September 3rd, 2002
Like most ideas, this one is terrible.
Of course Harry agrees to meet up with Justin after work. Privately, unofficially, because the guy has been a nervous wreck ever since finding out that his parents' acquaintances and tenants have been brutally murdered. He already testified in the ministry, but Harry wouldn't be himself if he didn't try to find out as much as he could on his own.
But then it turns out that Justin invited his best friend, Ernie Macmillan, as well. And Ernie invited Susan and Hannah, who's going to bring Neville. And then Hermione catches up to him in the hallway and says that she heard they're having a Dumbledore's Army reunion. Which hasn't been the plan at all, because discussing a confidential case might be difficult with a presence of a dozen or so civilians. But Hermione is watching him expectantly, so he reluctantly agrees. Not long after, he feels his coin activating, and it's official.
The whole thing becomes a big deal pretty quickly, because even though people kept in touch here and there, Dumbledore's Army didn't get together since the Final Battle. Not even in the eighth year—they were still reeling, and the absence of some of the members was too painful. And then, as the years went by, everyone focused on their own business. It didn't help that their illustrious leader was mostly in the wind.
They decide to meet in the Kitchen Bell, because Katie is working in her family restaurant today, and what kind of reunion would it be without Katie? At this point, Harry agrees to everything, except...
"What's Dumbledore's Army?" Lydia asks casually when they're leaving the office. She's still glowing with smugness and determination after being assigned to the case.
"A defence club we started in my fifth year. Most of us later joined the war efforts. Everyone fought in the battle," Harry explains curtly, because he wouldn't deny being proud of DA's accomplishments.
When Robards was announcing earlier today who was going to be on the case, he hesitated after Alison's name, and Harry glared at him until Lydia's reluctantly followed. He knows that Robards would rather choose Romsey or even Hooper. Having Death Eater connections never goes away, and the ministry is always about how things look, which doesn't bode well for actual results. Lydia figured out within minutes who she owed for this decision, and even when Harry assured her that he was just honest and driven by what's best for the case, she still insisted on buying him a drink in thanks. So he had to take a rain check, tell her about the reunion, and very pointedly not invite her. Some things are sacred, and Dumbledore's Army is one of them.
She looks sombre after his explanation, and not for the first time, Harry realises that what he used to consider perfectly obvious—fighting, being ready to give his life for the cause—isn't obvious at all, at least not to most people. Most people were lying low and waiting for it to be over.
"Shouldn't it be Potter's Army?" she asks after collecting herself. Harry gives her a dirty look. "Try to get more out of Finch-Fletchley. And tell me everything later!" she adds, and Harry waves before losing her in the crowd of ministry workers.
He Floos to the Leaky Cauldron and goes straight to Diagon Alley through the back door, before trekking towards Kitchen Bell. The main room is already swamped with young adults and a cacophony of sounds. He sees Katie in her red uniform, swirling around and trying to take everybody's order. The volume goes even more up once Harry enters, but before he has a chance to greet anyone, Ginny flies across the room and right into his arms. He has an alarming flashback from sixth year.
"Thank you!" she exclaims straight into his ear.
Harry blinks slowly. "For what?"
"You know what," she laughs before narrowing her eyes. "Harry Potter, you know exactly what you did." When she doesn't find understanding on his face, she rolls her eyes. "You spoke to Gwenog Jones about me. They're having me try out again," she explains.
"Oh, right." What's with all these people suddenly listening to him? He barely mentioned it. "I only told her the truth." She opens her mouth and he can feel a rant coming. "You're welcome," he says quickly to avoid it.
People patiently let Ginny have her moment—probably ex-girlfriend privilege or something like that—before they rush to greet him. He smiles, noticing that nobody's brought significant others from outside the group—Seamus is on his own, same as Dennis, Padma, and Michael. Harry would ridicule such an attachment to the rules from when they were kids if he didn't do exactly the same thing with Lydia—not that there's anything romantic going on between them.
The couples within DA—Ron and Hermione, George and Angelina, Parvati and Terry, and Neville and Hannah—are present, though, and everyone is grilling the latter about the baby. Harry skips that and searches the crowd for Justin but is instead accosted first by Dennis and then by Cho. He spends some time on small talk and despairs along with the others that Luna is gone—still in Nigeria—and that Dean is gone—Amsterdam, last Harry heard.
He catches Lee's eye that winks at him, so he comes over with a foreboding feeling.
"Hey, stud," George drawls, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
Instead of answering, Harry glares at Lee, who raises his hands innocently. "It came up."
"How does it even come up?" Harry asks incredulously.
"Come on, Harry, it's all good," George laughs.
"Yeah. I only told George and Angie. It was extenuating circumstances. There is no one more trustworthy," Lee insists. Harry glances towards Angelina, who sits at the next table, talking to Katie and Alicia. He narrows his eyes when he realises that they're using a silencing charm. They're all staring at him, then promptly pretend they didn't the moment they see him look.
"Clearly," Harry hisses, unimpressed.
George and Lee appear to have a silent conversation with their eyes, and suddenly Harry feels the privacy spell growing to include him.
"...they'd have no choice but to accept it," Angelina is saying.
"You're underestimating them," Katie replies miserably.
"You don't mind, ladies?" George asks, waving his hand towards Harry.
Alicia glances quickly at Katie before shrugging. "It's fine. Harry's not blind. He already knows."
George laughs. "Trust me, Harry has no idea." Harry agrees that whatever it is, he probably has no idea.
"You know that we're together, right, Harry?" Alicia asks, indicating her and Katie.
Harry blinks. "Oh," he says stupidly. People definitely overestimate the amount of time he spends thinking about who is dating who. The truth is, he doesn't, at all. But now that he thinks about it, it makes sense. It could have even started back at school. "Since when?" He admits that they look cute together—Alicia all tall and Katie all tiny.
George cackles. "See? Completely oblivious." George knows him way too well.
"Since my seventh year at Hogwarts," Alicia says. At least that Harry got right.
"That's cool," he says mildly.
Alicia rolls her eyes. "It's nice of you to think so, Harry. Not that we expected anything else. You're a lot of things, but you're not a hypocrite."
Harry pointedly doesn't ask about those things he apparently is. Instead, he once more glares at Lee, who grins. "Chill out, Harry. We're among our own."
"If only my parents could be so lenient," Katie sighs, dropping her voice significantly, as if scared that they will hear her. Which makes sense, considering that it's their restaurant.
"Did you tell them?" Harry asks.
"Not yet. I'm working on it. They're going to hate me."
"Mom used to hate Fleur, but now she's fine with her," George points out. "And back when Fr—" his voice breaks, but he forces himself to continue. "I know it's not the same thing, but when Freddie and I were opening the shop, mom hated that. But she got over it. The point is, parents might not like the things we do, but they get over it."
"Not my parents." Katie scowls. "They're nothing like Mrs. Weasley. They will never speak to me again, and I won't be able to work here anymore, and—"
"Babe, come on," Alicia consoles her. "I'm a quidditch player. You can survive not working for a bit while you're looking for something else. We'll be fine." Judging by Katie's face, she doesn't love the idea.
"You don't have to tell anybody anything," Angelina tells her sensibly. "It's all up to you."
"Would you?" Katie asks unhappily, looking first at Angie, then at George, and finally at Harry.
"Don't look at me," he says quickly. "It's kind of too hypothetical of a question for me."
"Merlin, I'm sorry, Harry." Harry shrugs to show her that he doesn't mind. "You're not planning on coming out, are you?"
Before he has time to feel horrified, George cuts in. "That would be good. If Harry Potter can do it, so can you!" He's forever doomed to be a poster boy.
"Don't listen to him, Harry," Angelina apologises for her boyfriend. "Also, don't worry. It's not going to get out of this circle," she assures him. "It's everybody in their own time, right?"
Harry nods mechanically, looking around for an escape route. He finds one. "I'm gonna go talk to Justin. But Katie—if you need anything, let me know, yeah?"
"Thanks, Harry," she mumbles. "Hey, just so you know, Ernie has some fucked-up views, so stay clear of him when it comes to that. Oliver is cool, though. Wood. And Hermione. But you know that better than me." Harry isn't so sure about it. Well, he can guess, knowing Hermione very well, but he doesn't think they've ever directly discussed it. He really needs to talk to her soon.
"Got it," he says curtly, sending her a quick smile. Apparently, queers stick together in the magical world as well.
Ernie is bad news, though, since Harry works with his sister. He still plans on keeping his private business private, but he also doesn't want to live in a constant paranoia of someone finding out, and he will if other aurors turn out unfriendly towards the idea.
He shakes his head, hoping for no more surprises, and heads straight towards Justin, who is, of course, sitting with Ernie.
"It's like the Gryffindor quidditch team plotting again," Justin jokes, pointing at the table Harry came from, but his smile is weak.
"We're always plotting. How are you doing, mate?"
Justin shrugs. "I hoped to see you at the ministry, but your boss said you were in the field. It's just... surreal, you know?"
"Of course it is. Nobody's seen this coming," Harry agrees easily, before giving Ernie a questioning glance.
Justin waves dismissively. "He can stay. I told him what happened."
"Pippa did too," Ernie adds, looking unsurprisingly curious. Harry wonders if all ministry workers tell their closed ones everything that happens in their respective departments. It would be very helpful if they could just... stop.
"I don't even know how to process it." Justin sounds actually stricken. When it comes to this case, Harry feels similar. "Is it a wizard hunting muggles because he hates them? Is it a wizard trying to bring us to light? Is it a muggle that knows about our world? Or is it just one big coincidence?"
Harry's asked himself those questions many times in the last week. He chooses his words carefully. "Those friends of your parents. Did they know anything about us? Is there any link?"
Justin shakes his head miserably. "We didn't know them that long. Amir was doing some business with dad. They hit it off. Dad's friends always give him money to invest because he has a lot of connections. So he invested—in the muggle world, in the wizarding world, wherever was the most beneficial at the time. Goblins never had a problem with that. Muggles never knew—I don't see why anyone would care. Apart from that, they were my parents' friends. I barely knew them."
No connection that Harry can see, unless some wizard took offence to muggles making money on them and vice versa. But wizards invest in the muggle world all the time—Harry himself does, or rather Ragnuk does it on his behalf—so that'd be a little hypocritical. Not that it would be the first time for purebloods to come out as hypocrites.
"Anything interesting the police asked you?"
Justin shrugs. "They don't have many leads either. They think it's either a hate crime or connected to some money scam."
Harry can't say he agrees. Of course it could be driven by prejudice—most likely was—but this was orchestrated. Precise. Efficient. The killer did exactly what they planned, in the exact way they planned, because they wanted to tell them something. They want them to look around. To look at three dead muggles with parts of their bodies ripped off and a Death Eater mask. And see what? The brutality of the wizarding world? That Death Eaters had the right idea after all?
He doesn't say any of this. His brain is once again going too fast. He swallows with difficulty. "Thanks, Justin. We'll do whatever we can to—"
"Is it true that you're on the investigation team?" Ernie cuts in with an unhealthy amount of interest. Merlin, it's only been about four hours since the announcement. Pippa really couldn't keep things to herself. "That's quite an honour, isn't it? You were just accepted back on the force."
Yeah, like they haven't been begging him to join for years. Which Harry doesn't say out loud either. "They chose whoever they thought fit the case best. I'm good with muggles," he says diplomatically.
"Lydia Travers?" Ernie snorts. "It's a long way from being a Death Eater's daughter to becoming a muggle specialist."
Harry clenches his teeth. "That was my recommendation, actually. Lydia has been working very hard to understand muggles. Which is not an easy thing to do for a pureblood. The cultural gap is enormous," he says pointedly, not caring what they will do with it. Ernie gets a little red.
"Come on, man," Justin shushes him. "I think Harry knows better than you."
Ernie bristles. "My sister—"
"And the Head Auror knows better than Pippa," Justin adds, sounding final. Ernie obediently shuts up.
Harry sends Justin a quick smile. "If anything comes to your mind—"
"Of course, Harry," Justin assures him, so Harry politely excuses himself.
He brushes between people, annoyed, when Hermione gets in his way. "Hey, you're okay?"
Harry shrugs. "Just Ernie talking shit about Lydia."
"Lydia?" she repeats with surprise. "Are you—"
But Susan comes over to talk to her before she has a chance to finish her question, something about DMLE, and then Harry suffers the same fate from Seamus. It takes a long time for everyone to say what they've got to say, share their woeful goodbyes, and finally, when it's nearing closing hour at Kitchen Bell, there are only the three of them left—the Golden Trio. It always starts and ends with them.
"You want to Floo home?" Ron looks at Hermione questioningly.
"I wouldn't mind a walk," she says thoughtfully.
"You guys want to walk me home?" Harry asks half-jokingly. "You can take the Floo from there."
"Yes!" Ron exclaims. "Muggle London!"
"It's a long walk," Harry warns, but he can see Hermione's also warming up to the idea. Harry waves to Katie—they share a look of mutual understanding—and the three of them start to slowly head towards Leaky.
Harry leads them through Chinatown because it looks crazy, and he wants Ron to have a full experience. He does look charmed by the general atmosphere, while Hermione focuses on Harry.
"So. Lydia Travers." Her voice is full of determination when she says it, and Harry isn't sure why.
"What about her?" he asks suspiciously.
She rolls her eyes. "Really, it's like pulling a tooth with you, Harry. Is there something going on?" she adds in an encouraging tone.
"Between me and Lydia?" Harry exclaims.
"Between him and Lydia?" Ron echoes, sounding even more perplexed.
"What? She's totally your type!" Hermione points out defensively, but her cheeks get a little pink.
Short. Slim. A bit of a tomboy. Yeah, he can kind of see that. Only lately has his type been more: tall. Dark-skinned. Blinding smile.
"Come on, everyone knows he's into redheads," Ron announces without a shadow of a doubt.
"You wish," Harry quips, and before Ron has a chance to protest, he adds, "I don't have mommy issues."
"I never said you," Ron starts and then blinks. "Oh."
They're all silent for a moment; Ron is probably thinking about the significance of choosing an exact copy of one's parent—or even worse, an idea of a parent—as a life partner. Hermione might be already planning his and Lydia's wedding.
"I'm bi, actually," Harry suddenly blurts out, before pulling out a cigarette.
"By what?" Hermione asks absently. "Oh!" she exclaims at the same time Ron asks, "What?" "It means he likes both men and women," Hermione explains diligently.
"I know what it means!" Ron snaps, because really, by now she should learn that he's not a completely uneducated troglodyte.
"Oh," Hermione repeats, flushing brightly. "Thanks for telling us, Harry," she adds, and there's so much pride in her expression that Harry feels slightly uncomfortable.
Before there's a chance for an awkward silence, the wind directs the smoke from Harry's cigarette towards Hermione's face, and she complains, "Oh, I hate that you do that," while trying to chase it away with her hand, her nose wrinkled with disgust.
"So. Blokes, huh?" Ron goes for an obvious opening, sounding vaguely interested.
"Yup." Harry takes a drag with his heart beating wildly in his chest, even though it's just his two best friends. Nothing to panic about.
Hermione gives up on fighting smoke. "You've ever been with a bloke?" she suddenly asks, her face red and gaze fixed straight ahead. Ron looks slightly scandalised that she's just asking this in the middle of the street.
They're almost at the bar where Harry met the nameless man. It's as good a moment as any. "Yeah. This bloke named Ash that I've met at the bar. And then another bloke, I don't know his name. Oh, and Lee Jordan," he adds as an afterthought.
Ron's eyes almost fall out of his head while Hermione starts to laugh.
"When?" the redhead asks frantically.
"Which one?" Harry asks flatly.
"Lee!"
"Oh. Last Saturday. Quidditch competition at Hogwarts." Okay, this is fun. But for some reason, Hermione starts to laugh even harder. "Are you okay?" he checks with genuine concern.
"Yes, just," she pants. "We thought you were all lonely and miserable, and you've been..." She starts giggling again.
"I thought there was only Ginny," Ron grunts, like he should have been informed as soon as the change occurred.
"People have sex regardless of being in a relationship," Harry points out helpfully.
"I know," Ron says, then glances at Hermione. "I mean, I don't," he backtracks immediately.
Hermione laughs even harder at first, but then she slowly calms down. "Good for you, Harry." She gives him a searching look. "Is it good? I kind of can't tell with you," she admits.
Is it? Is it unhealthy? Harry doesn't think so. He promises to himself to talk to Diane to make sure, but apart from that one time when he was drunk, it was fine. Relaxing. Liberating. It's probably more that he shouldn't get drunk than that he shouldn't have casual sex. "It's alright," he says evasively.
"Is there someone you like?" she asks sneakily, and right before Harry's eyes there's a very specific tall, dark-skinned someone with a blinding smile. Which makes his step falter.
"Is it Lee?" Ron ignores his wistful expression in his excitement.
"It's not Lee," he mutters. It's also not even worth daydreaming about. As nice of a fantasy as it is, normal, kind, gentle, gorgeous muggle boys aren't meant for messed-up freaks like him.
At least he's got his best friends.
September 7th, 2002
Harry feels utterly betrayed. They asked him which level of the test he'd like to take, so of course he said, "Advanced," which will effectively grant him the title of a muggle expert once he passes. He didn't anticipate the questions to be actually hard. He can't see many wizards getting any of these right, except for muggleborns. And muggleborns who kept up with muggle studies and world happenings over the years. Maybe that's the point. Why would other wizards even want the title?
Turns out he will be able to teach Muggle Studies after this, unless he fails.
The first, 'practical' part is kind of easy. It's all 'what would you do' kind of questions, like, 'A cashier asks you if you're paying with cash, a check, or a credit card. Describe what each option means.'
He goes through them quickly, but trouble starts when he gets to the general knowledge part. It's fine at first. What's the biggest software company? He knows one, so he writes it down. The biggest British airport. The number of elements in the periodic table... and name them?! All one hundred eighteen of them? He will get back to this one. The scientific theory that explains the origin of the universe. He scribbles about the Big Bang for a while, then about photosynthesis, and then about Chernobyl. The next couple are more of a one-word answer questions, so he writes down, 'HTML,' and then 'Leonardo da Vinci,' and then 'Sputnik 1,' because he read a lot these last two months. And then suddenly... 'Which component of a circuit stores electromagnetic field energy?' Who even creates these questions? Who was the last Tsar of Russia? What was the code name for the Allied invasion of Normandy? He's sure nobody knows that.
He writes down 'Guinness' because he goes to bars and then 'Central Perk' because he has TV. But he doesn't know where Disney World is located, when 'Titanic' was released, who wrote 'War and Peace,' what AGOT is, and what Wimbledon is about.
He knows that Bill Clinton isn't the American president anymore. He doesn't know what Jewish holiday Yom Kippur is about. He knows that an atom is the smallest unit of matter, to muggles' knowledge. He doesn't know what the hell Hakuna Matata is. He does know what DNA stands for. He has no idea who the first woman to win the Nobel Prize was. He knows who developed the theory of relativity. He doesn't know who discovered penicillin.
He's sweating by the time he's done and going back to the periodic table question—he names twenty-eight, only because he's been experimenting with some lately or at least learning about them, and he thinks it's not bad at all. He doesn't feel bad about the whole thing in general, even if it was difficult. Luckily, he doesn't need a very high score to pass—sixty percent, if he remembers correctly. Which is reasonable. Who has the entire periodic table memorised? Not even many muggles, he's pretty sure.
As if it's not bad enough that they had him do this thing on the weekend. He leaves the Department of Magical Education with a plan to go straight home, but someone catches him in an elevator.
"Harry!" Percy calls, so Harry keeps the door for him.
"Hey, what are you doing here? It's Saturday."
"I just had to drop off these reports. I was too nervous to just sit idly at home," Percy explains, visibly flustered.
Harry wonders if he's missed something. "Why? What's going on?"
Percy looks at him like he thinks he's joking, before his jaw drops. "Harry, don't you remember? We're going to the theatre tonight!"
They're going to the... Harry's eyes widen. Right. Percy's date with a muggle girl who likes musicals. Does Zoe even remember? He didn't think to confirm with her.
"Don't tell me you're not coming," Percy frets. "I'm enough of a nervous wreck as it is. I need you!"
"Come with me," Harry decides when the elevator door opens and drags Percy towards the visitor entrance. As soon as they're outside, he pulls out his phone.
She doesn't answer, so he leaves a message. "Hey, Zoe. Do you recall that time when I invited you to the theatre? I hope you remembered that it's today. If I ever even told you when it is. I might not have, and I didn't. Remember, that is, so that's why the short notice. Sorry, I'm kind of hopeless when it comes to those things. I hope you can still come. It's in the Leicester Square Theatre at seven."
Percy yanks at his arm, so Harry looks at him questioningly. "Dinner at five. Sushi place on Gerrard Street."
Harry wants to facepalm, but instead covers the receiver. "Can't you just take her to dinner and we'll meet you at the theatre?" he hisses.
"No," Percy whines, and he looks pathetic enough that Harry caves in and goes back to the phone.
"How about free sushi? Do you even like sushi? If you do, Gerrard Street at five. Please let me know. Thanks."
"I'm sorry, Harry," Percy starts miserably.
Harry raises his hand to stop him. "No, it's my bad. I'll be there at five. And don't worry, everything will work out."
It's already almost two, so Harry leaves Percy to fend for himself and hurries home. He tries to call Zoe once more, but he gets voicemail again. He thinks about the case while preparing dinner. He thinks about how he spent the last four days staring at as little evidence as they have, with no lead and no way forward. He thinks about repeating every word Justin uttered to Lydia and about neither of them finding anything useful within them. He thinks about how he finally went to therapy last night but sort of clammed up. He mumbled something about the case without getting into details but didn't mention the sex or the drinking. Diane said that it was absolutely fine for them to just stay silent together if Harry wasn't ready to talk. They had time. They could wait for him to be ready.
It's after three when his phone finally pings.
3:12 PM. Zoe. Shit, I totally forgot. Or rather no, you didn't tell me. I can't today. I have an interview. I'm calling for reinforcements. Good luck to your friend.
Harry sighs. Looks like he's going to have to deal with being the third wheel.
By four, he's having a small argument with Kreacher over who's going to do the laundry. Kreacher leaves, offended, so Harry puts his dirty stuff into the washing machine and is going to go upstairs to start getting ready when he hears the doorbell.
He promptly loses his tongue when he sees Ben.
"Hi. Do you know what my sister is up to?"
It takes a moment for Harry to remember his own name, let alone Ben's sister's. He glances down at himself; he's in sweatpants and a purple T-shirt with the Powerpuff Girls on it. Ben looks fantastic in a loose, striped shirt with the top three buttons open—Harry notices that he has no chest hair—and slim jeans.
His expression must be dumbfounded enough that Ben elaborates, "Apparently it's vital that I go to the theatre tonight."
Harry clears his throat. "Cultural experience is important," he points out inanely, then wants to kick himself. These are the first words out of his mouth?
Ben gives him an amused half-smile. "It is," he agrees easily.
Harry feels so out of his depth that he doesn't know which way is up. "You don't have to do this," he says uncertainly.
"I don't mind." Ben shrugs, twitching nervously.
"Do you like musicals?" Harry asks in desperation.
"Not really," he admits apologetically.
Harry wants to laugh in despair. "Yeah, me neither."
They spend a moment staring at each other before they both snort simultaneously.
Harry quickly thinks of something to say. "Erm... my friend is going to be there with a girl he likes. It's a date. I mean, for them. For us it can be a—"
"You know that Zoe is trying to set us up, right?" Ben cuts in warily. "If you're uncomfortable for your friend to—"
"I'm not uncomfortable," Harry assures him quickly. He's a fully functioning adult, confident, out of the closet, and capable not only of behaving in public places but also of having a full conversation with a stunning man. "It can be a date for us too," he forces out, heart beating wildly in his chest. "If you want," he adds hastily.
Ben smiles and smiles and smiles until that smile is filling the whole hallway. "Okay."
"Yeah?" Harry breathes, feeling strangely lightheaded. He runs his fingers through his hair, probably completely disarraying them. "I'm gonna go get dressed. Wait, what time is it?" He turns around but can't locate anything resembling the clock.
Ben glances at his phone. "Twenty after four."
"Shit," Harry curses under his breath. "Come on in." He drags him inside and closes the door. "We're going for sushi in Chinatown first. Do you like sushi?"
Ben looks at his frazzled state like it's the most charming thing he's ever seen. There are worse ways to be looked at. "I love sushi. Take your time. If we run late, I've got a car."
Harry takes a deep breath. "Okay." He reaches out, touches his arm, then backtracks quickly. "Make yourself at home. I'll be right back."
He runs upstairs, slams the door to his bedroom shut, and leans against it. Holy shit, he has a date. He has a date with Ben, and Percy and his girl are going to be there. It could go so badly. It's probably going to go badly.
"Kreacher," he calls and immediately casts a silencing charm around the room.
Kreacher shows up, still looking sullen. Harry doesn't wait for him to speak because he's already rummaging through his wardrobe. Before, he was planning on wearing whatever. Now it's not an option anymore.
He grabs three different shirts. "Kreacher, there's a very, very nice man downstairs who I'm going to the theatre with. Now, which one?"
Kreacher shakes his head gravely. "Pointless endeavour. Nice man downstairs cannot carry an heir."
"I'm going on a date! I'm not marrying him!" Harry cries in disbelief.
Kreacher repeats, 'pointless' under his breath before pulling a deep maroon robe from the hanger.
"Kreacher, be serious. He's a muggle!" Harry snaps at him.
Kreacher sighs long-sufferingly and graciously inspects Harry's choices. "Black one, master." There's a hidden 'obviously' at the end of the sentence. "And a plum blazer."
"Which one is plum?" Harry asks ignorantly. Once his elf shows him the correct article, he adds black slacks and looks at himself. Yeah, not bad. Not bad at all. "Can you hang the laundry for me?" he asks Kreacher absently. "Thanks. Don't wait up. Love you!"
He runs back down, hiding his wand in his sleeve. Ben is still there, leaning against the front door.
"You look great," he says when he sees Harry. It's like he takes these words out of his mouth.
"Thanks. You do too. I should have said—" Harry flushes, cursing himself for being so uncool.
Ben laughs warmly. "Come on." He opens the door for him.
They take the car, and only then does Harry realise that he left Ben downstairs without even checking if anything magical was lying around. Hopefully he didn't snoop. Then he realises that he didn't smoke, and he remembers that Ben doesn't like cigarettes. He's immediately distressed by the prospect of not smoking. And then he gets even more distressed, because he remembers that Ben doesn't eat meat, and he said he loves sushi, but isn't sushi raw fish? Did he lie? What if he won't eat anything?
His hands are sweating, and sitting in a passenger seat doesn't help either. But Ben drives calmly and carefully, soothing Harry's frazzled nerves a bit, and finally starts a conversation after a too long silence. "So, what are we seeing? What is it about?"
Harry swallows with difficulty. "Magic, I guess," he mumbles.
"Magic?" Ben echoes sceptically.
"You don't like magic?" Harry asks weakly, aware that they're now talking about two different things, but it still seems important.
"I'm more of a down-to-earth kind of guy. I'd rather focus on what's real," Ben confesses plainly.
It leaves an opening Harry just can't ignore. "What if it was real?"
Ben shrugs, looking for a parking space. "Then, I suppose, sooner or later we would understand it and get used to it, and it would become mundane. Is it still magic if you know how it's done?"
It leaves Harry kind of shaken. Because yes, it's still magic; that's what it's called. But also yes, those who have it consider it common and ordinary. If you define magic as something inexplicable, what they do is magic to muggles, but to wizards, using science to go to the Moon is magic.
He really hopes Ben doesn't say it in front of Percy. Harry doesn't think he'd appreciate the irony.
He snaps out when Ben circles the car and opens the door for him. He has really nice, large hands. "Sorry, I didn't mean to break you," he says with amusement. "I'm all open to magic, promise."
Are you really? Harry thinks. But he knows they're just humouring each other. He kind of wants to continue this conversation, delve deep into this whole difference of perception, but he can't because he sees Percy standing in front of a restaurant and looking like he needs a rescue.
"We're not late, are we?" Harry asks, coming over and greeting them with a bright smile before introducing Ben. Audrey seems lovely, and Percy looks a little taken aback. When Ben and Audrey turn their backs to get inside, he gives Harry a pointed glare, but not one that says, 'Get out of my face, you bloody pervert,' but rather, 'Are you out of your mind?'
"I thought it was going to be a Zoe," he hisses.
"Zoe's busy," Harry replies nonchalantly before narrowing his eyes. "Are we going to have a problem?" He's the one who's doing him a favour here, after all.
But Percy just rolls his eyes, so Harry drops it and leads him inside. They manage to get their table successfully. Percy pulls out a chair for Audrey, and Ben does the same for Harry, who starts to feel uncomfortably like a girl in this arrangement. But Ben just smiles and passes him the menu, and then smiles at Percy, who looks close to having a nervous breakdown, and engages Audrey in a conversation and is his typical perfect self. Harry takes a deep breath and notices the first potential issue when Audrey pulls out her chopsticks.
He leans towards Percy. "Have you ever used one of those?" he asks loudly and jokingly.
Percy startles and glances anxiously at his date. "Ah, no, I can't say that I have," he says stiffly.
"Me neither," Harry admits easily.
"You didn't?" Ben stops his conversation to look at him.
"Nah, I've been kind of busy my whole life," he says rather nonsensically, but he really despises lying, and Ben has seemed fond of his idiosyncrasies so far.
This time he laughs too. "Let's ask for forks," he offers, much to Harry's relief.
Percy looks unconvinced. For him, it is all the same—not knowing how to use a phone and not knowing how to use chopsticks. He can't tell the difference. "Shouldn't we at least try?"
"Nah, I'm sure they would eat fish and chips with chopsticks," Ben jokes dismissively.
Ordering is painful, but they get through it. Percy and Audrey get wine. Ben says he doesn't drink, and Harry has a moment of panic, because first, it's so not going to work, and second, he doesn't want to drink and potentially fuck it up even more. And if he drinks, he will want to smoke. But is Ben going to think that he's not drinking because Ben's not drinking? He must know Harry drinks, Zoe told him for sure. In the end, he gets tea. Tea is safe.
Everything is going surprisingly well. There's some light small talk, and nobody commits any glaring faux pas. Even Percy starts to relax.
"So, Ben, what do you do?" Audrey asks with curiosity.
"Oh, I'm a barrister," Ben says, poking whatever vegan thing he ordered with his fork. "I work for a big law firm, but we have a pro bono clinic, so that's where I'm mostly at."
Audrey is appropriately impressed. "I'm a waitress at Sandwich Express, but I'm also still in the drama school. What about you, Harry?"
Harry takes a sip of his tea. "Oh, this and that. Law enforcement, mostly. But it's strictly confidential. If I told you, I would have to kill you," he babbles nonsensically. Audrey laughs, but Ben gives him a highly sceptical look. That's a problem for later. "But it's nothing compared to Percy's job," he exclaims to divert attention. Percy makes an utterly betrayed face. "What was it? Department for Transport?"
Percy straightens his back primly. "You're mocking me, Harry."
"I would never," Harry assures him, but secretly smiles smugly. The topic has been effectively dropped. "You should have seen this guy at school. His brother and I broke so many rules, and he was always on our case."
"Well, you deserved it," Percy sniffs.
"You did mention that you're bad at following directions," Ben says.
Harry melts a little that he remembers that. "Maybe I'm just lacking proper motivation," he speculates, blinking innocently and wetting his lips. When he glances at Ben through his lashes, he's staring at his mouth.
Ben looks away and clears his throat forcibly. "Don't do that. That's lethal." He tries to sound stern, but he's visibly barely keeping from smiling.
Harry grins before glancing at their company. Audrey looks delighted, and Percy a little mortified.
"It was a boarding school, wasn't it?" Audrey asks loudly to divert attention from the plain display of flirting. "You were friends with Percy's brother? Younger, right?"
"Yeah. Me, Ron, and our friend Hermione."
"They were joined at the hip," Percy adds. Ben is listening intently.
"Are those the ones that are getting married?" Audrey asks Percy. Looks like he figured out how to talk to her after all. She leans towards Harry confidentially. "Did you set them up?"
Harry wrinkles his nose. "I think they bonded over being exasperated with me."
Audrey laughs. They chat about their siblings and then their families—he totally adopts the Weasleys for the purpose of those conversations. He learns that Ben's parents live in Bournemouth and are both musicians—his dad is a conductor and his mom a cellist. Seems like the whole family is musically inclined. Harry gets the impression that Ben doesn't have the best relationship with them. Audrey picks up the subject, and she and Ben discuss music for the rest of the dinner before they all realise that they must hurry up to be in the theatre on time. There's a bit of a commotion during paying because Percy insists on covering the whole bill since he was the one to invite them all, but sushi is really expensive, and Harry slowly shakes his head at him when nobody is looking. So he pays for himself and Ben, who attempts to politely protest at first but gives up easily.
Audrey goes to the bathroom, and Ben to the car for his jacket. Harry gives up his struggle and smokes really fast while Percy frets. "She likes Ben better than me. She even likes you better than me. I'm telling you, your man and my girl are going to run away together."
Harry snorts, blowing out the smoke, completely relaxed now. "He's gay," he placates him.
"Yes, thank Merlin. That much is obvious," Percy drawls.
Harry frowns. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You shouldn't just spring this on me, Harry! I have a weak constitution." It doesn't make any sense, and Harry wants to point that out when Percy adds emphatically, "But the two of you seem to get along very well."
They do. They really, really do, and Harry can't help but think that if he lets this happen, someone is going to get burnt, and it will probably be him. He's been slowly getting used to the idea that there are people who find him attractive and even want to fuck him, but this whole door-opening, hand on the small of his back, attentive looks, and warm bickering thing is an entirely different beast and is making him way too giddy.
He doesn't have many hopes or expectations with the play itself. The most exciting part is sitting next to Ben in the dark. They share smiles and chat a bit while Percy and Audrey are similarly busy with one another, and it's all quite lovely. Harry listens to the opening number and has to admit that it all looks and sounds quite spectacular, and then he gets truly engaged in the plot and finds himself on the edge of his seat, following with bated breath the story of a freak that everyone is pointing their fingers at, who manages to stay true to herself. The depiction of magic in this is shit, but his eyes are still glassy, and he's pretty sure that he actually has a flashback when the public turns on her until she decides to go her very own way.
He sniffs, and Ben looks at him a little alarmed but doesn't say anything and simply offers his hand. Harry hesitates before taking it. Its weight and texture are very pleasant, and it squeezes his own just firmly enough to keep him grounded. He's too emotional to freak out about holding Ben's hand; he just squeezes back and focuses fully on what's happening on the stage.
"I've heard it said that people come into our lives for a reason, bringing something we must learn. And we are led to those who help us most to grow, if we let them, and we help them in return. Well, I don't know if I believe that's true, but I know I'm who I am today because I knew you..."*
And he's crying like an idiot in the middle of the theatre, clutching the hand of the guy he barely knows like a lifeline, and feeling it all inside his heart so profoundly like it's been written specifically for him for this exact moment. Then there's a standing ovation lasting way too long, the lights are back, and Harry kind of brushes Ben off before leaving the theatre and losing the rest of his group in the crowd.
Ben finds him out back, trying to light up a cigarette with a shaking hand. "Are you okay?" He sounds genuinely concerned.
"Yeah," Harry says, because he is. He's a little embarrassed and feeling pretty fragile at the moment, but to be honest, he feels lighter than he had in a very long time. "I'm sorry. Here I am falling apart because of a silly musical. It just hit me for some reason. You must think I'm crazy."
"Not in the slightest," Ben disagrees gently. "You're just very sensitive. There's nothing wrong with that."
Sensitive? He's never been sensitive in his life. It was beaten out of him very early. He looks down at his cigarette. "Do you mind if I smoke?" he asks pathetically.
Ben rolls his eyes slightly. "Go ahead." But then he scans Harry's face intently and changes his mind. "Actually, can you wait a minute?"
Harry watches him with wide eyes when he slowly moves closer, holding his gaze, and touches his face. Harry's own hand with a cigarette drops limply, and he feels his throat going dry.
"I don't think that's what you need," Ben murmurs before, telegraphing his movements very clearly, he delicately raises his chin, but Harry's not some fucking flower, so he goes up on his tiptoes, grips the front of his shirt, and brings their mouths together.
It's mostly wet, because he's crying, and he's pretty sure there's snot running down his nose. Before he has time to feel like a total failure, Ben's large hands seem to envelop him whole, and Harry shudders and lets go, just allowing himself to be kissed. Ben seems to be everywhere and feels so alive and vibrant under his trembling hands that in that moment Harry only wants to slither into him somehow and live there.
But he makes a mistake and opens his eyes. First, right above Ben's shoulder, he sees Audrey yanking a blushing Percy away from them, but then there's a light coming from down the street that is getting more and more blinding the closer it gets.
"There's been another murder. Truman says to report to the Leaky Cauldron immediately," a glowing coyote says in Lydia's voice, completely disregarding Ben's presence and vice versa. The first thing Harry realises is that during this whole evening he didn't think about the case even once, and then he remembers that his mouth is still being kissed even though his brain is no longer involved, so he jumps away.
"I've got to go," he stutters, shaken up and for some reason feeling even more like crying, even though before today, he hasn't cried in years. "I'll explain later."
Soundtrack for this one — the whole 'Wicked' soundtrack, and especially:
Wicked – 'For Good', written by Stephen Schwartz