the high, desperate wailing of his child. The child in his care. Harry quickly amended the thought then pushed it to the back of his head.
"Molly," he called out, walking through the kitchen to the living room where his makeshift mother figure was pacing a line in the carpet, bouncing the screaming baby on her shoulder.
She smiled at him with a gentle, wry smile that indicated she'd done this many, many times before. Harry held out his hands and she passed Bear over; he moved the baby to his own shoulder with a soothing hand on his back.
"There you go," Harry murmured. "Harry's got you now.
"How's he been?" he said to Molly.
"Only like that for a little while. He slept for a couple of hours, then seemed to get upset." Molly didn't seem to be too bothered and since she was the ruling authority on all things baby related, Harry believed her.
It didn't take too long for Bear to settle in Harry's arms.
"There," he said softly. "You just missed me, didn't you?"
Harry brushed a kiss over the baby's forehead and inhaled his specific, warm baby smell.
"What's the plan?" Molly asked. "Ron called and told me what happened to Draco. Is there even a plan?"
Harry shrugged and attempted to sit down on the edge of the sofa. Bear immediately started wailing again so he stood with a sigh and resumed his pacing.
"I'll go home, get him changed then take him back to the hospital. I want to pick up a few things for Draco while I'm there."
"Will he be alright? You know I'm here to help if you need me."
"Yeah. I think so. Thanks. And just… thanks for everything, Molly. I really appreciate it."
"That's what I'm here for," she said, blushing slightly.
Bear was still fussing but Harry said his goodbyes and Flooed back home. He took his time feeding and changing the baby, making sure he was comfortable in their routine in an attempt to get him to settle. Once dressed – in an all-in-one suit with bear ears - he grabbed a few things for Draco and headed back out to the hospital, only vaguely aware that he hadn't eaten since breakfast.
Draco was awake when Harry knocked on the door, griping to a nurse about the meal that she'd set down in front of him.
"I don't want this," he whined, pushing the tray away.
The nurse started to make vague noises about keeping his strength up, but when she spotted Harry she looked relieved and passed the responsibility for getting Draco to eat on to him.
"Cheers," Harry mumbled as she left in a rush of blue fabric. "Are you behaving yourself?" he directed to his blond companion.
Draco ignored him and stretched his hands out for Bear. Harry reluctantly handed the baby over and shifted the tray of unappetising hospital food back so it didn't spill over the sheets.
"There you go," Draco crooned as Bear's hair turned from auburn to silvery- white blonde. "Such a pretty baby."
"That's the only reason why he does that," Harry said crossly. "Because you tell him he's pretty when he looks like you."
Draco snorted with laughter and pulled the itchy neck of the gown to one side so Bear could snuggle against his skin.
"Was he good for Mrs Weasley?" he asked.
"No," Harry said. "He was screaming his head off when I got there."
"Good boy," Draco whispered, his eyes shining with mischief. Harry didn't reprimand him- anything that made Draco smile at the moment was a good thing.
"I, uh brought you a few things, your toothbrush and this." Harry pulled out one of Draco's long sleeved t- shirts. The hospital issue nightgown was only short sleeved and even though his forearm was bandaged up, covering the Mark from sight, Harry thought he might be more comfortable in the familiar t- shirt.
"Thanks," Draco said softly. He looked down at where the baby was now sleeping on his chest. "I'll change later."
It was strange, and terrifying, being in the house alone with the baby all night. It was even worse knowing that his only support, his fellow parent figure was lying in hospital, still battling with the after effects of a traitor's curse. Harry had spoken extensively with Healer Buck before he left St Mungo's that evening, wanting to know all he could about the long term implications on Draco's magic and how it could affect him in the future. In the end Healer Buck had sent Harry home with a Calming Draught and told him to get a good night's sleep. Draco would be fine with time and rest.
He'd gone to bed world weary, and woken to Bear's cries after a restless sleep.
The next few days were spent going back and forth to the hospital, juggling caring for Bear and for Draco, trying to entertain both boys who seemed to be entirely bored both in and out of his presence. Draco was refusing to eat the food the hospital was providing for him meaning on top of everything else, Harry was trying to provide three meals a day for all three of them.
After he'd fallen asleep in the hospital's standard plastic hospital room chair for the third time, one of the nurses took pity on him and brought a new bed in so he could catch a few hours sleep while Draco played with Bear. Having not got out of bed since the accident, Draco was growing weaker instead of stronger and it was mostly due to this that the Healers decided to bring forward his discharge date. The nurse who had been so kind to both Harry and Draco when he'd been admitted had been assigned Draco to her care.
"Nurse Wallensby wants you," Draco said as Harry Apparated into his room on the fourth day he'd been in the hospital.
"Okay," Harry said, dumping Bear and a pile of toys onto Draco's bed. "I'll go find her."
Nurse Wallensby had a pile of potions, salve and instructions for Harry on how to treat Draco when he got home. Excessive stress and activity had been banned and the dressings on his arm needed to be changed daily.
"Come on," she said, packing everything into a white paper bag for Harry and passing him the handles. "I'll show you."
Draco had refused to look at the mangled flesh on his arm, and while fighting nausea back Harry couldn't blame him. Where there once was a snake and skull tattoo, now there was open sores, clotted blood and half scabbed skin. Nurse Wallensby merrily slapped a thick yellow salve over the top of the mess with a cheerfully instructed 'don't be stingy with it!' and showed Harry how to tightly wrap the bandages up again.
"Every evening, before bed if you can," she said, replacing the lid on the jar and putting it in the white bag of potions. "It'll help with the healing and give him some relief from the itching for when he's asleep."
"Go over the potions again?" Harry asked, causing Draco to groan loudly and slump back against his pillows. Harry hit his shoulder and ignored him.
"The red one with meals," Nurse Wallensby said with a small grin. "For building strength and muscle tone. Blue one with the white label twice a day. Calming Draught for whenever you need it, either of you, really, and the black one with the floaty bits in it before bed."
"Floaty bits," Draco repeated, shaking his head.
"You!" the nurse said, poking Draco out of bed. "Go home and don't come back, do you hear me?"
"Yes, Nurse," he said cheekily, then enveloped her in a brief hug with his good arm. "Thank you."
"No problem. Now, shoo."
Draco was only slightly less miserable at home than he was in hospital. Harry restricted the amount of time he would let Draco study for his NEWTs, which made him grumpy, and the amount of time he spent with Bear, making him grumpier still. Molly took to coming over for Bear ever afternoon after she'd cleared up from lunch, taking him back to The Burrow for a couple of hours, leaving Harry time for himself. Time that he mostly spent sleeping or in his new favourite hide- out, the back office at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.
George was only working part time and had hired an unlikely shop manager in Angelina Johnson's older sister, Mary- Anne, which only half explained why Angelina had been staying at his flat, but Harry hadn't managed to get any more information out of George and he was loathed to pry.
Mary- Anne liked Harry and was fond of his presence; she was the eldest of the Johnson brood with two brothers between her and Angelina, meaning she was used to the big extended family atmosphere that the Weasley's encompassed. With her short, spiky hair and loud laugh, she was a hit with children who loved her and parents who admired her stamina.
Even when he wasn't on duty in the shop, George could be found in the office most days, working on the books or exploring new stock potentials. Mary- Anne had confided in Harry that all of Fred and George's own inventions had been put on hold and their makeshift lab was gathering dust where George refused to allow anyone enter it. Again, Harry could understand. It was an effort for him not to turn Grimmauld Place into a shrine to Sirius, the fact that his godfather had hated the house helped, though.
"Wotcher, Harry," Mary- Anne called as he walked through the orange door a week after Draco had been discharged. Harry immediately smiled at the greeting.
"Hey," he said on a fit of inspiration, "I don't suppose you knew Nymphadora Tonks, did you?"
"Yeah, I did actually," she said. "She was a couple of years ahead of me at school. Ravenclaw? Metamorphmagus. I wanted to be her. She was so cool. She died in the war, you know."
Harry nodded. "She was a friend," he said, wondering whether to tell this new friend about Tonks' son. "She always used to say 'wotcher' to me too."
"It's so sad. You can't turn the corner these days without meeting someone who lost someone."
"What about your family?" Harry asked.
Mary- Anne shrugged. "I was a Slytherin. My father works for Gringotts and my mum is a seamstress. My brothers were in Hufflepuff... I don't know. The Death Eaters tried to recruit my dad but he said no; he wasn't one of them but he wasn't going to run away from them either."
Harry nodded, realising that the Johnson family was one of those nameless, faceless families that they'd been fighting to save; neither Death Eaters nor Order members, just ordinary people that deserved freedom. Mary- Anne smiled and rubbed Harry's shoulder reassuringly, almost as if she'd sensed his melancholy.
"George is out the back," she said and Harry thanked her, winding through the shop to find his friend.
George was, once again, hunched over a pile of paperwork in his little office, being watched over by a small framed photograph of his twin in his House Quidditch uniform. Harry shut the door behind him and sat down without being asked, waiting for George to be done.
"What's on your mind, bro?" George asked as the Fred in the photograph clearly mouthed the word 'wanker' at him.
Harry snorted with laughter, then quickly sobered. "I... uh... wanted to talk to you about something."
"Cold bath in salt water, and if that doesn't work, St Mungo's," George said immediately.
"What?" Harry thought it over and blushed. "Oh. No. Everything in that department is working fine. It's um..."
"Spit it out, for God's sake, Potter."
"I think I'm gay," Harry said in a rush.
George adopted a pose of serious contemplation, leaning forward on his elbows and tenting his fingers under his chin. "Well. There's no denying that you're an attractive lad, but I do have a bit of a thing for breasts, so..."
"I don't fancy you, you great pillock."
"I know that," George said, laughing and sitting back. "Just making light of the situation. I hate to sound blasé here, Harry, but so what?"
Harry faltered. "But... I'm not going to get back with Ginny, and I might end up with a bloke, and..."
"Harry, chill! Seriously, you're going to give yourself a heart attack."
Harry watched in silence as George stood and left the little office, returning a few minutes later with two cups of tea.
"Mum always said tea is best in stressful situations," he said with an apologetic smile. "You think I'd be sick of it with the amount that's been forced down my neck recently, but... Well. In regards to your little gay crisis, I think tea is the best solution."
"Ron and Ginny will go mental."
George cocked his head to the side. "Maybe. Maybe not. Ron's your best mate. If he's gone seven years and not noticed that you've got homosexual tendencies, then he's really not been paying attention. Gin is... well... Ginny wasn't ever for you, Harry."
"What do you mean?" he asked, sipping his too sweet tea.
"You've spent so much of your life doing stuff for other people. Over and over again, and it must be exhausting. The thing you had with Ginny was never for you, it was for her. She wanted you, so you gave her you - if that makes sense.
"What I mean is, if you've found someone who's just for you, and no one else, well, I think you deserve a bit of that."
"Hmm."
"Fred used to say that there was no such thing as being straight or gay, we're just all on this sliding scale of bisexuality. You could spend your whole life thinking you like girls, then one guy who you might have known for years comes along and changes everything."
There was a sparkle in George's eye, a gentle smirk tugging at his lips that Harry interpreted as the other man knowing far, far more than he was letting on.
"Oh fuck, you know who I'm talking about, don't you?" Harry said wearily.
George burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, mate, I really am. But your face is just precious."
"Please don't tell anyone?"
"Tell anyone what?"
"Thanks, George."
"Any time. Now get out behind my counter. Your face sells funny stuff faster than anything else I've come across in three years in this business."
Harry snorted and put his empty mug down on the desk, accepting the dismissal as what it really was - George's acceptance. One Weasley sibling down, he thought grimly. Five more to go.