A/N: For MauraLee88, who's baked goods are almost as delicious as her support.
July 2002
Charlie stayed on the sofa for two weeks and left before Harry's birthday.
To his credit, Harry didn't ask about Patrick again. He was desperate to know what Charlie's partner thought about the fact that he was sleeping in his ex's flat, or if the other man thought they were having sex.
They weren't.
That's not to say that it wasn't hard for them both to get up every morning, eat breakfast together, spend every day together wandering around Camden market or London Zoo or Brick Lane... Or sit in Hyde Park or wander down to the Thames...
When Harry would later look back on those two weeks he saw it as time when their relationship changed. It was time spent realising that Charlie was his friend. Not just an ex, not the man who gave him his first kiss and took his virginity in return, the first person who he'd ever fallen in love with. Someone who he could argue about Quidditch with and debate politics, both Muggle and wizarding. They knew so much about each other's lives it seemed almost impossible that they could ever be wrenched apart.
It was this that finally cracked something inside Harry open. He let little bits of whatever it was that had been exposed seep out from within him, even as he knew that he had no name for whatever it was. It left him too raw, too vulnerable.
After all of the soul searching that had been forced upon him, it was the simple fact of being able to still be friends with Charlie after everything that broke him.
And he learned that from rock bottom, it was true - the only way really was up.
xXx
In stark contrast to his twenty first birthday, Harry spent his twenty second at a 'curry and a pint night' at a local Muggle pub. It was quiet, the food was good, and a handful of friends turned up to celebrate with him.
Friends who stopped him from having more than two pints during the entire evening, who watched him carefully for any signs of physical or mental distress.
"You're looking really skinny," Hermione said, frowning at his bare arms, propped up by his elbows on the edge of the table. Dark wood, scarred with use. Skinny arms, scarred with his past.
"Am I?"
"Yeah. Are you eating?"
No.
But he wasn't about to tell her that. Instead he shrugged.
When it was time to go and place their food order at the bar she wouldn't let him hand over the money for his meal, insisting that the birthday boy shouldn't have to pay. So when his food turned up and he was presented with a huge serving, plus poppadoms and naan bread and onion bajis and samosas... he wasn't all that surprised.
"You're turning into your mother-in-law," Harry said. Smirked.
Hermione glared at him but, to her credit, refused to rise to his veiled insult.
It was only when he started to eat that he realised how starving he was.
xXx
As the night grew later people left in drips and drabs... George and Angelina left within minutes of each other and everyone pretended that they didn't know they were going home together. Fred watched, amused rather than upset that his brother was now secretly dating his former girlfriend.
Luna waved sparkly silver nails at them and flitted off to go dance the night away somewhere, Ginny left with her and Neville looked longingly at the heavy oak door long after it had closed. Harry wondered who he was pining after.
Seamus had had to leave after only a pint to go back to the club and Dean had to work early the next morning, so left after the meal.
That left Harry, Ron and Hermione and Fred sat in a booth that faced out onto the rest of the pub, pint glasses lined up in front of them like sentries.
"Need to piss," Harry muttered and slid off the end of the bench. "Want another one?"
Hermione glared at him.
"Fine, fine," he said, holding his hands up in defence. "I'll get a coke."
"I'll have one too," she said with a smile.
"Yeah," Ron said. Harry rolled his eyes.
"I'm the one that's not supposed to be getting off my face, mate, not you. Cider?"
"Please," Ron said, relieved, and Hermione smacked him on the arm. "What? He offered."
Fred nodded for his regular and Harry made a quick stop in the loo before going back to the bar. It was still fairly buzzing, despite the fact that they were getting on to 11pm, but Harry liked that. When the night wound down he'd be going back to the flat alone.
"Two pints of Thatchers Gold," Harry said to the guy behind the bar. "And two cokes, please."
"That'll be six quid please, mate," the guy said. "And your phone number?"
Harry laughed as he handed over a note. "Really?"
The man was tall, rangy, with light brown hair and dark brown eyes that he framed with thick rimmed glasses. There was a dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose and he wore a loose black t-shirt over jeans. When he poured the pints, the long muscles in his forearms gently sculpted his skin. He was cute, Harry decided.
"Well," the guy said, "I figure one of a few things could happen." The till pinged open as Cute Barman processed the transaction. "You could be straight, or taken, or generally offended. Or, you could be gay, and single, and interested."
"I'm gay," Harry said cautiously, pocketing the change.
"One point," Cute Barman said, smiling and leaning forward with his hands braced on the polished wood.
"And I'm single." The word almost caught in his throat, but he said it.
"Two points..."
"And I'm... fuck. Really quite screwed up."
Cute Barman shrugged. "Aren't we all, love." He extended his hand. "Hi. I'm Will."