October 26th, 2002

Ben shows up at three as planned, with flowers and more bags filled with goodies, because he's a fucking gift that keeps on giving. The flowers have become a sort of tradition ever since Harry presented him with the first bouquet, and lately he always has some at home, spread out all over the place in mugs and bottles, because he doesn't own so many vases.

For being such a magnificent specimen, Ben looks adorably terrified when his gaze is drawn to the four-year-old sprawled on the floor. He shouldn't be; Teddy jumps to his little feet and immediately flies towards him. "Did you bring more Lego?" he asks, struggling to keep his eagerness in check. The pieces from the set he's been given before are already arranged into the helicopter.

He's a blue-eyed redhead today. Andy's made sure multiple times that he understands that he'll have to keep looking that way every time he sees Ben from now on—acknowledging at the same time that Harry's boyfriend is here to stay, which has been nice of her—but Teddy's been adamant about this face, so they didn't try to dissuade him.

"Teddy," Harry chides him gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. "We introduce ourselves first."

The kid puffs up. "I'm Teddy. This is Uncle Harry," he adds considerately, apparently deciding to introduce everyone just in case.

Ben beams, already charmed. "Hi, Teddy." He shoots Harry an amused look. "Hi, Uncle Harry. I'm Ben."

"I know," Teddy scoffs impatiently. "You brought Lego. Do you have more?"

Harry sighs. "How about we thank Ben for the other Lego first?" he suggests.

Teddy rolls his eyes. "Thank you," he mumbles, clearly sulking that Ben's been here for the whole two minutes, and he still hasn't gotten any Lego.

"As a matter of fact, I do," Ben reveals before opening one of his many bags. Quite a few of them seem to contain Lego. He must have really taken it to heart when Harry told him that Teddy absolutely loved his gift.

The boy grabs his hand and starts to drag him towards the living room. Ben shoves the flowers at Harry, who grabs them reflectively before being abandoned in the hallway. He looks down at them—they're lovely, purple tulips today; Harry can't wait for them to open up—listening to Teddy tearing into new bags and Ben making appreciative noises over his helicopter on the other side of the wall. Alright then.

He glances into the room with a hesitant half-smile. This is getting so very serious. Meeting Teddy is an overwhelming level of seriousness. That's the most flabbergasting part to Harry, when he watches the two of them—that it still feels kind of right. Even with everything that is wrong—with Ben not knowing what he's getting into and being sucked in blind—it's happening way faster than Harry's ever anticipated, and he's completely unable to stop it. This stinky pile of secrets lying between them should be ruining things, but it doesn't. Well, it does affect some of their interactions. It affects Harry's behaviour and his general comfort. It must affect Ben's trust to some degree. But it doesn't change the fact that they seem to fucking fit together, or whatever cheesy line is appropriate to describe that level of compatibility.

They fit in the morning, when Harry refuses to get up, and Ben lures him out of bed with coffee. They fit when they watch sitcoms, with Ben trash-talking every character and Harry always finding ways to justify them. They fit during shopping, filling the cart with a perfectly balanced amount of junk food and healthy shit. They fit in bed, what with Harry being a very good boy when properly motivated and Ben always being ready to cater to his every whim, even if that whim is to be rendered completely helpless and then ravished. They fit at night, whispering about failed expectations, their flaws and regrets, sad facts about humanity, and hopes for something to change. They fit whenever they go to a restaurant and Harry gets a wrong dish, which he doesn't care about, because he would eat literally anything, but Ben has a tendency to argue about those things to no end, so he defends Harry's right to eat what he ordered until Harry distracts him, which is very easy to do as long as it involves his tongue and a spoon. They fit together because Harry desperately needs to be loved, which must be a by-product of his miserable childhood, and Ben seems to need little else than just someone to love. They also fit because as much as Harry wants it, he's scared to death of it and would never ask for it, but Ben doesn't seem to need to be asked; he's so doting by nature, it's like breathing to him.

Once, at night, he told Harry he kind of hates that he always gives so much of himself because it invites people to walk all over him. There was a hidden, maybe not even cognisant question underneath it: 'Are you worth it?' Sometimes, Harry would like to think so, but other times, he reckons he can't be. How could he, with the amount of complications his very existence raises? Still, the confession itself was quite self-reflective of Ben and overall correct. It seems to be his paradox: he's very demanding towards the world, holds everyone to a high standard, and is clearly unhappy when they inevitably fall short of it. But once he decides someone is his person, they can literally get away with murder. Which gives hope for the future.

Another time, a few nights ago to be specific, he asked Harry if they were hiding. Which sounded absurd at first, because of course they weren't. Harry was about to turn it into a joke, which he's known to do, but then on second thought... he had to admit that the last month—a month! Where had that time gone?—was mostly the Harry and Ben show with a sporadic guest appearance from Zoe. For Harry, not only has keeping things private always been an obvious choice—he's still surprised that he hasn't gone with a fake identity route while setting up his brand new life—but introducing Ben to people is somewhat problematic. Ben, on the other hand, lives his life in the open and shouldn't be forced to change that.

That's what today is about. Teddy is just a warm-up; he's such a good kid, Harry is not worried about him and Ben getting along in the slightest. But later, they're going out. With people. Which is potentially disastrous.

"What's this one?" Harry's spaced out again, and when he looks up at Teddy's question, he sees them both surrounded by piles of little colourful building bricks. His smile widens, but he shakes his head at the same time. How many sets did Ben buy? He crosses the room, trying to locate an appropriate vessel for his new flowers. He needs to be careful not to step on a brick.

Merlin, he's created a monster. Or rather let Ben create one. He hasn't even gotten a kiss hello. He'd like to file a complaint.

"It's a soccer field," Ben says, taking the box gently from Teddy's hands when he can't open it.

Teddy wrinkles his nose at the picture on it. "How are they going to fly? They don't have any brooms," he points out in a way that makes it sound like it should be obvious.

Harry stiffens in the kitchen, listening closely with his back turned to them. He glances discreetly over his shoulder. Ben is frowning, but then he raises his index finger when he gets an idea. "Ah, but we've got this." He reaches for another set, which must be magic-themed. It indeed has a little witch with a flying broom. It also has...

"That's dad," Teddy announces gravely. Ben looks completely baffled. "He died."

There's some panic in his eyes, which is a completely natural response to children's boldness, but Ben pushes through it. "Yeah," he agrees softly, watching as Teddy puts the werewolf on the broom and pretends he flies along with the helicopter.

"We need mom too. With purple hair," he mumbles.

By now, Ben looks like he'd bend over backwards if it only meant making Teddy smile. He casts around desperately, already aware that he's failed in providing a Lego mini figure with purple hair and is therefore unable to present the kid with a proper representation of his dead mother. He looks very close to devastated, but he doesn't give up. "This one has white hair. We can use a marker," he suggests.

At this point Harry's abandoned his quest to put the flowers into water and focused fully on watching them. He hopes the warmth spreading inside his chest isn't a sign of an upcoming heart attack.

Teddy's eyes get big. "Can we?" he asks hopefully. Ben nods with conviction, but he seems to only now realise that he's utterly unprepared for a meeting with a four-year-old, having brought no markers. At least that's something Harry can be useful for, so he goes upstairs to get some.

The tips of Teddy's fingers are purple by the time he's finished. "There's only one broom," he complains in a tone heralding the end of the world, but he brightens quickly. "She should have a hippogriff."

"What's a hippogriff?" Ben asks obliviously. Harry keeps watching them quietly, trying not to freak out.

"It's a half eagle, half horse," Teddy explains impatiently. There's a silent 'duh' at the end of the sentence.

"Right." Ben smacks his forehead like he's saying, 'Silly me.' Then he scratches the back of his head. "We could draw it?"

"Yes," Teddy agrees decisively. So they draw a hippogriff with a purple-haired rider, but neither of them is very good at drawing, so it looks more like a sausage dog with wings and a purple stick on it. "It should have claws! But only here," Teddy points in a bossy tone, and oh boy, the sausage dog now has claws.

"Uncle Harry said you have a dog." Apparently Teddy thinks their hippogriff resembles a dog as well. "Is he friendly? Where is he?"

"Very," Ben says. "But he's also very big. I left him at home."

"I wouldn't be scared," Teddy scoffs with the conviction of a four-year-old. "How big? Is he bigger than me?"

"He's definitely bigger than you," Ben confirms easily.

Teddy's eyes brighten. "Like Uncle Harry's dogfather," he exclaims. Harry wants to facepalm, wondering who told him about it. It was probably George.

Ben raises his eyebrow at him. "Was he a dog too?"

Teddy hums in confirmation. Harry leans in. "He was most certainly a ladies man," he whispers, quiet enough for Teddy not to hear. The last thing he needs is the kid getting curious what that means.

"Is it his charm you've gotten?" Ben whispers back. Harry gives him a mocking glare.

"Can I have a sandwich?" Teddy asks out of the blue, all innocent and oblivious. Harry tries to stop Ben from jumping to his feet, but Teddy adds, "I want Uncle Ben to make it."

Harry is about to tell him that he can't order Ben around like that, but he's being waved off. Ben, who can never settle for adequate and always has to aim for the best, makes a whole plate of sandwiches, nodding seriously at every craziness that leaves Teddy's mouth, and that's when Harry knows for sure that his godson is not only trolling his boyfriend, but he's also shamelessly manipulating him.

But Ben seems to be aware of it and not mind. He doesn't say a word when Teddy takes one bite of his sandwich before abandoning it to show off the routine he last practiced in his dance class. Ben watches dutifully, then chews obediently when Teddy suggests he should have a sandwich too, and then listens intently when the kid babbles about his classes, his superpower to change his outside form, his grandma's healing abilities, his last sleepover, and how other magic kids like Scorpius and Victoire are boring because they're so little, and that he likes Annabelle much better because she has a playground. By the time Teddy dozes off across his lap on the floor, he knows more about the wizarding world than he ever should, even if he's completely unaware of it.

And Harry can't help himself, so he drops to the floor as well to get that kiss he's been deprived of over the sleeping Teddy's head.

"How am I doing?" Ben whispers with his eyes closed.

"Mm, ten out of ten," Harry mumbles into his mouth. "But you're totally letting him walk all over you. It's very bad parenting."

"Good thing I'm just a fun uncle," Ben points out. Harry hums with agreement, because his mouth is busy. He would stop kissing him if he could, really. Only he can't.

Ben is a way better man than he is, because he draws away. "He's awesome. He has some really strong opinions. And a hell of an imagination."

Harry sighs. Ben can't move with the four-year-old sprawled over him, so Harry moves to envelop his chest from behind and rests his forehead against his shoulder blade. "That's Teddy," he agrees, smirking to himself. Ben silently offers him a sandwich that he and Teddy haven't finished. Harry isn't really hungry, but Ben's put everything in it, and it looks quite mouthwatering, so he takes it. "So, how does it work? Are we married now?" he asks, because joking about it makes it a little less real.

"Don't give me ideas," Ben chides him quietly. Harry can tell from his voice that he's smiling. They sit in silence for a little while, listening to Teddy's breathing. "What's this?"

For a moment, Harry isn't sure what he's asking, but he's looking straight at Teddy's left wrist. He would bet his arm that the bracelet was supposed to be charmed to be invisible to muggles. He'd cast a detection spell at it, but he's too busy freaking out. Since Ben can very obviously see it, then yeah, it does look a little strange. Harry's always thought that it resembles a hard, metal collar too much, which is completely unnecessary—it's already charmed so that Teddy can't take it off.

"It was his mother's," he lies in panic. Ben hums with curiosity.

He's saved by one of his wards vibrating softly, signalling that someone's apparated nearby. Not a minute passes before the doorbell rings. Andy sounds almost as tired as Teddy looks and politely refuses when Harry offers tea.

She takes a yawning Teddy from Harry. "Cissy sends her best. She says you could come by sometime and not only stay locked with her son in the basement." It sounds like she's quoting her sister.

Ben raises his eyebrows. "What are you doing with Cissy's son in the basement?" he asks in a tone that is not suspicious at all.

Harry gives Andy a betrayed look. What kind of undermining is that? "Blowing stuff up, mostly," he forces a joke. "Can you carry him?" he asks to change the subject.

Andy glares at him. "I'm old, not frail." The way she handles Teddy, she most definitely isn't. "Nice meeting you, Ben," she adds with a kind smile.

It's already close to eight, so Harry takes a moment to transform from a home version to a club version of himself, and they're on their way. They pause one floor below to pick up Zoe, who is grumbling about being at work and not meeting Teddy. They are going to a place that is too far away, most likely very expensive, and probably pretty mad, considering Ash has chosen it. They take a cab, and Zoe sits up front so Ben can caress Harry's hand during the entire ride because he knows it's going to be hard for him to be partying for the first time since he's stopped drinking. Harry, in the meantime, is trying to decide if he should smoke twice as much to divert his attention or not smoke at all, because it will only make him crave alcohol more. Ben opts for the second option, unsurprisingly.

Nathan is already waiting for them outside, looking out of place and rather unremarkable. He's very blond, more dirty blond than Malfoy platinum blond, blue-eyed, and full of boy-next-door vibes.

"Hey, he's actually real," he remarks, following Harry's approach with his eyes.

Zoe smacks his arm. "I told you he's real."

"You could have been in on the ruse," he points out reasonably before turning to Harry. "You're famous already."

You have no idea, buddy, Harry thinks. "In the flesh," he jokes, leaning against Ben's chest when his arms close around his waist.

"When have I ever made up a person?" he huffs before nuzzling Harry's ear. "Let's look for your folks?"

"Well, they're in here somewhere," Harry mutters, glancing around the considerable crowd in front of the entrance. He strides towards it and grins at the security guard with Ben still glued to his back. They must look hot, because they're let in without a word, and Zoe and Nathan slip in after them. Inside, there's even more of a madhouse. A colourful, queer, sex-dripping madhouse. They stand out of the way, and Harry searches for Ollie because he's the tallest, but instead, after a while, he finds Jared with all his tattoos. The rest is unsurprisingly with him. Harry waves, but they don't see him.

"What do you want?" Ben shouts over what sounds like Daft Punk.

Harry actually takes a moment to think about it. "Something with pineapple!" He doesn't have to specify that it needs to be virgin. Ben knows.

"Do you think this place has beer?" Nathan asks, looking around sceptically.

Ben rolls his eyes. "I'm sure it does."

Zoe scoffs. "You're all pussies. Whisky sour," she orders, because apparently Ben's become their waiter. She turns to Harry with a sympathetic smile. "Except for you. You're a hero."

Harry's about to protest vehemently when Nathan bristles, "Why is he a hero?"

Zoe pats his head. "Mind your own business." She grabs both of their hands and starts to drag them towards Harry's friends. When he can't help himself but glance over his shoulder at Ben, she drawls impatiently, "You're going to survive five minutes without him."

"I wasn't..." Harry starts but quickly surrenders. Great, now on top of everything else, he's developing codependency.

Nathan is smirking and opens his mouth to say something, but that's when Ollie jumps to his feet to fly towards them. "I missed you, kiddo!" he cries out.

"Look, he's alive," Ash cheers in a much more restrained way, saluting with his drink, before his eyes fix above Harry's shoulder. "Okay, you've been duped. This guy is straight as an arrow," he deems with certainty.

Nathan frowns. "Thank you?" It's more of a question than a statement. Zoe barks a laugh.

"Stop bragging about your perfect gaydar." Jared admonishes him. "And we don't bash straight people here."

Ash scoffs. "Speak for yourself."

"Don't listen to him," Ollie reassures Nathan kindly. "Make yourself at home." He smiles very brightly, spreading his hands, so it's hard to tell if he means their table or the entire club. Nathan looks like he's just been invited to an orgy. Which he might be before the night is over.

"Now that's more your speed," Ash voices his approval, tilting his head. Harry follows his gaze to see Ben approaching them slowly with a tray, trying not to bump into anyone. "A valid choice for a twink such as yourself."

Harry frowns, disgruntled. "I'm not a twink."

Zoe snorts. "Please. You're the definition of a twink."

"Yeah, same as Andrew. Don't fight it. Just embrace it," Ollie advises seriously. Andrew doesn't look any happier about it than Harry.

"Am I a twink?" he asks Ben bluntly the moment he sits next to him.

He takes suspiciously long to answer. "Well..."

Everybody roars with laughter. "I've got chest hair!" Harry argues emphatically, which should be clear proof.

"And a bubble butt. So it's a matter of priority," Ash mumbles into his drink. Ben gives him a dirty, narrow stare. "Hey, keep him away from me. I don't do jealousy." Ben's glare turns into a beatific smile.

"Andrew doesn't," Jared announces to the table at large.

Andrew sours even more. "Aren't twinks supposed to be vapid?" he grumbles. Yeah, what a thing to say to an astrophysicist.

"That's just because they can't possibly have it all," Ollie explains patiently. "Don't get greedy."

The song changes into something funkier. Ollie engages Ben in a game of twenty questions, insisting that it's his duty to look after Harry's interests after basically adopting him as his young queer padawan. Ash scans the crowd with shark-like eyes. Harry chooses to be a total nerd and asks Andrew about the riddle he got from Dallwitz, in a roundabout way, of course. Andrew ponders it for a long time before rambling about order and chaos and the world's natural tendency to move towards states that have higher probabilities, ergo towards disorder. Zoe and Nathan are listening in with mild interest.

Harry realises he shouldn't have asked at all, because now he's tempted to get lost in his head about it—about Reparo working in reverse to what he said, and not only Reparo; he could think of many examples... but no, not here. Here he's a regular guy going clubbing with his friends, not a walking impossibility to the people around him, trying to solve the mystery of the universe. He's almost relieved when Jared gets bored with the topic and demands to see his tattoo. Everybody marvels at how good it looks and how quickly it's healed since it's been only a little over two months. Harry hides a smile.

Ash suddenly announces that he has a date.

"What, now?" Zoe asks, because she doesn't know him yet. They all follow his gaze towards... well, a twink; one that is staring back at him rather insistently. He's thin, with a mop of blond hair that looks white in this light and a cute smile. Harry can see the appeal. Ash straightens up.

"This is turning into a thing," Jared mumbles.

"It's the age," Ollie whispers theatrically. "He has a hard time coming to terms with it."

"Shut the fuck up," Ash says brightly before getting up and following the lad outside.

Ben shakes his head with a slightly judgemental look towards Harry, who raises his hands defensively. "What? I was young and stupid!"

"Honey, it wasn't even three months ago," Ollie points out helpfully.

Harry hears someone coughing in a way that sounds suspiciously like, "Twink," and then, "You've walked into that one." He doesn't argue; maybe he has. He's still of the opinion that Ash was far from the worst person to jump into this scene with. He will probably always be fond of him. He turns to grin at Ben and finds him smiling knowingly.

The music changes again to some shrill pop, and everyone's glasses are empty, so Harry takes it upon himself to get them refilled. Somehow, Nathan ends up helping him.

"I don't really go to places like this all that much," he tells him while they're waiting in line, if a horde in front of the bar can be called a line. Ben might have been quick about it because he's tall and tends to stand out, but they're two medium-sized guys in the sea of overdressed people. Nature hasn't made it easy on them. "Or to... you know, straight versions of the places like this. But neither is Ben. Not every gay guy is into it. It's just not our scene."

Harry wonders if he's being snide or if it's his imagination acting up. He lets it slide. "And what do you do?" he asks instead, meaning it in a more general sense, but it comes off as if he's asking about his profession. Only then does he realise that he doesn't know. Fuck, has Ben ever told him? He must have.

"I'm a software engineer."

"That's awesome," Harry says, and he genuinely means it.

"And you're some kind of special forces, huh?" he asks casually, like he's not fishing. "Military?" He gives Harry's slender frame a slightly doubtful look.

"Nah," he says nonchalantly.

"Intelligence?"

This time Harry takes longer to answer, and he can't help a smirk. Technically, more like counterintelligence, what with them trying to keep the muggles from finding anything out. "Nah."

"Mhm," Nathan murmurs sceptically. They put their order in and wait, sandwiched uncomfortably close together in the crowd. Nathan doesn't protest when Harry passes the barkeeper his card. "You're not drinking?" he asks, taking both his IPA and Harry's virgin piña colada.

Harry would rather not make an even worse impression on this guy by admitting to his barely managed addiction, but his curt, "No," probably doesn't do a much better job; his continued negating without any elaboration only makes him sound like a douchebag.

They get back to the table where a fierce game of choosing the hottest person in the room is taking place and are immediately demanded to share their choices.

"Well, this is awkward," Nathan says to Zoe, who is one of the very few women in a quite big radius. She pulls a face.

Harry gives Ben a speculative glance before looking around ostentatiously. "That guy," he randomly points to a Hispanic macho type dancing nearby.

Ben sighs, faking a heartbroken expression. "Well, I will have to take solace in being Ollie's first choice."

"Oh, were you?" Harry narrows his eyes dangerously at Ollie.

"I call it like I see it," he says serenely with a shrug.

"Well, you don't have to wonder anymore. I'm here," Ash cuts in, sauntering back to their table. Half of those present lets out undignified snorts.

Ben is the fastest to deliver a proper comeback. "That was kind of quick," he remarks with feigned innocence.

Ollie bursts into laughter. Ash's expression is pure offence. "I got bored," he explains nonchalantly.

"I'm pretty sure there was a character on TV that used the exact same line," Zoe muses out loud.

"Who exactly are you trying to emulate?" Harry's not sure who asks that; he's too busy laughing at Ash, who huffs haughtily, looking down his nose at them like they're unworthy of his attention. Which is very unconvincing, considering he's just bailed on the twink to get back to them.

"How sick of it are you already?" Harry asks Ben quietly while the others keep on with their pointless bantering. "Nathan said it's not really your scene."

Ben smiles until the corners of his eyes crinkle. In the lights of the club, he looks quite magical. "You're my scene."

Harry wrinkles his nose. "That's so corny."

"I think the question should be," Ben starts with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "whether it's your scene or not."

"Huh?" That's all Harry has time to say before he's being dragged to his feet and towards the dance floor, followed by enthusiastic cheering from their table.

"Is this a good time to tell you that I can't dance?" Harry shouts because the music seems much louder here. He thinks he knows the song, but it's some kind of remix.

"Sure you can," Ben dismisses him before placing his hands on his waist and starting to sway slowly. Harry tries to keep up, glancing discreetly at people surrounding them. They don't seem to do much more than just grinding against each other, and grinding against Ben is something that Harry has some experience with. The tips of his fingers wander up the solid chest and clasp behind his neck, bringing him down until their foreheads rest against each other. His thighs part naturally to fit Ben's knee between them.

"See, I told you," Ben mutters barely audibly, moving Harry's hips for him for a moment before letting his hands slide down to his arse. "You've done this before."

Yeah, only every time he rides him. Ben should have said it's basically about mimicking having sex, but in clothes. Harry just doesn't understand why it's happening in the middle of a dance floor. He's no prude, quite the opposite, but this is indecent as fuck.

He feels someone's presence behind him and a hand touching his spine briefly. "Fuck off," Ben growls, and the presence disappears. Harry closes his eyes, smiling to himself, and without much thought brings their lips together. Ben's arms are now shielding him from the rest of the world, so he's only half aware of the people gyrating around them. His head is spinning, even though he's completely sober, and his body slowly starts to loosen up, fully absorbed by the beat vibrating through the floor, by Ben's mouth, nibbling at his lower lip, and by the bulge in his jeans pressed to Harry's crotch. If this is an alternative high to the one induced by alcohol, then he's all for it. Only now he genuinely regrets they're not home to do something about it. His palm itches to go down there and squeeze, but he knows that, contrary to all evidence, it's not that kind of club, so he settles on hiding his face in the crook of Ben's neck and rubbing his pelvis against him to the rhythm of the song and the hoarse gasping next to his ear. Merlin, what a sweet torture.

The music changes abruptly, and Harry blinks. "Let's keep doing it," he mumbles giddily.

Ben grabs his hand, looking just as flushed. "In a while, or I'm going to embarrass myself."

Harry gives him a wicked grin, letting himself be led back to their table. Before they sit, he stands on his tiptoes to whisper straight into his ear, "I could get you off on that dance floor. No one would even notice."

He watches smugly as a full-body shudder goes through Ben, who closes his eyes as if in pain. "Please, doll. You're going to get us kicked out."

"Ah, but will it be worth it?" Harry asks slyly.

"Without a doubt." Ben smirks, and they hear a throat clearing.

"Damn, now I'm hard again," Ash complains.

"Already?" Ollie shakes his head with fake disbelief. "Looks like it's not true what they say about age after—Oof," he breaks off when Ash digs his elbow into his ribs.

He shoots Harry a charming smile, completely ignoring Ollie. "Would you care for a repeat performance?"

"Been there, done that," Harry shuts him down nonchalantly. Ben laughs while Nathan turns a little red. His eyebrows have already been raised to the middle of his forehead since they've come back.

"I thought you were supposed to be jealous." Ash points his finger at Ben with a dirty look.

"I was," he admits calmly. "But then I met you."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Ash proclaims indignantly. "I'm a gift to mankind."

"You're something, that's for sure," Harry agrees diplomatically. Apart from being very good in bed—let's admit it, his bragging is in no way exaggerated—he's mostly delightfully insufferable.

With every minute that passes, the club seems to become more alive, with their surroundings only getting wilder and louder. Harry and Ben get up to dance several more times; unfortunately, none of them have a happy ending, despite Harry's brazen attempts. Ash refrains from cruising and settles on getting teased by Ollie and making eyes at Harry, hoping that his sweet-talking will annoy Ben. It doesn't, and it might even be flattering if it wasn't a part of Ash's mask that makes him always aim to be the most desirable person in the room. Maybe he wants people to only see an arrogant jackass and therefore underestimate him. Maybe he doesn't want to admit that he's been wrong about the whole, 'Love is only worth how much sex you can get from it' attitude. Maybe he's just lonely and would like a Ben on his own. He should try getting one. Not Harry's Ben—Harry's Ben is taken.

His head starts to slump onto Ben's shoulder more and more, and he's relieved when Zoe suggests taking a cab. She soon retreats to the ladies room, which will probably take ages, and Ben and Nathan disappear somewhere as well, so Harry suffers through the send-off. Ollie hugs the life out of him, and Ash keeps trying to wind him up, but at the end he winks and mouths, "Good job." Only when Harry gets outside does he realise how little air there was in the club and how much he's craving a cigarette. It's not going to help with breathing much, but he lights one up anyway.

The parking lot is much emptier now than it was when they first showed up—no wonder, as it's after three in the morning—so the familiar voice carries, even though Harry can't hear the exact words. He's not proud of what he does next, but he needs to stay on top of things, so he looks around to locate CCTV cameras, moves towards the wall where he thinks the blind spot is, and casts a quick notice-me-not—including the smoke he's exhaling—before quietly walking towards the similarly deserted beer garden.

"I told you. He seems nice."

"But?" That's Ben. He's leaning against the fence, looking at his best friend intently.

"But... he was pretty tight-lipped. I think he's hiding something, mate." Nathan sounds almost apologetic.

Ben doesn't even look surprised. He just nods slowly. "Yeah. I know."

Nathan blinks incredulously. "You know? You know, and... what? Don't do this to yourself again."

"It's not the same," Ben insists, seemingly trying to convince himself.

Nathan is silent for a long moment. Finally, he pulls out a cigarette and lights it up. Ben grimaces.

"No. Not hiding something like fucking around. He seems pretty wrapped up in you. Very wrapped up in you," he repeats with emphasis, his eyebrows raised in reluctant admiration.

Ben rolls his eyes. "That's not where the problem lies."

"I know it's not," Nathan assures him quickly. "Fuck him all ways to Sunday. Good for you. Only, it might not be very helpful in thinking with your brain instead of your dick and noticing the red flags. You got any?"

Instead of answering, Ben lets out a long sigh. Harry quietly exhales the smoke along with him and wets his lips, feeling his heart speeding up. Fuck, he should have known. He hasn't surrounded himself with some dumb, oblivious muggles. He hasn't gotten involved with a halfwit. He's gotten involved with Ben, who pursues the truth for a living, and once he catches the scent, he doesn't let go. Who is friends with Nathan, who's clearly capable of reasoning and reaching the right conclusions. Fuck.

Now Nathan looks concerned. "Right. Like what?"

"Some stuff... doesn't add up," Ben admits slowly. "The things he says sometimes. I also saw something. Like a purchase agreement. It looked... weird. Am I going crazy here?" he asks desperately.

Nathan shakes his head. "No, man. I'm getting a strange vibe too. Purchase agreement for what?" he asks calmly.

Shit. Uranium. Harry has no idea what he's done with that piece of paper. Well, parchment. Was 'uranium' actually written down anywhere?

"I would rather not say," Ben says grimly.

Nathan's lips tighten. "Great," he scoffs sarcastically. "This is bad."

"Come on, it might be nothing," Ben protests uncertainly.

"You just don't want to believe it," Nathan remarks knowingly.

"Of course I don't want to believe any of the scenarios my mind is making up based on incomplete, correction, practically nonexistent information," Ben bridles.

Nathan shakes his head. "If there was nothing fishy going on, you wouldn't have specifically noticed. And kept noticing. And in any case, you're always going to second-guess—"

"I don't think he's lying," Ben interrupts him abruptly. "Much," he clarifies when Nathan raises his eyebrows sceptically. His friend scoffs. "No, listen. I think there are fewer lies than it appears. Like, sometimes he says these really crazy things and makes it sound like he's joking, but I don't think he is. I think a lot of times they aren't jokes at all."

Why the fuck does Ben have to be so fucking insightful? People aren't supposed to sense stuff like that. And where the fuck is Zoe when she's needed?

"Okay. Telling the truth, assuming nobody will believe it. Fun." Contrary to his words, Nathan doesn't sound amused at all. "Still. Trust your guts, mate. And if you're too infatuated for that, trust mine and run. I'm doing you a favour here."

Ben rubs his eyes. "I am trusting my guts. I know he's hiding something big. But apart from that... he's good." He sounds sure. Harry takes a moment to appreciate it.

Nathan laughs bitterly. "Good is very relative. Look, you like him. I get that—"

"I'm," Ben interrupts him, sounding almost surprised, "completely mad about him."

Nathan is clearly trying not to be judgemental, but isn't doing a very good job of it. "That's part of the problem here, mate. I don't want to have another Derek on our hands."

Ben huffs. "I don't think Harry is going to make a sex tape anytime soon. He hates cameras."

"I meant that in regard to your mental health. But I'd risk saying that this is worse than if he wanted to fuck half of London. And that's another point against him," Nathan observes. "Who avoids having their picture taken? And why?"

Ben ponders it for a long moment. "So, what are you thinking?" he finally asks with some reluctance.

Nathan takes the time to stub out his cigarette. Harry's long forgotten about his own. "Given all the data we have?" he checks. "I might be reading too much into it, but the only thing that makes sense is that whatever he claims he does for the government, they're not who he actually works for."

Harry's pretty sure the words register in his brain at the exact same time they do in Ben's, and he wants to groan. They think he's some fucking spy? Well...

"Shit."

"Yeah, shit." Nathan nods glumly. "You could never choose them well, huh?"

"Fuck off," Ben snaps reflectively but doesn't put any heart in it.

"You spoke to Zoe about it? To see if she knows something?" Nathan suggests.

"I don't want to drag her into it. I mean, she's already friends with him, but—"

"So you do think he's dangerous," Nathan deduces triumphantly.

Ben glares at him. "Even the smallest chance of that makes me kind of disinclined to have her look into it, as you may imagine," he says coolly.

Nathan winces apologetically. "Yeah, I get that. Oh, fuck, she's coming," he whispers, slapping Ben's arm.

Harry looks over his shoulder at Zoe walking towards them, feeling completely numb.

"Where's Harry?" Ben asks.

"I thought he was with you."

Luckily, his legs know what to do even when his brain doesn't. He sneaks off around the corner, stands at the same spot, and casts around to make sure he's alone before dropping the charm.

"Hey," he says casually, sauntering back. He hopes his face doesn't betray anything and his voice doesn't shake.

"Ready to go? The cabs should be here already." Zoe's eyes move rapidly, searching for running cars.

"Do you want me to come over?" Ben asks him. Harry stares at his face, trying to decide how it makes him feel. He looks... like Ben. Painfully genuine.

"Yeah," he whispers, because he can't leave it like that. He has to show Ben somehow that he's the most upstanding and trustworthy person in the world, or it's all over. He wonders if he's overreacting.

The cars appear; Nathan gets into one of them, and they take the other. Just like last time, Zoe sits up front, so Harry curls up in Ben's embrace in the backseat, trying to forget what he's heard and just enjoy the simple intimacy.

He's kind of hurt, but also not. It's not a huge leap to make. Of course his behaviour has been raising alarms, and his conviction that Ben is taking it all in stride has always been naive. The sudden realisation that he's utterly unprepared to lose Ben hits him like a tonne of bricks and brings him very close to tears. And what is that even about? Not that long ago, he was ready to enjoy it while it lasts and do what needs to be done if it goes sideways. When has that changed? And what to do now? Apologise for being a lying piece of shit? Promise him that he will tell him someday, just not now? Fucking obliviate him?

That's one thing he knows for sure. He wouldn't be able to physically force himself to obliviate Ben. Okay, so losing Ben, telling him the truth, and obliviating him are all out. What's left?

For some reason the only solution that comes to his fogged mind is to find his Knight Grand Cross—he thinks it's still at Grimmauld Place—and put it somewhere for Ben to stumble upon. How crazy is that? Surprisingly, Harry finds the idea pretty sensible. Bad guys don't get knighted by the queen, and Ben seems to be more concerned with him being a good person than with the lying.

He sticks his face deeper into the crook of Ben's neck and breathes him in, content enough with his plan to relax for now.

They get to their building and say goodnight to Zoe before climbing up to Harry's flat. The bedroom is dark when they reach it, only slightly illuminated by the street lamp. Ben gets rid of his shirt, and when his face reappears, he's giving Harry a searching look. Harry stares back, overwhelmed by all the words that are not being said churning between them.

"You're so mysterious," Ben whispers suddenly, a corner of his mouth curled slightly, like he finds it somewhat amusing. Otherwise, it's hard to tell by his tone if he considers it a good thing or bad. It's just a statement of fact.

"Why would you say that?" Harry asks, his voice higher than it should be.

Ben gives him a slightly disbelieving look, and Harry gulps, feeling both chastised and hysterical.

Apologise for being a lying piece of shit.

Tell him about the knighthood.

Play dumb. Don't let him know you've heard anything.

He doesn't know how all those thoughts crossing through his mind affect his expression, but it must be a sheer emotional torrent, because Ben frames his face with his hands and adds, "And so beautiful," before pulling him up for a kiss. Some other part of Harry's brain takes over, and before he knows it, he pushes Ben towards the bed, straddles his lap, and hastily unzips his pants. Most of the time, Ben insists on proper communication, but sometimes this is the only thing they really need to know.

He thinks he's imagining things at first when he hears his ringtone, but Ben seems to hear it too, because he slowly falls back to the mattress. Harry closes his eyes in despair before reaching into his pocket.

He already knows what's coming when he sees Roderick's name. "Yeah?"

"There's been another one." He's not the type for pleasantries. "You sober?"

"Yeah." Harry would be offended, but he's aware that he does sound quite faint and out of breath. "Where?" he asks curtly.

"Corner of Lothbury and Moorgate."

Harry's heart stops for a second when he realises what that means. St Mungo's. "I'll be right there."

He hangs up and squeezes his eyes shut before glancing at Ben, who is already pulling up his pants. "I'll drive you," he offers.

Right, he's left his car here. It will take longer than apparating, but on the other hand, leaving Ben alone here is out of the question. Maybe Ben is aware of that, or maybe he's not, but Harry would rather not even mention the possibility. On the third hand—who has three hands?—Harry might not be in the habit of using murder to his own advantage, but it won't hurt for Ben to see a proof of Harry doing something police-related with his own eyes.

They get dressed and leave the apartment in silence. "Where are we going?" Ben asks after starting the car, his voice sombre.

"Moorgate," Harry mutters. The city is still and the drive rather gloomy, but at least it's quick. Ben, being an amazing human being, stops briefly at Starbucks, and Harry gets four cups of coffee because that's the number that is easiest to carry—the aurors will have to share it among themselves somehow.

They can see the police flashers the moment they turn into Gresham Street. "I'm sorry," Harry speaks up suddenly.

"Don't be absurd," Ben waves him off, trying to find a parking spot.

Harry leans in to give him a final kiss. If nothing else, he at least has that going for him, that he genuinely doesn't care if anyone sees them. "Go home. Get some sleep," he whispers. "I'll talk to you in the morning."

"It's already morning," Ben can't help but notice. "Hang in there, okay?"

Harry nods and steps out of the car with a heavy heart. He's aware of Ben's eyes following him when he approaches the police line and flashes his badge to be let in.

It's embarrassing, but with all the excitement of the evening and the depressing knowledge that he should be having sex right now instead of being here, his brain's barely registered that there's an actual murder to investigate. The body is lying inconspicuously near the entrance to the department store where St Mungo's is hidden, looking quite intact, though there's some blood around the man's arm where the killer's decided to leave them another message. And his face...

Harry blinks. Then blinks again, because he knows this face. He's seen it earlier today.

He must be feeling overly emotional, because the next thing he knows is that he's running and throwing up straight into a trash bin.

Soundtrack for this one:

Daft Punk – Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger

The Chemical Brothers – Hey Boy Hey Girl

Kylie Minogue – Can Get You Out Of My Head

Darude – Sandstorm

Alice Deejay – Better Off Alone

Boys Town Gang – Can't Take My Eyes Off You