Harry awoke in his flat and looked around the blurry bedroom. Another day ahead of lessons and books. Except today he'd be going back to Hogwarts to rebuild it. That was certainly something.

He looked at his tented blanket and sighed. Morning wood. What to do about it? He pushed the blanket down and grabbed his hard prick through his pajama bottoms. He wanted to masturbate but the only thing that set him off was dreams of Draco Malfoy. And he was trying not to think of the Slytherin any more...in any capacity.

Harry rolled his erection over his belly. But he sure needed to let off some steam. Maybe it wouldn't hurt anything just one more time.

He pushed his pajama bottoms down to his thighs, releasing his stiff cock. He dropped his hand and cupped his sac, trailing fingers lightly up to his shaft where he wrapped his fingers around it. He closed his eyes and drifted into thoughts of a white-blond man, smiling and smirking at him.

You want this, don't you, Potter, the dream Draco said.

"Yes," Harry moaned.

Dream Draco leaned forward and licked just the straining head of his dick. He smirked again. You want more?

"Oh yes, Draco. Please."

Dream Draco lowered his lids to dreamy slits. I know, Potter. I'm going to take that gorgeous cock of yours in my mouth and suck it for all its worth.

"Oh yes!"

Harry began to stroke it, imagining Draco's pink lips stretched over it, imagining his tongue swirling over the head and licking in long strokes up and down the shaft, squeezing the base, licking his balls. Draco always looked so content to be sucking Harry, his cheeks hollowed with sucking, harder and harder. Harry lifted his hips, imagining pushing them into Draco's face. Dream Draco pulled back, licked his cock and sac a bit, wet a finger between his lips, and thrust one digit into Harry's tight puckered entrance.

Harry lifted his hips again, receiving Draco's thrusting finger. Draco added another and began thrusting inside Harry faster and faster.

Are you tired of my fingers yet, Potter? Do you want my cock, because it's nice and hard for you.

"Oh yes, Draco! Fuck me. Now!"

Harry's fingers worked in his anus faster while he sped his wanking but he imagined Draco positioning himself over him and shoving his hard prick inside. Oh yes, that's a tight Gryffindor! Oh Potter. You are so hot.

"Fuck me, Draco! Fuck me!"

Harry's hips jutted forward, thrusting along with his fingers, imagining it was Draco, until Draco couldn't stand it and finally howled, Harry!

It didn't take long for Harry to come and he spurt his white cream over his hands and thighs.

The fantasy dissipated and Harry opened his sticky eyes to an empty room. And instead of the after glow he longed for, there was only emptiness.

* * *

Harry Apparated to Hogsmeade and sighed at the familiarity of the place. When he turned, he looked up the hill to the stately silhouette of Hogwarts. He hurried up the hill and got to the gate where Argus Filch was checking the iron bars. He looked up and spied Harry and grimaced.

Gods, even after all I've done he still looks at me like a delinquent schoolboy. I'm eighteen, for Merlin's sake.

"Good morning, Mr. Filch," said Harry in the politest tenor he could manage.

"Potter," he snarled, almost like Snape would have done. "I suppose you'd be wanting to come inside, eh?"

"Well, I was invited by Headmaster Dumbledore."

Filch grumbled and stuck his key in the rusty lock. Harry wondered if it was a magic lock but he also recalled that Filch was a Squib. Could Squibs use magical objects? He felt so ignorant of magical things. What made him think he'd ever be qualified to teach let alone rebuild Hogwarts?

The gate squealed open and Filch stepped back, allowing Harry through-but just barely.

Harry looked back at the gate and the caretaker, who scowled at Harry as he made his way up the path to the main doors. Harry had received Dumbledore's scrolls months ago and had pored over them, trying to make heads or tails. He even showed them to Remus, but even Remus said that they were written in an ancient language he wasn't aware of. If an experienced wizard like Remus couldn't figure it out, how was Harry to do this?

The doors were closed but the stone around it was still blasted away, its crumbled spires blackened from spells. He pushed the door opened gingerly, but no new stones fell. There was still debris in the corridor and his footfalls sounded that much more hollow walking through the solitary passageway. He hadn't been back to Hogwarts since That Day and then it was a quick run to the trophy room where You-Know-Who was waiting for him. Harry shivered. Months had passed now since That Day but the memory was just as clear, just as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. He recalled how Voldemort had laughed and taunted him though he was surprised that Harry had known where to find him. They cast spell after spell and Harry was certain he was losing. Voldemort was much stronger than he was, knew more magic. But Harry had relied on what Dumbledore had said-about the power the Dark Lord knows not. Love. The stupid sod certainly knew nothing about that! If it hadn't been for Ron and Hermione...

Harry girded himself and walked past the wide open doors of the Great Hall. The timbers of the roof still lay on the broken tables. The hour glasses containing the coloured beads of the house points were shattered and lay like spilled marbles across the floor, mixing with dead leaves and feathers. Scorch marks burned a trail across one wall, and the fireplace lay in ruins. It was going to take a long time until Hogwarts was ready for children again. Harry hoped that none of them would have to grow up in the shadow of a curse ever again. He would make it his mission to see that this was so.

He took entered the staircase corridor but none of the staircases were positioned for him to climb them. He put his hands on his hips and stared at them. "How am I going to see Dumbledore if you won't cooperate?"

As if they heard him, one staircase swung down into place right in front of him while others higher up, moved and formed one continuous trail up to Dumbledore's tower. "Oh. Well, that's more like it," said Harry, wondering if indeed they had heard him.

Harry climbed, feeling the stone railing under his hand. He had to admit it. He really loved Hogwarts. It was like an old friend to him. True, in his sixth year when everything seemed to have come apart at the seams, he was happy to leave Hogwarts behind, but now he didn't feel that way. He supposed enough had transpired that he was willing to come home. Yes, Hogwarts was home to Harry as nothing and no place else had ever been. Perhaps the Burrow was a close second, but nothing had been more welcoming to him than Hogwarts.

He caressed the stair rail like it was some great beast. "Yes, old friend, I'm happy to be here. And I get to live here once your old bones are set to rights. At least you won't have to swallow Skelegro. Lucky you."

The gargoyle statue glared at him and he spoke the password, "Custard pie!" loudly. Was it his imagination, or did the gargoyle smile before it slipped aside?

Harry rode the griffin stair upwards and Dumbledore's door was already open. At once he spotted the enchanted portrait of the old wizard still dozing in his chair. He wondered since Dumbledore had been sort of dead if the portrait ever came to life and the old wizard could converse with it in that mad way of his.

"Ah Harry! Welcome, welcome. I must say, I am not surprised you were able to make it up the stairs."

"Er...why is that, sir?"

"Do you think they would cooperate for just anybody? Poor Mr. Filch has been trying to get up the stairs for weeks now, but they won't change for him. Did you ask them, by any chance?"

"I...didn't know you could. I just wondered aloud if they would cooperate so I could go up to see you. And...well. They did."

Albus smiled and came around his desk. He put his arm paternally around Harry's shoulders. "You see. I knew you were the one to come and help. Hogwarts has meant a great deal to you and the castle is fully aware of that. I'm certain it will listen to you as you help with the wards."

"Th-the castle itself? It's...alive?"

"Not so much alive as...aware." Dumbledore led Harry to the alcove by his window. A book stand stood in the bright light showering the space and the open book upon it positively glowed. "Let me show you something, Harry." He directed Harry in front of the book and the old wizard, still taller than Harry, stood behind him. He touched his gnarled and blackened hand to the open pages and the words leapt off the leaf and into the air, humming with magic.

"We, the Founders," it chanted aloud in a chorus of voices, "give Hogwarts to the generations to follow. He who loves this place as we have loved it, will be welcomed. He will be honoured. He will speak for us."

The letters fell to the page again and Harry turned breathlessly to the old wizard. "Was that...was that really their voices?"

"Yes, Harry. This is the great book of Spells. This is Hogwarts." Harry stared at the book as Dumbledore closed the cover. Etched in bas relief on the leather was the image of Hogwarts. Its pennons flying from the tall pinnacles, waved with an unseen wind. It moved, even though it was neither picture nor photograph. But of course it would. It was the book of Hogwarts, but as Harry studied it, he realized it was more. Just as Dumbledore had said, it was Hogwarts. All its spells, all its secrets.

But something occurred to Harry. "Sir, if you had this book, why couldn't you use it to find the Chamber of Secrets?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "You would think of that. Two reasons, Harry. One, the book did not make itself known until Hogwarts was ruined beyond simple repair, and Two, even if we had found the Chamber, we couldn't have gotten inside without a Parselmouth."

"Oh."

Harry ran his fingers gently over the cover. The leather seemed almost to sigh at his touch. "Does this tell us how to repair Hogwarts?"

"Yes, Harry. Did you study the scrolls I sent you?"

"Er...well. They were sort of written in a language I didn't understand."

"Really?" He took them from Harry, who offered them up to the old man. Dumbledore un rolled them and looked them over. "It is quite plain to me," he said, showing Harry.

"Wait a minute!" Harry could read all of them now. "They were in this weird language before. Even Remus couldn't read it."

"Ah. I think I understand." Dumbledore chuckled as he sat on the window seat. He gestured for Harry to join him there. "Since they are for Hogwarts alone, I suppose they are spelled to be gibberish anywhere but here. My apologies."

"That's okay. I felt like a complete idiot, is all."

"No, Harry. You mustn't feel that way. While it is true you have had a lot of catching up to do, you have come along marvelously. Better than I could have expected."

"But I was such rubbish in a lot of my classes. Hermione did most of my homework..." He cringed upon looking at Dumbledore's expression. "Oops. Well, I guess it had to come out sometime."

"Of course, you took your O.W.L.s yourself, remember," said the wizard. "And so you must have learned something."

"Yes, sir. And I am doing all my own work now. So if I fail completely it's all my own fault."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Ah, Harry. I do regret not spending more time with you. That is a fault I shall correct. We will be working with one another, after all, once you've started teaching here, won't we?"

"I hope so, sir. When I thought you'd...." A lump chocked his throat for a moment. "When I thought you'd died, sir-"

"Yes, Harry. I deeply regret hurting you in this way. It was certainly not my intention to do so."

"It was to make me go after him, wasn't it?"

"Partly true. Mostly, it was because I did not want you to have killed me."

Harry jumped up. "What?"

"The potion in the cave, Harry. Poison. I was near death as it was. Fortunately, Professor Snape and I had agreed earlier on this course, in case it should come to this. Of course, I was certain it would be Draco Malfoy who had to be saved from that fate."

With mention of Draco, Harry faltered completely. Tears coursed down his face. "I almost killed you."

"Nonsense, Harry. I made a most unfortunate pact with you before we left, you will recall. I told you to follow my orders however unpleasant they would be. And you, a young boy of sixteen. I had no right forcing you to it."

"I wanted to go," he said softly, sniffing.

"I know. It was important that you did. We learned what we needed to in that cave. And Professor Snape saved both you and Draco from becoming murderers. That was very important to me."

"I came out a killer in the end, though." Harry realized it came out sullenly, but he didn't care.

"But this time, Harry, it was your choice. And you did it to save others. All the others. That is far different from the killing Voldemort did. Surely you see that."

"Yes, I know." Harry stared out the window. He remembered flying on Buckbeak past this window once.

They sat in silence for a time until Harry realized the old wizard was waiting for him. He sighed. This growing up business was for the birds.

"Professor, I don't blame you for any of it, if that's what you're thinking. I'm not going to smash your office again. It all worked out. And you're not dead. Which was very good news indeed." Harry turned to him and smiled while wiping the tears from his face. He noticed with some surprise that Dumbledore was wiping away his own tears.

"I am very gratified to hear that, Harry."

* * *

Dumbledore took Harry on a tour of some of the dungeon areas. Apparently, they would have to start from the ground up in their magical repairs. Harry discovered that only he, Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick would be doing the repairs. It made Harry very proud and a little intimidated that he would be the youngest one, but Dumbledore assured him that the castle would respond to him.

It was strange thinking of the castle as an entity, but he supposed he always had done at the back of his mind.

As they entered the Slytherin area, Dumbledore easily entered the common room. Harry hung back and Dumbledore looked back at him. "It's all right, Harry. No Slytherins here to harass you."

"I wasn't worried about that," he muttered under his breath and ducked inside. It was much as he remembered it back in his second year when he and Ron had posed as Crabbe and Goyle to discover who the heir of Slytherin was. Except that some of the plaster had broken off the walls, and a ceiling beam had cracked.

"My, my," said Dumbledore, ticking his head. "Quite a mess here, as well. And this furniture. I think it time we replace a few items." He walked over to a green wing-back chair and tutted at the rip on the seat. "I suppose we should dispose of this old thing."

Harry flashed back to his second year when he saw Draco sitting in this very chair, chatting with what he thought was Crabbe and Goyle. He had been so comfortable in that chair, one leg thrown over an arm. Like he belonged there, much like a throne. That was the year Harry had realized he had a crush on the Slytherin.

"Sir! I'll take it. If...that's all right."

"You want a chair from Slytherin, Harry?"

"Um...sure. Why not? I'm part Slytherin. And I like the chair. It would go well in my flat. Oh. It's not cursed or anything, is it?"

Dumbledore stepped out of the way. "Why don't you tell me?"

Ah. A test. Harry took out his wand and waved it over the chair, incanting the spell for curse detection. There didn't appear to be any on it. "It...looks okay, sir."

"Yes. Well done, Harry. You may move it to the front doors, if you wish."

Another test. Harry concentrated. He vanished it and concentrated on making it reappear by the front entrance. He felt his magic pop, and he hoped the chair was still in one piece. A stupid thing to do, taking that chair home. Probably a bit destructive on his part, but he suddenly wanted it. He pictured Draco so perfectly there...which was probably why he shouldn't take it, but he couldn't turn it away now.

"Thank you, sir."

"Not a bit of it, Harry."

They continued to examine Hogwarts, into rooms Harry had never seen before, up staircases, into niches and corners. Everywhere something had gone wrong. There was a lot of work to do.

Dumbledore gave Harry a book of spells about wards and such, and told him to come back in a fortnight after he'd mastered the text. He looked at the thick book doubtfully, but nodded, listening to all that Dumbledore told him. Once back in Hogsmeade, he Disapparated and Apparated near his flat, where he unlocked his door and removed the reduced chair from his pocket. He enlarged it again with a flick of his wand and put it in several places in the small room before he settled on a sunny spot before the bay window. He looked at it a moment, satisfied, before he moved to sit in it, thinking of Draco. He shook his head at himself, and opened Dumbledore's book into his lap.

* * *

On his days off, Harry liked to take walks in Muggle London and he found himself in the park in the afternoons. It was a pleasure going where he liked, staying out as late as he liked, without worrying about what the Dursleys would do to him. He had transfigured the large tome that Dumbledore gave him to look like a simple paperback and found a favorite bench on which to sit and read.

Harry looked at his watch. Precisely at three, a handsome bloke with strikingly white-blond hair and walking a small dog, appeared on the path. Everyday that Harry was there, there was this bloke. Harry noticed him the first thing when he began reading at the park. At first, his hair had startled him, he thinking it was Draco. But it clearly wasn't. Just some rather slight man with light-coloured hair and a brisk pace. Harry always watched him over the edge of his book. The man was gorgeous. He had light, hazel eyes and a pointy nose and chin, and he always gave Harry a quick glance when he walked his little dog past.

But today was different. As Harry studiously worked on watching the man without the man's knowing it, the man walked a few paces before he stopped right in front of Harry's bench. Harry looked up from under his dark fringe, hiding his eyes behind his glasses. The man looked back at Harry, moved toward the bench, and sat. Harry stared at his book, petrified.

"Mind if I sit here?" asked the man. His voice had a pleasant timbre. The dog jumped up beside him and panted over his lap, something Harry longed to do.

Harry lowered the book. "No. I don't mind at all."

The man smiled. He had very white teeth. "I see you everyday. You read a lot. Is it a good book?"

Harry looked at his transfigured book cover. It was the cover of the latest bestseller. "Er...yeah. Hard to put it down."

"You haven't gotten very far," said the man. "I mean, you're here everyday, reading the same book."

"Oh. Well...I only get to read when I'm here. Have loads of work to do in the meantime."

"Yes. Me too. George and I only get a little freedom in the afternoon, don't we George?" The small dog jumped up and down and licked the man's nose.

Harry smiled. "He's cute. What kind of dog is he?"

"Pekinese. He's adorable. And he knows it, the rotter. So." He turned to Harry and put out his hand. "I'm Roger Garrett. And you are--?"

"Oh." Harry took his hand and shook it. Here it was. The moment of truth. If he were a Muggle then no recognition should pass over his eyes. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

"Nice to meet you, Harry." He released Harry's hand and ran it over the dog. Harry sat back, relieved. The man didn't know who Harry was! This was the greatest day of his life!

"Nice to meet you. So you and George are regulars?"

And it happened like that. Not with a thunderclap, but with the odd meeting in the park. They talked for a bit and then Roger had to move along. But he was there the next day, too, and each time he'd sit with Harry and they'd natter about anything and everything. Except they never talked of evil wizards or spells and hexes. Because Roger was a Muggle. As Muggle as they came. And Harry was very pleased with that.

On the fourth day of their meeting, Roger didn't have George with him. Of course, Harry asked about him right away.

"Oh he's off to the groomer's today. Lucky dog. Gets to be pampered and washed by some of the best looking blokes in town."

Silence followed that pronouncement. Harry didn't quite know what to say. Roger rescued him.

"And here's where you either politely pretend you didn't hear me say that, or you show immediate interest and I ask you to tea." Roger turned pointedly to Harry and blinked his light eyes at him.

A slow smile curled Harry's mouth. "Tea sounds good," he said.

* * *

Harry and Roger took tea in a little shop not far from the park. Harry couldn't help but recall the last time he'd had a date in a tea shop. It was in Hogsmeade with Cho Chang and it was such a disaster. But this time, instead of being at a loss for words, words simply spilled out of him as if he had bottled it all up for years. He guessed he had.

It was easy to talk to Roger and Roger was funny and sweet and devilishly handsome. There was no nervousness at all when Roger asked Harry for his number and asked him to dine with him the next evening. "There's this little Nepalese restaurant not too far from here I've been dying to try," he said. And just like that, Harry had his first real date.

Harry was ready for many hours before Roger was to show up. And it was a good thing because Hermione Flooed in.

"Hermione! What are you doing here?" Harry checked out his clothes, even though he knew he was perfectly dressed. It was still a little disconcerting how his friends simply showed up, whether he was dressed or not.

But he could tell right away that Hermione was upset. "Hey. 'Mione. Sit down." He took her shoulders and steered her to his leather sofa and sat beside her. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just Ron."

Harry couldn't help slip an eye to the clock. A Ron problem was likely to take a while, but Roger was due in half an hour.

"What's he done this time?"

In answer, Hermione thrust her left hand at Harry. Harry looked. What was he suppose to-A ring. An engagement ring? He smiled from ear to ear. "Hermione! You're going to get married. That's great!"

She shook her head. Her mouth was a tight line.

Harry slumped. "You're not getting married?"

"Ronald has it all settled in his mind. Married and right away start having children. Never mind that I've just got my career going. He says he wants a wife who stays at home with the children. He wants a herd like he was used to."

Harry sighed. He looked at the clock again.

"It's insane. I told him we should wait. But he didn't want to hear any of it. Got it in his head that another Voldemort could come along and we should-in his words: 'make hay while the sun shines.'"

Romantic, Harry thought with sarcasm. "Well, he's just concerned. You know how he is. He'll see reason." Harry looked at the clock again.

"I know he will but-why are you looking at the clock?" She suddenly noticed what Harry was wearing-not his usual jeans and t-shirt, but a button down-shirt and trousers. "Harry? Are you expecting someone? You look nice. And smell even nicer. Is that cologne?"

He felt his face flush. "A little. I'm sort of expecting a...a...a date. Of sorts."

"A date?" Hermione's tense expression melted, replaced with a smile. "Oh Harry! A man, I take it?"

"Of course a man!" He rose and paced a bit. "And he's due any minute. I'm sorry Hermione."

She rose and hugged him. "That's okay, Harry. Ron and I will work it out. I just needed to let off some steam. So. Is it anyone we know?"

"What? Oh, no. He's a Muggle."

"A Muggle?"

"I just couldn't take the publicity from the press. And...well. Who could I really trust in the Wizarding world?"

She nodded. "You're quite right. Have a good time, Harry." She kissed his cheek, walked to the Floo, and ducked into the hearth. She turned to him and smiled. "Have a really good time. But don't rush into anything. Don't feel pressured to do anything you're not prepared for."

He blushed furiously. "I know, Hermione."

"Just take care of yourself. And if you do decide to...um...do something, make sure you use the proper spells."

"Er...the proper spells...for what?"

She stepped out of the hearth and looked at him sternly. "He's a Muggle, Harry. There are certain precautions you need to take."

"What do you mean? I won't tell him anything-"

She waved her hand at him, dismissing his statement. "I don't mean that, Harry. I mean...precautions. Sexual precautions."

"What?"

"There are diseases to be avoided. I don't suppose you have any condoms here."

"No. Why would I need that?"

"Honestly, Harry. You were raised as a Muggle, weren't you?"

"Yeah, but...Oh. Oh, I get it. No, I don't have any con-I wasn't going to do anything--"

"Well you never know. Always best to be prepared. Perhaps he's got some-"

"What makes you think-?"

"Well, ever since you told us you were gay I've been reading up-"

"Is there nothing you can't find in a book, Hermione?" he said, crossing back to the sofa and sitting. Why didn't she just go already? He was nervous enough without talk of sex. Of course, he'd been reading up, too. He tried to hide the bulge growing in his crotch.

"It's in your best interests. Anyway, the homosexual sex drive is supposed to be greater than that of heterosexual males, only that may not be entirely true as you put too perfectly healthy males together with a normal sex drive and you get overdrive, I suppose...."

"Hermione! Please, can we not talk about this! I'm nervous enough."

She looked at him sympathetically. "I'm sorry. I'll go. Have a good time, Harry. But only as good a time as you're ready for."

"Thanks, Hermione," he muttered. And with that, she whooshed away.

Just then the doorbell rang. Not a moment too soon, he thought. He patted down his hair and went to the door, took a moment to breathe, and pulled it open.

Roger stood there...with a single red rose in his hand. "I hope this isn't too forward," he said, extending his hand to Harry.

Harry stared at the flower. He didn't know what to do with it. But he was terribly touched. No one had ever given him flowers before. Was it too girly? He looked up at Roger. He really was quite handsome. He smiled and took the flower. "Er...thanks. That's...really nice of you." He held it and stepped aside so the man could come in.

Harry offered him a chair and then a drink while still holding the rose.

Roger laughed. "You don't have to hold that all night, you know. Perhaps a bud vase? Or a glass?"

Harry felt stupid already and went into the kitchen in search of a glass. He took one from the cupboard, filled it from water from the tap, and stuck the long stemmed rose in it. It looked a little sad and a little top heavy, so he leaned it against the wall by the sink.

"Silly idea," said Roger. "It just seemed the thing to do."

"That's all right. I'm just not used to this."

"To dating? Or to men?"

"Well...um...both, I guess."

"Oh dear. You've just come out?"

"Mostly to myself. And to a few friends. But that's it." Harry chewed on his bottom lip. Honesty was the best policy. "And so I don't have any experience, you know. Any experience." If Roger wanted to back out, this was the time. Would he take his flower back?

Roger's expression turned to something rather tender. "Well, everyone's got to have a first time, Harry," he said gently. "Why don't we start with dinner? I'm starved."

But all Harry heard was "start with."

* * *

The food was good and quite different from what Harry was used to. He decided that he would try something new each week, starting with that curry place just around the corner from his flat.

Roger was an engineer and a consultant, so he didn't have regular hours. Harry told him he was a teacher-in-training and didn't have regular hours at the moment either. They talked easily, and though Harry was woefully inept on current topics in the Muggle world as well as their entertainment, they found lots of common ground, and it filled the evening.

Harry rested his chin on his hand as he listened to Roger talk about his next big project. Harry was only half-listening. He was thinking how nice the man's mouth was and how very much he wanted to kiss him. Kiss any bloke, really, since he never had. Roger kept brushing his blond hair out of his eyes and that was really very sexy, his hair. Harry liked the way the candlelight caught the strands and made them glow golden. He liked his light grey eyes and how they always seemed to be smiling and alive.

He thought he'd very much like to go to bed with him.

The check arrived and Roger reached for his wallet first. Harry awoke long enough to put his hand out to stop him. "Oh no. Let me."

"Don't be silly, Harry. I asked you out."

"No. It's no problem."

"Really, Harry-"

"We could split it."

He put his hand on Harry's and Harry noticed how very warm it was. Roger looked him in the eye. "It's all right, Harry. I've got this one. Next time, you get it, all right?"

Harry smiled. "Okay."

It was strange someone paying for his dinner and bringing him a rose. But it was nice walking back to his flat and just feeling the companionable silence beside him.

It wasn't comfortable, however, once they climbed the steps to Harry's flat, went inside, and looked at one another. "Well," said Harry. "Thanks for a great dinner."

"You're very welcome." But Roger made no move to leave.

"Would you like...a coffee?" asked Harry. He felt his palms getting sweaty.

Roger took a step closer. "No, thanks."

"Tea?" asked Harry, swallowing loudly.

Roger stepped even closer until he was only a few inches from Harry. They were the same height. "No. Thanks."

"Is there...anything...you want?"

Roger took hold of the lapels on Harry's jacket and pushed them gently over his shoulders until the jacket slipped to the floor. "A few things, I guess," he said softly. And then he leaned forward and touched his lips very gently to Harry's.

Harry's eyes swept closed. Roger's lips were warm and soft and the man started by simply pressing his lips to Harry's and rubbing them a bit. But then Harry felt the swipe of a wet tongue across his mouth and his lips just fell open and allowed him in. The kiss deepened from there. Roger clamped his mouth tightly over Harry's while his tongue explored his mouth. The sensual feeling shot right down to Harry's groin and his prick hardened.

Roger's hands were on Harry's shoulders, but now they were snaking around him completely and pulling him into an embrace. Harry leaned into him, his arms automatically encircling the man's waist. He moaned into Roger's mouth. He just couldn't help it. He'd never experienced anything as good as this. When he kissed Cho and even when he kissed Ginny, it was never like this!

Roger drew back, but it was only to cock his head and press his lips the other way to Harry's mouth. Harry slipped his tongue between Roger's lips experimentally and Roger reacted with more lavish licks, almost chewing on Harry's mouth. He pulled Harry tightly against him and Harry felt that marvelous hardness pressed against his belly. Roger was hard! For Harry! It was an incredibly heady feeling to make someone else as aroused as he was. Harry clutched at him, kissing with all the fervency he had bottled up for all those years.

Breathlessly, Roger pulled back and looked at Harry with a glazed expression. "Wow, Harry. For an inexperienced bloke, you do that rather well."

"So do you." Harry could feel the man's breath on his moist lips. They were still pressed together below the waist and Harry couldn't resist pushing his hips into Roger's, pressing their groins tighter.

"Harry," he moaned.

Harry had made him moan! This was incredible!

Roger moved his hands to Harry's face and held his cheeks, brushing his hair from his face away from his glasses. "I'm sure you must be tired of hearing this, but you have the most incredible green eyes."

"I like yours, too," he said, looking into those silver eyes. They weren't smiling anymore. Now they seemed filled with...lust. "Do...do you want to...stay?"

"This is your first time, isn't it Harry?"

Harry licked his lips. He couldn't remember the last time he was so aroused. "Yes, but that doesn't mean I'm not a fast learner. And...I'd like you to stay."

"I want to. But I want you to be sure."

Harry nudged him toward the bedroom. "I'm sure. I've been waiting for this for a long time."

Roger smiled. He slipped his other hand off of Harry's back and left his arm around his waist. He led Harry to the bedroom and stopped beside the bed. He turned to Harry, reached up, and plucked off his glasses. The room was dark, but there was enough light from the streetlamp just outside his window. Roger's hair looked blue and his face was mostly in shadow though it was blurry because of Harry's poor eyesight.

Roger leaned forward and planted his lips on Harry's neck. Harry raised his head to give him more access. A tongue made a leisurely path down his throat with occasional nipping from teeth. One hand was at the buttons of his shirt while the other was making lazy circles on his chest. It all felt so good.

Once Harry's shirt was unbuttoned, Roger's hands trailed over his chest, pushing the shirt down his shoulders. His fingers lightly caressed, until they came to his nipples and gently pinched them. Harry hadn't known before that his nipples were erogenous zones-but he did now! He arched into it and soon felt lips clamped onto him, gently nipping and sucking.

"Oh God!" He couldn't move. Roger seemed to have him under some sort of Petrificus, except that the only magic he was using was his tongue and lips.

Harry's shirt was off and his belt was somehow unbuckled, his trousers unbuttoned and unzipped and hanging open loosely on his hips.

Roger's hands were everywhere. They massaged, touched, groped, with fingernails and without. And when he cupped Harry's bollocks and stiff cock over the material of his smalls, Harry gasped and nearly fell forward.

"No one's ever touched you like this," Roger whispered in his ear, making it tingle.

"No," Harry groaned.

"Harry. I'm glad it's me. You are so beautiful." He pushed Harry's trousers and pants down and Harry felt the cold air of the room on his erection. His eyes snapped open and he looked at Roger. He had somehow managed to drop his own trousers and pants. His shirt was still on but it was unbuttoned and Harry saw the reddened tip of his cock jutting up between the fabric.

"Oh boy," murmured Harry. He'd never seen another erect cock in the flesh before. Plenty of wizard magazines, which were much better than the Muggle variety because in the Wizard mags the men moved. But this was not a picture, moving or otherwise. It was a living, breathing, erect bloke. And he instinctively reached out with his fingers and touched it. "You don't mind, do you?" he asked belatedly, thinking that it maybe wasn't quite polite touching another chap's dick without asking, though in their current state of undress and present activities, he didn't think it was all too untoward.

"Not at all," came the breathless reply. He moved closer so Harry could wrap his fingers around it. It felt velvety but hard, not unlike his own. Harry stroked it a bit and ran his thumb over the slit which was leaking a bit. Harry's hips jutted forward in an involuntary thrust. God, how he wanted...wanted...he wasn't sure.

"Roger, what...what do you want me to do?"

He was still holding the other man's prick and Roger shrugged out of his shirt. They were both naked and panting.

"What do you feel comfortable doing, Harry? I'll do anything you want."

"Then, if you don't mind, I want it all."

Roger chuckled, a funny sensation when holding on to his dick. "'All' in what sense?"

"'All' as in everything. I want to suck you. I want you to suck me. I want to be inside you. All of it."

Roger gasped as Harry gave a particularly hard tug on the man's cock. "Okay. You first then." Roger pulled reluctantly away from Harry's embrace and sunk to his knees. He kneaded Harry's thighs for a moment before he kissed the head of Harry's cock.

Harry gasped and fisted his hands to his sides. He wanted to grab Roger's head and shove it into his groin but he held back with all his might. And it was a good thing, too, because Roger began with some agonizingly slow licks up his shaft, swirling his tongue around on his glans. Harry shuddered and threw back his head in a soundless scream. This was too good. He wasn't going to last, he just knew it. "I...I may not be able to hold it in," he warned, thinking it the gallant thing to do.

Roger looked up his torso at him and Harry's erection bobbed in his face. "That's okay, Harry. I want to taste your cum."

That almost did it right there. But Harry bit his lip and curled his toes, and just as he did, Roger swallowed his cock. Harry never felt anything as mind-blowing as that. His cock was cradled in a hot, moist cavern while the tongue still played at it, lapping the shaft and the ridge of his glans.

He was not going to last. He tried, but he couldn't help thrusting forward and grasping Roger's head, fingers clutching his hair. He thrust again and came, thrusting again and again until he had unloaded completely into Roger's mouth-his mouth!

Harry opened his bleary eyes and watched Roger swallow it all, lick his lips, lick Harry's cock once more, and smile up at him.

"That was brilliant!" said Harry.

Roger laughed. "Yeah. Thought it might be." He rose and rubbed his body against Harry's limp one. If he didn't hold the dark-haired man up at this point, Harry might have fallen over. "What do you want now, Harry?"

Harry felt a warm euphoria spread throughout his body. If it was Voldemort standing there right now, he would have let him do anything. "I want you to shag me," he said without a care.

"You do? Really?" He embraced Harry again, kissing him and running his tongue down his chin to his neck. "Are you sure?"

"Uh huh," he said lazily. Harry was smiling from ear to ear. He was determined to explore the whole pantheon of gay sex in one night. He hoped Roger had the strength for it.

"Okay," he said gently, leading Harry to the edge of the bed. "Do you have lube and condoms?"

Lube? Crap. "No, I don't," he said, feeling disappointed. "Neither of those things."

Roger smiled. "That's okay. I came prepared." Roger sank to the floor to rummage in his trousers and pulled out several silver packets and a tube of something. He smiled sheepishly. "You never know."

"...When you'll come across a clueless virgin?" Harry was the one who felt foolish.

Roger smiled kindly and sat and put his arm around Harry. His reddened cock jutted up from his lap and Harry couldn't help gawking at it. "I sort of thought you might be. Not clueless, just a virgin. I've never met anyone as sweet as you, Harry. You are just naturally that way. I wanted you the moment I laid eyes on you."

Harry blushed. Funny thing to do when you were starkers with a veritable stranger sitting equally starkers on your bed. "Really?"

He kissed Harry's cheek. "Of course. You are irresistible, Mr. Potter."

"You don't know how funny that is," said Harry, feeling for the most part, pretty resistable. "Why else do you think I'm still a virgin at eighteen?"

"You just hadn't run into the right bloke, is all. Like I said, I'm glad it's me. We've a long night ahead of us."

"Yeah." Harry gathered the courage to lean forward and kiss him. He put his had on the back of Roger's head and pulled him in. It was sloppy, in Harry's estimation, but it didn't seem to diminish the man's stellar erection.

"Lie on your stomach, Harry. It will be easier that way the first time."

Harry felt a pang of nervousness knife through his belly. But his limp prick also gave a twitch and he felt that all too familiar feeling creeping back into it. He moved and lay down as instructed, and by the time he was prone, his dick had hardened again and was mashed between the mattress and his belly.

He turned his head and laid it on his arms. He watched with his blurry vision as Roger tore open the condom wrapper and took it out. Even though Harry had charmed himself earlier when he had excused himself in the loo (just in case) he was fascinated by what he observed. Roger took the ring of latex and slipped it down his hard flesh. And just like that, he was ready. Harry felt the bed dip as the man positioned himself above and behind him. A kiss pressed to his shoulder. "I'm going to use the lube now, Harry. It's going to be a bit cold, I'm afraid." He was right. Harry felt the cold substance slide down his cleft. Roger's hands grasped his bum, kneading each cheek gently. "Spread your legs, Harry."

Harry felt the warmth of embarrassment colour his face as he opened his legs. He was exposing his arsehole. But of course, he'd have to, wouldn't he? Still, it was a different thing altogether actually doing it than merely thinking about it. And then a gentle finger slipped between his crack and drew down until it reached his entrance. It teased the furled flesh and Harry couldn't help but clench down. "You have to relax, Harry. Try not to clench. I know it's going to be difficult, but it will hurt less."

Hurt less. It was going to hurt? Harry hadn't bargained on that. Of course his hole was small. He'd fingered it himself but it hadn't hurt. But it was different when someone else-Merlin! Someone else!

Roger's finger slipped inside him and just rested there. Harry was surprised at how quickly it had happened. It was odd but not uncomfortable. Roger eased in further and Harry wriggled his bum a little to help it along. But then, Roger curled his finger and Harry almost bolted up from the bed. Oh my God! That was spectacular! What was that? That must be the prostate thing he read about. But oh! Roger did it again and Harry nearly bucked off the bed. "Blimey!"

"Blimey, indeed. You like that, Harry? It's even better when my cock hits it over and over. Want to give it a try?"

"Yes!" he moaned.

Roger kissed his neck and withdrew his finger. Harry felt him add more lube and then something else pressed against his hole. Immediately he tensed but then forced himself not to. That was most certainly the man's cock against him now. And he wanted to feel him enter him.

The cockhead pressed firmly to his entrance and then pushed. Harry tried to relax, to let it happen, but it felt as if he was going to be split in two. It hurt, all right, but he forced himself to get the proper perspective. It wasn't like a Cruciatus, now was it, he admonished. Yes, it hurt, but nothing like a curse. And with that thought, he was able to relax enough and felt that delicious slide of a cock in his arse.

Oh my. It felt full. Odd. Sexy. Naughty. But as Roger stayed still within him, Harry got used to the thickness of it and relaxed even further. He spread his legs wider.

"That's my boy," soothed Roger. "Feeling okay, Harry?"

"Mmm...yes. More than okay."

"Can I move now?"

"Yes, please!"

If that cock felt sexy immobile, it certainly kicked it up a notch when Roger moved. He pulled back slightly and then eased in again. Harry felt giddy. This was marvelous. He was being shagged. How very cool!

Roger began to thrust and Harry felt himself wanting to lift his hips into it. He followed his instincts and was rewarded by a moan of contentment from his lover. Roger changed angles slightly and Harry felt his head exploding. Roger had found his prostate, all right, and Harry bucked harder into it. The harder he bucked, the harder Roger thrust until they were really moving the bed and moaning aloud to one another.

Harry felt his cock growing harder as it rubbed against the duvet with each hard thrust. He was going to come again, with someone's cock in his arse. Just that thought was enough to tip him over the edge and he exploded with pleasure, coming hard into the duvet. He clenched his arse over the cock inside him, and that feeling only made him come harder.

Roger cried out and pumped furiously into Harry, jutting his hips forward again and again. He slowed and grasped Harry's arse, clamping with his fingernails and digging deeply. Finally, he heaved a great sigh and fell atop him, panting into his neck and kissing wherever his lips fell.

Harry laughed. "That was...that was-"

"Too right," gasped Roger and carefully pulled out of him. He slipped off the condom, expertly tied the end, and dropped it into the bin beside the bed. "You, Harry, were absolutely wonderful."

"It was all wonderful." Harry rolled over onto his back. He would have liked to clean himself with a Scourgify but knew he couldn't with a Muggle present. He relished instead the cold wet feeling of his own cum on his stomach. He turned his head to look at the blond man lying beside him. Without his glasses, he almost looked like another blond man he wasn't supposed to be thinking about anymore. Harry shook his head. No. That was the past. It was over. This was the present. And a very pleasant present it was.

* * *

After a rest, Harry and Roger went at it again, this time Harry plunging into the other man's arse. What a feeling that was! He slammed into him hard and harder still as Roger groaned for Harry to fill him. Later, he sucked Roger's cock, admitting to himself that he needed a lot more practice at that. Roger heartily volunteered to be the guinea pig.

In the morning, quite exhausted and quite sated, Harry looked over at his bed partner just waking up. "Blimey," said Roger. "It's morning." He looked at Harry and smiled. "Good morning, Harry. How are you this fine day?"

"Sore as hell, as you warned me I'd be. But all in all, pretty damned happy."

He rolled over and took Harry in his arms, kissing his mouth. "Me too."

They went at it again, Harry topping once more-seeing that he preferred that-and then they took turns in the bath. Harry made them breakfast and Roger kissed him before he left, promising to ring and giving Harry his number and telling him to ring him as well.

Harry watched the door close and felt happier than he had in a long while. He finally felt right. He realized that this is the way one is supposed to feel all the time. Normal. Loved and normal. Not that he had any illusions that Roger loved him, but there was always that possibility. At least a boyfriend. Wouldn't that be something?

Roger rang Harry the next day and they almost got out the door to try that curry place Harry mentioned, but they never quite left the sofa and ordered delivery from the curry place after all.

After several more dates, Harry came to realize that he indeed, had a boyfriend. Even if he was a Muggle.

It was time to introduce him to his friends.

* * *

Harry made sure his Floo was closed so that Hermione and Ron couldn't forget and accidentally use it. That would be disaster. He glanced at the clock and realized everyone was to arrive in about ten minutes. When the doorbell rang he was happy to see that it was Roger. He kissed him and let him in.

Roger looked around at the flowers and how neat the room was. "Nice, Harry. Are you nervous?"

"Yes! Aren't you?"

He shrugged. "I guess a little."

"Want a drink?"

"Absolutely." He fixed Roger a gin and tonic and tried to sit but felt too fidgety.

"What's the worse that could happen?" asked Roger. All the possibilities went through Harry's head, including Ministry officials knocking down his door. "I mean," Roger went on, "worst case scenario, they won't like me, right? But I'm sure we'll get on. Should you put some music on?"

Harry clutched his beer. "I don't have a player."

Roger laughed. "No telly, player, or computer. You are something out of the dark ages, all right, Potter."

"Um...do you mind not calling me 'Potter'? Sort of brings up bad memories from school."

"Oh. Sorry, Harry." He leaned over and kissed the dark-haired man. "Anything to please. And later when your guests leave, I plan on doing a lot of pleasing."

Harry smiled, feeling a little embarrassed. But he was saved by the chime of the doorbell. "That's them," he said unnecessarily.

He opened it and he was embraced by bushy hair. "Harry!"

"Hi, Hermione. Hi Ron."

"Hey, mate."

The both entered, spotted Roger who had his back to them while lifting the pot lids, and they froze. But as soon as Roger turned they thawed, wore what he might call relieved expressions. Where they expecting someone else?

"Hermione, Ron, this is Roger Garrett. He's my...partner."

Roger wore a wide welcoming smile and stretched his hand out to shake. They each took it in turn, still staring at him apprehensively. "Harry's told me a lot about you two."

"Has he?" said Hermione with a stern look at Harry.

"Er...you know. The normal stuff. How we were all best mates in school and how we always got up to trouble. That sort of thing."

"Oh," she said.

"Can I get anyone a drink?" Roger asked.

They sat while Roger stayed in the kitchen and poured their drinks. Hermione took Harry aside. "You didn't tell him-"

"Of course not, Hermione!" he whispered back. "I don't want the Ministry breathing down my neck."

"I must say," said Ron, hand on his heart. "Gave me a scare. For a moment there I thought he was M-"

Hermione elbowed Ron hard. He doubled over. "Hermione! What was that for?"

"Just never mind. And don't forget the small talk. No talk of Quidditch, you two."

They both said, "I know, Hermione!" at the same time, looked at each other, and laughed.

Roger came over and handed them their drinks. "What's the joke?"

"Oh...," said Harry. "We were just talking about their engagement."

Hermione shot her hand out and showed her ring.

Roger beamed. "Well now! Congratulations. Here's to you." And he raised his glass.

Everyone toasted and drank. They fell into a lull. Harry realized that if they couldn't talk of Wizarding things there was little left to talk about. Better to get Roger to start some conversation. "Tell them about what you do, Roger."

Roger explained cheerfully about himself, his dog George-which made Ron snicker-and how wonderful he thought Harry was.

Harry blushed and jumped up. "I think dinner's ready," he said, and went into the kitchen to lay it out.

They all ate, making the lightest of conversation. Hermione had just gotten a job at the Ministry in research and since she was raised as a Muggle, she knew how to couch it in Muggle terms, talking of a job in government. But Ron wasn't quite as good at describing his new job at the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office and Hermione had to keep rescuing him by interjecting with non sequitars. Roger was a little confused but didn't comment on it.

The evening ended early with Hermione and Ron saying their good-byes a little before ten. Once they left Roger fell back on the sofa. "Whew! They seemed nice enough, Harry, but I could tell they were holding back something."

"They're just not used to you," he said, but feeling funny himself.

Roger sat quietly, his arm around Harry, until he finally spoke. "I always meant to ask you, mate. What is with that odd broom in the corner? Plan on going witching or something?"

Harry's wide eyes locked on the Firebolt and he jumped up from his seat and grabbed it from its corner. "Oh...this? Well...it's a sort of...sort of joke, I guess. A present."

"It's a good one," said Roger. "I mean, it looks fairly well made."

Harry wanted to shout that it was the best ever made, but he knew that wouldn't go down well. He looked at it a moment before he stuffed it in the closet. But as soon as he shut the door on it he knew it was hopeless. There was no way this was going to last between them. If Harry couldn't be honest with himself about himself to someone else, it was doomed.

He looked sadly at Roger. As much as he wanted to spend one more night with the sexy man, he knew he had to end it first. It just wouldn't be fair. A mocking voice in the back of his head with the same tone as Draco Malfoy, told him to shut up and get shagged first. But Harry wasn't the type. He sat down next to Roger and drew the man's hand into his.

* * *

Roger was nice about it and even seemed to understand, but he had a pretty sorrowful expression when he left that evening. Harry felt rotten. He felt nauseated and even vomited up all that dinner into his toilet. He and Roger seemed so good together. He almost rang him but reason finally took hold. What would be different? He wasn't in love with the bloke. If he were, things might be different. He'd have to tell him about the Wizarding world then. But he wondered how one was to do that. Did you have to get permission from the Ministry first? And what if they didn't give permission? What did other couples do? Certainly families like his mother's grandparents would have to be told in some way. Aunt Petunia in one of the very few times she mentioned Harry's mother had said that his grandparents sounded excited when Lily Evans showed Wizarding signs. "We have a witch in the family," Aunt Petunia had said. The grandparents had seemed proud but Aunt Petunia had said it with malice. Perhaps she was jealous of not possessing the same talent. She certainly wasn't as pretty as his mum and that must have caused a rift between them in the first place.

Harry sighed, rinsed his mouth out, and got ready for bed. He slid under the covers and stared at his ceiling. He supposed the only way he could be really happy was to have a wizard as a boyfriend. And his heart could only think of the one wizard-who wasn't a wizard anymore. If he was even alive.

He sat up. Don't think that, Harry. He has to be alive. He concentrated very hard to see if he could feel Draco somewhere, but he couldn't. Wasn't capable of that kind of magic. He just had to rely on hope that everything was all right. He was sure it was. Draco was a survivor. He was really the only one of the inner circle to remain alive. He must have more moxy that Harry gave him credit for.

He settled back down and tried to fall asleep. And when he finally did, he dreamed of Draco.

* * *

It was time to get back to work. Hogwarts awaited and Harry Flooed back to Hogsmeade to begin the work of restoring the magical wards. He knew that spell book backwards and forwards, but he was still nervous standing with Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Flitwick in the dungeons, his wand held aloft and ready to administer the needed spells to raise the first defenses.

"Are we ready, everyone?" asked Dumbledore. "On the count of three, begin the incantation. Speak loudly and distinctly," he added, glancing at Harry.

Harry swallowed loudly. Why did his mind blank the moment Dumbledore spoke?

"One...two...three!"

But then the contents of the spell book seemed to flow from Harry's mind and he incanted the complicated spellwork and swished his wand appropriately, watching Professor Flitwick for just the right movements.

Harry worked hard. They all did. It took a very long time. Harry estimated that it just might take another year to do it right.


On to Chapter Six
"Everyday Life With Draco"

Back to Chapter Four
"Draco's Lessons"

Chapter Index
Beginnings: Slash Prequel to Aftermath Main Page

Mystwriter's Story Page