Part II

The morning after Harry had arrived, Dean found his eyes kept wandering over the guest house as he sipped his coffee on the back porch. He assumed that Harry was awake, but wasn't about to go knocking on the door. After how quickly Harry had left the night before, Dean honestly couldn't guess how much he'd see of his guest. He shouldn't have asked about Ron and Hermione. It wasn't his place, and Dean had realized as much almost instantly. Still, he couldn't help but be tempted to go see if Harry wanted breakfast. It had felt good to have a meal with someone again—not a group, just one person. Willing himself to leave Harry be, Dean pulled a tennis ball from his pocket.

Leo struck a regal pose as noticed the ball. His ears were perfectly straight, and he didn't move a muscle. Dean let the ball fly and watched as the dog raced after it. The game of fetch lasted for only a few moments before Leo lost all interest in the game. Instantly, Dean knew that a car must be coming down the drive. Visitors were the only thing more fun for Leo than a tennis ball. Leo ran around to the front and began barking excitedly.

Dean made his way around the porch just as his sister-in-law, Evie, was unbuckling her daughter, Bella, from her car seat. He smiled and leaned against the railing. "Don't you own a phone?" he teased.

Evie grinned widely. "But then I wouldn't get to surprise you."

"Dee!" Bella squealed happily from her mother's arms.

"There's my girl!" He sat down in one of the wooden chairs on the porch and held out his arms for her. Bella had become to heavy for him to manage while he stood, but the child didn't seem to mind as she thrust herself into his chest. Dean brushed aside a fall of golden curls from the four year old's face. "You look like a little princess today."

Bella giggled and held out a DVD case. "I brought Ariel!"

"She's been watching The Little Mermaid over and over for the last week," Evie explained. "But at least it's not Nemo. I don't think I could take that one much more."

Dean laughed. "I didn't mind that one."

"Neither did I, the first thousand times." Evie pulled herself up and sat on the railing. "Mom wants to know why you haven't been to Sunday breakfast in a while."

"I've just had a lot to do lately," Dean lied, looking away.

Sunday breakfast was a weekly family tradition that Ethan's parents hosted. The Kerwins were a tight-knit bunch, and they made no mistaking that Dean was still one of them. While it was comforting at times to spend a morning completely surrounded by Ethan's loving family, at other times it was downright torturous. Ethan's brother's laugh or his mother's eyes would remind Dean too much of Ethan, and he couldn't take it. It was like the hole in his chest reopened and he couldn't think or breathe at those moments. He knew that he could never explain how much it hurt to be around them to any of the family, but he also knew that lying wouldn't work forever

Evie nodded. He wasn't sure she believed his excuse, but she didn't question it either. "We miss you."

"I miss you too," Dean told her as he did his best not to meet her gaze.

"Who that?" Bella asked pointing to Harry who had appeared silently on the porch.

"Good morning, Harry," Dean said trying to push aside the emotions building in his chest. "I'd like you to meet Evie Kerwin, my sister-in-law, and her daughter, Bella. This is Harry. We went to school together, and Harry is staying the guest house."

Evie smiled and offered her hand. "Ah another Hogwarts graduate. Good to meet you."

"You too," Harry said as he took her hand. He eyed her carefully as he obviously wasn't sure how much she knew—if anything about magic.

"Our youngest sister went to Salem," she explained. "So what brings you across the pond?"

Harry shifted uneasily. "Just a bit of relaxation."

"I brought Ariel!" Bella chimed in holding up the DVD case. "Do you like Ariel?"

"I've never seen it," he answered shyly.

"Can we watch Ariel, Uncle Dee?"

Dean chuckled. "Ask your mother."

Evie shook her head. "Sorry, Bitty Belle. You can watch Ariel in the car. We need to go see Daddy at work."

Bella stuck out her bottom lip and began to rev up for a good cry. "Momma! I wanna watch Ariel!"

"You can watch Ariel in car, honey." Evie reached for the little one who was still crying. "Anyway, nice to meet you, Harry. Dean, call me later on."

Once Harry and Dean were left alone, Dean hauled himself up out of the chair. "How did you sleep?" he asked.

Harry shrugged. "All right. I don't usually sleep too much."

"Can I get you a coffee?"

Harry followed Dean into the kitchen and remained silent as Dean ground the beans. Dean studied his guest from the corner of his eye. Harry really hadn't changed all that much from school. Not only had he aged very little, but he still had that air of discomfort and detachment that had shrouded him at Hogwarts. While Harry had always had Ron and Hermione around him, he had never really seemed part of anything. It was like the weight that he carried created a barrier between Harry and the rest of the world. Dean had always assumed that once the dark lord was vanquished that Harry would relax, but if anything it seemed like he had more on his shoulders. A divorce could do that to you, Dean supposed.

"How far is it to town?" Harry asked softly.

"About ten miles," Dean replied as he handed Harry a steaming cup. "I can drive you in if you like. I need to do a little grocery shopping myself."

"Thanks." Harry took a sip of coffee.

"About last night," Dean began, "I didn't mean to pry. I didn't mean to be rude."

"You weren't. I'm sorry I left like that. I guess I am just trying to get my head together after all of this," Harry said.

After they finished their coffee, Dean and Harry climbed into Dean's black civic. Dean noticed the subtle look that Harry gave to the hand controls located near the steering wheel, but neither commented on it. There had been enough show and tell for the past day. The drive into town was near silent except for the sound of the rain hitting the windshield that had started to come down mere moments after they left the drive.

Bailston was a quaint ocean town. It wasn't exactly a tourist destination, but in the summer there was a modest earning to be made from the antiques hunters and second honeymooners that passed through. Mostly the residents here had settled into a way of life that hadn't changed much over the years. There were still many fishermen who scraped by on their lobster boats, but every year it seemed like more of the youthful Bailston natives moved on to make a living elsewhere. Despite the worn edges, Dean had come to love Bailston. The people were warm if a bit weathered, and there was an almost tangible sense of determination that emanated within the town.

"Did you eat breakfast?" Dean asked as they turned down Main Street.

"No," Harry answered. "Is there some place decent to grab a bite?"

"Yeah. Better than decent actually," Dean told him with a smile. He parked the car in front of a dilapidated looking building with slightly flaking white paint. A wooden sign with "Frannie's Cafe" painted on it in red hung above the steps.

Harry wasn't really hungry, but he decided that it wasn't a bad idea to sit down with Dean again. He couldn't say why, but it really mattered to him that he fix whatever uneasiness there was between them. As he followed Dean into the cafe, he began to wonder if perhaps he'd made a mistake. The inside of the cafe was nearly as rundown as the outside. The red vinyl stools in front of the counter were taped over in places and the decor was quite dated. Harry took a seat across from Dean in a booth.

"Do you come here often?" Harry asked.

Before Dean could answer a waitress with cheaply dyed red hair and bright pink lipstick appeared as quickly as if she had apparated to their table. "The usual, Dean?" she prompted through her gum chewing. At Dean's nod, she turned to Harry. "How about you, sweet cheeks?"

"Er...I don't know yet. I haven't looked at the menu," Harry said, trying to avoid the appraising stare she was giving him.

"Leave him alone, Flo," Dean told her with a chuckle.

The waitress—Flo blew a giant bubble and shook her head. "I shoulda known you British boys just can't handle tough questions this early."

"Flo here is a local celebrity," Dean said to Harry in mock secrecy. "She can cook pancakes, wait tables, chew gum, and irritate the customers all at the same time."

"I'm just a regular old superhero," Flo snorted. "Want me to read the menu to your friend here while I'm at it? Not like I got much else to do."

Harry laughed. "In that case, I won't take up your time, Flo. I'll just have what he's having."

"Comin' right up, twiggy." She cast him one last glance before disappearing behind the counter.

"Don't mind her," Dean said once she was gone. "She isn't the friendliest old girl, but the food here is the best around."

"I'll find out soon enough." He paused. "Not that I can change my mind now, but what did I just order?"

"The five alarm breakfast burrito with extra jalapenos and salsa," Dean replied lightly.

Harry tried to hide his grimace. His stomach was still recovering from the chili the night before. "Sounds great," he muttered.

"I know how much you love hot food," Dean said with a mischievous twinkle in his dark eyes. "Actually, I usually get two scrambled eggs, bacon, potatoes, and blueberry french toast."

Breakfast turned out to be a meal that could easily have filled the tables in Hogwarts' great hall. Harry wasn't quite sure how anyone could eat all of it—let alone someone as thin as Dean was. He watched as Dean began to tuck into the heaping plates with gusto and decided to do the same. The service might be less than pleasant, but the food was as good as it was plentiful. Without even realizing it, Harry found he had devoured nearly half the plate in front of him. He slowed his pace a bit and began to pay a bit of attention to his surroundings.

Dean, he soon noticed, was well liked in Bailston. As locals filtered in and out of the diner, they all stopped and said hello. Dean greeted one and all with a warm smile and a brief chat. Most of them seemed curious about Harry, but only a few came up for introductions. Harry was beginning to understand why Dean liked the area so much. The people were friendly, the atmosphere was relaxed, and there was an almost quaint quality to the town. Harry could almost see himself in a place like this.

When the bill was presented, Harry made a move to take it, but Dean was quicker. "I've got it," he said leaving no room for argument. "I invited you, after all."

"Thanks," Harry replied.

They stepped out into the street, and Harry assumed that Dean wouldn't want to walk to the store. Instead, Dean moved along toward the end of the block. Dean's pace was quite slow, and it was difficult for Harry to keep from forging on ahead. Harry wasn't sorry to be walking. Aside from the novelty of walking about without being hunted by reporters, it was a nice day. Though it was still a little gray out, it was warmer than it had been the day before. Harry breathed in deeply as they walked. The scent of the ocean was a bit stronger than it was at Dean's as there was no pine in the air to mask it.

Dean grinned. "That is one of the nicer things about this town."

Harry nodded. "How long have you lived here?"

"A little over seven years," Dean replied. "I lived in New York before that, and when Ethan told me what he wanted to do with the land that he owned here, I wasn't exactly enthusiastic about the move. Now, though, I don't think I could picture myself anywhere else."

"I don't think I've ever said that about anywhere," Harry admitted. "Maybe Hogwarts when I was in first or second year."

"It was all a bit much to take, wasn't it?" Dean asked quietly.

"To put it lightly."

Dean sighed. "Somehow we always end up having such dark conversations." Dean shook his head and smiled. "You know what I was thinking about yesterday before you arrived? Do you remember when you flew after Neville's Remembrall?"

"I do," Harry confirmed with a slight smile. "I thought I'd be expelled that day."

The two reminisced as they walked the rest of the way to the store. Harry found himself laughing a great deal more than he had in quite some time. The feeling of ease between them was almost foreign—foreign but not unwelcome in the least. It was somewhere along Main Street when Harry began to notice something about his host. He realized that Dean had the most animated brown eyes Harry had ever seen. As he spoke about their school years his eyes would light up with a warmth that made its way into Harry's. Unexpectedly, Harry found himself fighting the urge to kiss Dean. Hiding his discomfort, Harry tried his best to put the thought aside.

Harry was not bothered in the least by his desire to kiss another man. It wasn't like it would be the first time. Before he'd married, Harry had experimented a bit. In a way he'd always known that he was bisexual, but it had taken a few nights secretly frequenting gay Muggle nightclubs to confirm it. Then again, it hadn't really mattered then. He'd known he would marry Ginny after she graduated. It had simply been a fact. In his mind, any inclination he felt towards men would be something he kept to himself. But what now? He wasn't with Ginny anymore. That didn't give him the right to ogle his host and friend.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Dean asked.

Harry blinked. He had been so caught up in his own mind that he hadn't realized they had stopped. He felt heat rising to his cheeks. "Just lost in thought, I guess," he admitted as he stepped inside the building.

The two men returned with several bags, and Dean had offered to make dinner—nothing spicy—for both of them. Harry was still in a haze as he helped Dean carry their purchases to the kitchen. In truth, he hadn't heard more than a word or two as they strolled through the aisles of the grocery store, and he couldn't quite recall what all Dean had piled into the cart. It seemed that the more he tried not to think inappropriate thoughts about Dean, the more he did think inappropriate thoughts about Dean. After helping Dean unpack the bags, Harry decided it was best to put a bit of space between them. He collected the few things he had bought and excused himself.

Once he was safely away from his host, Harry found that his thoughts didn't seem to stray too far from Dean. His eyes kept drifting to the main house even as he struggled to keep them on the page of a novel he had brought. How was it that the raging hormones of a teenage boy hadn't drawn him to Dean sooner? In all the time he'd known Dean, he'd never mentally stripped the man naked, but now it was all he could do to remind himself that Dean was in fact wearing clothes. It didn't take long before Harry gave up on his book and got in the shower for a long soak and a good wank.

Having Harry in the guest house was not a good idea, Dean soon realized. Harry Potter was too much of a distraction. Two years of celibacy hadn't been all that difficult to maintain until Harry came into his life for two bloody days. As Dean cleaned himself off, he let out an aggravated groan. This wasn't the first time he'd jerked off while thinking of Harry. In school, Dean had been something of a master at stealing glances at the green-eyed boy while he was changing. He could still remember how delectable Harry's slender body had been, and from the looks of things his physique had only improved with age. Dean could imagine Harry's strong arms around him. Shaking away the images, Dean pulled himself up. He had to stop this. Harry was straight. And even if he was gay, it wasn't like he would be interested in Dean.

Dean had come to terms with his MS. He didn't have it bad at all, and he knew it. For the most part, his limitations were more annoyances than actual disabilities. Dean was able to live independently and there was very little that he found he was unable to do. Still Dean was well aware what most people saw when they saw him. He wasn't the type of man most other gay men (or even straight women) pictured themselves with. In his darker moments, he wondered what Evan would think if he could see him now. Evan had known that Dean had MS when they met—it wasn't a secret—but back then Dean hadn't really suffered many of the worst symptoms yet.

Thinking like this won't get me anywhere, Dean thought firmly. It won't change anything.

Dean's mood lightened considerably as he moved about his kitchen. Cooking was one of Dean's favorite things to do, but it was something he didn't do too often. He saw little point in making an elaborate meal for one. Harry's stay gave him a reason to really pull out the stops and not feel so lonely. Dinner would be grilled chicken and caramelized leeks over penne with vodka sauce and roasted red peppers. Dean even made a peanut butter cup pie—a recipe of his sister-in-law Erika's that he been dying to try. As he cooked, Dean couldn't help but smile. The image of Evan leaning on the counter watching him cook was burned into his mind, and there were times that he swore Evan was standing there still.

Harry returned just as Dean was finishing the chicken. He breathed deeply as he crossed the room. "Smells great," he said contentedly. "Anything I can do?"

"You can set the table, if you like. There isn't much left to do really," Dean told him honestly.

"I was never a great cook. I just hope I don't get too spoiled before I go home," Harry commented as he took the plates that Dean handed him.

Dean couldn't stop the pang of hurt that came as he thought of Harry leaving. He looked away. "You shouldn't say things like that until you actually taste my cooking," he joked.

When the meal was on the table however, even Dean was impressed by what he had managed to make. Harry ate thirds of nearly everything, and by the time the pie was being cut, he let out an overly full moan. Dean couldn't stop himself from laughing a little as he watched Harry's eyes widen at the chocolatey, peanut buttery confection before him. How Harry managed to eat as much as he had was a mystery. "I won't be offended if you don't want it," Dean assured him through his mirth.

Harry shook his head and put a heaping forkful into his mouth. "This is absolutely delicious. I never knew you could cook like this."

"Wasn't exactly something I did much of at school," Dean acknowledged. "I didn't really cook a whole lot until I was living in New York. My mum was a great cook and I started to try to copy some of the things she made for me growing up. Before I knew it, I was buying cookbooks. These days, I swap recipes with Evan's mother and sisters pretty regularly."

"I did a lot of cooking at my relatives' home, and I think that's why I don't really like to do it. I mean, I am proficient at it, but not good." Harry pushed away his plate. "Sorry, I just can't eat another bite."

Dean smiled. "I knew you had to have a limit. It's all right."

"Yeah, everyone has their limits, I guess," Harry said cryptically. He was giving Dean a rather odd look—one he had been giving him all day.

Feeling a tad self conscious, Dean stood and began to clear away the dishes. He had made it a few steps from the table when he felt a rather familiar tinge starting in his knee. Of all the rotten luck, he thought bitterly as he reached out to grab hold of the counter. His hand slipped as his legs began to jerk beneath him. Dean closed his eyes and prepared himself for the eminent hard landing awaiting him. Instead, he found himself wrapped in strong arms. Opening his eyes, he stared up into emerald eyes.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked.

Dean fought the wave of overwhelming embarrassment coming over him. "Fine," he ground out. "Just a muscle spasm. Happens every now and again."

Harry helped Dean back into a seat, but didn't draw away completely. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No. It will pass on its own," Dean replied.

"I don't know how you manage."

Dean shrugged. "Not like I have much choice. You of all people should understand that."

That seemed to give Harry pause. "Guess you're right."

Once Dean's spasm had calmed, he reached for his crutch and began to stand back up. Harry still seemed reluctant to leave Dean's side. "I'm fine," Dean repeated, hoping that Harry would take the hint.

Suddenly, Harry's cheeks began to flush. "I...I just..." Harry's voice trailed off. Without warning, he closed the gap between them and pulled Dean into a passionate kiss.

Dean wasn't expecting it. For a moment, he was quite convinced that he had hit his head when he'd fallen and this was all a wonderful dream. It wasn't. Harry's lips were soft and warm and quite real. Dean parted opened his mouth and let Harry's tongue slide in. Then as quickly as it began, it was over. Harry pulled back.

"God, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have," Harry murmured as he backed away. Leaving a confused Dean sitting in his kitchen, Harry made a hasty retreat.