Lacuna

Lacuna
Chapter Three
~~~~~

I can't take this feeling anymore
Drain the pressure from the swelling,
The sensations overwhelming,
Give me a long kiss goodnight
and everything will be all right
Tell me that I won't feel a thing
So give me Novocain

~~~~~

Harry spent the next month anxiously watching the Appleby Arrows' progress during the season. They suffered only one loss, winning their other three games played. The Arrows were favoured to win the Cup, and this made Harry uneasy. Ron watched him amusedly, unable to discern what had happened between Harry and Matthew, but all the while, knowing that something had happened. Hermione was informed that Harry fancied a Quidditch player and had a difficult time keeping quiet on the issue. Just like everybody else who was close to Harry, she wanted him to be happy, and if it meant with another man, then so be it.

Eventually, the day of the deciding match arrived, and Harry sat at the edge of his seat with mixed emotions as he listened to it over the Wizarding Wireless. As a dedicated fan, he certainly wanted the Arrows to win, but a part of him wanted them to lose so that he would not have to attend the Cup. Harry, as well as Ron, Hermione, Ayida, and the twins were visiting the Weasleys' home. It was a beautiful, sunny day outside so they had brought the radio into the garden to listen. Ayida was chasing gnomes as they teased her from their holes. The Weasley twins were playing catch the quaffle on their brooms, though they flew close to the ground as to hear the game. Hermione and Mrs. Weasley were inside preparing something to eat, while Mr. Weasley sat listening intently to the game.

"So what's this I hear about Matthew Pickleworms?" Mr. Weasley asked as Matthew scored for the third time.

"It's nothing," Harry answered quickly, fighting off a blush.

"Harry fancies him. We met him that day we went to the game," Ron said proudly. "And I think Pickleworms fancies Harry too."

"He does not," Harry said vehemently, leaning back to see where Ayida had gone. When he saw that she was toddling unsteadily towards them, he relaxed. "And he hates it when people call him by his surname."

Ron grinned at him.

"Shut up, Ron."

The redhead held his hands up. "I didn't say anything."

"Harry, we talked to Oliver the other day," Fred called from above their heads, "and he said that Pickleworms is going to get you tickets to the Quidditch Cup. I'd say that's interest!"

"He said only if the team makes it."

And in that, Harry took comfort. However, he thought dismally, they were up by 50 points, and it was not often that their Seeker lost.

Soon after, Hermione and Mrs. Weasley began bringing out the food and they all dined as the game continued in the background. The twins and Ron would grin at him every time the Arrows scored, but he tried to ignore him. Harry was almost done eating when it was announced that both Seekers had caught sight of the Snitch. Harry held his breath, as it sounded like it was going to be a close catch. They were chasing after it neck and neck. They were diving… and a bludger was sent towards the Arrows Seeker and its aim was true. The Seeker was hit hard in the side, sending him toppling the rest of the way to the ground. The Snitch was caught, but not by the Arrows. Inside, Harry rejoiced for his good luck.

"Ah, rotten luck, Harry," George said sadly. "Maybe he'll owl you anyway."

"I'm not particularly interested in him sending an owl," Harry replied, getting up to bring his plate to the kitchen sink. With that said, the subject was successfully dropped… at least for the next few hours. By the time the owl arrived, Fred and George had already left and Harry was readying himself and Ayida to go home.

"Harry!" Ron called from the kitchen. His voice sounded a bit like he was laughing. Harry looked up in trepidation when Ron came into the room. "Letter for you." He bit his lip, obviously holding back a grin.

"From who?" Harry asked, though he thought he knew already.

"Just open it," Ron urged his eyes wide on the letter as he handed it over.

The writing was unfamiliar and the crest on the back had a simple ‘P'. Harry's hand shook as he straightened out the letter.

Harry,

I know we said we would see each other at the Quidditch Cup if the Arrows won. As you probably know, that is not happening this time around. I can't help but feel a little disappointed (for more than one reason) as I was looking forward to seeing you again. I hope you do not find me presumptuous if I ask you to write me a response if you're interested. Perhaps we could set up a date to get to know each other a little better.

Until then, I look forward to a reply.

Yours,
Matthew Pickleworms

Harry read the letter through three times before he calmly folded the paper, inserted it back in the envelope, folded it over once and handed it back to Ron. "Could you toss that for me please?"

Ron blinked. "Toss it? But isn't it from Pickleworms?"

"Yes, it is."

"Then why do you want to throw it away?"

"Because I don't need it. I read it already, didn't I?"

"He asked you out, didn't he? I'm right! He asked you out!"

"Fine! I'll throw it away!" Harry stormed into the kitchen and threw the letter into the rubbish bin with unnecessary force. As his hand came down, it hit the edge of the bin and sent it toppling to the side. He whirled around. "I just asked a favour. I need to pack up Ayida's bag so that we can leave." He pushed past Ron who had followed him, but Ron caught his arm.

"Why are you so upset, Harry? I don't understand. Go out with him one time. It isn't marriage he's proposing."

"I can't," Harry said, his voice having lowered considerably.

"Is it because of Draco? You have to move on sometime. Draco is dead, Harry."

"Not to me," Harry whispered fiercely, turning to glare into Ron's eyes. "He's not dead when I wake up in the morning and reach out to touch him. He's not dead when I still expect him to walk in the door after training, exhausted and hungry, and not caring about either of those things because he just wants to hug me. He's not dead, so I can't be with anybody else."

"But you're lonely, Harry," Ron insisted.

"I have Ayida."

"She's not all that you need."

"I'll survive."

"But, Harry –"

"Drop it, Ron."

The redhead physically backed away, his face showing just how concerned he was. "I'm only trying to see you happy again. Everybody wants you to be happy again."

"Another man isn't going to do it, so unless I speak of being with somebody, don't bring it up again. I'll survive."

Ron nodded his acquiescence and the topic was not broached again.

A couple months had passed; Ayida had had her first birthday party and the twins had made Harry their manager at the Diagon Alley store so that they could have more time with their other stores and inventing products. It worked out well for Harry as the twins allowed him to bring Ayida. The twins had purposefully made a child-safe area for her so that Harry would not need to worry that she was getting into something dangerous. They had also taught him a spell in which he would be alerted if Ayida was agitated in some way, or needed to be changed. Lazy parenting, Harry thought, but he liked being busy outside the home the four days a week he worked there, so it was worth it.

In his rare alone time (when Ayida was sleeping), Harry often thought of the chance he had been given with somebody else. At times, he felt as though he almost regretted not taking the chance. Often, he would wake in the night from a nightmare and search the bed for a warm body. There were days when the thought crossed his mind that if he had somebody else, he could reach out, close his eyes and pretend that the person was Draco. Then perhaps he could fall asleep after the nightmares. Perhaps he could begin to move on. If he were honest with himself, he did not want to move on. Something inside told him to wait it out. Draco was alive. However, Harry thought that if Draco were still alive, he would have come home already. Harry's survival had been in the papers for months afterwards. Nothing had been a bigger story to cover.

Harry was beginning to think that Ron was right. Maybe he did need somebody else to keep him happy. Sometimes the bouts of loneliness for Draco were too much. They were more than Ayida could cure, that was for certain.

It was not right. Nothing that Harry could tell himself would make him write to Matthew. They did not know each other very well, but Harry was sure that Matthew deserved a better relationship than that. He did not deserve to be treated, as Harry wanted to treat him, just as a warm body.

However, in these months, Harry felt himself become lonelier than he had ever been. The prospect of another person had been a tease, and there were nights when he would sit alone on his couch, staring out the window into the spacious backyard, his thoughts turning back to the moment he found out that Draco had died, as if his brain loved the torture. He let himself feel his heart break in half again, let himself feel the desperation, let himself remember all the reasons why it could not be true and all the reasons why it was. He would hug his knees to his chest, tears flowing, sometimes silently, sometimes in wracking sobs. All he needed on these nights, he thought, was somebody to hold him. But he was alone, and he was painfully aware of it.

It was about halfway into November one Thursday afternoon and Harry had just left work. He had decided to shop for more clothes for Ayida as she was outgrowing hers at a rapid rate. She was expanding outwards as well as up, and Harry could never get enough of blowing on her rather sizeable belly and kissing her chubby cheeks.

The two were walking down Diagon Alley; rather Harry was doing the walking. Harry was attempting to kiss her cheeks, but she was holding her hands against his mouth and giggling wildly. Bags were swinging from Harry's elbows, full of clothes he had just bought from the children's store, Magical Sproglets. He blew a raspberry against her hand and she drew away squealing in giddy delight at being so fooled.

Harry freed a hand and attempted to smooth down her windblown locks. He despaired that she had inherited his many cowlicks as her hair tended to stick in every direction when it was not styled in a ponytail. "Where should we go next?" he asked, stopping next to Flourish and Blotts. "Should we go home to eat?"

Ayida's eyes went wide and she shook her head vigorously. "Okay," Harry nodded. "I don't particularly feel like it either. I wish you could give me more than a yes or no."

"Harry?" somebody questioned from behind. Harry turned and froze. "It is you," Matthew shifted uncomfortably. "I thought I may have heard your voice out here." Harry merely stared at him, unable to form any words. He had never even considered that he would run into Matthew somewhere. It was awkward silence for a few moments and Matthew looked very much as though he wished he had never said anything. "I was in there," he shrugged finally, his head jerking to Flourish and Blotts.

"You know the sound of my voice that well?" Harry asked, and sighed inwardly that that was the first thing he could think to say.

Matthew's cheeks tinted. "You sounded familiar and it took me a moment to place it. So… I thought I would come out here to see if I was right."

"Well… you were," Harry nodded slightly.

Matthew mimicked his movement, their heads bobbed in time. They stared at each other for a few moments, and only when Harry was ready to make his excuses did Matthew say something. "You didn't write back."

Harry licked his lips. "I know." After a few moments of yet more silence, Harry realised that Matthew must be waiting for an explanation. He opened his mouth.

"I don't need excuses, Harry," Matthew said before he could utter a word. "I understand. I just want to tell you that you don't have to worry about it. I don't really know what I was thinking…." He trailed off and his eyes fell on Ayida for a few moments. "See you around, Harry."

Harry watched as Matthew turned and walked away. Emotions were fighting within him trying to get the upper hand. He wanted to stop the other man, explain why; he also wanted to turn and run in the other direction and never look back. But Harry knew that he would look back, and he would likely regret not calling for him.

"Matthew!" he cried, starting for him. Matthew turned, his face edged with confusion. "Wait, Matthew. It's not what you think – why I didn't write back, I mean. I didn't write back because I wasn't interested. I just… I suppose I was a little scared. I haven't been with anybody since…."

Matthew blinked. "Oh… well, Harry I didn't necessarily mean that we would jump into a relationship. I said that I wanted to get to know you. It wouldn't have been anything, honestly – just conversation."

"You just… just wanted to get to know me?" Harry cocked his head to the side. "I thought that –"

"That I like you?"

"Well… yeah," Harry blew out a breath and looked away in embarrassment.

"I do."

He looked back up in surprise. "Oh."

Matthew smiled. "I never necessarily wanted a commitment from you, Harry. I think friendship sounds fine."

A friend who is attracted to…. Harry blinked up at him. "Do you want to go eat? Ayida and I are starving."

Matthew's smile was brilliant. "Where do you want to go?"

"Do you like Chinese? I know a good place near Diagon Alley."

"I love Chinese."

"Great! Let's walk."

All Harry could think was that he finally could spend the evening with another man, and not be alone.

They did not talk much on the way, but they both kept sneaking glances at each other then quickly looking away. Harry felt a warm sensation in the pit of his stomach each time he caught Matthew looking. He had forgotten how it felt to know that somebody was interested, and he thought it a rather addictive feeling. He rather wished Matthew would say something, as silly as it was, about how much he liked Harry. He felt foolish for even thinking it.

Conversation did not really start between them until they had been given their food. It was not as uncomfortable as it had been at Wood's party or even as it had been in the alley minutes ago, but still Harry felt how nervous both of them really were. "Did you listen to that last game?" Matthew asked once he had polished off his first two egg rolls.

"Yeah," Harry set a sipper cup in front of Ayida full of milk. "It was a great game until the Seeker was hit with that bludger. It's too bad really. I was hoping you'd win."

"We were all a little disappointed," Matthew nodded, "as everybody was saying this was our year. I wanted to win the Cup at least once before I retire from the game."

Harry looked up surprised. "Are you retiring soon?"

"This year will be my last year in university, so I'm planning next year to be my last season. It'll be a little bit of a relief, really. I like travelling and the games, but I'm almost twenty-six years old. I feel ancient when all those young people start coming in out of school."

"But you're at the height of your game!"

"This is why I should quit while I'm ahead. Besides, I always thought of Quidditch as my hobby, not my career. I only came into it professionally to pay the bills while I've been at university. Besides," he shrugged, "I haven't committed to a decision quite yet. I might end up staying if the team gives me enough incentive."

"What do you study?"

"Criminal psychology, but I've done a little work in forensics."

"Oh, what are you going to do when you're done with Quidditch and school?"

"Ideally… I want to get a job in the Ministry. They don't necessarily require a Muggle education for that sort of thing, but I've studied with a witch for spells and techniques. She gives out degrees and I'll be done with her in about two months. I did the Muggle education purely for my own benefit. Besides, I think that in the long run, it'll help. Magic isn't the answer for everything, in my opinion."

"I think you're right," Harry nodded approvingly, smiling across the table at him.

Matthew fiddled with his chopsticks as he studied Harry. "You know, this is kind of weird for me."

"What do you mean?"

"It's just that I remember you when you first came to Hogwarts in your first year. I remember thinking on how tiny you were. In my head, I always imagined you to be huge."

"Well," Harry looked down, "I still might not be huge, but I've at least grown since I was eleven."

"Yes, you most certainly have," Matthew smirked. Harry blushed.

"What year were you in when I came?"

"Sixth year, and I was in Ravenclaw. I doubt you noticed me back then."

"No, I just kept my head down for the most part, and tried to ignore people talking about me when I was right there."

Matthew shook his head and leaned back in his seat. "I was amazed when you were put on the Gryffindor Quidditch team that year. I thought for sure you would play professionally, and I waited when I knew you were done at Hogwarts, but you never did."

"I wanted to be an Auror, actually. Draco always tried talking me into being a professional Quidditch player because he didn't want me to put myself in danger anymore. But I didn't really want it. I knew that he and I were going to be married right after Hogwarts, so… I didn't want to be away from him a lot. I knew that playing would mean that. So…" he trailed off, embarrassed that he had begun talking about Draco. He looked to Ayida.

"It hasn't been that long since he died, has it?" Matthew asked quietly.

"A year and four months."

"This is kind of soon for you then, isn't it?"

"What is?"

"Being here with me."

"To be truthful, I don't know how I feel about it. I know that I'm attracted to you." He looked up with a rueful smile. "Besides, we don't really need to worry about that since we're only here as friends, do we?" Matthew paused and then shrugged. Harry sighed. "Truthfully, I know that I miss Draco all the time. But that's all I know. I don't know if I'm doing the right thing by being here. I don't know if Ayida will resent me when she's older for seeing other men so soon after Draco died, that's to say if I do… I don't know anything. I just know that I'm interested enough in having friendship… something with you that I'm here."

"Then maybe… maybe it is better if you start this off by telling me not to expect anything from you, that you still love Draco and always will, and that you'll probably compare me to him all the time… if this goes anywhere that is."

"And that I've always believed that there is something wrong with his supposed suicide, and I believe that there is always a chance that he's still alive somewhere. If that ever turned out to be true, I wouldn't stay with you, even if Draco didn't want me."

Matthew's brow furrowed. "Did you ever research it? His death I mean? If you believe he's alive, then surely you have some sort of reason for believing he's still here somewhere."

The corners of Harry's mouth lifted in an attempted smile. They fell immediately. "I went to look at his body the day after I found out. There's no question that it was him," he said, his voice hushed. Matthew had to lean forward to hear him. "He was dead. I tried waking him, because I just…. Sirius, Remus and I tried everything, but…. There was nothing. We're sure it was him. Snape is sure it was him, and he and I are the ones who knew him best. After the funeral, I tried looking for him, but even with Sirius's help, nothing turned up." Harry turned his eyes up when Ayida giggled at a man who was sitting at the table next to them, making faces at her. Harry smiled faintly at his daughter. "It doesn't mean that I have changed my mind that I think there's a chance he's still out there somewhere. If he is, it's only a matter of time before he comes back to either take me back or to end it altogether."

Matthew leaned back in his seat, seemingly contemplating everything Harry had just said. "Well," he finally sighed, "then I'll tell you that I've already thought about all of this and accept it. If only you'll give this," he gestured between them, "a good try."

Harry drew in a deep breath, pushing all these recurring thoughts aside. "I'm already giving a friendly dinner a try. Let's not push it," he joked.

Matthew chuckled. "I am rather hard to get along with, so I'd conclude that we have a fairly good start."

The two men laughed, and Harry was wholly thankful that the mood had lightened again. When they bid their goodbyes, Matthew bade farewell to Ayida by gently tapping her under the chin, to which she giggled. Then he gave Harry a tight hug, one that left him feeling warm and content, and just a little bit better about the whole situation.

**

After his chance meeting with Matthew in Diagon Alley, Harry became almost excited for the next time he saw Matthew. The feelings he felt about seeing other men so soon were still mixed, but Matthew was rare, he knew. And any time Harry thought of him, he grew warm inside, just like he remembered had happened when he first started to like Draco.

They had made no definite plans together, but Matthew had said that he would be in touch soon. It was not until a week later that Harry heard from the other man again. Harry was busy cleaning the house as Ayida napped. He had finished the kitchen and dining room earlier that morning after breakfast, and now was in the living room sending Ayida's toys down the hall and into her play room. He would have to clean that later.

"Hey, Harry," a voice came from the fire. Harry jumped and turned to the sound, pleasantly surprised to see Matthew's face hovering in his fire. A stuffed frog dropped to the ground, but he paid it no mind. Matthew had a small smile on his face, and Harry suddenly forgot what he was supposed to do.

"Hi, Matthew," he kneeled on the floor.

"I was just wondering if you'd seen the article in Witch Weekly."

"No. I don't tend to read magazines for women. Besides, my picture for Most Attractive Bachelor has been in there too many times in the past year for my liking…. Or so I hear."

Matthew grinned. "I don't know if I believe you." Suddenly, his face turned ugly with barely suppressed anger. "Somebody rat us out. I think one of us was being followed."

"I'm sorry," Harry apologised. "I don't have any idea what you're talking about, Matt."

"Last week when we went to dinner together… one of us was being followed and there are pictures of us together at the restaurant. They got us hugging and well, neither of us looks terribly upset with the situation if you get me."

"Oh," Harry looked down. "Yeah, I get it." Thinking back to the hug after their dinner, Harry was certain he had blushed quite spectacularly and he was even more certain that he had had a grin plastered to his face. "I'm sorry, Matt. This sort of thing always seems to happen whenever I'm involved."

"Actually, I believe I was the one being followed. I think it was one of my team mates. I don't know if you heard, but Johnston was kicked off the team after we lost."

Johnston, if Harry recalled correctly, was another Chaser for the Arrows and rather good. He, of course, had nothing on Matthew's skill. Matthew was one of the best players in the league. "Why was he kicked off?"

"Obscene behaviour or something of the sort. I believe he got drunk that night we lost and nearly raped a poor Muggle girl, but somebody stopped him. The Ministry put a memory charm on her because he used magic."

"Was he arrested?"

"Of course. He only did two months in Azkaban though. I've only just been tipped off that he's been following me for a story. Apparently he's blown through his money earned from Quidditch and needs to earn a few extra galleons. He took our pictures together and sold them to Witch Weekly."

"So… what did the article make us look like?"

"The truth?"

"Don't sugar-coat it, please," Harry smiled wanly.

"Okay," Matthew nodded. "It said that we had met months ago at a party at Wood's house, which of course is true. However, it also says that we've been having a highly sexual affair and have been keeping it top secret. It also raises the question of how much you ever…."

"Matthew," Harry prodded when he stopped for a long moment.

Matthew sighed, and closing his eyes continued. "It questioned how much you ever really loved Draco if you were so willing to jump into another relationship hardly a year after he died."

Harry looked away for a few moments, before turning back to Matthew. "I don't care what anybody thinks. Nobody can really know how I feel about Draco. Besides, who's to place a time limit to getting back on your feet anyway?"

"It's not true anyway."

"Who cares then?" Harry pounded his fist into his hand. "We haven't had sex. We've hardly spoken since the first time we met. So Johnston made a few galleons off us. Let witches think what they want to think. I could care less what people think of me."

"Good," Matthew nodded, his smile coming back into play. "I was hoping you would take that sort of view on it. Because before this I had been rather hoping that you would come out with me.

"Oh. As in a… a date?" Harry asked in trepidation.

"Not necessarily a date, no. I just have something in mind that you might enjoy doing, and I can't imagine you get out often what with raising a child by yourself."

"No, not really."

"Would you like to accompany me then? I promise it will be fun." Matthew grinned.

Harry felt his stomach flutter. "I'll look around for a sitter."

"Great! Saturday at eleven then. Meet me at the Leaky Cauldron and we'll go from there."

**

Saturday was clear and sunny after a bout of rain. Yet, everything smelled dead with December quickly approaching and the air was crisp. Harry could feel the crunch of dried grass beneath his feet. Matthew had insisted upon a blindfold before they had Apparated, and now Matthew was leading him across a field… possibly. Harry had no idea where they were.

"Can't you tell me where we're going?"

"Not yet, but if you keep that look on your face, I might just break down and tell you before we get there."

"What look?" Harry smiled.

"That one. You look… content. Maybe a little happy?"

"I feel good today," Harry kept smiling. "I had a good morning with Ayida."

Ayida had woken up this morning, not in the mood to run everywhere, but wanting to snuggle with her father. She did everything happily and without complaint. Even when Harry had left her with Sirius and Remus, she had smiled at him showing him her tiny teeth, and had not complained.

"I'm glad," Matthew said as he let them come to a stop. "All right, Harry. Take off your blindfold."

Slowly, Harry slid off the cloth and reached for his glasses, which Matthew held in his hand. When his vision came clear, he blinked around, looking at where they were. They stood at the edge of a Quidditch pitch, completely deserted except for them. There were two brooms and a Quidditch case lying next to them.

"This is where the Arrows practice. It's nothing special, I know, but I thought you might like to see it. Plus, we can play a little."

"I'm not going to be able to do much," Harry lifted his left arm perpendicular with his body, showing that it was the furthest he could lift it.

"I remembered. It'll be nothing strenuous. How long has it been since you've flown?"

"Much too long," Harry whispered, an eager feeling beginning to flutter in his chest. "I'm probably terribly out of shape, especially compared to you." He blushed.

"I don't mind," Matthew grinned. "I'll whip you into shape if I have to."

The other man grabbed the broomsticks and handed one to Harry. Without delay, the two took off into the air, the exhilarating feeling flowing through Harry as the wind whipped his hair. He felt magnificent, and a blissful laugh escaped him as he zoomed down the field. The broom was the same edition of the Firebolt Harry had, stored away in the back of his closet. Firebolt had released a newer version just a few months ago, which had become the official broom for the Quidditch league. But on this older broom, Harry felt completely at home, as he was used to the way this model manoeuvred. He took three laps before he came to a stop in front of Matthew, who had watched him.

"You're incredible," Matthew grinned at him. "I had forgotten what a natural you are at flying."

Harry, whose hair was windblown, his cheeks flushed, and had a wide grin spreading his face, just shrugged. "It's the only thing I think I'm really good at," he confessed.

"You're good with your daughter."

"You can't say that," Harry smiled. "You've only seen me once with her."

"Even so. I'm always nervous around kids, so I admire people who have no problem."

"Really? I couldn't tell."

"Acting is my second profession," Matthew brought his hand dramatically to his forehead. He laughed as he brought his hand down. Harry felt sudden warmth spread through his body, looking at Matthew as he laughed. Matthew had dimples, he noticed, and his eyes sparkled all the time, it seemed.

"You're staring at me funny," Matthew's smile began to fade, but he still held humour in his eyes.

"I just noticed you have dimples."

The Quidditch player brought up his hand and felt them, though they were not showing anymore. "Oh, are they a turn-off for you?"

"No, I like them." Matthew grinned at that. Harry reached out and ran his forefinger over them, smiling. "Have you ever tried sticking something in them? They're pretty deep."

Matthew let out a deep, rumbling laugh. Harry swore he could feel it go through his finger and straight to his groin. He pulled his hand away. "No, but we could try sometime."

"Okay," Harry nodded.

"Let's fly until we're hungry, and then we'll go get something to eat," Matthew suggested, casually touching Harry's knee.

"I'll be sweaty." His heart quickened.

"They're showers here."

Harry bit his lip. "Are there partitions?"

"No, but we'll take turns if it'll make you feel better. I promise I won't peek," Matthew winked.

Harry licked his lips, trying desperately to keep his hormones under control. He was starting to hate that he was so attracted to this man, but his body was betraying him. It had been so long since he had received such positive attentions from another. His body was eating up every moment of it.

"Let's fly," he said too hoarsely, and he cursed himself as he flew away.

The two men spent the next three hours simply flying and catching the Snitch. Matthew was not good at playing Seeker (Harry caught it all four times), but Harry was not one to brag. He gave Matthew pointers before they headed to the shower, and Matthew ate up every word, showing he was a good listener by looking Harry in the eye as he spoke. Harry blushed anytime he spoke, but decided to tell himself that Matthew did not notice his red face.

Dinner was at a Muggle Italian restaurant so as not to be seen by the media. It was a quiet night, just what they had both hoped. When the day was drawing to a close, they Apparated to the edge of the Apparition barriers that surrounded Harry's house. He had bought the house two months after Draco's death, and loved everything about it. There was a garden in the back, and in the woods, there was a small lake. The previous owners, having been Muggles with small children, had erected a swing set in the front yard. Harry could not wait until Ayida was a little older to try it out. The house was two stories and modest, but it fit Harry and his needs.

As Matthew walked Harry up the front garden, he quietly slipped his hand into Harry's and squeezed gently. And at that moment, it finally hit Harry with crisp clarity that Matthew was attracted to him. Matthew wanted a relationship. He had told Harry that this was not really like a date, yet… perhaps Matthew had been extra courteous for a reason. Now it was the closest it had felt to being a date all day, and suddenly nervousness set in. Was Matthew going to kiss him? Did he want him to? Was he supposed to invite him in? He did not want to!

However, when they got to the front door, Matthew stopped and they faced each other. Harry nervously looked from his face to his chest and back again. Matthew smiled softly down at him and pulled Harry to him in a tight embrace. Harry inhaled and enjoyed the other man's scent, discreetly pressing his nose against his shoulder. Matthew moved his head and gently pressed his lips against Harry's cheek. Harry tightened his grip around Matthew's torso nervously. Their faces were close when they looked at each other again. Harry wanted to kiss Matthew, but could feel that deep down he was not ready for it.

"I'm n-"

"I know, Harry," Matthew nodded, knowing what he was going to say. "Just tell me when it's time."

"I will. I… I do like you."

Matthew nodded. "So, I'll see you again."

"Yes."

"Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight."

When the house was glowing with light, Harry went to the living room and took a picture from the end table. Draco was staring out of the picture, hardly moving; his face devoid of emotion, but his eyes held a sparkle to them. Harry's heart ached for him.

"What should I do, Draco?" Draco just blinked. "What I feel for Matthew is nothing compared to you," he whispered. "But you're not here… and I'm lonely. I want somebody."

The front door opened and Sirius called for him. "In here!" he yelled back.

Setting down the picture, the answer was still foggy, but he knew what he was going to do. "I'll keep seeing him, but as friends," he whispered quietly. "We'll see how that goes, Draco. We'll see."

"She's sleeping," Sirius said as he entered the room. Ayida was lying against him, sleeping soundly in her pyjamas. "Do you want to put her to bed, or should I?"

"You can if you want, but I can take her."

Sirius handed her over. "She's a handful," he smiled. "How was Matthew?"

"Good," Harry walked to the stairs. "We had a good time."

"Are you seeing him again?"

"Would it be terrible if I did?"

Sirius followed close behind all the way to Ayida's room. "No, not at all. Nobody expects you to live alone for the rest of your life. So it's a little sooner than most people expect. What are they going to do, stone you?"

"I'm not concerned about what other people think. My main concern is Ayida."

"She's a baby. She'll be fine with it. And if this turns into a serious thing, I'm sure she'll love Matthew."

Harry laid Ayida into her crib, pulled a blanket over her and then turned around to face his godfather. "Do you think Draco would hate me?"

Sirius sighed, running a hand through his hair. "He wouldn't hate you, Harry. Ultimately, it's for you to decide what is best for you and your daughter. Don't put much weight into what I say, because I just want you to be happy."

Harry nodded. Then he would keep seeing Matthew just as he had told Draco's picture.

***

The months passed quickly and soon, Ayida was two years old. She was talking, although it was a bit unclear at the best of times, but Harry could hear certain words. Matthew still took Harry out, much to his surprise. He had made it clear on their third time out that he was not ready to be in a relationship, but that he would still like to see Matthew, as a friend, if he were interested. So, Matthew had been a good sport about it and settled into being Harry's friend. There were tense moments between them quite often when they were together. Harry's attraction to Matthew had grown exponentially, and so had Matthew's to Harry. Matthew made it known in the way he touched Harry, and much to Harry's chagrin, his body violently reacted to most of the contact.

Ayida had taken a liking to Matthew almost immediately and said, "Mmm," anytime she wanted to see him. Matthew, as far as Harry could tell, adored Ayida just as much as she did him. He made a beeline for her every time he came over and played with her for sometimes up to ten minutes before he greeted Harry.

"How are you?" Matthew asked one day in the midst of a hug, his eyes conveying his concern as they pulled away. He had been away for Quidditch games for a month, and while he had been away, Harry had had a rather nasty bout of missing Draco. Their fifth wedding anniversary, August 15th, came and went and left Harry feeling hollow. He found that each night that passed, he could not resist taking to bed a pair of trousers that had been left behind when Draco had packed. It was ridiculous, but the trousers were all that Harry had that he could hold all night. However, it did nothing to relieve the empty space within him. It only deepened it.

Harry sighed inwardly as it seemed that either Hermione or Ron had informed him of it.

"I'm fine," Harry smiled tiredly. "It wasn't so bad. I took Ayida out for a treat, and then I showed her pictures of him. I bought a soft picture book that has a special handle for her to hold. The salesperson said that kids like to play with them and since there are pictures in the book, kids learn faces." He looked away to Ayida, who was holding the small photo album as she tottered around the living room, inspecting everything. "She looks through it like a book all the time."

"They're all pictures of Draco, then?" Matthew asked his voice rigid.

"Yeah," he nodded. "I want her to know his face."

"That's a good idea. Don't you think it will confuse her that all of the pictures are of a person she's never met? Why don't you add pictures of people she knows?"

Harry and Matthew had met last July at Wood's party, and it was August now. A year and one month and Harry could sense the restlessness in Matthew every time they were together. But what was he to expect? Matthew was human, and he wanted more and was tired of waiting. Though he continued to be patient, Harry could see it in his eyes. He was tired of waiting around and soon he would leave if nothing happened. It made Harry frantic. Matthew had become a stabiliser in his life, and if he left, Harry knew he would feel the dizzying effects of loneliness set in again. It was not that Matthew sent the loneliness he felt for Draco away, but the loneliness for another person was gone, and that made things better. Of course, Harry was not stupid. He did not hold grandeur thoughts that Matthew had remained virginal since they had met. It was a widely known rumour that Matthew and the Keeper of his team, Louis Caldwell were an on again, off again fling. Matthew had once told Harry as much, though had never admitted to sleeping with Caldwell since they had met. As much as Harry was attracted to Matthew, this did not incite any sort of feelings within him. There was no jealousy, no anger, nothing. It almost bothered Harry. Almost. What did bother Harry was the thought of Matthew growing restless in their friendship. Matthew leaving bothered him even more.

Harry watched in confusion as Matthew paced to the window. "I… I thought of coming to see you," Harry said.

"Did you?" he asked, going to sit on the couch. He lifted Ayida into his lap. She smiled up at him and hugged him tightly.

"Mmm," she said, giggling.

"Yes, Ayida kept asking for you."

"Oh. Is that the only reason you thought of it?" He was avoiding eye contact now. Harry swallowed.

"No, of course not," he said, but was not sure if it was the truth. "I wanted to see you as well, but there was a huge shipping disaster at the joke shop."

"Yeah, I read about it in the paper. I hear they're set to make loads of money if they win the lawsuit against the delivery service."

"They plan on opening a store in France if they win the case."

"That's great."

Harry sighed; knowing that Matthew was not into the conversation. He was anxious. He knew what Matthew wanted. He wanted to call Harry his boyfriend. He wanted Harry to move Ayida and sit on his lap and kiss him. Oh and how Harry wanted to kiss him. So much. It was unbearable. But he was so scared to act on anything he might be feeling. Harry did not realise that he was staring at Matthew; he even did not notice that Ayida had crawled from his lap and went to her playroom to grab toys. Matthew stared back at him, bewilderment stitched clearly onto his face.

"Something wrong, Harry?" he asked.

"No," Harry shook his head, and suddenly his feet were carrying him forward. He pushed his knee between Matthew's legs, and put his left leg on the other side and sat on the other man's lap.

"What are you doing?" Matthew whispered as Harry brought his hands up and placed them on his cheeks, his thumbs running along his chin and lips.

"I've missed you," Harry murmured, and knew that it was true as soon as it came out.

"You've never said, ‘hello' quite like this before," Matthew was breathless.

"I've never been brave enough for it. I miss you when you're gone," Harry whispered, moving ever closer as he desperately tried to forget that just last night, he had woken up screaming for Draco. "And I don't like missing people."

They both whimpered quietly as their lips met, dry as they were. Matthew pulled away, whispering Harry's name, wetting his lips. And they kissed again, harder this time, more sure of themselves. They had barely tasted each other when they heard Ayida running down the hall towards them. Harry turned gracefully and sat next to Matthew, his right leg thrown over his. Ayida came in with two books in her hand. She held up her tiny finger for them to wait and then ran back to her room.

Harry pulled Matthew's face to his again and kissed him softly. "Stay for dinner?" he whispered.

"Yes."

They kissed again. "Stay the night?"

Matthew whimpered louder this time when Harry sucked in his bottom lip. "God. Yes. I thought you'd never ask."

Ayida came back with three more books and then sat on Matthew's lap, waiting for one of them to start. Matthew looked to Harry with a smile meant for just the two of them and gladly read to the little girl. Harry curled up to his side, placing his arm on Matthew's shoulder and leaning his chin on his arm, while his other hand was idly playing with Ayida's hair. He felt safe now, because whatever cloud had been over Matthew had cleared, and they were safe from a fight. And Harry did not have to endure being alone. Softly, Harry reached down and kissed Matthew's neck. The other man's voice cracked and stopped for a moment before continuing to read.

"I'll go start dinner," Harry offered and stood.

In the kitchen, Harry leaned against the counter attempting to pull himself back together. He was not sure what had come over him, and at the moment he was not inclined to care. They had feelings for each other, that much was certain. The rest would come later, after Ayida was put to bed, to be more exact. He felt something burn in the pit of his stomach and tried willing it away. But thoughts of what they would do later that night would not leave him to any peace of mind. It had been so long since he had had somebody in his bed, and though his body was welcoming the idea, he was nervous.

Taking a deep breath, he withdrew his wand and began summoning things from the cupboards. He decided on shepherd's pie, and with the help of magic, dinner was done in a half-hour. Matthew stayed with Ayida the entire time, not because he needed to, but Harry thought it was for the same reason he needed to get away. Matthew was nervous.

"Dinner is ready," he announced after he had set the table. Matthew cheered for Ayida's benefit, who went along with him and yelled.

"It smells delicious," Matthew sniffed as he entered the dining room. He put Ayida into her chair before sitting down, and Harry set her a plate of food. Taking Harry by surprise, Matthew grabbed him around the waist and kissed him just below the ear, lingering there for a few moments before taking his seat. Licking his lips, Harry sat down beside him. In unison, they moved their legs so that they would touch while they ate. Harry smiled, blushing.

The night passed slowly as both men watched the clock. Matthew touched Harry any way he possibly could manage, and that was appropriate, every time they were near and Harry thought he would go mad with want. Ayida scribbled in a book, played with small figurines that moved, made Harry tickle her, and had Matthew throw her in the air repeatedly. It was a typical night at home, but Harry thought it was possibly the longest he had ever experienced.

As soon as Ayida began rubbing her eyes and yawning, Harry sat straight and waited impatiently as she slowed down in her playing. When Draco's grandfather clock struck half nine, he moved quickly to pick her up and hurry upstairs. "Time for nigh-nigh?" he asked as she snuggled up to him. She nodded soberly against his shoulder. Matthew was following far behind, looking unsure of himself. Harry turned his head and motioned for him to follow. Harry made sure to not hurry himself as he readied his daughter for bed, but Matthew was waiting in the doorframe, leaning his shoulder against it, and looking for all the world that he had not one bit of nervousness for what was about to happen. Ayida reached up for a hug when she was in her pyjamas and clung around his neck. He kissed her and held her tight, truly enjoying the moment. He tried to savour every moment with his daughter; he knew that one day she would be grown up and wouldn't give so many hugs.

"Goodnight, sweetie. I love you," he whispered and put her into her bed, pulling the blankets over her.

Matthew stepped back as Harry approached, watching his every step. When Harry had closed the door, Matthew smiled. "Have you changed your mind yet?"

"No. I know I want this," he whispered. He also knew that he did not want to spend another night alone, Draco's trousers as his only companion.

Matthew sobered. "Good."

They were both nervous and as they closed the steps between them, Harry began to shake. Matthew held him tight, their cheeks pressed together. "Last chance to step back, Harry," he whispered. "I'm not stopping after this."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Harry stepped away, not because he wanted out, but to lead the way across the hall into his own room. Their fingertips held loosely together, Matthew pressed against Harry's backside as they closed the door. Harry turned and whimpered as Matthew kissed him. Matthew was not in the mood for games, Harry thought as they kissed harshly, but he was not in the mood to complain. Harry reached around and clutched Matthew's butt, pulling him closer, grinding against him. They began moving to the bed, Matthew unbuttoning Harry's shirt.

"I've wanted this," Matthew gasped, pushing Harry onto his back, "for so long."

Harry sat up and began undoing the other man's trousers as Matthew took off his own shirt. Matthew licked his lips as Harry freed him of his boxers. Harry slowly stroked him. "You're so thick," he said without thinking. But he could not help but get more nervous. Draco had been smaller than this. Surely it would hurt more, especially after so long.

"I'll be careful," Matthew bent down and kissed him while ridding Harry of his trousers. They were rushed and needy, fingers pressing against warm flesh, hot breath against lips and sensitive skin. Harry was pushed against the mattress, his glasses cutting into his nose, his knees sliding apart each time Matthew brought his weight down against… inside… right there.

"Please… more," Harry turned his face away from the mattress, his breath coming in moans. How had he waited so long? He had forgotten how good it was to be filled so completely, with so much pressure in all the right spots. Hands gripped his hips so tight there was sure to be bruises in the morning. The pace was jerky and quick, and Harry thought he would die when Matthew reached around and touched him. Instead, he cried out as his body jerked against Matthew's, and he fell limp. Moments later, Matthew grunted loudly, and slowly, tiredly lowered himself onto Harry's back.

They each lay attempting to catch their breath for some minutes before Matthew finally lifted his head to kiss Harry between the shoulders. He pulled away and Harry whimpered at the loss of his body. "Come lay under the blankets," Matthew said softly, brushing his fingers through Harry's dishevelled hair. Harry followed him limply.

Once situated stomach to stomach, they kissed lazily for a couple minutes before Harry leaned back to yawn. Matthew smiled at him and brushed his wild hair back with his hand.

"Go to sleep."

"That felt good," Harry mumbled his voice groggy.

"For me too. Now sleep, Harry."

"Mmm…" Harry let his eyes flutter closed as Matthew's arms enveloped him completely. As he drifted off to sleep, Harry let himself imagine that it was Draco holding him, and the world was right again.

***

Harry blinked his eyes open, groaning as the sunlight hit his face. It had to be early, he thought. He looked over at his clock and saw that it was only half past six. "Six-thirty," he groaned, rolling over. He then realised he felt funny. He reached behind himself and touched his skin. It was sticky. And then he remembered.

Matthew.

Slowly, Harry turned his head and looked to the other side of the bed. Matthew was sprawled over the blankets, completely nude, his head back, and his mouth hanging slightly open.

Harry sat up slowly, blinking around the room. He was not quite sure what he was to do next. "Shower?" he whispered. Sleep was beyond comprehension now that he remembered what they had done.

Quietly, he put the blankets back over Matthew and stepped out of bed. There was a bathroom on the other side of the room, and he walked across it hurriedly, afraid that Matthew would wake to see him naked, though the reasoning behind this was beyond Harry.

The shower was warm and reassuring to Harry's awakening mind. Every time he blinked, Draco's face was there. Draco would understand. But would Matthew understand that Harry was now having doubts? Harry scrubbed violently, but when all was clean, he could still feel the guilt eating at him. He faced the spray of hot water and raised his shaking hands to the wall, pressing them against it.

"Draco is dead," he told himself. "He can't come back and tell you what an arsehole you are for cheating on him. He's dead."

Harry brought his hand away from the wall, watching it shake violently. He clenched it in a fist and pounded the wall. Instantly, he regretted it, hoping he had not awoken Matthew. He turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, towelling off and wrapping his dressing gown around himself. However, when he re-entered the bedroom, Matthew was gone and the bed was made. His clothes had been picked up and any trace of him had vanished from the room. Frowning, Harry went in search of him. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. What if that had been all that he had wanted? Harry wondered frantically. But why wait so long for it?

"Matthew?" he called when he got downstairs.

"In the kitchen," was the answer to Harry's immense relief.

"I thought you had left," Harry confessed, walking around the corner. Matthew had his trousers and shirt folded on the counter, wearing only his boxers. Harry raised a brow and making sure not to show how much his hands were shaking, pressed them against Matthew's sides, and kissed his shoulder.

"No. You put the blankets on me so I woke up."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I didn't tell you that I always kick off the blankets in the night. I'm warm-blooded," he grinned. "I get really hot, especially if I have sex."

Harry smiled against his shoulder. "What are you doing?" But he could smell the food cooking.

"I decided to make you breakfast before I left."

"Where are you going?"

"I have practice," he turned around in Harry's grasp and kissed him. "I really don't want to leave you though. I want to stay in bed all day."

"Ayida will be up soon anyway."

"I suppose she will be. Can I come back after I shower and change after practice today?"

"I'll leave the door open. I have an idea," Harry felt inspiration spark. "Molly has wanted Ayida for ages. If she's not busy, I think she'll take her for the day and maybe even the night." He wiggled his brows, to which the taller man laughed.

"If I've somehow awakened a sex fiend…"

Harry's eyes glinted mischievously and his hands slid down and grasped Matthew's arse. "You'll go along with every bit of it."

Matthew nodded, licking his lips. "I know I would." He kissed Harry's forehead. "I have to finish these eggs."

Harry nodded and pulled away. He backed up and leaned against the wall, watching the other man work. The shaking was diminishing, but he still could not shake the feeling that this was wrong. The muscles in Matthew's back worked delightfully, giving Harry one reason to believe that it somehow wasn't wrong.

"Hungry?" Matthew asked over his shoulder as he spooned food onto two plates.

"Famished," Harry studied Matthew's arse, and he bit his lip, hoping that his physical attraction was not the only thing keeping Matthew around. He owed more to him than that. And if Matthew were in it for the long term, Harry would make sure to give him everything he deserved. The way he saw it, they would both win. Matthew would get Harry.

And Harry… well, he would not have to be alone.