Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

End of Obsession	By : Juwel Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 50501 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 9
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter fandom. The characters in this fiction are the property of J.K. Rowling. No money is being made from this and no trademark infringement is intended. This is purely for your reading pleasure.

Chapter List
- 10
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- 12
A/N: Thanks for your patience! I was working on some festival fics over at Livejournal. Now getting back into this one again!

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Harry didn't answer Rita's question, but dodged straight towards her cameraman, who had to duck out of the way or risk having his camera smashed. He half heard Rita shouting other questions at him, saw that she wasn't the only reporter trying to corner him, but his sole focus was escape. It was bad enough when they accosted him at the trials. Couldn't they just leave him alone?
There were more flashes, and Harry could just imagine the Daily Prophet's headline for tomorrow--"Wizarding Hero a Gigantic Coward"-- but he just didn't care. It was only after he'd run down several alleys that he managed to lose them.
He then realized he was on Knockturn Alley.
It was quieter here, with several of the stores actually closed down, and only a few people on the streets. That might also be due to the fact that the sun was setting, Harry reflected--shops were closing. Yet he did see light coming from one building on the opposite corner, sporting a sign with a laughing, drinking man. Benders Bar.
Harry considered the cold, dusty, silent and empty place waiting for him at home, and the long hours of evening before he could find something to occupy his attention. True, he'd have a little owl waiting for him now. But it still wasn't a cheerful prospect.
So perhaps he could have a drink or two first. He only hoped Rita didn't find him.
Harry walked into what turned out to be a fairly small bar, with tables tucked into dark corners and a long mahogany bar with mostly open stools. There was a very tall waitress in spiked heels serving two fellows in a booth, and another group of slightly older gentlemen at a back table. It felt intimate and also low key, which was nice. Nobody except the bartender even glanced at Harry as he took a stool and sat down at the bar.
"Well here's a surprise," said the bartender, a fellow with ruddy cheeks who looked like he worked out fairly often. He smiled at Harry, and there was something peculiar in his eyes, appraising Harry. Harry blushed a little, though he wasn't sure why. He glanced at the door which had shut behind him. There was a window through which he could see the alley, but the window was tinted. So that meant Rita hopefully wouldn't be able to see him, Harry figured. When Harry turned back, the bartender raised an eyebrow. "Hiding from someone?"
Harry nodded. "Rita Skeeter. Do you think she'd come in here?"
The bartender laughed heartily. "No, she definitely won't. We've a charm--alerts if a woman tries to enter. This is a male-only bar."
That seemed rather antiquated, Harry thought, looking around, but then he reminded himself that wizarding society was often behind the times by at least a hundred years or so.
And then he saw the two fellows in the booth kissing.
"Oh," Harry said, blushing even harder as he finally understood--this was a gay bar. Which probably meant the bartender was thinking he was . . . but then again, that was really the question, wasn't it? If he was being honest with himself, the sight of two blokes kissing wasn't particularly disturbing. In fact, it was kind of hot.
To mask the fact that he couldn't decide whether to run or stare, Harry decided to sit down, turning back to the bartender, aware that his face must be beet red by now. "I think I need a drink." A drink would allow him the time to avoid Rita. It would also allow him to figure out what to do next.
"Firewhiskey? Or just want a pint of something, mate?" The bartender had the grace to keep his expressions controlled, but Harry thought he saw a touch of mirth in the man's eyes. He seemed friendly enough, anyway. In some ways, he reminded Harry of Hagrid.
"Firewhiskey," Harry confirmed. He needed something strong. Something to help him not feel like such a fool. What must the man think of him? Harry was still overly aware of the two men behind him in the booth, and of the other patrons of the bar. Should he be here? What if somebody decided to sit down next to him?
What if they were fine?
"Firewhiskey it is," the bartender confirmed, pouring him a generous helping in a highball glass. As Harry raised the glass to his lips, the man stuck out his hand. “By the way, it’s Ben.” He nodded towards the waitress who grinned back at him. Harry realized the waitress, while dressed up fully with the short skirt and even makeup and false lashes, was most definitely not a ‘she’. “That one’s my partner, Derek—currently in his ‘Dora’ guise. See, that’s partly why the place is called ‘Bender.’ Double meaning there, and a combination of our names. Brilliant, eh?”
Harry couldn’t help but smile, as the firewhiskey burned its way down his chest with the first gulp. “Brilliant.” Perhaps he was making too big a deal of the whole business. He wasn’t being mobbed, after all. In fact, for the first time in ages, he was possibly even having fun.
After another couple of swallows of the heady drink, Harry gained the courage to look around a bit again. The gentlemen at the table still weren’t doing much other than talking and drinking. The two fellows at the booth weren’t kissing any longer, but they were up to something, Harry was certain, because one looked flushed and the other looked smug and was doing something with his wand, waving it in a little circle in the air. Whatever he was doing, it was doing something to the other. Harry just wasn’t sure what.
“You could just ask them about it—later,” Ben said conversationally. “Fun spell. Especially out in public.”
Harry glanced at him in surprise. Before he could ask further about it, however, he saw Ben’s eyes narrowing as he looked out the front window. Harry turned, and saw them, Rita and her photographer, as well as a couple of other journalist wizards, wandering around outside. He downed the rest of his drink in one swallow, hoping the burn could just wipe them all away.
“Easy,” Ben said, as Harry made a move to stand. After that drink, however, his legs didn’t want to entirely obey him, so Harry remained sitting, watching as the group wandered about. It seemed like forever, but it was likely only a moment before they left the area. Harry let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “See? No worries there, mate,” Ben said, smiling and nodding as he wiped off the bar and poured a couple drinks to hand to Derek, who took them to the back table. That done, Ben glanced at Harry’s empty glass. “Want another?”
Harry had to consider that for a moment. He was already feeling the effects of the drink, and he would probably feel a lot more in half an hour or so. But then again, what did he have to worry about if he drank his arse off? As long as he could Apparate home without splinching himself, there was nothing. No one to scold him, no one to advise him. Just no one. He nodded. "Sure. With a splash of soda, if you could." He handed Ben a few Galleons.
"Absolutely," Ben said, pouring, and then the door opened and three more fellows entered, looking to be somewhere in their thirties or forties. They took another booth, and Ben headed over to chat with them.
At first Harry had the urge to hide, but it seemed they hardly even took note of him, so again he relaxed. This was a good time to think, he decided, taking a sip and enjoying the floaty feeling the alcohol was starting to give him. He needed to figure things out. What better time than now, and what better place?
So the blokes kissing had excited him. Harry tried to remember back to fourth year, to the infatuation he'd had with Cho, and their kiss fifth year. He remembered how impressed he'd been by her smarts, her flying skills, her kindness. Yet he scarcely remembered their kiss, and nothing had really happened between them after that. And then Ginny. Their stolen kisses, Harry's dream of three or four kids and a stable family life . . . it had been more like they had been going through the motions, but not truly feeling anything. He didn't recall once being actually aroused, but then he had simply figured it was due to his mental connection to Voldemort and the stress at the time. Now he wasn't so sure.
Just sitting here in the bar, thinking about what was happening around him, could happen, was making him very horny.
Harry took another sip. So perhaps he was bent. The question was, what then? He could only imagine what the wizarding press would do with that little gem, and woe to the poor sod he tried to date. It would probably be ugly. And what type of sod would he fancy in the first place? He tried to imagine something, but the details were fuzzy. Somebody knowledgeable--that would probably be a requirement since he knew absolutely nothing. Older, perhaps, but not too old--not as old as the gentlemen at the table with their grey hair. Lean, not too burly--because burly would only remind him of people like Dudley and his uncle. Eyes--they should have nice eyes. One thing he had liked about Ginny was her eyes. Somebody who was sure of themself, and brave, not cowardly. Somebody who could understand pain. And loss.
The door opened again, and this time it was just a single man who entered the bar, and a younger one at that, perhaps in his mid-twenties, with long brown hair and striking blue eyes. He sat down on the stool next to Harry, giving him a raised eyebrow.
Harry flushed and hurried to explain. “I’m hiding from Rita Skeeter.” That of course didn’t explain the drink in his hand, but then he didn’t have to explain everything, did he? Let the fellow think what he wanted. It might even be true.
The fellow nodded, smiling conspiringly. “Harry Potter?” At Harry’s nod, he extended a hand. “Edmund Dervish. Puddlemere United team—Chaser.”
His grip was firm, and Harry couldn’t help but be impressed—a Quidditch player? He smiled. “Nice to meet you. ” Harry glanced at his glass, still half full. “Drink?” It seemed like the polite thing to do.
“Sure—thanks,” Edmund said, waving to Ben. He ordered a dark ale, and raised his glass towards Harry’s. “To good hiding places” He grinned.
Harry laughed, raising his glass as well. “To good hiding places. ” They both drank, and Harry couldn’t help but look Edmund over, knowing he hadn’t found this place by accident. He was really attractive, Harry had to admit. Slim but well muscled, with an air of wry humour about him. Harry decided to take a chance. “I should have found this place earlier. ” Just that admission cost him a blush, which he tried to hide by taking a sip of his drink. At this rate, he was going to be toasted in no time.
“Oh really?” Edmund asked, taking a swig of his own drink. He leaned in close, lips nearly brushing Harry’s ear. “So does that mean we both play for the same team?” Harry had a feeling he wasn’t talking about Quidditch.
The blush was only getting worse, but Harry tried to ignore it. “I’m . . . still figuring things out.” His gaze drifted to Edmund’s hand, noting the way the tendons moved as Edmund brushed a droplet of condensation from the glass, and Harry couldn’t help it—he imagined that strong hand, wrapped around something else. A powerful surge of arousal went through him. “It’s looking like it, though,” he added, swallowing.
For a moment, Edmund said nothing, taking another long drink, but his eyes were on Harry, and Harry could tell he was being checked out as well. Ben stopped by and asked if everything was all right. Harry nodded at him, and finished his drink. He was starting to feel foolish that he’d spoken up.
Then Edmund leaned in close. “What do you say we find somewhere a little more . . . private? Help you ‘figure things out?’” He chuckled, and a shiver went down Harry’s spine. Was he ready for that?
On the one hand, just the idea of taking the risk set his hairs on alert. He’d spent so much of the past year under cover, avoiding threats, trusting nobody. Could he really trust a stranger now? But then again . . . just the placement of Bender’s Bar told him that being bent wasn’t something the wizarding world much embraced. It might even be more shameful a thing than in Muggle society, as so much of the wizarding world seemed behind the times. So it might be an opportunity he wouldn’t get often, say at Hogwarts or anything like that. And Edmund was attractive. He couldn’t dispute that.
Sometimes the risk was worth it. Harry nodded slowly. “All right.” He’d defeated the worst wizard in the world. Surely he could handle himself if anything turned unsavoury.
Apparently Edmund had seen his hesitation, however. “You’re new—I got that. Something simple then? A hand job.” Edmund licked his lips, looking sly. “Or I could just give you an unbelievably good blow job.” He grinned, and Harry swore at the moment that he couldn’t possibly be harder. The room seemed unbearably hot.
“Sounds brilliant,” Harry managed. They needed to get out of here before he embarrassed himself. He placed a few coins on the bar to cover Edmund’s drink and took a last swallow of his own.
“Brilliant,” Edmund returned, finishing his glass as well. As they stood up, Edmund slipped an arm around Harry’s waist. Yes, it was official, Harry thought to himself as Edmund opened the door for him. By the way his heart was pounding in anticipation, he had to face facts. He was definitely bent.
Edmund accompanied him out the door, hand straying down a little to brush over Harry’s arse.
***
Ben was busy cleaning up the empty glasses from his older crowd when he noticed the Potter kid heading out of his place on the arm of another man. So apparently The Boy Who Lived was now becoming a man that going to throw the wizarding community onto its head when they found out he preferred his own gender. Ben smirked, imagining how that would go.
His partner came up and gave him a playful pinch on the rear. “Problems, darling?” Derek/Doris used a higher tone of voice when he was in character for the bar, but Ben could hear the concern in his voice nonetheless. Ben frowned, and shrugged.
“Not sure. You saw who that was, right? Harry Potter. Thought at first he might have just made a mistake, coming in here, but he didn’t run the second he found out.”
“Oh I’m chuffed. Think he’ll be back?” Derek patted his blond curly wig.
Ben sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Seemed awful quick—bloke there just appeared, they barely talked, and now they’ve left. Seems a little too neat, you know? Just have a bad feeling about it.”
“Oh Love, don’t worry. I’m sure the boy can handle himself—survived the war and all, didn’t he?”
Ben nodded, but he didn’t feel convinced. “I suppose so.”
He headed to the kitchen to get the dishes washed.
- 10
- 11
- 12
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End of Obsession