A/N: Wow. Long break there. Sorry about that. I very much had a picture in my mind of how I wanted this chapter to be, and it took a while to get there. Life is a little crazy for me right now but I'll update again as soon as I can. Thanks to everyone who is still following!

Over a period of a few weeks Harry started to unpack Luna's boxes and integrated his parents' belongings into the home he shared with Charlie. Their wands, for example, now lived on his bedside table, just inches away from where he kept his own every night when he went to bed. Photographs made their way onto the mantle place. Clothes were unpacked, admired, very carefully cleaned of their dust and repacked.

After a cursory glance Harry placed the red leather journal to one side. It was clearly his father's and covered the time period from his OWL qualifications to just after he'd left Hogwarts. It wasn't just a personal journal – it contained what seemed like revision notes as well and the like and Harry was keen to dedicate time to looking through it properly, not just skimming the contents.

So it was some time later when he finally got to reading it.

And discovered something amazing.

He devoured the book in the space of a day, skipping nothing and quickly learning how to interpret his father's untidy scrawl. There were passages dedicated to his mother, others dedicated to his own parents and best friends.

And whole sections of the book detailing how they created the Marauder's Map, lines upon lines of information about how they'd mapped the school, stolen documents from the Hogwarts library to help them, taught the parchment how to recognise anyone who walked the hallways or grounds. Instructions and ideas on how to keep it safe, keep it concealed. How to ensure it was never stolen from them. How to keep the enchantments it contained secret.

James had written his desire to pass it down to his son, one day. A son James imagined would be best friends with Sirius and Remus and Peter's children.

Harry marked the pages with scraps of paper, knowing that he would take this to Fred and George as soon as he could, to share with them the triumph of learning the origins of their favourite aid to mischief-making.

He turned more pages.

And started to read how James and Sirius had started to study yet more stolen books. Books that would teach them how to become Animagus.

xXx

"What are you reading?" Charlie asked when he arrived home, finding Harry sat on the sofa devouring the journal like it held the secrets to his past. It probably did, he thought.

"My dad's journal," Harry said. When he looked up Charlie recognised a brightness in his partner's eyes that he hadn't seen in a long time. It felt like a very long time. "He recorded how they became Animagus."

"Wow," Charlie said. He sat down on the arm of the sofa, ran his hand over the back of Harry's head. "Have you learned anything?"

"Yeah," Harry laughed. "My dad was nearly as badass as I was."

"Still are," Charlie corrected him, smiling too.

"They just – fuck. Stole shit, snuck around – this was after they'd created the Marauder's Map, so they had that handy – this has all the details on how they made that, too, wanna know?"

"Animagus?" Charlie prompted gently.

"Yeah, sorry. They had Dad's invisibility cloak, and they stole McGonagall's books right out of her office. Well, Sirius did it while Dad distracted her about homework. He wrote it all in here."

"Did he say which book? Maybe she would lend it to you."

Harry nodded. "I thought of that. Sent Lady up to her with a message asking."

"Good plan. Anything else?"

"Sort of… it's impressions I'm getting more than the actual words. They were really good students, you know, they all got good grades, Dad and Sirius and Remus anyway." And his refusal to mention Pettigrew was telling. "Plus Dad was going out with Mum and Sirius was going out with someone called Frances. And they played Quidditch. And they were doing all this in their spare time. I've got no idea how they managed it."

"They were intelligent men."

"Yeah," Harry said. "It's weird. I've never felt this close to my dad before, and it's awesome. But I'm also learning exactly what I've missed all these years he wasn't here."

Charlie smiled and ran his fingers through his hair, then gently took the book from Harry and set it on the table next to the sofa. Harry still had issues with asking for affection; fortunately for him, Charlie had something of a sixth sense and knew when it was time to draw his partner into his arms.

It was that time of day when afternoon starts to seep into evening, not quite yet dusk, but when the sky starts to feel heavier with impending darkness. They laid on the wide sofa, arms and legs tangled together and slick mouths exploring what they already knew; the angle of a jaw, the taste of a collarbone, the deep, intimate heat of the other's tongue.

After a long, long time of kissing, just kissing, Harry slid his hand under the soft fabric of Charlie's shirt and slowly started to push it up. With a smile Charlie pulled away, ran his nose up the side of Harry's.

In this light Charlie's eyes looked dark, night sky blue and even without his glasses Harry could appreciate the beauty in them.

"You wanna go to bed?"

Harry nodded.

Although he usually hated being carried anywhere, it was easier for this short distance to let Charlie heft him up into his arms to take him through to the bedroom rather than try and get the crutches and splints, or the Firebolt.

And Charlie would lay him down on the bed with upmost care.

"Can I try something?" Charlie asked, his voice low, rough.

"Of course."

Charlie reached for his wand and held himself slightly above the bed for a moment, muttered an incantation that drew Harry's hands together completely against his will, lifted them up, over his head and bound them there.

"Kinky," Harry said with lopsided smirk.

Charlie laughed, although his voice was slightly shaky. "I want you," he said, his eyes darkening. "And I want all of you."

Had his arms been free Harry would have reached for him, then, so maybe it was his eyes that conveyed the desperation for the weight of another man on his body. Charlie didn't disappoint.

The rest of their clothes were stripped hastily and discarded around the room, then Charlie settled himself in the space between Harry's spread legs. With the edge of desperation still brewing between them Charlie's lips crashed down to Harry's again, asking, demanding, taking.

With slick fingers Charlie gently explored Harry's hole, twisting and pushing and drawing exquisite sounds from the throat of his lover, until there was no use, he couldn't wait any longer, and slowly… slowly… pushed his cock inside.

For Harry, there was always that initial feeling that it was wrong. His body just wasn't meant to do this, he wasn't built to accept another person inside him. That faded away when he looked, just looked at Charlie and realised the same thing every time - he was built to accept this person inside him. Maybe that was why no other man ever had been.

With his arms restrained above his head Harry searched for lips instead and the infinite variety of kisses they could exchange. He needed reassurance first and Charlie knew this, pressing soft, warm lips to his over and over, tentative brushes over cheeks and his throat and his neck.

Harry was loud, he knew this, even the rush of blood in his ears seemed loud right then but he couldn't care... the feeling was too intense not to be vocalised.

It took less time than it usually did for both men to get right to the edge, the combination of the light bondage, Harry's turn to bottom, and the built up emotion of the day winding their bodies tight, expanding the need for each other into something more, an undefinable more…

Harry was used to waiting, being the one to state 'you first' when they made love. And even though there were no steadfast rules, he'd always felt it was common courtesy to let the bottom come first. He tugged experimentally at his wrists, decided to leave them there rather than release a hand to stroke himself, and instead concentrated on the feel of Charlie moving inside him. When he thought about it, it was beautiful.

Charlie shuddered, pressed his lips to Harry's neck and noticeably changed the rhythm of his hips to shorter thrusts, silently begging his partner to come with him. Twisting in Charlie's arms, Harry sought out soft lips, and kissed through his orgasm.

While catching their breath, hearts hammering, Charlie held on tight.

When Harry's hands skimmed down the expanse of Charlie's wide back, he wasn't altogether surprised. The spell he'd bound Harry's wrists with was strong enough to subdue dragons. He hadn't even felt Harry release himself from it.

"Do you need me to move?" Charlie mumbled into Harry's neck.

"No," Harry said softly. "I quite like you there, actually."

"You're better at cleaning-up spells that I am," Charlie said, somewhat hopefully, and Harry snorted. But it was true, he couldn't deny it, and sent a too-cold spell towards their mashed together, sticky groins with a smirk.

Charlie shivered and rolled off him. "Thanks for that."

"You're welcome."

Wanting the security of Harry's body curled around his own, Charlie rolled to his side and waited patiently while Harry rearranged his body and uncooperative legs.

"Charlie?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"And…"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

A sigh of deep contentment. "I love you too."