Second Place - Drama

Harry snagged his unopened beverage from the bar top and followed Bill toward his table. Severus watched the gentle sway as the sprite approached, wondering how Harry managed to make the movement look so natural without the pelvic structure of a real woman. Severus examined his former student, noting the expertly made up face and chin length poker straight black hair. The little black dress was finely tailored to give the slight young man the illusion of curves and the dark wizard wondered at the two pert breasts. A thick jet choker concealed Harry’s tell-tale Adam’s apple.

Harry smiled wryly and reached down the neckline of the dress with red dagger fingernails, extracting two crumpled twenty pound notes. His kohl rimmed green eyes met Severus’ dark ones without any trace of embarrassment.

"I’m not really surprised to find Bill in Tommy’s seeing that Gringotts is less than five blocks from here, but you...You’re a long way from Scotland, Professor, especially in the middle of term."

Severus glanced at Hedwig, who was perched on the back on the unused chair and gave a measured look to Harry. "I resigned from Hogwarts at the end of the last school year. I now reside in London."

"Sev’s the head of Medical Research at St. Mungo’s."

"Congratulations," Harry said honestly. "I always thought your talents were wasted at Hogwarts - had to have been frustrating, trying to teach imbeciles like me."

If the statement surprised Severus, he did not let on. Conversation stopped when the waiter brought the wizard’s their entrees. Harry waved away a proffered menu and finally opened the sealed bottle he had brought from the bar. The red nails shredded the paper wrapping on a straw. Harry took a small sip of his ginger ale, his lipstick leaving a slight smudge of red on the straw.

"I don’t drink alcohol when I’m out and never accept a beverage from anyone but the bartender himself. I was drugged with Rohypnol at a pub down the street when I was sixteen."

Bill looked at him in slight confusion, but Severus nodded his head in understanding. For Bill’s benefit, the Potion Master clarified Harry’s statement. "Rohypnol is known as a Muggle date rape drug."

Bill looked at Harry in alarm, but Harry smiled another seemingly genuine smile. "He drugged me, but he never got me out of the pub. Let’s just say there are Gryffindor tendencies running through members of the Muggle population as well...but that is a story for another time."

"You were extremely lucky," Severus observed and offered a chunk of rare beef to Hedwig, who immediately snapped it up. "Were you dressed like this?"

Harry’s laugh was delightful. Neither Severus nor Bill ever remembered Harry being so relaxed in all the years they had thought they knew him. "Professor, are you trying to diplomatically ask if I am a transvestite? The answer to that is no. This was a one-off for a business associate whose cousin needed a date to a social function. His supervisors know the man’s a fag, but he’s the owner’s grandson so they can’t fire him. He occasionally hires transvestites as his dates just to pull their chains. But tonight was a really important meeting and his supervisors were relieved when I showed up." Harry batted his eyelashes in exaggerated fashion. He gave a brief smile. "A ‘confection as beautiful as me’ couldn’t possibly be a man. Arthur just had too much to drink tonight and forgot the rules."

"And the forty quid?" The Potion Master asked suspiciously.

"Paid for this kit. It’s not like I have this sort of thing hanging in my closet." Severus’ eyes drifted again to the small breasts and Harry laughed again. "Amazing Muggle invention – the Wonderbra®."

"The patrons are very protective of you. Are you a regular customer?" Bill asked.

"Not exactly." Harry replied, tugging at the hem of his short dress. "I wait tables when Tommy gets short handed."

"And if you don’t usually dress in drag, how did they all know it was you?"

"I needed one of the other waiters to help with my makeup and I had Arthur meet me here earlier. They all got the chance to critique my ensemble. Not too many people know where I actually live and I like to keep it that way. I’m the type everyone seems to want to either protect or to own...there was a customer here once couldn’t get it through his head I wasn’t the ‘Special of the Day’. Tommy put him in Hospital...Needless to say; it’s not wise to touch Tommy’s waiters without their permission."

Severus smiled inwardly as he read the nameplate beside the security buzzer in the apartment foyer. According to the neat script, the occupant of apartment 4A was Corvus Corax – the Latin name for a blackbird. The dark wizard remembered that the bartender had called Harry "Birdy" and the waiter mentioned Hedwig was waiting for "her blackbird". The nineteen year old was becoming an even more elaborate puzzle.

Harry departed halfway through their dinner, citing the desire to remove the binding tights and uncomfortable brassiere. He invited them to dessert at his flat several streets away from Tommy’s. Severus and Bill agreed almost immediately, not wanting to lose the illusive savior, at least not until their curiosity had been sated. Slytherin to the core, Severus wondered at the motivations behind Harry’s casual after-dinner invitation. The younger wizard had essentially cut off all ties to the wizarding world upon his graduation. The Potion Master did not miss the momentary flash of fear in the brilliant green eyes just before the protective wall went up and Harry gamely crossed the room to join them at their table. Severus was only mildly surprised that the young man had not bolted upon initial recognition.

Unlike Bill, Severus had not been taken in by the former savior’s pleasant and relaxed demeanor. Although the Potion Master had offered assistance to Harry during his final year at Hogwarts, they had not suddenly become friends. And with the exception of the passing mention of Rohypnol, Harry had subtly steered the conversation to Egypt, Cursebreaking and Potions Research. Why had Harry really invited two casual acquaintances to his apartment? Dessert was the excuse, not the reason. Severus shifted his wand for easier access. He wouldn’t put it past the disgraced Gryffindor to meet them at the door with an "Oblivate".

The Potion Master looked around the shabbily elegant foyer. While not in the most fashionable of neighborhoods, he knew that a flat in this part of London would not come cheaply. Bill pressed the buzzer and identified himself. A buzz signaled the security door was accessible. The cursebreaker wondered idly what his father, with his fascination of everything Muggle, would think of the Muggle answer to security wards.

The gilded elevator was a reminder of a bygone era. It clattered up its cables and stopped abruptly at the fourth floor. Harry stood inside his opened doorway, freshly showered. He was barefoot, wearing softly worn blue jeans and a black t-shirt. The makeup and long painted fingernails were gone. His dark hair was once again short, his trademark mess of wayward curls and cowlicks. The lightening bolt scar was fading, but still noticeable.

It was a small flat, tastefully decorated in a mixture of antiques and modern pieces. They could see a small kitchenette tucked into a corner behind a row of bookcases. A door led to a bedroom and bathroom. Harry waved them toward an overstuffed sofa and matching chair. There were a few hints of magic scattered about the sitting room, but to the Muggle eye, they would appear to be whimsical antiques.

"Fortesque’s Orange Chocolate Ice Cream," Harry announced as he carried in a tray with bowls of orange and chocolate swirl icecream, a plate of shortbread and a tea service.

"You’ve been to Diagon Alley?" Bill asked. "Word was you’d disappeared all together."

"I haven’t stepped foot in Diagon Alley since the day after I graduated from Hogwarts. Hedwig, on the other hand, is a frequent visitor. There’s not much you can’t get through Owl Post...They may not want to claim me, but I am still a wizard and will be one even if they snap my wand."

Harry settled his frame into the chair facing the sofa. He took a sip of his tea, eyes closing to prepare himself for the questions sure to follow. Unexpectedly running into Severus and Bill had shaken his sense of security. On some level, he always suspected that Bill played for both sides, but assumed Severus Snape to be as straight as they came. Never would he have expected the wizards to dine at an establishment catering to the clientele that frequented Tommy’s.

Harry wasn’t sure how he was going to counteract his unfortunate discovery, but he was used to thinking on his feet. As much as he wished he could just flick his wand and make them forget, he had used little magic in the years since his departure from Hogwarts and did not want to risk angering two powerful wizards after botching a spell.

Showtime, he thought grimly. Taking a calming breath, Harry smiled a smile he did not feel.

"I know you’re extremely curious about what the ‘Whore of Gryffindor’ has been doing with himself these past two years, but I have a question for you first."

Bill protested. "Don’t call yourself that!"

"What?" asked Harry mildly. "Whore? I was also a freak, a slut, a faggot, a cocksucker, a shirt lifter, a ponce, a nancy boy, a queen, a bitch...I could go on, but if you frequent a place like Tommy’s then you’ve probably been called all those words yourself."

"Harry..."

Harry held his hand up for silence. After letting cruel words damage his psyche for years, he finally realized, late one sleepless night, that Albus Dumbledore had been right about one thing, fear of a word did give it power and he, for one, was tired of others having power over him.

"Ask your question, Potter." Severus leaned against the fireplace mantel. His eyes took in all the details of the room, cataloging them in his mind, no matter how minor the item appeared.

"I’ve seen some interesting relationships develop over the years and I am curious about yours. Are you friends or are you lovers?"

Severus looked at Bill, almost curious to see how the redhead would describe their relationship. They began corresponding shortly after Bill was hired as a Cursebreaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank. At first, it had been a mutual exchange of information, acquisition of rare potion ingredients, and a sharing of knowledge about obscure discoveries in the Egyptian desert. Gradually it had evolved into a friendship of sorts.

When Bill returned to London at the start of Lord Voldemort’s Second Reign, he and Severus began a short, volatile affair that soon burned itself out. While they still shared a deep affection for one another, they realized their divergent personalities made a long-term relationship impossible.

And now, when Bill’s schedule permitted, he would spend several days with Severus, occasionally even ending up in the Potion Master’s bed for a friendly shag when he didn’t score younger, prettier prey while cruising the London pubs and dance clubs. Severus could have been hurt by Bill’s casual offers of sex, or he could have been insulted that Bill thought him desperate enough to accept scraps of affection, but Severus felt neither of these emotions. He used Bill for sexual gratification just as Bill used him. A Slytherin didn’t easily give his heart away. They fucked; they did not make love.

Severus stood behind Bill, resting his hands on the Cursebreaker’s shoulders. Bill reached over and squeezed Severus’ hand. "We are very good friends...friends with occasional benefits, you could say."

"My, my, Professor. You are full of surprises..." Harry’s eyes glittered in amusement. "I’d be willing to bet the majority of your students always considered you something of a eunuch."

Severus laughed a rare laugh. He dropped onto the sofa beside Bill and rested his hand aside the cursebreaker’s knee. "I am curious about these rooms. With few exceptions, everything belongs to someone else. Do you share these rooms with another?"

Harry set down his mug of tea, the humor draining from his face. "The flat belonged to my ‘Uncle’ Leon."

"I wasn’t aware you had any relatives other than the Dursleys."

"Uncle Leon wasn’t my uncle by blood. He was my ‘uncle’ in a way no one wants an uncle."

"What are you saying?"

"Uncle Leon was a man of peculiar tastes."

"Peculiar tastes?" Bill asked, a feeling of dread growing in the pit of his stomach.

"Uncle Vernon rented me out to Uncle Leon when I was six years old. The second and forth weekend of every month, I would spend with Uncle Leon."

Harry’s fingers played along the edge of a framed photograph in the side table beside him. He looked at the image a moment before holding it out. The two older wizards could see a tiny boy, obviously Harry, building a sand castle at the beach with a man who could easily have been his grandfather.

"How could you keep a picture of that monster?" Bills knuckles were white, clutching the wooden frame.

"It was the only time in my life I was ever at the beach. He used to take me places. Nice places." Harry rescued the frame. "Of all his boys, I was his favorite."

"How can you justify..."

Harry interrupted the red head. "I justify nothing. When I was a child, he destroyed my life, but when I was sixteen, he offered me protection. If it hadn’t been for Uncle Leon, I never would have lived long enough to kill Voldemort."

Severus leaned forward, sensing not denial but acceptance in Harry, and the acceptance horrified him. "I recognize this man. He was a very important Muggle politician. How would Leon Shaw have ever crossed paths with Vernon Dursley? This wasn’t the kind of man to purchase drills."

Harry Accioed a portfolio from the bookshelf wandlessly. He unzipped the leather case and opened the pages toward the other men. "To understand, you need to go back to a time shortly after I was left on the Dursleys’ doorstep. Aunt Petunia took Dudley to get his picture taken at a local Marks and Spencer. I was in the stroller with them. She had no intention of wasting good money on a photo of a freak like me, but she wouldn’t waste money on a babysitter either. There was a woman there, a talent scout from one of the London modeling agencies, looking for children of a certain age to model a line of infants’ clothing. She latched right on to me because of my unusual eyes and my passive temperament. Uncle Vernon didn’t waste a moment before signing the model release. He made good money off a freak like me. I was a photographer’s darling. With my fey looks, they could dress me up as either a girl or a boy."

Harry flipped to a page in his portfolio featuring a toddler Harry in a fruit-patterned bubble and big ribbon bows in his hair and shoes. Another featured an older Harry, perhaps eight, dressed in a schoolboy uniform, wearing little horn rim glasses, standing beside himself wearing the girl’s version of the same school uniform, his hair in a short bobbed wig.

"It’s not everyone who can be their own twin."

"When I was five, Dudley got sick and Aunt Petunia couldn’t take me to a photo shoot. My life would have been much simpler if Uncle Vernon hadn’t decided to take me – not wanting to miss any of my income." Harry pulled his knees up to his chest, not looking at either man. He needed to get through his story without seeing their condemnation or their pity. Perhaps when they knew the truth, they would let him fade into obscurity. "The photographer was new, I’d never worked with him before. He pulled Uncle Vernon aside and hinted that more money could be made tax-free. Certain people would pay good money for naked pictures of pretty little boys...Uncle Vernon will always be a greedy bastard."

"Your aunt..."

"Aunt Petunia didn’t know. Not for years. She kept taking me to the legitimate modeling photo shoots and fashion shows. Uncle Vernon would pull me out of my cupboard late at night, after she had gone to sleep and take me to private houses instead of studios. Uncle Leon’s current ‘boy’ had just turned twelve and he was looking for a replacement. He liked me right away. I was polite, shy and starved for affection.

"I continued to do the legitimate juvenile modeling, but the nude photos stopped. Uncle Leon wouldn’t put up with it. For all his perversions, he was always gentle. In his own bizarre way, I think the man loved me."

Severus glanced down at the table, to the cold tea and melted icecream. Hedwig roused from her perch and soared over to an open window with a modified cat flap affixed to it, ready for her nightly exercise. Harry continued to talk, baring his secrets, almost as if once the door opened, he could not shut it until it had run its course. Bill was frozen beside him and Severus realized immediately how alien this must sound to the oldest Weasley sibling, having grown up surrounded by the love and the protection of his family.

"The letter from Hogwarts couldn’t have come at a better time. I was in the midst of that gawky stage children go through and my catalog work was becoming more and more sporadic. Uncle Leon took the opportunity to begin a search for my replacement. Hogwarts, or any other boarding school, would take me away from him for most of the year anyway.

"Uncle Vernon was displeased with the entire situation. They had never fed me much, keeping me rail thin for modeling work. Then they pretty much stopped feeding me, trying to slow down my growth spurts in an attempt to prolong my juvenile career. The Dursleys had grown accustomed to the extra income my body generated and were not happy to see it dwindle to almost nothing. When starvation didn’t have the desired effect, they ended their ban on abuse. It didn’t matter anymore if they left bruises or not – no one was going to see them. Dudley and his friends were given free reign to torment me. I spent more and more time locked into my cupboard.

"By the time I returned home after my disastrous fifth year, Uncle Vernon decided I was too much of a danger to them. The incident with the Dementors solidified his hatred for me. He didn’t care what Dumbledore ordered my aunt to do – I would not remain at Privet Drive any longer than absolutely necessary."

"Why didn’t you ever say anything?" Bill asked. "We would have gotten you out of there."

"Your mother tried because she knew they were starving me. Dumbledore said I had to stay there. The Blood Bond with my aunt was protecting me from Voldemort."

"But if Professor Dumbledore knew the extent..."

"My Hogwarts letter was addressed to the ‘Cupboard Under the Stairs’ and after Sirius died, he admitted he knew the situation was abusive. No one ever checked up on me the entire time I lived with the Dursleys. He knew things weren’t all right and he didn’t care. He wanted his perfect Gryffindor. He wanted an unloved puppet to mold into his perfect savior. And when I proved to be human...he cast me out. His silence was even more devastating than anything your brother ever did to me."

Harry abruptly stood up, clearing away the abandoned tea tray. He slipped into the kitchenette to dispose of the contents of the tray. Severus noticed there was no sway to his step. He wondered if the stiletto pumps had been charmed to alter the wearer’s gait.

The green-eyed wizard refilled Hedwig’s food and water bowls. He looked out the window into the city street below as if searching for his familiar. He had not intended to spill all of his secrets to the older men; he had wanted them to be so disgusted by his activities that they would never try to find him again. But, as was usual for his fricked up life, nothing ever went according to plan.

Instead of being repulsed by him, they were offering a non-judgmental ear to his confessions. Harry knew the conversation was well out of Bill Weasley’s circle of experience, but he had managed to reign in his discomfort. The slight wizard had been wary of Severus’ reactions, expecting the same condemnation his "deviancy" had sparked in the general population of Hogwarts, but then Harry realized that, as Slytherin Head of House for nearly twenty years, he was probably not the first sexually abused student the Potion Master encountered.

As the silence in the small flat grew, Harry turned away from the window. There was an unexpected calmness in him; his cathartic confession had loosened the stranglehold of fear that had imprisoned him for much of his life.

Harry curled back into his chair and met the serious faces of his companions. He waited to hear what the next question might be.

"You said Leon saved your life when you were sixteen. I know the wards around Privet Drive disintegrated shortly after your sixteenth birthday. What happened?" Severus could see the slight figure stiffen and Harry’s thin hand carded through his already messy black hair. "Did Leon save you from the Rohypnol?"

"Indirectly." Harry toyed with the bric-a-brac on his bookshelves. "Uncle Vernon was trying to sell me over the Internet. He sent pictures of me out to anyone interested and received several inquiries. He got careless one night and Aunt Petunia discovered some of the e-mail correspondence. She started searching and found explicit photographs taken of me when I was small. She confronted Uncle Vernon with the proof and got a black eye for her trouble. He locked me into my cupboard, afraid to beat me incase his bidders wouldn’t accept damaged inventory.

"Aunt Petunia may not have loved me, but she was horrified at what he had done. She couldn’t understand how she had failed to notice the sick games he played with me. Aunt Petunia laced his dinner with sleeping pills and after Uncle Vernon fell asleep, she released me. Told me she was sorry there wasn’t more on such short notice and gave me 500 pounds. Said to run and never look back. I was afraid to call the Knight Bus, so I caught a Muggle cab to the train station. I headed into London, leaving my trunk with Tom at the Leaky Cauldron.

"I went to Gringotts to withdraw living expenses, enough to last until I boarded the Hogwarts Express September first. Not to brag, but I knew there were thousands of galleons in the Potter vault – more than enough for a lifetime – but I discovered that I was not permitted to draw from the vault until I turned twenty-one. The account I had been paying for my school supplies was the only one I could access, and not knowing this, I had never budgeted it properly. What remained in the account was barely enough to cover books and tuition for the last two years at Hogwarts. I somehow had to stretch the funds for five years.

"I arranged an appointment with one of the modeling agencies I used to work for – one of the agencies where their photographers never did anything improper. They were polite, but they really could not use me. I was too short. The agency only signed men and boys of a certain height. But one of the agents remembered me from when I was a child and knew I was a professional. She set me up with an indirect competitor for old times sake. Malcolm liked my fey looks and signed me on the spot. He said if I wasn’t averse to showing a bit of skin, he had a shoot scheduled for two days off. I wasn’t in too much position to decline the offer. It turned out to be the ad for men’s cologne that Ron used to destroy me."

"I didn’t have a place to stay and I was steering clear of Diagon Alley because Dumbledore would have tried to force me to return to Privet Drive and my aunt’s blood protection. I had Hedwig in her cage and a backpack with a couple of changes of clothing. I’d been staying in a ragbag hotel, but it was too expensive so Malcolm gave me the address of a youth hostel to stay for a day or two until I found permanent lodging. Unfamiliar with the neighborhood, I stepped into the pub – more to ask directions – and decided to have a meal. Hedwig is a bit of a conversation starter so I didn’t think much when this bloke came over to chat me up. He was nice and caught me off my guard."

Harry gave Severus a wry smile. "All right, I was an idiot. I told a total stranger I was alone in London. I didn’t know he’d laced my drink with Rohypnol. I just started to feel really strange. He started touching me and it was all I could do not to black out. There were loud voices and someone pulled me away from the man. I remember seeing Elliot’s face before I lost consciousness."

"Elliot?"

"Uncle Leon’s driver. He recognized me from years before. I always liked Elliot – he taught me how to play football and kept me entertained when Uncle Leon was busy. I woke up in this apartment – my head in Uncle Leon’s lap.

"As I told you earlier, I was always his favorite. By this time, he was old and nearly impotent. He needed Viagra to perform, but I shared his bed in exchange for a place to stay. I was his guilty secret; he had a wife and family in the country. He used the apartment during the week when government was in session. I had the weekends to myself.

"He died a year ago of a brain aneurysm. It was a bit of a shock to his wife to discover he had willed me this flat. She didn’t know about his predilections...but her adult children did. When she met me, she remarked at my slight resemblance to Uncle Leon and decided I was a bastard child from a former mistress and that I had been kept hidden to protect her feelings. Her sons and I saw no reason to shatter her illusions."

"How long have you gone by the name Corvus?"

"Forever...Uncle Leon told me Harry was a common name - that I was too wonderful for such a name. He called me his little bird, his little black haired bird. I was his Corvus Corax." A small smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. "It was the first Latin I ever learned."

"And that’s where ‘Birdy’ comes from?"

"Yes and no. When the wizarding world ripped their claws into me, I buried Harry Potter. I became Corvus Corax. Some of it was the play on ‘Blackbird’ – but another part was Hedwig’s fault. She doesn’t like London and hates to have me out of her sight. I became recognized as the boy with the bird, and it eventually condensed to ‘Birdy’."

"So how do you support yourself? I can’t imagine waiting tables pays enough to cover your expenses. There are still two more years until you reach your majority."

"I don’t know if you’re aware that I am a silent partner in Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. I receive a small stipend monthly."

"You’re the idiot that bankrolled their business?" Bill asked incredulously and Harry nodded. "I always wondered where Fred and George got the seed money."

"I gave them my Tri-Wizard prize. I couldn’t keep it. It was blood money to me...When Ron started his smear campaign and portrayed me to be a slut to the entire wizarding world, I offered to dissolve the contract. I didn’t want my tarnished reputation to damage their business. They laughed in my face – told me the wizarding world could go piss themselves. I was the only one, besides themselves, who believed in them and their dream."

Bill laughed. "That explains a few things. They have always been relentless in their practical jokes against Ron, but lately some of them have been positively vicious."

Hedwig soared into the window and perched on the back of a chair, picking through the tidbits in her dinner dish.

"Hedwig is very photogenic," Severus said casually, watching the large white owl preen her feathers. "I saw her in a calendar I received as a gift last Christmas."

Harry blushed, a bit embarrassed. "Malcolm thought it would give me positive exposure, so to speak. It was a good career move, much more mainstream of an audience than my usual shoots. I’ve done a few more adverts for cologne but they usually run in a limited market – mostly gay publications and uh...those that cater to ...uh...pedophiles. The calendar was a playful mix of men, women and animals. A few of the models were film actors. The calendar has become something of a collector’s item – Mr. June is up for a Golden Globe Award."

The telephone rang several times. Harry excused himself to take it. Severus tuned into the one sided conversation. A spy’s curiosity never dwindled.

"Hello? Oh, Hello Malcolm. No, it’s not too late. I wasn’t asleep.... What? What happened? Is he all right? ...Thursday? Let me look at my planner..." Harry flipped open the pages of a small leather appointment book. "What time would you need me? I have two Life Drawing classes at the Uni already scheduled, but I’ll be done by eleven. Not too late? Where? Cheaton’s Bodyworks? Have an address?"

Harry made notes in his book. He held one finger up to the two wizards, indicating the call was almost over. "Malcolm, you don’t need to apologize. Arthur had too much to drink. He didn’t hurt me and he’s not the first man to grope me. Look, I’ll see you Thursday...I need my beauty sleep."

Harry hung up the phone. He cocked his head and looked up at the two wizards. "It’s getting late so let’s cut to the chase. I do hope you’re not planning to tell anyone where I am?"

"We wouldn’t betray your confidence, Harry." He had trusted these men in the past; Harry hoped he could still trust them now. With his finances in their current tenuous state, he was in no position to leave the security of Uncle Leon’s flat.

Harry did not attempt to stifle his yawn. It was late and he really wanted Bill and Severus to leave. The Potion Master gave Bill a nudge before standing up, smoothing the wrinkles from his trousers. Bill looked at Harry uncertainly, his brain still trying to process the information he unexpectedly learned that evening.

Bill caught Harry in an awkward hug. "Harry, if you ever need..."

Harry cut Bill off mid sentence as he pulled away. He didn’t want sympathetic hollow promises; he just wanted to go to sleep.

"It’s been really nice seeing you both again, but it’s time for you to go. I’ll have to trust you to keep your silence."

"Harry..." Bill began again, but wasn’t sure what to say.

"Do me a favor, will you?" Harry looked up at the two tall wizards, straightening his elvan frame, his features sad. "The next time you go cruising Muggle gay bars looking for a third...If you happen to see me, pretend we’ve never met...You’re both professionals – respected in your fields. You don’t need the social repercussions of a relationship with me. The Daily Prophet would tear you apart. Please...just forget this little Gryffindor whore ever existed."