First Place - Comedy

It took him seven years.

Seven years, hundreds of hours of study and training, and not just a little blood, sweat and tears (in addition to the occasional layer of skin), and the work of a lifetime was complete. A little less swishing, a tighter flick and voila! Seamus Finnegan had turned water to rum.

Or something like rum.

Sort of.

Actually, it didn't smell or taste like rum at all. But water. With a bit of a kick.

Perhaps more than a bit.

Harry sat at the table at the Burrow and sneered into the glass. "I don't know," he said dubiously. He looked around the table at the expectant faces of his friends.

"Come on, Harry," Seamus urged.

"It's brilliant!" George said. Fred agreed.

"Yeah, it doesn't even taste bad," Dean said.

"We might get in trouble," Harry said weakly.

"Trouble?" Ron gaped for a moment before slumping back in his chair. "My parents are in Romania, we're not in school anymore, and Bill certainly won't mind," he argued. "Percy might, but Percy's a sod." Ron shook his head. "Harry Potter is worried about getting into trouble," he said to no one in particular.

Harry sighed heavily. It was a pretty lousy excuse, he realised. Truth be told, he couldn't care less about the trouble they might get into. He had other problems. Problems he couldn't tell this lot. The truth was that alcohol had a curious effect on Harry Potter.

It made him gay.

His stomach sank at the memory of the last time he'd gotten pissed. The time he somehow wound up professing his undying love to Professor Snape, of all people. Four weeks of detention and two endless years of humiliation later, Harry was still intent on keeping his vow never to drink again.

He shook his head.

"Harry! I've been working on this my whole life," Seamus pleaded. His nose was already quite red from the day of 'testing' he'd been doing. The rest of the group didn't look much better. Harry had mercifully been spared the Trevor treatment as he'd spent the afternoon shopping with Sirius for their new flat. He regretted now leaving Sirius to arrange everything.

"I just - " he started, but was cut off by Bill walking in the room.

"What's going on?" Bill asked cheerfully. He lowered several bags onto the kitchen floor and pocketed his wand.

"Bill, try this!" Fred - or was it George? - said, standing. He extended a glass of Seamus' experiment in magical distillation.

Harry watched as the older wizard took a sip. "Water," he breathed and then went in for a longer draught. When he lowered the glass again, he exhaled sharply and shivered. "What is it?" he said with a tight voice.

"Seamus turned water to rum," Ron explained with a grin. "Well, sort of. We were just trying to convince Harry - "

But Harry was already drinking. He wasn't about to let them make a prat of him in front of Bill. Bill was just so...cool. And Harry had fought far too hard in the last seven years to be called a coward now. So he drank. And drank.

And drank.

And then it was gone. It really did taste like water. With a bit of a burn at the back of the throat and that sort of wracking aftershock that you get from drinking real booze. Harry set his empty glass down and shuddered convulsively. He looked around the table at several gaping faces.

"What?" he asked, and then cleared his throat.

"Er..." Dean said.

"Nothing," Seamus said, too quickly.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "What?" he insisted, glaring at Ron, who looked scared.

"It's just...a bit strong," Ron said carefully.

Harry looked around the table to see everyone's glass was still three-quarters full. "Fuck," he groaned and cradled his head with his hand.

"You'll be fine," one of the twins grinned and then slugged him in the shoulder.

Several hours later...

"Sorry, Harry." Ron's voice echoed from outside the toilet.

Harry groaned miserably, his stomach heaving once more into his throat. He spit. There was nothing left in his stomach. He groaned again.

"He'll be fine. You lot go on. I'll stay with him."

Harry meant to protest. He didn't want to be left alone. Not with Bill. He didn't want Bill to see him like this. He meant to say that he'd never forgive his best friend if he left him like this, hanging pathetically from a toilet.

He retched instead. Painfully. And then went back to groaning, interrupted by the occasional coughing and spitting.

He would never drink again. And this time, he meant it.

A hand fell between his shoulder blades and rubbed soothingly. And that was decidedly a lovely feeling. Calming. A rush of coolness wafted against his face when the toilet was flushed. He opened his eyes to see what was left of his stomach swirl out of sight.

"Here, I just brewed this. It should help."

Turning his head towardthis was quite possibly the most difficult thing he'd ever accomplished. But accomplish it he did. He might have felt pleased with himself, except it occurred to him that he'd have to actually lift his head if he was to drink whatever was in the phial. And suddenly the thought of putting anything in his stomach was enough to make the thing give a violent jolt of protest. Harry whimpered and wrinkled his nose, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Come on. It'll make you feel better," Bill said. Harry felt the man kneel at his side. A strong arm curled around him, lifting him into a seated position. Harry slumped against the figure limply. His mouth opened as the phial was introduced to his lips.

The stuff was warm and tasted like - well, Harry didn't know what, but it wasn't too bad. A bit peppery. Harry swallowed, pleading with his stomach to accept the offering. For a moment, he didn't think it would happen. He held his breath and waited.

Gradually, his head stopped spinning and his diaphragm relaxed into its normal position. After a moment, he felt fine. A bit foggy, perhaps. A little drunk. But no longer sick and no longer dizzy. A moment after that, he became aware that he was slumped against a firm, warm body, that one hand was stroking his head soothingly, and that another lay flat against his stomach. Harry moaned contentedly.

"Feeling better?" A soft voice tickled his ear.

A swirling - a wholly different sort of swirling than the one that had just been cured - began in his recently settled stomach. This one was much more pleasant.

And no less wrong, some merciless part of his brain reminded him.

Harry opened his eyes and tried to focus. The world was blurry, but no longer spinning cruelly around him. Bill's face was quite clear to him. And quite close.

Bill smiled.

Harry blushed.

Bill grinned.

Harry was going to be sick again, he decided as his stomach rolled over on itself. He broke free of Bill's comforting embrace and put his warm face between his knees, breathing deeply. His heart was beating like mad and his stomach felt as he'd swallowed a dozen or so pixies.

This wasn't nausea, it occurred to him. It was worse.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up to see Bill standing over him, hand stretched in offering. This was Bill. Bill Weasley, older brother of Harry's best friend. He was practically family. Well, barring the fact Harry could count the number of times he'd seen Bill on one hand. Which was decidedly a shame, Harry thought, looking up at the tall, lanky wizard.

Harry felt a silly grin stretch across his face. For the life of him, he couldn't seem to make it go away. He heard a chuckling from above, but couldn't make out Bill's expression. He couldn't see at all, he realised. He brought his hand to his face.

"Where are my glasses?" he asked.

"Oh," the other man said.

"Oh," Harry repeated. That didn't sound good.

His hand was seized and he was pulled to his feet quickly. He held out his arms in anticipation of the dizziness, but it didn't come. In fact, he felt pretty good. A bit giddy, maybe. And everything seemed to be covered in fog and shadows, but on the whole this drunk thing wasn't so bad.

"I think mum has an extra toothbrush lying around here," Bill said rummaging through the cupboard.

Harry slid his tongue over the roof of his mouth and scowled at the fine layer of fuzz that seemed to cover it. A toothbrush would be good. He had been throwing up all night, after all, and Bill wouldn't likely want to kiss him unless he brushed his teeth.

"Ah, here we are," Bill said turning and holding out a packaged toothbrush.

Harry blinked and then shook his head as though to rid it of the ridiculous thought. As though Bill would want to kiss Harry.

Wait. Harry didn't want to kiss...

"All right?" Bill asked.

Nodding, despite feeling rather flustered and confused, Harry took the toothbrush and struggled to get the thing out of the package. Bill left the room. Squeezing a dot of toothpaste onto the bristles, Harry told himself that he was not doing this to be kissable.

Kissable.

Was that even a word?

Harry snorted and began the task of de-fuzzing his mouth. He glared into the mirror. You're being stupid, he reprimanded his reflection. Bill thinks you're a total prat, now. And he's stuck here babysitting you because you're an arse. And you're thinking about snogging? What is wrong with you?

Harry shut his eyes tightly and spit into the sink. He was an arse. But he could act sober. He would go in there. And be relaxed. And not look at the man. Or sit next to him. Or entertain any thought whatsoever of kissing or of those strong arms and that warm body and what it might feel like...

Harry cupped his hand filling it with water. He was not gay. He'd had tons of girlfriends. None for more than a few weeks or so, but he was only seventeen. He just felt more comfortable with blokes. It didn't mean he wanted to shag them. Or be shagged by them. With their firm hands and their hard chests...

Harry spit again and placed the toothbrush in the holder. One more reprimanding look at his reflection and he marched into the sitting room where Bill sat in the corner of the sofa, a half-drunk glass of Seamus' wicked water sitting next to him.

"Better?" Bill said with a smile.

Harry shifted his eyes and nodded. He sat at the other end of the sofa. "Sorry," he muttered. "I mean...for everything. And thanks." He remarked that words involving his tongue were a bit difficult to manage. He didn't quite know where that left him as a conversationalist. He supposed he could work with vague sounds of affirmation or negation. Mmm and ah...oh. Eh? So long as Bill did most of the talking, Harry would only come across as an idiot. As opposed to a drunk, foolish, slurring idiot.

"Don't be sorry," Bill said. "I'd be lying if I said I haven't found myself in the same position on several occasions," he laughed. He took another sip of the drink.

"Hm," Harry said in a self-deprecating tone. It was all about the tone, he decided.

Bill moved over to the middle of the couch and patted Harry's knee. "Don't worry. You've not done anything stupid."

Yet, Harry added silently. He snorted. Give him time, and he'd manage it.

He belatedly became aware that Bill's hand was still on his knee, radiating heat which pulsed through Harry's body. Harry stared at the hand and for a moment he fancied he was keeping it in place with his eyes. That if he shifted his eyes the hand would disappear.

He tested his theory, shifting his eyes toward Bill who was watching him. He suddenly felt very...uncomfortable? Nervous?

"Er..." he said, and had he kept it at that, it might have been better. But nervousness has a way of destroying good intentions. "I don't normally... I really shouldn't drink because I always end up..." gay "saying things. Or doing things. That..." Why was he talking?

"What sort of things?" Bill asked softly.

Maybe it was because he was pissed, but Harry thought Bill seemed rather close all of a sudden. Like the couch was slowly shrinking. And the index finger on that hand had begun tracing along Harry's kneecap. When the hell did his kneecap become connected to his bollocks?

"Erm," Harry said breathlessly, pointedly not looking anywhere at all. His head was positively swimming now and he was getting dizzy again. Not the nauseous sort of dizzy. A different sort. "I suppose I just think things...I don't normally. Like..." He trailed off, his gaze drifting back to the hand on his knee. It was pale and freckled with long flat fingers, which curled over the inside of Harry's knee and were rubbing in small, tight caresses at the underside. Harry gasped as some strange shiver ran through him. "Wow," he whispered.

Bill laughed. "You're adorable," he said, reaching over with his other hand to brush a lock of hair from Harry's forehead.

Harry went hot again. Hotter. He thought he might pass out from the heat waving through his body. Embarrassment, arousal, nervousness. It was all too much. Harry cleared his throat and ventured a look at the man. Bill leaned back coolly on the couch. His head rested on the back of the sofa, tilted toward Harry. He watched Harry through heavy lidded eyes.

Harry looked away quickly. "You look tired," he said. He didn't know what else to say and he certainly didn't want to dwell on the man's last comment. He remarked, however, that the various fires burning inside him had seared away some of the fog around his brain. He was thinking quite clearly. Too clearly.

"I'm not particularly. You?"

Harry shook his head.

"Are you certain? You could go lie down for a bit if you'd like."

His stomach was doing that jumping thing that made all his breath escape in a loud quick breath. He swallowed dryly. "'m fine," he mumbled.

The hand disappeared from his knee and Harry tried to be grateful for it. He tried also not to notice that the hand's ghost was still there, giving little pulses of energy which were making him feel a bit giddy. Giddier.

"Ron tells me you did really well in Quidditch this year. Any thoughts on going pro?"

Harry looked over, dumbfounded. Quidditch? Did Bill know what the hell he was doing to Harry? Harry didn't think so. Because if he knew, he certainly wouldn't expect Harry to be thinking about Quidditch.

How could the man be so...cool? Just sitting there as though having one's hand on another's knee was a perfectly casual gesture. As though calling someone adorable was something one said in normal conversation. Bill was teasing Harry.

Wasn't he?

Maybe he wasn't. Gah! Harry really was a prat. Bill was obviously just trying to be nice. To make him feel more comfortable and less like the idiot he obviously was. And Harry was practically panting.

What the hell was wrong with him?

"Harry?"

"Hm?"

Bill laughed and Harry couldn't really be certain why. He tried to go back to see what he'd done that was so funny and, failing, decided it was best to laugh along nervously. "Sorry," he said. "I get...sorry."

The sofa creaked as Bill moved over again.

Harry tried to relax into the corner. He tried to slump back as coolly as Bill, his legs falling comfortably open. But when his leg brushed against Bill's, he sat up straight and quickly closed them.

"Harry, do I make you nervous?" Bill's voice was low but there was a hint of mocking in it.

"No! I...why, wha - no. You don't..." Harry decided to shut up, remembering that vowel sounds were the most his mouth was capable of.

Bill chuckled. "Well, that's good. Because I quite like you." Bill seized Harry's hand. "You shouldn't do that," he said, pulling the hand up for inspection.

"What?"

"Pick at the skin around your nails. You're bleeding." Bill offered Harry's thumb as evidence.

"Oh," Harry said, leaning over to look at it.

Bill held Harry's hand between his own. "You'd have nice hands otherwise. Strong. A bit rough." Harry bit his lip as Bill traced a finger over his callused palm. "I like rough hands," Bill said quietly.

"You do?"

"Yeah. They're nice. You don't get calluses in my line of work." He turned his face toward Harry's and Harry could feel Bill's laugh puff against his face. "Boils, flesh-eating curses, but not calluses."

Harry shot a sideways glance at the wizard, but kept his attention turned toward his hand in Bills'. Timidly, he let his own hand curl around one of the other wizard's. He brought it to him for an equally close inspection. He held it gently with one hand and with the other traced the lines on Bill's palm.

"You've got long fingers," he said softly, pressing his palm against the other to compare size. The tips of Bill's fingers stretched past Harry's and then shifted to weave between them. And for a moment Harry merely watched as a strange dance began. Fingers moving between fingers and stroking back up firmly and then out. Fingers sliding over palms, covering the tops of hands and back together again.

Only when the other hand stopped, clasping Harry's hand and squeezing meaningfully did it occur to Harry what had been happening. He snatched his hand away, hiding it between his legs as though to restrain it and keep it from doing anything naughty.

He was unprepared for the other hand to pursue it.

When Bill's hand insinuated itself between Harry's hand and Harry's thigh, the rest of Harry's body jerked violently. Were it not for the arm which had wrapped around Harry's shoulders, Harry might have jumped off the sofa.

"Are you sure you don't want to lie down for a bit?" Bill breathed against Harry's neck.

"I like girls," Harry said, suddenly feeling it very important that this was understood. The low laugh that vibrated against his ear made him wonder if he'd been convincing. Lips pressing against an insanely sensitive spot just underneath his ear made Harry wonder if he was being honest.

"So do I. I like girls," Bill whispered and then drew bits of Harry's skin up into dry kisses that were making him feel very drunk indeed. "They're nice... sweet... soft..." Bill was all over Harry now. His lips everywhere and teeth. On Harry's throat and neck and ears. Crawling along Harry's jaw. Bill's hand pulled Harry's out from between his legs and led it to Harry's crotch, pressing Harry's palm flat into his own half-erection. Harry's mouth opened, his eyes rolling back. "But sometimes I prefer hard things," Bill breathed.

The man's lips were posed at the corner of Harry's mouth. Harry held his breath, waiting expectantly for that mouth to cover his own, but it didn't. Harry opened his eyes, not having ever been aware of closing them, to see Bill watching him with warm brown eyes smouldering with intent.

Harry pulled his head back. "I - "

Bill's hand released Harry's to come up and stroke the side of Harry's face. After a moment it occurred to Harry to move his own hand away from his crotch. He lowered his eyes timidly.

"I just want you to be comfortable, Harry," Bill smiled, running his finger along the bridge of Harry's nose. "If you want me to stop, I'll stop." That hand stroked down to lay along Harry's jaw line, thumb sweeping up to run across Harry's bottom lip. "Do you want me to stop?" Bill leaned in again and began doing that thing with his mouth and Harry's neck. His other hand was weaving in and out of Harry's hair languidly.

It was all too much sensation so close to his brain. Did he want Bill to stop? Yes. At least, he should have wanted it. He thought he might want it, were he allowed to think calmly about it for a minute. But who could think with those hands and that mouth. And it felt so...nice...that he didn't really want it to stop. In fact, he wanted more - though he shouldn't. He shouldn't want more. He should stop this.

The sound that oozed out of Harry's throat was intended to be a sound of protest. Harry thought his message might have gotten across when Bill stood up, leaving Harry's brain swimming and seeking more of that lovely contact. Face flushed, Harry looked up at Bill. He was breathing rather heavily through an open mouth.

"Come on," Bill said, reaching out his hand.

Harry blinked, trying desperately to come to his senses.

Bill laughed lightly. "Relax. I only want to make you feel better," he grinned. He reached down and took both of Harry's hands in his before pulling him to his feet.

Harry was pissed, granted. But he wasn't completely ignorant. He had a pretty good idea of what would happen if he followed the other wizard. And he knew exactly where Bill was leading him. He just couldn't work out why he was following Bill up the stairs.

His heart pounded heavily and his stomach was slightly nauseous with anxiety. He liked Bill. If he was honest with himself, he had had a bit of a crush on Bill from the moment he saw him. Bill was cool and smart and sexy. He was...

Leading Harry into a dark bedroom. He turned around once Harry was through the door and leaned in to shut the door behind Harry. He lingered deliberately close, his head hanging forward and Harry felt pretty sure that the breath falling on his neck, making his body shiver, was not accidental.

"This is better, isn't it?" Bill said quietly. His hands rested on Harry's hips.

Harry was torn between nervous excitement and panic. Some part of him knew that he should not be doing this. That this was wrong. He was Ron's brother! If Ron ever found out..."The others," Harry said weakly. "I mean...what if they - "

"They'll be out late," Bill said, sliding his hands under Harry's t-shirt to stroke the skin underneath. "Besides, you have to sleep somewhere, right? You'll not all fit in Ron's room."

That made sense, Harry supposed. He was just in here because there was nowhere else for him to sleep. It didn't mean that he was going to do anything he oughtn't. He would just sleep. Harry nodded and pointedly ignored the glaring fact that he was not even remotely tired now.

Bill stepped back and took Harry's hands again, tugging Harry forward as he slowly back up until his knees hit the edge of the bed. He sat down and released Harry's hands to pull off his boots and socks. Harry stood, fixed to the spot, watching uncertainly. Bill kept his eyes on him as he scooted back to the head of the bed and then lay down, propping his head with one arm curled up.

Harry swallowed nervously and then toed off his sneakers. Taking a deep breath, he crawled up to lie at the side of the bed. Bill rolled onto his side, and though Harry's eyes were closed tightly, he could feel the man looking at him. He opened his eyes when Bill laughed again.

He looked over to see the other man roll onto his back again with a heavy sigh. A vague stirring of regret mixed with the muddle of other things Harry was feeling. He was being ridiculous. Acting like a scared little kid, really. At least, that's what Bill must be thinking. That he was scared.

And he was, truth be told. Or confused. He didn't know what he was, but it worried him that Bill wasn't touching him anymore. Something like disappointment set in when he considered that maybe Bill really did only intend to sleep. But that was good, right?

Sighing heavily, Harry rolled onto his side, facing the wall. "Goodnight, then," he said quietly. He wasn't anywhere near sleepy so he contented himself with trying to make recognisable shapes of the places where the paint was chipped.

"Harry?"

Harry twisted his head around. "Yeah?" he whispered.

"Sorry if I made you uncomfortable," Bill whispered back.

Harry rolled over to face him. "You didn't. Honestly. I just - "

"You like girls." Bill turned his head toward him and smiled.

Harry lowered his eyes. "Yeah. I mean...normally."

Bill rolled over to his side. "Have you ever tried it?"

"Tried what?" Harry raised his eyes again to see Bill. He looked away just as quickly.

"You know...with a bloke."

Harry shook his head. He'd never even gone further than snogging with anyone. He supposed he just didn't care all that much. It wasn't something he thought too much about. What with Voldemort after him most of his youth, his libido was something kept easily in check with a few minutes of nightly maintenance.

Bill's hand came to stroke his cheek again, urging Harry to look at him. Harry's breath caught in his chest as he glanced up. Bill moved closer to him until his knees met with Harry's. "Will you let me kiss you?"

Harry's stomach shot up into his throat and he couldn't answer properly. Not that Bill would have been able to hear his answer anyway what with Harry's heart making all that noise.

"Just a kiss," Bill said, moving in, eyes half shut.

Harry scraped his teeth over his bottom lip and held his breath. He closed his eyes waiting for what seemed like an eternity for that mouth. He could feel the heat of those lips hovering just beyond his own. He felt Bill shift. Bill's leg slid between Harry's knees, all the way up until Harry could feel the man's thigh against his crotch. He lost his breath instantly with the contact. Bill was still moving slowly up and pushing Harry onto his back, stretching against Harry's side. Harry could feel the other man's erection pressing into his hip bone. He was nearly mad with anticipation by the time those lips brushed his own, tickling them. Harry couldn't take it anymore and raised his head, crushing his mouth hard into Bill's. His hand rose to the back of Bill's head to keep the man from torturing him anymore.

Bill moaned and thrust his hips against Harry's side. He parted his lips to trap Harry's bottom lip between them and then tilted his head to get closer. The scratchy stubble of Bill's chin felt strange against Harry's skin. So much different than kissing girls. Bigger somehow. Girls were so small and soft. Bill's tongue was thick as it slid through Harry's lips, prodding Harry's tongue and then retreating. Harry chased it instinctually, brushing over Bill's bottom lip as he ventured forth into that mouth. He pressed his face into the stinging rough skin.

He breathed heavily and his head was lost in a cloud of arousal. That Bill was rocking his hips and flexing his thigh against Harry's erection wasn't helping Harry at all. A slight pang of warning speared his insides, but Harry was too far gone to pay attention to it just now. It was just a kiss, after all. Kissing wasn't a big deal. He would stop it before it got too far, he thought.

Bill's hand slid up Harry's shirt and strong fingers wrapped around Harry's side, gripping Harry's ribcage forcefully. Harry's hips jutted up of their own volition and the resulting shock of pleasure frightened the young wizard. He drew his head back, surprised. His hands went to Bill's shoulders to push the older man away as he breathed heavily to rid his brain of the fog swirling around it.

"Stop," he panted. "I can't..." he said breathlessly.

Bill exhaled sharply and turned his head to wipe his mouth against his arm. "You're kidding, right?" he breathed.

Harry froze, his stomach sinking heavily. He closed his eyes and let his head roll to the side. "Sorry," he whispered.

Another deep breath. "No, it's all right," Bill sighed, collapsing onto the pillow. He was still draped over Harry's side. Harry could still feel the hardness digging into his hip. After a moment, Bill turned his head to face him. "You're a fabulous kisser," he smiled. "Thank you."

Harry smiled back weakly. "So are you," he said softly. He felt guilty and uncertain as to why he'd stopped. He actually quite enjoyed kissing Bill. He was only rather worried about where it might lead if it continued.

"Not bad for a bloke, eh?" Bill teased and leaned in to kiss Harry again softly. "You're incredible. I don't normally like younger men," Bill said. He drew his hand out of Harry's shirt and wrapped it around the back of Harry's head. "You're different," he whispered. "Sexy," he lowered his eyes and then raised them again to stare into Harry's.

Harry smiled sincerely now. His stomach was fluttering and he almost felt like giggling. "Well," he snorted. "I don't normally go for blokes at all, so..." He grinned.

"I won't tell anyone," Bill smiled. "If you don't."

Harry shook his head and then gave into the urge to laugh. It felt good and seemed to take away all the tension and nervousness. Bill laughed too, though he didn't seem to find it nearly as funny. His hand went down to cup Harry's hip bone. He squeezed gently. Harry stopped laughing.

Bill didn't ask before he kissed Harry again. He just did it. Slowly this time, but insistently, much less reluctantly than before. And Harry met the kiss not quite willingly but also not willing to stop it. Because he enjoyed it. The scratchiness that was scrubbing his chin raw, the strong lips twisting his own between them, the thick, wet tongue probing and exploring his mouth. He liked it. He didn't want it to stop.

He set aside the voice which told him that it shouldn't continue. Just for awhile.

The hand at his hip traced the edge of Harry's jeans until it came to the button. Harry gave a whimper of protest and tried to jerk his hips away. "It's all right. Just let me..." Bill breathed before kissing Harry again. Harry kissed back though all his attention was trained on the gentle tugging of those fingers on his jeans. The button popped out of the hole and the hand returned to Harry's hip. Harry sighed and relaxed back into the kiss. He kept his hands stationed on Bill's shoulders, worried that any movement at all would encourage the older man onward.

But Bill was going very slowly, and Harry thought maybe the older man was as content as he to just have a bit of a snog. He'd stopped rocking his hips in that maddening way and, while he'd undone Harry's jeans, he didn't seem to be going any further. Just his fingers slipping only a bit inside the waistband of Harry's shorts to curl over Harry's hipbone. But that was hardly anything to get excited about.

Harry allowed one of his hands to run over Bill's shoulder and down his arm toward the hand that still held Harry's hip. Bill strayed from Harry's mouth to place light moist kisses over Harry's cheeks. Harry opened his eyes to see Bill's were closed softly. The firm weight which had been pressing against Harry's erection shifted downward suddenly. Harry gasped and arched his neck to allow Bill to continue placing patterns of light kisses against his skin. Bill's thumb stroked the sensitive hollow at Harry's hip.

Harry moaned despite another surge of warning waging war against the building tension in his stomach. His hand stationed itself once more at Bill's shoulder, squeezing as the waves of pleasure assaulted his nerve endings, his brain, his cock. He shifted his hips to relieve some of the tension weighing his erection down.

Bill groaned as the movement sent Harry's hips more firmly against his own erection. Harry's breath caught once more to feel it, hard and persistent against him. Bill's hand flew to tear down Harry's zipper.

"Bill?" Harry gasped.

Bill looked up, his eyes slightly unfocussed. He shifted off Harry and raised his hand to stroke Harry's head soothingly. "It's all right," he said. "I won't do anything you don't want me to. I just - " He smiled again before leaning in once more to kiss Harry's mouth. "You don't sleep in your jeans anyway, do you?"

Harry blinked and then sighed heavily. He shook his head, biting his lower lip nervously. Bill smiled and then rolled onto his back to strip off his own jeans. He peeled off his t-shirt as well leaving him in a pair of red boxers. Reluctantly, Harry lifted his hips and slid his own jeans down past his arse before kicking them to the foot of the bed. Bill urged him up so that he could peel back the blankets and slide in. Harry crawled in after him and lay stiffly on his back.

"Better, right? Are you comfortable?" Bill said sidling back over to lie closer to Harry. He kept a careful distance, only moving his hand over to lay flat against Harry's stomach. His finger dipped into Harry's cloth covered navel making Harry's stomach muscles contract reflexively.

Comfortable? No. Harry was decidedly uncomfortable and torn between wanting the man to kiss him into forgetfulness and wanting to run home as quickly as the floo would take him. To go back to his flat, back to a world where he was not lying half-naked in a bed with his best friend's brother. Back to a world where he would never dream of kissing a bloke, let alone like it.

But he couldn't tell Bill all of this so he nodded instead.

Dissatisfied with the cloth separating it from Harry's skin, the hand crept underneath to draw circles around Harry's belly button. The other fingers stroked over the trail of hair leading into Harry's pants.

"Do you want me to stop?"

Harry turned his head to see Bill who'd apparently been watching him. Harry wondered if the conflict of emotions he was feeling had been visible on his face. "Er..." he said. He didn't know how to answer the question, really. "I...it's nice," he said. "But," he exhaled in frustration.

"But you want me to stop," Bill said. He wasn't stopping and his fingers were dipping under the waistband of Harry's shorts. Harry tried not to want them to go further but his cock, it seemed, was trying to twitch closer to the teasing digits.

"Not exactly," Harry said. "I'm just - "

"Scared."

"Nervous," Harry finished. "I don't want to...I mean, I like it. But I don't think we should..."

"Shag."

"Go further." Harry heaved a sigh of relief, pleased that he managed to get it out. Bill's fingers retreated. He smoothed Harry's t-shirt back down and laid his hand flat once more on Harry's stomach. Harry covered Bill's hand with his own.

"Sorry," he said. "I'm a bit mad."

"You're not mad. You're just young," Bill chuckled.

Harry bristled. That stung just a bit. He pursed his lips together and tried to come up with a way to argue with the man.

"Harry?"

"Yeah," he said only slightly irritably.

"Would you mind if I...never mind." Bill laughed weakly and then rolled onto his back with a groan.

Harry rolled to his side. "What?"

"I'm fucking hard as hell," Bill complained.

"Oh." Harry wrinkled his nose. He could sympathise.

"Do you mind if I...take care of it?" Bill looked at him with a wry grin.

"Oh...no! I mean...it's your room. It doesn't bother me," he said awkwardly. "Do you want me to...er, I can go if you want."

Bill rolled over again. "Will you watch?"

Harry's eyes widened and he could feel the blush sting his cheeks. He damned it. "Sure," he said almost too casually. He could handle watching someone else wank. He wasn't a kid. And he had been listening to boys wank for the last seven years. It wasn't a big deal.

He watched as Bill squirmed his way out of his underwear from beneath the covers before lying on his back and pushing the blankets down to reveal his erection in his hand. Harry swallowed thickly trying not to give into the impulse to look away. He was circumcised, Harry remarked and then wondered absently if all the Weasley boys were. Ron was. Not that Harry'd spent much time looking. He just noticed things like this.

Bill hummed low as he slid his thumb over the head and began slowly stroking. Harry bit his lip deciding that beyond everything he'd ever done this was the single sexiest experience of his life. It was all he could do not to take himself in hand, which was an urge that battled with an equally great desire to reach over and touch the other man.

Bill, it seemed, had the same idea. He took Harry's hand in his own. Harry's gaze jerked up to meet Bill's and Bill stared intently as he guided Harry's hand over. Harry didn't struggle and even budged over to have a better reach. Bill stroked as though he was in no hurry to complete the task soon. It was nothing like the feverish yanking Harry did at night, but slow and gentle.

Harry caressed over Bill's hand first, not knowing what exactly Bill wanted from him. He timidly brought his fingers to the head and traced around it. His breath hitched at the sound of Bill's hiss of encouragement. At length, Bill stopped stroking and urged Harry's own hand to wrap around the shaft. Harry did so nervously.

"Slow," Bill breathed and then brought his hands to Harry's face to pull him into a kiss. Harry obeyed the command, moaning as Bill's breath came heavily into his mouth. He stroked lazily, lacking the concentration to do the thing properly anyway. He was almost grateful when Bill's hand plunged into his shorts and took hold of his own erection.

"Fuck," he gasped and thrust into Bill's fist, speeding up the rhythm on Bill's cock. But Bill stopped him just as quickly.

"I want to see you come, Harry. Please. Just let me..." He didn't finish, but slid his hips out of Harry's reach and pushed Harry onto his back. Harry couldn't think to struggle when his shorts were wrenched down past his hips, nor did it occur to him to protest when he was sucked unceremoniously up into Bill's mouth. He did cry out, however, loudly. His hand flew to Bill's head as it slid up creating the most amazing sucking sensation and Harry thought he could feel his wits being vacuumed out of him.

His breath squeezed out his throat in a broken and shaky groan. Bill pulled up, giving Harry the opportunity to breathe again. A clever tongue darted playfully over the sensitive head as Bill's hand pulled back Harry's foreskin.

Just as Harry was beginning to embrace the reality of what was happening Bill plunged again, robbing him of any thought he might have formed. All subsequent thoughts were washed away a flood of pleasure. Harry whimpered pitifully as Bill worked him over, pulling and plunging and doing the most amazing things with his tongue whenever he'd pull up. Soon Harry was bucking his hips and trying to drive deeper and faster into that mouth. He spread his legs compliantly, allowing Bill to cup his balls, rolling them gently. The finger which reached back to press firmly against the space behind his ball was his undoing. Harry pushed hard on Bill's head as he thrust up and came violently down Bill's throat with a raucous cry.

He trembled and spasmed as he felt the throat working to swallow and vibrating with Bill's soft moans. The sensitivity was almost painful and Harry tugged insistently to make the man get off him.

Eventually, Bill obeyed. Harry slipped from that exquisite wetness and Bill crawled up to cover him, leaning down to kiss him. Bill's tongue was coated with a salty, metallic taste now, but Harry didn't mind so much. He still was having a bit of trouble thinking straight and allowed Bill's mouth to lead his own in the kiss. Bill settled heavily between his thighs, which spread accommodatingly.

"You're beautiful when you come," Bill sighed against Harry's mouth.

"Thank you," Harry moaned, kissing the words away and then thanking the man again. And again.

Bill chuckled. "Thank you," he said. He pulled back to look at Harry.

Harry gave a sated grin. "That was brilliant," Harry breathed.

"No one ever did that for you before?" Bill asked, furrowing his brow.

Harry snorted and shook his head.

Bill gave a disapproving grunt and then shifted up to press his lips to Harry's forehead. But Harry wasn't thinking about that contact, attention now quite focussed on Bill's cock nudging behind his balls. Harry decided that he wanted to repay the favour, though he wasn't certain he could do what Bill had just done to him. He didn't even know where to begin and something that amazing, he imagined, took a fair amount of talent.

"I'd like to make you come too," Harry whispered, wrinkling his nose against Bill's shoulder. He kissed the man's neck and willed away the blush.

Bill pulled back to look at him. "You would?"

Harry nodded. "It's the least I can do," he smiled.

Bill kissed him again, softly. Nipping at his lips gently with his teeth. "I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do," he said, driving his words into Harry's mouth with his tongue.

"I want to," Harry whispered back once he was able to speak again.

"You want to what?" Bill breathed, burrowing his face into Harry's neck again, biting harder now. A hand wrenched Harry's t-shirt up and Bill moaned as he settled his belly against Harry's.

"I want to make you feel good," Harry whispered. His hand ran over Bill's back and shoulders, pressing firmly into the muscles.

"I want to be inside you," Bill said hotly into his ear.

Harry's eyes snapped open. He tensed uncomfortably under the other man and became all too aware of the thick head of Bill's shaft inching closer to achieving that goal.

Bill must have sensed the tension because he pulled his hips down a bit, continuing to lick and suck at Harry's neck. "Haven't I made you feel good?" he breathed. His hands slid under Harry's t-shirt. A thumb stroked teasingly at Harry's nipple. "I promise, Harry, you'll love it..." His teeth scraped over Harry's earlobe. "And if you don't, I'll stop. I'll just stick it in a little. And if you want me to stop... You know I wouldn't hurt you," he said, coming up to meet Harry's eyes. "Right?"

Harry took a deep breath and shifted his eyes away. He was hopelessly torn between not wanting to disappoint Bill and being terrified at the prospect of... But he'd already gone this far, and... He liked Bill, but...

Harry closed his eyes tightly. "I know. I just..." Harry's fingers played nervously at the skin of Bill's shoulder, tracing along Bill's collarbone and up his neck. "I want to make you feel good. But I can't...do...that." He opened his eyes a bit to measure Bill's response, kicking himself at the exasperated sigh Bill heaved.

Bill rolled off of him. Harry felt suddenly very cold. He turned to his side to see the man staring up at the ceiling. He slid his hand over timidly. Bill caught it before Harry could lay it on the other man's chest. Bill squeezed the hand before dropping it to the bed.

"Sorry," Harry whispered.

"Don't be. It's fine."

"I could try...you know...with my mouth," Harry offered hopefully.

Bill turned his head, his eyes running over Harry's face. He smirked and shook his head. "Don't worry about it," he said. "You should sleep." Bill rolled over, turning his back to Harry.

Harry felt sick. And a bit angry. At Bill for being so damn...stubborn. And at himself for being such a coward. Honestly, what was he afraid of? That getting shagged would make him gay, when it came down to it. As though getting sucked off didn't already set him on the road to being gay. As though spending the past however long it had been snogging a bloke didn't quite seal the fact.

Harry rolled over desolately and stared up at the ceiling. Bill didn't seem angry, he thought. Disappointed. He probably thought Harry was a scared little virgin. It wouldn't be so far from the truth. And after all he'd done for Harry, taking care of him because he got too pissed, all the kissing, the amazing blow job...

"All right," Harry said nervously. The air went still to listen. "You'll stop if I don't..."

Bill rolled over. "You don't have to do this, Harry. I don't want you to think - "

"No, I want to. I just..." Harry wrinkled his nose and exhaled sharply. He was about to appeal to Bill to go slowly, but Bill kissed him before he got the chance. Harry kissed back eagerly, thankful to have done with the tension and the guilt in favour of this alarmingly familiar and intoxicating feeling of exploring Bill's mouth.

Bill broke away quickly. "Wait," he whispered before retreating off the bed. Harry raised himself to his elbows when he heard the man rummaging through his sack. Bill was back on the bed with a jar before the sheets could even cool. He placed the jar within arm's reach and straddled Harry's hips. Harry lifted his arms as Bill raised his shirt. Bill dropped it to the side carelessly and then pushed Harry back to the bed.

Harry tried not to think about what they were going to do. What he was going to do. He had never spent a huge amount of time wondering about his virginity, but in those rare moments he had wondered when he would get rid of it, he never pictured it like this. Never with a bloke. And certainly never with Bill Weasley.

Not really.

In fact, all the fleeting fantasies he'd had about Bill Weasley had already been fulfilled. And then some. And now, here he was, naked with the man, watching as he spread some sort of goop over his dick. Harry swallowed back a frightened whimper.

"Relax," Bill whispered, leaning down to kiss Harry lightly. "It'll be brilliant. You'll see." Harry nodded and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. Bill shifted off him. "Roll onto your stomach," he said softly before stretching onto his side.

Harry slowly obeyed. He folded his hands under his forehead. He was trying to relax, honestly. But every time he wasn't deliberately relaxing them, his muscles seem to contract and tighten all on their own until he was shivering. He clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. Bill stroked down the length of his spine with his knuckles, turning his hand over when he reached Harry's tailbone. His fingers seemed to be coated with the lubricant he'd already spread over his erection. He rubbed over the puckered entrance and chuckled when Harry jerked reflexively.

"Just relax," Bill cooed. Harry felt the press of lips at his shoulder and then the mouth continue to kiss as that finger swirled round and round. "Spread your legs a bit," Bill said shakily. He scraped his teeth lightly over Harry's shoulder blade. "That's it," he sighed. "Look at me," he urged.

Harry turned his head to the side as Bill laid his head on the pillow in front of him. He couldn't quite meet Bill's eye.

"I need to get some of this inside you," Bill said softly.

Harry closed his eyes tightly and held his breath. He nodded and waited for that finger that way wiping the stuff over his hole to enter. He bit his lip when it prodded at the centre and pressed inside. Harry heard Bill give a shaky sigh and opened his eyes to him watching Harry with a rapt expression, breathing heavily through an open mouth. He grinned when Harry's eyes met his. "You're so tight," Bill breathed, closing his eyes.

It felt weird, Harry decided. Not bad, but weird. He inhaled sharply as the finger slid in further and shivered slightly when it withdrew a bit. Harry tensed again when he realised that Bill was about to add another finger. His hands clenched reflexively at the sheets and he spread his legs further as though to make more room. But there was no making room. He could feel himself stretching wider than he ever though possible and panted as the fingers fit in to the second knuckle.

Harry pressed his forehead once more against his hands, letting the knuckles dig into his skull as Bill started moving his fingers in and out with small movements. Harry could feel himself getting hard again and a strange sort of ache began in his arse. Before long he was whimpering. Bill was moving his fingers in circles, stretching and loosening him, but Harry wanted more. More movement. The ache was building and Harry couldn't say what that meant except that he wanted more. He pulled his knees up, forgetting about pride and shame and wanting only that those fingers do more.

Bill was stirring beside him, moving around to kneel in back of him. The fingers were gone and the maddening ache increased in their absence. Harry raised his head, breathing roughly and looked over his shoulder to see Bill positioning himself. He placed a hand on Harry's hip as the thick head squeezed between the cheeks, feeling for the hole.

Harry tensed again. It was too big, he thought. There was no way it was going to fit. "Bill?" he squeaked in a moment of panic.

Both of Bill's hands were stationed on Harry's hips now. He was pressing forward - and it wasn't going to work. Harry clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt as though if Bill's erection was going to fit in there, it would surely take half the skin on Harry's arse with it.

Bill thrust hard suddenly, pulling Harry's hips back into him. Harry could feel the cock tear past the thick ring of muscles and all his breath escaped him as though he'd been punched in the stomach.

"Fuck," he heard Bill swear behind him. He pressed in a bit further, breathing hard.

Harry could feel the shape of the erection, as it speared into him, scraping along the sensitive flesh inside. It was too much all of a sudden. Something wasn't right. "Wait," Harry panted, trying to crawl away from it. "Nowaitstop."

Bill held his hips firmly. "What?" he breathed.

"It...it hurts," Harry choked.

Bill stroked Harry's back consolingly, but made no move to pull out. "Just relax," he said. "It only hurts for a minute or so. You feel so good, Harry," he groaned, pulling back a bit before sliding in further. The deeper he went, Harry discovered, the less it hurt. When he was all the way in, Bill slumped over Harry's curled spine and kissed Harry at the back of the neck.

"All right?" he exhaled heavily

Harry drew in a gasping breath and unclenched his jaw to say, "Think so. Just wait...wait a minute," he panted.

"You feel incredible," Bill sighed. He began moving his hips in small circles like he had with his fingers. It was so odd, Harry thought, to feel someone moving inside there, tickling at places Harry never even really thought about. Gradually the burning and sensitivity seemed to give over to that achy feeling that made Harry's head spin and his breath come erratically. "Fuck, Harry, I have to - "

Bill pulled out and slammed back in so hard that Harry had to put up his hands to keep from falling face first into the mattress. He was prepared for the second thrust though, and tensed up as Bill's hips slapped against his own. The third time he rocked back to meet it.

Bills hands were at his hips again and bringing him back as he bucked his hips forward. It wasn't tender inside at all anymore and the harder Bill went inside him, the faster Harry wanted it. He stopped thinking all together when Bill stroked past something inside him something that made him fall back to the bed as a surge of sensation liquefied his bones. He was breathing so hard he might have been hyperventilating, which would explain his light-headedness. He only vaguely heard Bill tell him to touch himself, but it was all he could do to keep from passing out, so he didn't bother with it.

He felt Bill reach around and another jolt of bone-dissolving pleasure wracked through his body. The pace grew a bit slower as Bill stroked his erection, and Harry wanted it to go faster again. He reached down and shooed Bill's hand away. "Just fuck me," he growled and might have been embarrassed for it, if he could be bothered to think about what he'd said. But as he couldn't, he fell to his elbow to stabilise himself and pulled himself to the same fast rhythm that Bill fucked him.

Bill was murmuring a stream of nonsense and Harry was certain he was answering in some fashion, but the only thing he could concentrate on was the cock catapulting pleasure into and throughout his body and the fierce rhythm with which he was stroking himself. Soon he felt everything tense up all at once, he felt himself squeeze hard around Bill and then everything went momentarily black as he shot. His mouth opened to let out a scream that never made it past his lungs. His head fell to the bed when Bill drew out and thrust back in again and then again and again until he cried out with his own climax, falling forward and pulling Harry down into him by his shoulders. Harry couldn't tell if the spasms were coming from him or from Bill anymore. All he knew was that his body had effectively turned to mush and that he might easily sleep through the summer if he ever woke up at all.

Harry thought he might have dozed off when he felt the body that had curled tightly around him, keeping him warm and safe, stir. Harry opened his eyes and made a face when he felt Bill slip from him. "All right?" Bill asked gruffly. Harry gave a noncommittal grunt and stretched his legs painfully when Bill got up from him. He winced as the blood returned to his calves. He was lying in something wet, he realised, but decided he didn't care enough to move.

"Here."

Harry opened an eye to see Bill handing him a towel. He was wiping himself off with another. Harry tried to reach for it, but couldn't get his arm to move. He'd never felt so bloody tired in all his life. Bill chuckled and then urged Harry's legs open again. Harry gave a complaining grunt, but otherwise didn't fight it. The warm wetness felt brilliant against his skin. It occurred to Harry to wonder where it came from, but he reckoned some magic was done to procure it. Reality came smashing into the grogginess of his brain when he felt the towel slide down the crack of his arse. Some part of his ego shot up and demanded that Harry wipe his own arse, for fuck's sake. The rest of him couldn't be fucked to move, though. Harry gave a groan of dissent, but that was all the dignified response he could manage before it was all done with.

Harry drifted to sleep before his unlikely lover stretched out beside him.

"Oi, Potter! Get up."

Harry blinked his eyes open at the muffled sound of - one of the twins, he decided. He rolled over groggily. His body felt as though his blood had turned to sludge. He sat up irritably, shifting uncomfortably. His arse felt like he'd been...

"Bugger," he whispered in shocked realisation. He looked around the room and, finding he was alone, fell back against the bed, staring up at the ceiling as the scenes from last night played before his mind's eye.

Oh...he hadn't.

He didn't.

He did.

Which would explain why he was naked in the bed of Bill Weasley.

"Harry! You comin' or what?"

Harry heard the doorknob rattle and snatched the blankets up to his arm pits. The head of Ron Weasley, his best friend, popped through the door.

"I'll be there in a minute," Harry croaked.

"You all right?" Ron said with a wicked grin.

"'M fine," Harry said quickly.

Ron disappeared and the door closed. Harry scrambled to find his clothes before someone else came in. One could never be sure at the Weasley house. He found his t-shirt quite easily. He'd already had his socks on, he discovered with a groan of disgust. His jeans lay rumpled at the end of the bed, but his pants seemed to have disappeared. He searched everywhere, peeling apart the bed, looking underneath, but they were nowhere to be found.

Another cry from downstairs compelled him to abandon his search. He pulled on his jeans, picked up his sneakers and walked sluggishly down the steps into the kitchen.

A roomful of wry grins turned his direction as he entered.

He blushed spectacularly.

"Harry, Harry, Harry..." Fred shook his head. At least, Harry thought it was Fred.

"We get you pissed and you sleep with our brother!" the other twin gasped.

Harry's jaw dropped.

A burst of sniggering set free the breath trapped in Harry's throat. They thought they were joking. "Ha, ha," Harry mumbled walking and slumping into the seat next to Seamus. "Does anyone know where my glasses are?" he asked irritably, rubbing his eyes.

"Oh."

Ron snorted. "I don't think you'll get them back."

"What do you mean 'get them back'?" Harry asked, furrowing his brow.

"It's your own fault, really. We told you not to play with the garden gnomes," Fred said.

"Nasty little thieves, they are," George agreed, setting a cup of tea in front of Harry.

Harry lowered his head to his hands. He vaguely recalled being in the garden. On his hands and knees. Running down garden gnomes. With his head. "I'm never drinking again," he swore. And this time, he meant it.

"Be thankful all you lost were your glasses," Seamus said, stuffing a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth.

Harry groaned and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Where's Bill?" he asked, hoping to sound like he was changing the subject.

A collective shrug.

Harry didn't know if he should be grateful or offended by Bill's absence. He didn't know what to feel. Or think. Or do. His first instinct was to bury his head in the sand until the world ended and to not think about Bill or his arse or his now, more than ever, questionable sexuality.

"So are we going?" Dean asked, cheek full of toast as he brought his plate to the sink.

"Where?"

"Apparating license," Ron said. "You are coming."

Harry shook his head.

"That's probably not the best idea," a painfully familiar voice said from the living room. Harry didn't turn to see him. He thought that having successfully managed not to crawl under the table was enough. He raised his cup to his lips and drank his tea instead, shivering when a hand mussed up his hair. He nearly choked on the liquid when it occurred to him that it was the same hand that had been up his arse hours before. He set his glass down hurriedly and coughed discreetly into his fist.

"Feeling all right, Harry?" Bill asked.

Harry still didn't look at him. "Yeah. I think...I told Sirius that...er...I should go," he stumbled and stood quickly.

"We should go too. The licensing place is always busy on Fridays," one of the twins said. The rest of the table stood and filed over to the floo.

Harry shifted from one foot to the other impatiently as one by one each of the crowd disappeared up the floo. "So, I'll see you tomorrow?" Ron said as both he and Harry made for the floo.

"Yeah. Tomorrow," Harry said, relenting and allowing Ron to take a handful of powder first.

"You all right?" Ron furrowed his brow.

Harry nodded and attempted a smile. He couldn't quite look his friend in the eye. Not after what he'd done.

"Well, all right. See you." Ron stepped into the floo and called out 'Diagon Alley'.

Harry took a deep breath and a handful of floo powder. He wrinkled his nose before glancing over his shoulder to see Bill watching him. He dropped the floo powder and turned around. "I couldn't find my...pants. So..." He lowered his eyes to the floor and hated himself for the sudden sickening hotness that flooded his head.

He heard the other man's boots clack against the floor as he walked toward him. He looked up when the hand on his chin urged him to. "I'll keep them as a souvenir," Bill said with a smile.

Harry snorted and shifted his eyes to look past Bill's shoulder. What was he supposed to say to the man? He'd never felt so bloody awkward in his whole life. His stomach was swirling dangerously and he felt giddy and light-headed and vaguely angry all at once.

"Are you all right?"

No! No, he wasn't all right. What kind of a question was that? He'd had sex. He got really drunk and had sex with a bloke. With the older brother of his best friend. And he was wondering if he'd ever have control over the muscles in his arse again. And he was wondering if he'd ever look Ron in the eye again. Or if he'd ever like girls again. If he ever had to begin with.

"I'm fine," he muttered.

"Harry?"

Harry pursed his lips and raised his eyes bravely.

"I'll owl you, all right?"

Some silly explosion of joy occurred in Harry's chest and a smile stretched across his face. "All right," he said, hoping not to sound too eager. "If you want," he added as an afterthought.

"Great," Bill said. He leant in to kiss Harry lazily, wetly, for what seemed an eternity. When he pulled back any thought of regret had dissolved. "Bye," Bill said softly.

"Bye," Harry echoed, stepping backward until his back pressed against the mantel. He gave a goofy grin and turned reluctantly to gather a handful of floo powder. Glancing over his shoulder he said 'bye' again and then stepped into the floo.

Flooing out, Harry thought he might go home and tell Hedwig that he'd finally have work for her.