Archive of Our Own

October 31, 2001

Harry narrowed his eyes at the paintings, feeling that the portraits were looking at him with amusement in their eyes, giggling behind his back. He knew it was just him being tired, having just been released from detention from Snape, but he gave a look behind him all the same.

Just thinking of the bigoted professor made Harry's blood boil something awful under his skin. The overgrown dungeon bat of course took Malfoy's side when the blond openly called Harry a girl, even though McGonagall called him by his right name at the Sorting.

"I thought it was just your nickname," Malfoy had said, and Snape took his word, like the slimeball he was.

"Git," he muttered under his breath, borrowing Ron's favorite word, aside from 'wanker'.

Harry jogged up the ancient steps, probably making a lot of noise from his footfalls, which would have the portraits talking up a storm, or yelling at him. Grimacing, he slowed, but he anger wouldn't let his pounding feet quiet down. At least he wasn't called by said portraits, and that no one seemed to be around, unless one of those Perfect Prefects decided to pop out of nowhere.

He sighed as he passed an archway, then paused almost immediately.

There was an echo of a violin playing faintly down the hall, beautifully. Harry glanced up at the archway, then around, trying to remember what hall it was, but couldn't place it. A part of him told himself to keep walking to his dormitory, but the curious part of him made his feet take a step forward and towards the sound.

The door the music came from was closed, so Harry bend down to the keyhole, wanting to see who was playing. But he only saw a dimly lit room, with a person dancing in the middle, faint wisps of some sort of light flowing from their hands. The person - adult, pale, dark hair - moved gracefully around the room, their black outfit making their skin glow from the faint light inside.

A voice inside of him told him to leave before he was caught, and when he nearly agreed, the Dancer curled their leg lazily over the other and swirled, like a wind chime. Harry watched them slid their foot on the ground, then spin again, before putting their foot impossibly high in the air. With a bent back the Dancer slid forward, then picked themselves up and turned their back to Harry, hand moving fluidly as they raised their arm up to the ceiling.

Then they jumped and danced out of his view from the keyhole with swirling hops, and Harry moved to the side to try and catch another glimpse, but the Dancer was gone. Harry frowned to himself, wanting to seemed more of the performance, but it seemed even the song was coming to an end. The last note drifted off sadly when he noticed that, until there was a deafening silence.

Harry leaned back, then took a quiet step away, wondering if he should tell Ron and Hermione, and nearly screamed aloud when the door suddenly opened.

Blank brown eyes stared down at him, along with a handsome pale face that was just as emotionless. Harry didn't know what to say, so he just settled on standing there, awkwardly. The Dancer said nothing either, but brown eyes examined him in his frozen state, then moved back up to his eyes.

"First to Third Years have a curfew," the Dancer said, voice smooth, but not overly deep.

Harry swallowed, "I had detention."

Brown eyes narrowed slightly, thoughtful, then went back to being blank.

"I see."

A tense silence started to fall, and it was then that he noticed that a piano was playing faintly from the room, softly, and with simple notes. It was probably another song that the Dancer wanted to move his long limbs to, and Harry was being a right git by bothering him.

"You danced beautifully," he spoke, instead of saying goodnight and leaving.

The Dancer didn't so much as blinked as he stared him down for a few seconds, but then he tilted his head, as if Harry was a puppy that just sat on his foot.

Harry wasn't sure how he felt about that.

"What do you think of when you hear this song?"

Harry blinked.

"What?"

The Dancer motioned to the room, hand stopping where the stereo rested at the far end.

"The piano," the Dancer spoke with a 'professor' tone, "what is it you feel when you hear it?"

Harry was curious where the conversation would go, so he closed his eyes, and listened.

"Sad," he said when he felt he had the answer, "but happy."

The Dancer was quiet for a second, and Harry opened his eyes, but the taller man was turned from him.

"Do you?" the Dancer asked in a way that Harry knew to keep his mouth closed. "I only hear melancholy and acceptance."

Another silence fell, and the song ended with a single note drawn out.

"I suppose I should escort you to your dormitory, less you get another detention."

Harry wouldn't put it pass Snape to hand him another one from catching him in the halls, so he thanked the Dancer softly.

Another song began to play as the Dancer stepped out, a single violin like before, but more upbeat.

Then the door closed, and Harry had to follow the taller instead of listening.

December 24, 2001

His sister joined the other skaters on the ice enthusiastically, then turned to Remus when their uncle told her to be careful, which his little sister responded by giving her - in Sirius' words - wicked smile before spinning away, badly and unbalanced.

Padfoot whined by his side, and Harry patted the hound's back, which the large dog took as an invitation to lick his cheek.

"She's James' daughter through and through," Sirius remarked proudly, and Remus let out a chuckle before bending down to check Harry's skates.

"Be more like your mother, Harry, won't you? For my health."

He held out his pinkie as he made the promise to his uncle, who smiled before taking it. Harry then turned to Padfoot, who licked his face again. He told the dog he would be okay with comforting pets, then took a step onto the ice.

Like the many times before, he wobbled on first contact, but from the two years since he and his sister was taken to a rink in the Winter season, his body remembered how to balance itself. Still, when Harry weaved through the people to get closer to his sister, he felt a slight wobble in his glides. 

Not like Jane was any better, though.

"Can you dance on the ice yet?" his sister asked him when he joined her, grabbing his arm in a tight grip.

He balanced himself with the added weight, then said, "Jane, I haven't stepped on ice since last December."

She gave a small pout with a hum, then she grinned, "okay, let's practice!"

Harry stopped her immediately, "why?"

"Cause it looks like fun, duh."

Harry smiled at the face she made, then told her, "I don't even know what kind of dance you're talking about."

Jane turned with two feet on the ice, almost taking them both to the ground when she lost her balance for a second.

"You know," she began once she righted herself, "like ballet." Harry continued to stare, and she gave a huff. "Like this." 

Harry let her go when she moved towards the middle of the rink, ready to rush and catch her if she fell, but she only gave a wobbly spin, left foot barely off the ground. With a determined face his sister began to pick up said leg with raised arms, then thankfully stopped, and struck a pose.

"The ice dancers," she repeated as a couple passed them with loud laughter, and Jane tried to spin again, but couldn't without placing both feet back on the ice.

"C'mon, dance with me, Harry."

Her face got determined again, and he watched her wild attempts, then tried his own when she gave him a narrowed look; however, he did his more mildly. After a while Jane looked over to him, and - thankfully - began to copy his mellow movements. Knowing that she'd get bored in a moment and go back to wildly moving on the ice, Harry gave a small hop, swinging his arms to keep his balance. Jane smiled wide and did the same, yet waved her arms frantically when she landed on the blade and couldn't balance herself out.

With a sharp yell she fell on her butt, then got up quickly to try it again.

It seemed to be going well for a while, until she tried to jump high while doing a complete spin in the air, and landed hard on the ice in result.

A few skaters slowed, then continued to skate away when Jane didn't cry out in pain, but threw her head back and let out a frustrated noise.

"Was that the dance you were talking about?" he asked her as he held out his hand to help her up.

His sister glared with slit eyes, then took his hand with a grumble.

Helping her to her feet, he led her back into the group of skaters going in a circle around the rink, and hummed when she told him that he should watch the Olympics that happened last year with her, and that they should try to copy the skaters the day after.

Harry agreed, and ideas slowly forming in his mind while he helped her with her spin.

February 10, 2002

The professor - Professor Riddle, Fred told him, a teacher of their Secondary Genders, which could just be something that the twins made up - was harder to find alone than he first thought, and he didn't want to intrude on the older man when he was dancing alone at night, but it was seeming to be more and more like it was something Harry would have no choice in. Not if he wanted to get better at dancing, that is.

With a deep breath to calm himself, Harry left Gryffindor Tower after dinner and searched for the hall where he found Riddle at the first time. All Harry needed to do was ask the older to take him in as a student for ballet, so he could dance for Jane without her twisting her ankle again. He wouldn't turn Harry away for that, maybe.

Riddle didn't seem as much of a git as Snape, but Harry could be proven wrong.

At what he was mostly sure was the right hall, Harry looked around, then walked down the corridor to what he was kinda sure was the right door. Then he gave a knock. Harry waited a few seconds, then knocked again when he didn't hear anything. Another silent second passed, and he frowned to himself before he looked down the hall to count the doors.

The door opened before he could count the third, and there Riddle was. Instead of the casual clothes from before, Riddle was dressed like a professor, which made sense, cause it seemed the older man was going to make rounds.

But, like before, brown eyes stared down at him with no emotion.

"Could you teach me?" he asked, then quickly added, "sir? I need to learn ballet."

A curious light began to flow in Riddle's eyes, then the eyes blinked slowly.

"Ballet?"

Harry nodded, fixing the words in his head to make sure he spoke right.

"I want to learn Figure Skating, but I need to learn ballet first. Sir."

Riddle tilted his head to the right, then leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms.

"Will you listen to what I have to say, Harry?"

He didn't ask how Riddle knew his name; everyone knew who he was, unfortunately.

"Yes sir."

Brown eyes looked to the right, then the older man ran a hand through the soft waves of his black hair, revealing a nasty scar that went from his temple, and disappeared towards the back of his head.

Harry didn't stare at it long, knowing how it felt when someone stared at something you didn't want them to see.

"Very well," Riddle said, and Harry enthusiastically shook the older man's offered hand.

He wondered at the sharp tingle he felt at the first contact, but didn't put further thought on it. There were people that just had electricity in their hands, after all.

March 15, 2002

"Pick up your right leg more," Riddle ordered as Harry spun on the balls of his feet, "your free leg is terrible."

Harry grimaced with a hum, but did as he was told.

"Releash your frustration with your movements. Turn anger into beauty."

He glanced to Riddle from the mirror, then tried to do what he said.

April 24, 2002

"Forget about the football game," Riddle ordered while Harry swung his leg back and forth, "there is a time and a place for anger. This is not one of them."

"I know," he shouted, then immediately apologized.

Brown eyes gave him a look, and Harry pursed his lips.

"Give me some pivots."

Harry let out a long breath threw his nose as he let down his arms and leg, walking to the center of the room while he tried in vain to clear his head; and tried not to think of Malfoy's pale, hex-practicing face when Harry was taken off the field with a broken arm.

May 29, 2002

"A cool down period is good," Riddle reassured him as the professor closed his trunk, "since your body is still growing."

"But I'm progressing faster than you thought I would, you said so."

Brown eyes closed with a tired sigh, then opened slow, "you are progressing in dance and balance, not in ballet."

Harry frowned, "what's the difference?"

Riddle gave him a blank look, which meant he was saying something about Harry in his mind, but couldn't say out loud because he was a professor; even though it couldn't be as bad as what Snape says on a regular basis.

Harry let out a long sigh before he sat on the table, swinging his legs as he glared at the wall in front of him.

"Just practice stretched until your Second Year, for now."

He looked back to the professor, but he shrunk his trunk with a wave of his hand, a dismissal if Harry ever saw one.

September 3, 2002

"But how can I perform like other skaters if I can't do ballet?"

Riddle looked down at him with crossed arms, "you don't have to be a Soloist, not even a Danseur, to be a figure skater. All you need is balance, enough flexibility, and a good amount of stamina. Which you have."

Harry put his hands in his pockets, "but...will it look as good if I'm not as graceful as a ball - a Danseur?"

Brown eyes looked to the right, and a long fingered hand ran through black hair, revealing that scar, which Harry turned so he didn't look at it.

"Trust me, Harry."

He narrowed his eyes at the wall, but didn't argue further.

December 26, 2002

"You look so cool!" Jane shouted with excited claps after Harry did a single jump, actually managing to land perfectly on the thin blade, and on one foot.

Smiling wide he checked the other skaters on the ice, then skated to pick up speed before he tried an Lutz, banging his hip when he fell on his landing.

February 14, 2003

"Wandless magic?"

Riddle nodded, "you noticed how all of the dancers on the ice produce frost, fire, flowers, and even lights from their fingertips, did you not?"

"I did. But, I thought only Sixth Years could learn wandless magic."

Thin lips nearly smiled, "younger students can learn simple tricks, if supervised by a professor. However, there is a Ministry contract that you and your guardians will have to sign, which will dissolve once you either enter your Sixth Year, or you turn seventeen."

Harry nodded, excited, already knowing that both Sirius and Remus would sign the papers. Brown eyes then looked to the right in thought, and Harry lost his smile. Crossing his arms Harry sad down on the padded floor to wait, looking over at the portraits Riddle had hanged on the opposite side of the mirror wall to pass the time.

"I want you to think of your tricks as this way," Riddle began, and Harry looked away from the dancing flowers to the professor, "you are manipulating the aurora on your hands and feet to create elements."

Harry frowned in thought, "aurora? What aurora?"

Riddle was silent for a full second.

"Have you noticed a smell when you're walking the streets of London?"

"Like perfume?"

Riddle took a deep breath, "yes. I suppose you can think of it as a perfume. A cloud of perfume coating your wrists, down to your hands. Ankles, down to your  feet. And you're going to manipulate that perfume."

Harry looked down at his hands, brought them to his nose, then sniffed his wrists.

Nothing.

April 29, 2003

"Fire is a good Element for you to start with," Riddle told him, and Harry stopped shaking his hand to look up at him. "Which is no surprise, given that Lily Potter has gifted you her temper." Harry paused, hearing the respect when Riddle spoke his mother's name. "However, if you want to perform for your sister, you need to produce Element without anger."

"I know," he answered, adding a "sir" before he got back into position.

September 31, 2003

Harry burned a bit of the wooden floor, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.

"That arsehole - "

"Language, Harry."

He tightened his fists, "first he joins the football team, now he comes to you to learn ballet - "

"Potter." Snapping his mouth shut he took a step back, nettled. "Enough. Yes, you will have joint sessions starting in October. However, unlike Draco, you will be skating on ice instead of learning ballet."

Harry blinked slowly, "I am?"

"It's long overdue," Riddle told him, "but I believe you will take to it quickly."

Harry gave another blink, then thought of how Malfoy would look once Harry performed a Layback Spin on the ice while he was stuck with Positions.

"I'm ready."

November 3, 2003

"Hurt your bum, did you, Potter?"

Angered, Harry stopped his Step Sequence and faced the blurred git, "how about you do a pirouette, Malfoy?"

Even though he couldn't see him, Harry knew that the pale boy's cheeks were pink with embarrassment.

"Enough. Draco, reach your leg back further, and Harry, the basics without Doubles. I won't have you splintering your leg in pieces just because you want to show off!"

Harry felt his own cheeks start to redden, and he quickly skated to the center of the iced floor, away from both Riddle and Malfoy.

December 20, 2003

Once they were out of earshot from the professor, Harry hissed to the pale git, "why aren't you with your family, Malfoy?"

Cheeks red from exhaustion grew redder.

"I'm not letting you get all of Riddle's time, Potter," Malfoy hissed back, just as viciously.

Harry let out a frustrated noise from deep in his throat, and got a similar one in return.

Remembering Riddle's words, he killed the rebuttal in his throat, and forced himself not to escalate it. One, since their second gender was still trying to balance in their body and hasn't surfaced yet, he could end up messing up both of their bodies. And two, he needed to not get detention so he could practice on the ice.

So, against his pride, he walked faster to the stone steps, ignoring whatever words the platinum blond was yelling at him.

May 23, 2004

"Domestic Competitions?"

"Why can't I join?"

Harry glared at Malfoy, and got a sneer in return.

Riddle let out a soft, tired sigh, "because Harry had been dancing on the ice since First Year, and has been balancing  - "

"But I've advanced faster in ballet than he ever did! I can do things he can't!"

"Still fall flat on your arse with a simple spin on the ice, don't - "

"However," Riddle spoke with an edge, causing both him and Malfoy to flinch and turn away from each other, "you might be good enough to participate in the next season with Harry, if you manage to land a Double, and improve your Corkscrew Spin."

Harry's chest puffed with pride, and he turned to slide back to the center as Malfoy tried to argue with Riddle, to no avail. Pushing the voices from his mind, he danced the basics to 'La Parfum De La Fleur' first, then practiced the jumps, and made sure to keep them Single or Doubles, just in case he fell from a Triple.

Grey eyes glared at him from the guard wall while he slid to take a sip from his water bottle, and Harry smiled back in satisfaction.

September 19, 2004

"Your Short Program and Free Skate were a real cockup," Malfoy spoke behind him with malice in his voice. Harry narrowed his eyes and turned around, keeping his hands in the pockets of his cagoule. "You either keep touching the ice, or landing on both of your feet on it. Especially on your attempt at a Triple Toe Loop."

Harry told himself to calm down, knowing that they were in public and not Hogwarts, before he said, "and what about your attempts at an Axel? How are those coming along? Still having trouble with Doubles, aren't you?"

Pale cheeks threatened to turn a bright red.

"Fuck off."

"Gladly," he said through gritted teeth, turning on the balls of his feet before walking towards the dreaded interview panel, with reporters even worse than Malfoy.

He hated that he had to do interviews, but knew that if he wanted sponsors, that he would have to stay in his seat and smile falsely, instead of leaving the building to relax. Even though the sponsors that talked with him wanted him because of his 'Girl-who-lived' status, and he didn't want them to wipe the ice off the bottom of his skates.

And he would be done with it all, if skating didn't cost so much; and he needed them for his possible Grand Prix Final Junior debut.

He also needed to not have 'violent' on his resume, so he ignored Malfoy when he saw him after the interview, even when he was being a right bastard.

October 31, 2004

"They look so pretty," his sister spoke wishfully as they walked to their - well, the Gryffindor - table.

He hummed in question, sitting down next to Ron as Hermione sat across from them.

"Durmstrang and Beauxbatons," Jane said, then curled up at his side with a short yawn before she explained, "the dark red clothing and their furs make the girls look so strong and regal, and the light blue makes the girls look graceful."

"Only the girls of the scools?" Hermione asked, giving his sister a long look, which he tried to make sense of.

Jane gave a thoughtful hum, "the Beauxbatons boys are okay, but the Durmstrang boys are too burly. Except Krum. He's that athletic thin." Jane tilted her head up to look at Harry, "kinda like you. So, when are you going to play a game against him again? Malfoy's jealous face was hilarious."

Harry frowned in thought, but before he could answer his sister, food appeared in front of them all, and both his sister and Ron immediately began to pile food onto their plate; though Jane picked the pigeon pea stew while Ron slopped the shepherd's pie into his plate. Harry gave his sister some pita bread before he grabbed his bowl, and gave himself two scoops of steaming multi-grain rice.

"I doubt Krum would want to play a game of football when he has a tournament to worry about," Harry answered his sister while he poured squid soup over the rice.

Jane turned to him with a mouth full of food, making to talk, then wrinkled her nose at his bowl.

"Wouldn't he want to take his mind off the tournament for a bit," Ron stated more than asked, sounding a bit too excited at the idea.

Harry turned to look at his friend, then teased him, "I guess I could ask Wood. Say it's for a friendly round between fellow players. It hasn't been that long since Krum switched from football to Quidditch, after all."

"Right," Ron said with shining blue eyes, "and we have to build good relations with our neighbors, like the Headmaster said."

"You just want to stick your hand down Krum's trousers," Jane said with an amused tone, causing Ron to choke on his food.

Harry patted his friend's back until Ron could break again, then turned sharply to his sister, "how do you know things like that, you're twelve!"

Hazel eyes glistened in glee with her shit-eating grin, "tell me he wouldn't."

"I wouldn't," Ron nearly shouted at full volume, getting looks from all five tables. "I wouldn't," Ron repeated in a quieter tone, but no less strong. "Besides, Viktor's into girls."

"How do you know?" Jane asked.

"Cause everyone he's dated was a girl."

"Well you don't know that! Harry's a guy, and the tabloids still call him a girl after all this time."

Ron grew a bit red in the face, "well, Harry's different. He keeps repeating he's a guy, but the papers are a bunch of bloody nitwits."

"And maybe some of those 'girls' were just like Harry, but scared to say so. Or the reporters never bothered to asked."

Ron opened his mouth, then slammed it shut with a frown.

"So," Harry began before the silence could get awkward, "who do you think will be picked for Hogwarts' Champion?"

"As long as it's not Cassius Warrington or another Slytherin I don't care," Ron said, then scooped up another large helping of shepherd's pie, despite the large amount on his plate.

"Still don't know why Gryffindor hates Slytherin House so much," his sister said while she tore a piece of pita bread, "I mean, as long as you avoid the children of Purebloods, you have nothing to worry about." He saw Ron was ready to argue, despite the fact that his mouth was full of food. Blue eyes flickered to him, though, and his mouth shut. "Plus, you never know, Cassius could present with a Gamma gender, despite his 'pedigree'."

"Except Gamma has nothing to do whether the person is Pureblood or not," Hermione said with her 'dictionary' tone, and Jane hummed in question.

"And it wouldn't change the fact that he'd be an arsehole either way," Ron told Harry's sister, then swallowed that last bit of chewed food in his mouth. "Besides, you're a Hufflepuff, you get along with everyone."

"Don't get along with Malfoy."

"You better not," Harry told his sister, who snorted before she said, "you have my permission to slap me sane if I do", then popped the last piece of bread in her mouth.

December 12, 2004

"This place is bloody cold," Ron commented as Riddle led them all to their seats.

Harry hummed in agreement, then took sat in the middle of his best friends, before he settled to wait with the rest of them for the Senior Alpha/Omega Division to start.

"Shouldn't you be used to the cold by now, Weasley?" a familiar voice drawled behind him, and Harry turned with a glare. "From all the drafts from your matchbox of a - "

"Finish that sentence, ferret!"

"Boys," Riddle warned, and Harry snapped his mouth shut before he could start on his rant.

"If you would watch your tone with my son, Professor Malfoy," Mrs. Malfoy gave her own warning, with her nose squished up in disdain, as usual.

"How about you watch your own fucking child, you prickly bitch - "

"Jane," Harry chided while he leaned over Hermione to grab his sister's attention, "ignore them. Just focus on that Russian skater you like. Annie Dvorak, isn't that her name?"

His sister gave a long groan, "but she's skating last."

"Because she's so horrible?"

Harry gave Malfoy another glare as his sister spin in her seat, "because she's the best skater of her country, the best in the World! Which you would know already, if you were a proper skater and in the competition, which you aren't."

"Switch with me," Harry told Hermione, standing from his seat as Malfoy vibrated in embarrassment and frustration.

For some reason, Hermione's cheeks grew a bit red as she sat next to Ron, but he didn't comment on it as he sat in her seat. Then he had to grab his sister's shoulder as she - looked to, at least - made to jump at Malfoy.

"Ignore them," he repeated from earlier while he turned his sister around, "I do."

He could feel grey eyes glaring a hole in the back of his head, and missed the skater from Turkey's name because of it.

December 18, 2004

"I don't date girls. And, I'm already going to the ball with Cedric."

'I'm not a girl,' he wanted to argue, but swallowed it down so he could say as nonchalantly as he could, "it's okay."

"I'm sorry, Harry."

"No, it's fine."

"Oh...okay..."

An awkward silence fell, and Harry moved first, "sorry to bother you."

"Harry," Cho began as he walked passed her, but he couldn't turn around, or stop walking, "I have some friends - "

"It's fine," he repeated, and winced when it came out like a snap. "Thank you for the offer," he managed to get out before he fled from the tower as normally as he could, feeling embarrassed and ashamed.

It felt that everyone was looking at him, pointing while whispering behind their hands at how he looked. Harry wished he had wore his robes, and not the jumper he was wearing. It wasn't form fitting, but his body had - as it always did since he became nine years old - worked against him, giving him wide hips, and protruding fat on his chest, both of which messed up his jumps and balance.

And they were only going to get worse.

'Unless you take testosterone.'

A wave of helplessness came over him, and he wished for the stairs to stop so he could get off. Once the rotating stairs locked with another, he jogged off and looked for the first empty classroom he could find, then closed the door before he slid down the cold wood.

He wished he could take testosterone shots, wished he could stop his body before it could change himself further, but if he did, he would have to take off a year, to take it nonstop each month, then he would have to wait a month or two for it to get out of his system, which he couldn't do. If he took a year off, who knows what Malfoy would do in that time.

The blond's ego, at least, would become unbearable.

"Is that animosity really worth your mental health?" the memory of Remus spoke in the back of his mind.

Harry moved his hand to his sport's bra, hating that he couldn't wear the binders Sirius and Remus brought him everyday, since it would damage his body. Not as bad as the bandages, but his body still needed to breath. Apparently.

Taking a deep breath in threw his teeth, he tried to calm himself, tell himself that soon Malfoy would be bored of the sport, and when that happens, Harry would take a year off to get everything fixed; then he could go back.

'But your balance would be off, and you'd have to learn everything again.'

Harry took off his glasses to put his head in his hands, then his head between his legs.

Hours seemed to have passed when he felt back in control, and he took a deep breath in before he stood, shaking his hands. Letting out the long breath, he jumped on the balls of his feet, and knew that he couldn't tell Ron or Hermione about what just happened. They weren't like him, they wouldn't understand. Plus, they had their own problems to worry about.

Like finding a date, in Ron's case.

Taking another long, deep breath, he opened the door and walked out, glad that the hall was empty of both people and ghosts. Figuring out where he was, Harry decided to get more practice in, given that the Senior Division wanted their skaters to have the ability to do a Quad, as well as Spins with Element on their feet or hands, the former of which Harry was having trouble with.

Harry walked up the stairs to get to the third floor, and had to grab the railing when the stairs changed on his second to last step, letting out a tired sigh before he leaned against the stone railing, waiting for the long haul while wondering if he should try an Element with the Biellmann Spin - which he was embarrassingly having trouble with on it's own - or the Layback Spin.

Not fit for a Soloist indeed.

"Harry Potter?"

His heavy eyes blinked out of the memory of his Third Year, then frowned at the unfamiliar voice while he turned. The strong face wasn't familiar to him at all, but the Slytherin colors on the other's scarf was unquestionable.

"What do you want?" he asked, hearing the frost in his own voice.

The older, larger teen stared at him with questioning dark eyes, as if debating whether he should speak what was on his mind or not. Harry took a quick glance around to see if the Slytherin was alone, just in case the other was just the bait.

"I was wondering, if you planned to go to the Yule Ball?"

He moved his eyes back to the Slytherin, and narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"I am."

The Slytherin nodded, then put his hands behind his back in that 'Proper Pureblood' way.

"I was hoping you would do me the honor of accompanying me to the Yule Ball."

Harry narrowed his eyes further, "why do you need me to accompany you?"

Dark brown eyes stared at him again with that look, and they both lost their balance when the stairs suddenly stopped, but Harry recovered quickly.

"I want to go with you as a date," the Slytherin behind him said quickly as Harry jogged up the stairs before the staircase could move again, and Harry paused at the archway as the question registered.

"You what?"

"I want - wish to go with you to the Yule Ball," the Slytherin told him with a tense voice, walking stiffly up the stairs to stand in front of him.

It was then Harry's turn to stare.

"You want, to go to the ball with me?"

The Slytherin gave him what looked like a nervous nod, "yes. I wish to go with you."

Harry opened his mouth, ready to give the Slytherin a rejection, then paused, remembering Jane's many words.

"My friend doesn't have a date," he explained, as civil as he could, "and I don't want to go without him."

The Slytherin looked crestfallen, "oh. Right."

Harry turned on his heel, then frowned, and turned to look over his shoulder, "besides, I wouldn't wear a dress."

Dark eyes blinked slowly.

"Do you think I'm asking you because I think you're a girl?"

Harry narrowed his eyes with a scoff, "well aren't you?"You want the Girl-Who-Lived, don't you?"

The Slytherin ran a hand through his black curls, then looked him in the eye.

"I would rather date who you are, instead of a random girl."

A confused silence grew.

"What do you mean?"

What looked like a blush began to form on the other teen's cheeks, "I - you're beautiful - no - what I mean to say is - " Harry blinked twice as the Slytherin cut himself off. "I saw your performance in China."

Confusion.

Then it clicked.

"The Junior Cup of China," Harry had to clarify, and got a nod. "You saw that?"

"Yes, my great-aunt does choreography for a few skaters, so we sometimes get tickets for competitions for presents. And yours, was marvelous." Warmth filled Harry's chest. "I particularly loved your second dance, 'Beethoven's 9th Symphony'. You looked as regal and as powerful as a king."

Harry gave a tentative smile, "a king, that's new." He toed the ground in a move to step back, then admitted, "that one's my favorite, too. And the outfit."

The older teen smiled back, then reached down to take Harry's hand lightly, as if it was made of some fragile glass.

"White and gold suits your dark skin perfectly."

He blushed at the complement, but slid his hand out of the loose grasp as he started to feel uncomfortable.

"Thank you, umm..."

"McLaughlin. McLaughlin Adam."

Harry nodded, then thought of how close the Yule Ball was.

"I'll see you at 7, then."

He didn't think a human being could smile as bright as the sun, but there it was in front of him.

December 25, 2004

Ron was silently fuming to the left of him, Padma long gone.

Harry didn't know how to make him feel better than to give his friend his company, so he stayed by his side as the night went on, offering him his silent support when he could.

"And this means a Triple Toe Loop?" Adam asked, and Harry turned to look down at his small notebook, then down to what the older was pointing to with his pencil.

"Yes," he answered, "it's what Coach Dayne uses so, I've figured I'd better get used to writing like that."

His date nodded before looking up, "what's the difference between a Toe Loop and a regular Loop?"

Harry took a second to think about how he did each Jump.

"For the Toe Loop, you skate on your toe, backwards. Then jump. For the Loop - "

Ron let out a long sigh, and Harry stopped talking.

Adam frowned with a glance over his head, then looked down at the book without another word.

Harry let out a sigh of his own, then turned to Ron, "if you want to be left alone, we can leave."

His friend bristled, "sure, go ahead. Have fun. It's what all the couples are doing tonight, isn't it?"

"Ron - "

"It's fine, Harry."

A rush of frustration flowed through his veins, and he turned to let out a breath through his nose.

"I could get us Butterbeers."

Harry shook his head, "It's fine, Adam, don't worry - " He stared at the man who was making his way towards them with a wide smile, and slumped in his seat. "Why are you here?"

Gellert pouted, dark blue eyes telling him that the older man was either tipsy, or in a playful mood.

"I haven't seen you in years, and this is what you say to me."

"You saw me at the Junior Grand Prix," Harry reminded the - not - drunk.

"Years, csillagom."

"Not even a month, you daft German."

Gellert hummed, then his pout turned into a frown, "why are you three sitting around for? This is a party, after all."

Harry didn't look to Ron.

"It's not your business, nagyapó."

Gellert lost his frown, then walked forward to put his glass on the table.

"You're all too young to get worry lines," the older man spoke with that wide, toothy smile that had Harry suspicious. "You already know how to dance, don't you, mausebär?"

"Why - "

Gellert grab his wrist and pulled him up, "let's go!"

"Nagyapó, you can't just drag me away from my friends!" Harry looked behind him after his words, but it was too late, and the bodies of other dancers filled his vision. "Go dance with Albus," he told the essentric man, "he loves this kind of thing."

"But so do you," Gellert said, then spun him with forced until he was in front of the older man. The only reason Harry didn't fall from the pull was because of years of balancing on a thin blade while dancing, or landing a jump. "You have a career out of that love," Gellert went on, dancing a simple salsa with him that barely went to the music, "even have a gold medal to prove it."

"That was a Domestic Competition," he corrected the older, wishing he wasn't so short so he could dance properly.

"It's still gold. Against other competitors at that."

Harry hummed in his throat, looking for a glimpse of long silver hair with galaxy fashion, then led Gellert over when he saw the combination.

Of course, the older man seemed to have caught on, and switched the dancing to something that resembled Pair Skating in the Olympics; not surprising, they hit no one.

"Albus," he hissed at the Headmaster, who was dancing with someone he didn't know, "get your husband off of me. Albus!"

Of course, like many other times when the shorter of the two wanted to mess with Harry and Jane, the taller pretended that he didn't hear.

Gellert threw him straight up and caught him again, giving Harry a laugh when he growled at the older man to put him down.

Annoyed at the both of them, he grabbed both of Gellert's wrists before he lost sight of Albus, and spun the old man at the earliest opportunity, throwing the laughing man at Albus as best he could, where the shorter was neatly caught, and the two began to dance away, as if practiced prior, with Albus' former dancing partner given to Harry.

That was the only thing stopping Harry from storming from the dance floor in frustration, and - after a few exchanged, awkward words - finished the dance with the stranger before he left.

Adam was gone when he went back to the table, and so was Ron. Harry stared in contemplation at the empty seats, and tried to look for the two in the crowd, but the colors of both cloths and hair seemed to be blurred together in the mass. 

Crossing his arms he sat down, hoping that one of them would think to come back, or that they hadn't stormed out of the room from a shouting match.

From how angry Ron was acting all night, the latter seemed more likely.

"Harry," a familiar thickly accented voice greeted, and he turned towards Viktor when he saw the former football player walk up with drinks. "Have you seen Hermione?"

His mouth opened to correct Viktor on his punctuation of his friend's name, then decided it was best to answer instead, "no. Why, did something happen?"

The older teen gave a small frown, "I went to get drinks for us all because it seemed that your friend Ron and your date were having a silent fight when we arrived, then both Hermione and Ron seemed closed to arguing when I glanced to them from the beverage table."

"And now all three are gone," Harry finished, and let out a long sigh. "Doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened."

He motioned for the other teen to take a seat next to him, and Viktor did, with a sigh of his own.

"You and Hermione looked to be having a good time before the fight," Harry stated after Viktor seemed settled in the chair, "thanks for that."

Viktor nodded, giving a soft smile that Harry was slightly shocked to see on such a stoic bloke.

"Yes. I thought this Triwizard Tournament would end in disaster, yet everything is running along smoothly."

Harry hummed, curious, "why did you think it would end in disaster? Because of the deaths from the other ones?"

Dark eyes narrowed, then looked over to the dance floor. Harry turned to look as well, but couldn't see what would have caught the older teen's attention, or what he was searching for. Albus familiar silver hair and galaxy clothes swirled in his view, and he felt more than saw Viktor twitch next to him.

"He doesn't wear his symbol anymore," the older teen seemed to say more to himself than Harry, which peaked his interest even more.

"What symbol did Albus wear before?"

Dark eyes lit with hate as they narrowed, "not Albus Dumbledore. His husband." Harry stared, then moved his gaze back to the floor, so he would not see the heat."I would never cause trouble for Albus Dumbledore's sake, and even then, I find it hard to keep down my anger."

Harry swallowed, hearing the weight of his words, and looked down at the drink held out to him a second later, then up at the older teen, who didn't move his eyes from the floor.

Like a dog's eyes locked onto prey.

"Thanks," he said while taking the drink.

A near awkward silence fell between them, the faint laughs of the people on the dance floor barely cutting the thick air. Harry swallowed down the Butterbeer in record time, then stared down at the empty glass.

"They never talk about their past," Harry heard himself say, and tightened his lips before he could talk more.

Viktor was quiet beside him, and Harry picked his head up to look around for either Ron or Hermione; or his date.

"Would you like to have another match, after the Second Trail?"

Harry looked over at the slow words, and nodded, "sure. Oliver is more than ready, too."

The other teen frowned slightly.

"I have never seen a man so in love with football since my former football coach."

A loud laugh left his mouth, and the tense mood seemed to lighten.

But did not go away.

A familiar book sailed at him when he entered the dormitory an hour later, and he caught it as he heard curtains close shut.

June 24, 2005

"Who do you think will win?" Sirius asked them all, holding out the bucket of chicken for Harry to get a piece if he wanted.

"Fleur looks like she could get the Cup," Jane said while she took the whole bucket, and took the biggest piece on top. "But I think Viktor will win."

"No love for your fellow Englishman?" Remus teased, stealing the bucket back before giving it to Sirius, who was frowning.

"If Krum cheats with dark Curses, he would get the Cup."

"Sirius," Remus chided, and Harry stared down at the small figures below as his godfather hummed in his throat in dissatisfaction.

"Viktor has a sense of honor, you know. Harry told us so."

Harry frowned further, and looked over to Hermione, who was watching the Maze intently, then to Ron, who was thoughtful.

A loud crack took his attention and he turned quickly, then applauded with the rest of the crowd as the Cup was held high by the victor.

September 18, 2005

"You're definitely entering the Grand Prix preliminaries again," Jane told him as they turned the corner, Gellert and Albus walking in front of them, the older men more preoccupied with talking in a foreign language with each other than speaking to the two who were younger than them by decades. "And you're going to win."

Harry doubted it, and stated, "I'll beat Malfoy, in any case."

His little sister - god, she was thirteen now - smiled viciously, "you're going to destroy him."

"Of course I am," Harry agreed, remembering how Malfoy stepped out of his Corkscrew Spin in practice.

"His father can only get him so far against actual talent, your football games' proven that time and again. Now, all you have to do is get gold, and stab him with your knife shoes when he's being an arse."

"Not their name, Jane."

"Fine, ice skates."

With a snort Harry turned, and stopped when he saw a sweet shop.

"Really, Harry? They look speckled with edible gold. That's gaudy as shit." He gave her a look, and understanding lit up in hazel eyes. "Hey grandpas, we want chocolate for dessert at that fancy restaurant!"

December 17, 2005

"Do your best," Dayne told him while he grabbed Harry's hand tight to shake his hand, and he nodded while he squeezed right back, then let go as the announcer called out, "skating for Great Britain, Harry Potter, skating to an original piece by Tom Riddle Junior, called 'Ode to Stars'."

Taking a deep breath he stopped in the middle, looking down as he moved his arms down to his side.

The deep piano began, and Harry raised his right hand slow, then swirled to the left when the chimes played.

'Beat Malfoy again,' he thought while he gained speed for his first jump, making sure to keep his moves graceful, 'all you have to do is beat Malfoy's score.'

That was the only thought he allowed himself to have before he focused on the piece Riddle made specifically for him, a song that would 'encompass' the fact that he had a good amount of stamina to match his quick reflexes for his failed jumps, as the older man had said. 

His performance passed with a blur to his mind, and when he moved closer to the middle - a preference of his that turned into a trademark -  with fluid moves to hold his 'Y' pose, he wondered if his family would like how his performance went.

The judges seemed to like it well enough, for his overall score got him on the podium with silver.

Harry held the medal up for the cameras, immense pride filling his body even as reporters snapped millions of pictures in front of him. It didn't bother him that the paparazzi were going to write trash stories about him that night and the next day, not really, cause he beat Malfoy once again. Beaten him as one of the six who were qualified for the Junior Grand Prix Final, and beaten the 161.82 total score that Malfoy got at Trophée Éric Bompard to the ground with a 189.46 score.

'You'd have to do better next time,' Harry thought as he saw Gustav Kiger kiss his gold medal out of the corner of his eye.

Harry gave his 'crowd' smile as the reporters continued to take pictures, then let out a surprised sound as he was pulled closers to Gustav.

"See you two at the Senior Grand Prix Finals in two years, ehh?" Gustav told both him and Yukari Hara with a hug and a grin, the gold finish on the metal around his neck shining bright.

Harry gave a genuine smile back, "yeah."

"I'll miss you," the bronze medalist said with affection, lightly hitting the other's hunch back, "tall brute."

Gustav held them closer, shouting "to the Senior Division we go" as he held out two fingers for each hand.

Letting out a breathy laugh, Harry turned back to the cameras, letting his medal fall while they held the pose for a second before letting go.

Once they were done at the podium, Harry skated with the other two towards their respective gates, giving a greeting smile at his coach as Dayne held out his guards to him, which he took after putting his bouquet - real lilies, colorful, no doubt expensive - on the guard wall.

"Harry," an accented child's voice shouted from the stands.

Harry paused, hearing a woman's chiding voice speak up top, then slid his guard on as he looked up in the direction the child called from, seeing only blurs.

"Hello," he greeted back, glad that his coach held out his glasses for him, which he put on immediately.

"You're skating the Senior Alpha-Omega Division next year, aren't you?" the woman asked as the child - six, seven? - stared down at him with dark brown eyes, long brown-red hair matching their mother.

"I am," he answered, fixing his glasses when his frames slid down his nose a bit.

The child spoke to his mother in a rough language, and the woman nodded before turning to him.

"Once my son finishes ballet, he wants to enter figure skating. He wishes to tell you that he is going to compete with you in the 2015 Competitions."

"So win, da?"

Harry stared at the mother and child, not sure what to do.

Viktor might have know what to say at that moment - which reminded him, he needed to text his friend soon - but Harry was grasping at straws. A bouquet entered his vision, and he looked down before he followed the arm up to Dayne, who gave a nod to the flowers. Harry moved his gaze back to the lilies, then took it.

"What's your name?" he asked the determined looking child, then glanced at the mother as she spoke to her son.

"Draco - " Harry leaned back slightly, not sure if he heard that right " - Solovyov."

A second passed.

"Draco Solovyov," he repeated, sure that he butchered the Russian - maybe - last name. The child, however, nodded, narrowing his eyes in a way that said for him to never forget it. "Okay." Sliding one of the orange flowers out he threw it up to the child, who caught it with two hands. "See you later, then."

The child - Draco, god that was weird - repeated the words back to him slowly, pale face full of fierce determination, until the mother spoke to him softly, and they went with the rest of the audience out.

"Now its time for the reporters," Dayne told him with what sounded like amusement in his voice, and Harry grimaced.

'I can't wait until I don't need to speak to those bottom feeders.'

May 28, 2006

Jane sniffed after blowing her nose, and Harry continued to stare numbly down at the letter, the owl giving his fingers comforting pecks.

Harry took a deep breath in before he said, "Padfoot was old, Jane. Nearing fifteen years."

"Still..."

He tightened his lips, pushing his own sadness down to comfort his little sister.

"Hey," he began softly, "why not show me that song you sung? If it's the right length, I'll dance to it competition. And even if it's not, I'll dance to it at an Expedition. If you want."

She sniffed again.

"It's opera. That's okay?"

"Of course it is, Jane."

July 31, 2006

"Happy sweet sixteen!"

Harry smiled for them all, then blew out the candles when his godfather told him to make a wish.

"Wished for Malfoy to break his leg in the Cups?" Jane asked as Mrs. Weasley began to cut the - rather large - cake she made for the party.

The image of Malfoy falling to the ice made him made him hum in amusement, but his smile dropped as he thought of the other breaking a bone. "I don't need Malfoy to break his leg to do better than him."

"Damn right you don't," his sister said with conviction, then cowered when Mrs. Weasley chided her.

Harry chuckled at her expression, then looked down at the letter Remus gave, sent by someone named Ilia Solovyov, even went through the trouble of going by public owl service, which was a hassle and a half. With the crowd of friends and family occupied Harry slipped away to read the letter, wanting to place why the name was kinda familiar.

It all made sense when he finished reading the paper.

'Oh, that kid and his mum.'

As someone let out a laughing shriek in the living room, Harry examined the small - passable - drawing of Draco as a massive Dragon, with the kid standing proudly over the passed out Harry and Malfoy, then folded the letter back into the envelope with an amused smile, putting it in his pocket before he went back to the party.

'Maybe I will compete against him later, if he's this set on it.' 

December 17, 2006

"Not as exciting without the Olympics after this, huh?" Jane commented as she jogged up to reach him, tugging on the lanyard that hanged from his pocket in a childish manner. "Or were you banking for gold at your Senior Debut?"

Harry searched the near empty corridor, then confessed, "Malfoy wasn't qualified, and his personal best this year is 10 points below mine."

"Exactly," she said, yanking the medal out of the pocket of his cagoule, "10 measly points. You were one of the three skaters the NISA picked for the Grand Prix Final, their other pick that Ice Dancing duo, and you got bronze on your first try."

"Wouldn't have if Malfoy hadn't messed up his Triple Axel in China, or his Broken-leg Spin at Skate America. And if he had only got up from the ice quick enough after his fall."

Hazel eyes rolled, "let it go, Harry."

A sigh left his mouth, then he frowned at his sister when she put the medal over his head, patting the lanyard lightly on his shoulders. "Least the reporters won't bug you that much since you're bronze, right? Though, it is your Senior Debut."

Harry hummed in his throat, turning the corner, then stopped dead.

"Malfoy," he spoke as Jane questioned why he stopped, then she groaned in disdain.

Grey eyes sparked with spite as they looked him over.

"Having fun with your bronze, Potter?"

Harry bristled.

"The best of fun, you bloody ferret," Jane hissed out the last word venomously, and continued to speak before Harry could stop it from escalating further, "when are you going to realize your fucking father can't get you on the podium and quit?"

Pale cheeks turned pink, "I would have been on the podium, if not for the fact that the ice was nearly melted that day."

Harry snorted as Jane let out a loud "hah" that echoed through the near empty hallway.

"Harry would have landed that jump even if the rink was half water as you say. He has landed that jump before, in competition. And preformed beautifully, with bleeding blisters on his feet, because my brother has actually. Talent. And didn't have to ride on anyone's coattails to get where he is, unlike a certain blond toff that annoys everyone he's ever breathed near." Pink cheeks turned pinker. "Now, how about running back to daddy, and stop bothering the skaters."

Malfoy sneered at his sister.

"Did your parents not have enough time to teach you manners before they died?"

It was old instincts that made him hold Jane so she wouldn't get in trouble for attacking the arse, stepping back as she made to wrap her hands around Malfoy's pale neck; but it was the only thing holding him back from breaking Malfoy's jaw in four places.

"How about I teach you how it feels to lose someone you love, Malfoy?" his sister growled out, clawed hands clinging to Harry's forearm.

"It's not worth it," Harry repeated Ron's words from long ago with a calm voice, then told Malfoy "move" as his - righteously - furious sister tightened her grip, painfully.

The blond looked like he was going to start a fight then and there, but smartly moved out of the way as Jane let out a vicious growl and reached for him again. Holding tight, Harry walked passed Malfoy as Jane spewed out profanities, twisting as much as she could in his grip to curse the blond out.

Thankfully, his sister calmed down before they reached the reporters, and he put the medal around her neck in the hopes that it would calm her down, as well as the calming presence of his coach.

It seemed to, so he left her there, and went to the table, sitting next to Anna - "we're sharing a podium, Harry, either call me Annok or Annie" - Dvorak after he gave a polite greeting to both skaters, settling in the - rather flimsy - chair, and pushed all of the wrath he had towards Malfoy down.

"We'll start taking questions," the mediator said after they were all seated, and Harry nearly squirmed in his chair as all hands shot up into the air.

"I have a question for Ms. Dvorak," one reporter with brown framed glasses asked.

"Da?"

Harry glanced over at the Russian skater, catching bright white teeth from her joyous smile.

"With your rivalry pertaining to Stéphane Lambiel of the Beta Division, how do you feel that Stéphane has withdrew from the NHK Trophy competitions because of his health?"

Annie leaned back into her chair while crossing her ankles, "well for one, our 'rivalry' is nothing more than spinning dares that the media has blown out of proportion. And second, I have heard that he would be returning for his Swiss Championship, no? So the injury that had him withdraw was only minor. But, I still wish for my 'rival' to have a full recovery before I sent him another dare via e-mail."

The Russian skater gave another big, white teeth smile, and the moderator asked "next question" while a curious pastel green eyes looked down at him.

Harry quickly looked away.

"Speaking of rivalries. Mr. Potter, how did you feel when your lifelong competitor, Draco Malfoy, had fallen to 5th place in your Great Britain Nationals?"

'Insanely glad,' he thought while linking his fingers together, remembering Riddle's words as he took in a quick breath. "Disappointed," he began, keeping his voice calm, "however, I am looking forward to World's, since I've learned that he had landed a Quad Toe Loop during practice, which he has been trying to do for a while."

'There,' Harry thought as he sat back, the moderator calling for a new question, 'that was diplomatic enough.'

"Follow up from the last question, Mr. Potter. How do you feel that you and your rival might be separated if one of you stays in the Alpha/Omega Division?"

His fingers tightened.

"I haven't thought about it much," he answered falsely. "We have already spoken with a NISA representative about the possibility of - Presenting during the season. Especially, given out birth months. However, we've been told neither of us will be taken out of the competition unless we react violently to those of the opposite gender."

An awkward silent second followed, before the moderator asked for the next question, and Harry looked down at the white table as a reporter asked Daisuke if the bolt in his ankle bothered him during his skates.

'Anything but an Omega,' he prayed as Daisuke spoke in Japanese, and Harry leaned back as the translator spoke in accented English, "my injury has healed enough that I can now land Triples and Quads, and I haven't had any problems with my ankle since the Cup of China."

"Next question."

"Anna, did you start wearing pants because younger skaters like Harry and Maggie Snow are going against dress code?"

Harry tensed with a frown before he quickly smoothed his face.

"Well, for one, young Harry here is a growing boy, who does not need to adhere to the frankly strict dress code of women having to wear skirts or be docked points. And two, I think we all agree that my long legs look better with pants, da?"

The reporters all seemed to love her response, and Harry relaxed with a long breath.

February 23, 2007

It was cold, his heart was pounding in his ears, and the book burned in his robe pocket.

"I thought I knew you, I thought I knew the both of you."

Harry winced at the memory, and looked back up at the large double doors again. He knew he had to open them soon, had to apologize, with the only way he knew how, so that even Malfoy would understand he wasn't just speaking words to get back in good graces with his angry sister.

His hand hovered at the handle, and there was a tightness in his chest that he wasn't used too, which made it hard to swallow, hard to breath.

He took a deep breath in, then placed his hand on the cold metal.

The hospital wing looked the same as before, and his eyes glanced towards the bed that he usually was placed in, half expecting to see a plaque over it. His eyes glanced at the bed blocked with curtains, and just knew Malfoy was in that one.

"Mr. Potter." Fingers curled, then he moved his eyes to Madam Pomfrey, who was walking towards him with a jar filled with something curdled. "What is your emergency?"

The words wouldn't leave his throat right away.

"I need to talk with - Draco Malfoy."

Madam Pomfrey frowned at him, "Mr. Malfoy is still in recovery - "

The sound of curtains being drawn back was deafening.

"What do you want, Potter?"

The older woman turned with him, and Harry barely heard what she said as he examined the paler teen. Malfoy's skin was a sickly white, though better than when Harry last saw the other teen. Platinum blond hair was also messy, and his casual clothes were wrinkled. If Harry wanted, he could just think that Malfoy had exhausted himself during practice, and had to be taken to the Hospital Wing because he passed out.

Yet he couldn't, and it wasn't just because of the guilt.

"Fine." Harry blinked, and realized he missed a conversation. "The talk won't take long."

Madam Pomfrey thinned her lips, and gave Harry a glare that told him the talk better be under a minute before she left for the office in the back. Harry waited until the door was closed, then turned back to Malfoy, whose grey eyes were bright with hate.

'You deserve it,' a voice that sounded like Jane spoke in his head, and he didn't refute her.

"Make it quick, Potter."

His fingers curled, everything inside of himself ordering him to just tell the blond that he was sorry and leave, but he knew Jane would be disappointed. Might even never talk with him again, given how vengeful she was.

So, he walked closer to the bed, pulled out the book lightning quick, and handed it to Malfoy. The blond made that face, but Harry pushed down his anger, and waited for the other teen to take it.

Grey eyes flickered back up, and examined his face with distrust, then took the book a few seconds later. Malfoy glared at the cover, pale fingers making for the bookmark Harry placed inside. It was painful to watch Malfoy open the book, but watch Harry did, making no moves to stop him.

Light eyes slowly roamed over the page, then stopped dead.

"You're a right arse Malfoy," he had to say, "and almost casting Crucio on me went further than a few thrown punches and broken noses." Harry took a deep breath, "but I don't want you dead, and I know that if I told you that you wouldn't believe me."

A small noise might have come from Malfoy, but the paler teen didn't move an inch, so he didn't acknowledge it.

"That is my book, name written in the front, and all. Show it to Snape, and I'd no doubt be expelled before the day's done, doubtless of what Dumbledore had to say."

Grey eyes twitched, then Malfoy bowed his head, pale fingers tightening around the book, while blond hair hid the pointy face from view. Harry pushed down the impulse to take back the book as the silence went on, tightening his hands on his arms to do so, and forced himself to wait for Malfoy to speak.

"Go," was all the paler teen said, voice emotionless, not even his body giving anything away.

Not pushing his luck, Harry left for Gryffindor Tower, lightheaded.

The portrait door closed with finality behind him, and he didn't glance at Ron or Hermione as he walked up the steps, packing his things with the spell Remus taught him long ago.

Not pulled from bed the night before, Harry went to find his sister. Jane was quiet when he caught her before she reached the Great Hall, still and quiet when he finished speaking.

The slight sting on his cheek was something he wasn't prepared for, neither was he prepared for when she took his hand and gave the same slap to her own face.

"We were both nice to Malfoy," his sister said in explanation, then walked passed him out of the corridor.

February 25, 2007

The origami bird was fancier than he's seen before, and more sentient, if the peck on Ron's finger when his friend reached for it was anything to go by.

"Who's it from?" Ron asked with a glare to the paper, mouth half full of food.

Instead of answering, Harry watched the white bird while it hopped into his hand, then sat in his palm with a raised neck in a proud manner. With dread he slowly began to peel it apart, feeling his friends and sister staring at him. He read the sentence three times before he folded the paper in half, letting it go when it wrapped itself back into it's original shape, then flatter.

"Someone I have to see," he said, putting the paper in his robes. Hermione gave him a thoughtful look, but he turned away. "I'll meet up with you three later."

"I'll go with you - "

"No you won't."

Harry stopped standing, and looked over to his sister, whose hazel eyes were flaring.

Ginny sat straighter, her beautiful face stubborn, but brown eyes sad.

"Jenny, why aren't you over it yet? It's just Malfoy."

That was the wrong thing to say, and he didn't need his sister slamming down her utensils to know that.

"It's Jane," his sister spoke with bite, then smoothly got up from the bench and walked away, long hair flowing in the air like blood when she flipped it off her shoulder.

Atmosphere thick, Harry straightened slowly, wanting to catch up to his sister, but knowing that she needed to cool off for a bit. Besides, she would only yell his ears off if he didn't talk to Malfoy first, even if it resulted in his expulsion.

The halls seemed colder than usual, as if all the ghosts of Hogwarts were following him. His eyes roamed over all of the familiar sights, taking them in one last time, as he did in the days before. He forced himself to keep walking as thoughts of leaving football and figure skating entered his mind, of never playing Quidditch in his Seventh Year of Hogwarts.

Of never playing the sport his father had loved and played Chaser for.

Of never having a Seventh Year at all.

Of going back to the Dursleys.

Harry stopped.

'I'm never going back there,' he told himself, taking a shaking step forward, 'neither of us are.'

Footsteps came from behind him when he reached the hall, and he turned to see Malfoy walking towards him, looking healthier, but not by much. The blond stopped an arm's length away from him, and they stared at each other for only a second, before Malfoy moved again, pacing in front of the wall three times, before a simple door appeared.

Inside it was simple too, with only a fireplace in the back of the room. Harry looked over to Malfoy, but the paler teen only walked to the fireplace, so Harry closed the door behind him, and followed. His hand twitched when Malfoy reached into his pocket, but the blond only pulled out a familiar book, bookmark still in it's place.

"You can be a right arse too, sometimes."

Harry snapped his head up, and bit back the snide remark.

"I'm sorry?"

Grey eyes glanced over, sharp as a potion's blade.

"You lose all sense of modesty when you win."

His mouth opened, then closed with a snap.

Malfoy continued to stare at him with that edge in his eyes, but Harry said nothing.

Then the paler teen turned, picked up the book, and threw it into the fire, which crackled to a roar. Harry watched the flames curled around the leather and papers, slowly burning it to a chard. Malfoy stayed with him until it was unrecognizable, as if to stop Harry from retrieving to, then turned to walk out; Harry followed silently.

There was something in the air between them when they stepped out of the room. It wasn't friendly, but it wasn't hostile, either.

They shared a long look without words before going their separate ways.

March 25, 2007

"210.05 total," he muttered to himself, holding the cold sink with a tight grip as he stared down at the liquid flowing down the drain. He had been close, so close, to getting in the top six, and at the end, he fell in his Free Skate, out of his last jump. 'I got greedy,' he thought to himself, falling to his knees, still gripping the porcelain. 'I should have kept my last jump a Double Axel. I should have thought more of the story I made up, I should have practiced my Element.'

The only consolation offered to him was that Malfoy got 11th place, but even that left a bitter, disgusting, tar-like taste in his mouth.

Taking a deep breath he leaned back, then let it out slow.

Harry straightened and fixed his damp hair, hating the cold sweat that coated his skin. Pulling on his jacket, he walked towards the door, and felt slightly better. It was time to look for his coach, and leave the arena to sleep until it would be time to leave for the plane.

Though, maybe he'd go and watch Annie be interviewed. The Russian skater was nice, and friendly with everyone even during a competition, he found, though her wider smiles were after the events. From what the friendly - and somewhat flirty - Swiss skater in France told him, she was like the other Russian skater in that regard, though he was in the Beta Division.

Harry couldn't tell who that skater was talking about, he could barely get in a 'hello' to the skaters on the other side at either the Cups or Galas, before a Sponsor or reporter would want to talk with him.

Though, there was that one skater who tried to talk with him a few -

"Harry Potter!"

He stopped thinking at the shouting child's accented voice, then turned to see a slightly familiar young boy with long brown-red hair run and stop in front of him, winded.

"Draco," he greeted, mostly sure he was right.

The boy - nine years old, since the fifteenth, the boy's wrote in his last letter - picked up his head, before he stuffed his hands in his puffy pockets.

"Congratulations on 7th place," the boy said slowly in what sounded like a sincere voice, cheeks slightly red from running.

"Thanks," he said, unsure what the child wanted from him.

Draco began to bounce from one toe to the other, in what seemed like a nervous habit.

"Are you staying in the United Kingdom to train?" the boy asked while staring at something over Harry's shoulder.

"Yes."

Draco nodded to himself, then took a breath so deep his already puffy chest puffed up more.

"Skating there sucks, come train in Russia!"

Harry stared at the child, his determined dark eyes staring right back, cheeks bright red.

"You...are asking me to come to Russia?"

Draco nodded rapidly, "da. Come to Russia, train with Volkova. She best, even to Feltsman."

He opened his mouth, closed it, then quickly thought of what to say.

"I can't, I'm still in school."

Dark brown eyes narrowed in thought.

"Close to seventeen, da? Only two more years until you are done."

Harry stared, "umm...yes, but - "

"Good. See you in two years. I'll show you the best place for borscht."

Then the child spun away, and Harry blinked as the child turned the corner, until his phone rang in his pocket.

Harry ignored it to chase after the kid, not wanting him to get lost in the large stadium, and hoped that the kid knew his mother's phone number by heart so they could find her quickly.

September 1, 2007

"You're actually considering going to Russia?"

Harry looked at the train door, then slid the blinds down.

"Yeah. Even Dayne agreeds that it would be the best thing for my career to move to Russia and skate under Volkova. Just need to learn how to speak Russian, and I'll be good to go."

Hermione and Ron shared a look, Neville looked down at his odd plant while Luna leaned closer to it, and Jane bounced in his seat.

"Perfect, you'd do great under Daina Volkova. Did you know she was a former Soloist, and dabbled in Opera in her older years. She's also a Mezzo-Soprano singer, and sung Opera in Italy."

"You're a Mezzo, right?" Neville asked politely, while a flower in his plant twirling slowly.

Jane nodded proudly, "Elisabeth thinks that I'll be a Contralto when I'm older."

Harry narrowed his eyes in thought.

"Don't you have to lose your tonsils for that to happen?"

Jane made a noise in her throat with a shrug, then leaned forward, "you have to go to Russia, you'd wipe the floor with all of them."

"I don't know about that," he said, then decided to tease his sister, "after all, Annie will be there."

Light brown cheeks grew red, "yeah, well. You're my brother, so of course you'd be better than - Annie Dvorak."

"Did that hurt, Jane?"

"Little bit."

November 1, 2007

"Listen to your music again," Dayne ordered as Harry heard the faint cheers for a skater named Margaret Snow getting on the ice, and Harry nodded absently as he slid his earphones on, then stretched on the wall as 'Fleeting Summer' began to play.

It was plain for all to see that he was nervous, more than usual. And why not? Malfoy surprised them all with his first ever silver in Skate America, and he had only looked mildly tired after his Free Skate instead of exhausted; yet his grey eyes were dull in the interview.

'He's taking this season seriously, and yet...' He tightened his lips, then tried to focus on the violin as Dayne turned towards him. 'I want to win. But I don't know why.'

A tap on his shoulder told him that it was time for him to go, and Harry took a deep breath, then walked towards the curtains, nodding to his fellow skater as the other picked up his head while the skater stretched on the ground. The song came to an end as his coach pulled back the cloth, and Harry walked threw while a few workers at the rink turned.

He gave another nod before looking towards the ice, watching Margaret land a Double Axel while his coach lead him towards a gate with a hand on his back. Harry unzipped his jacket with a straight face - can't let the reports catch him with a displeased face while a skater was on the ice - and let Dayne slide it off before Harry took off his earphones.

The classical music stopped, and Harry clapped with the rest of the audience as Snow held her pose for a second before giving a wave to the crowd, locking eyes with him before giving a shier smile. He smiled back before he put his hands down, then placed his hands on the wall to balance himself to slid off his guards, then took off his glasses quickly.

'You only have a minute,' he told himself as his coach opened the gate, and Harry let out a long breath.

Taking a step on the ice, Harry glided slow, finding his balance quickly, before skating back to his coach.

"Harry," Dayne began as Harry placed his hands on the guard wall, "remember that they changed their scoring. You need to show your performance, sell the judges on your acceptance. Remember what Riddle taught you."

He nodded, then shook the offered hand.

"I'll skate something I can be proud of," he told Dayne honestly, then let go of the hand as the announcer called his name and program.

The crowd cheered for him while he skated to the middle, waving with his 'crowd-pleasing' smile while he stopped in the middle, then got into position as his inner clock told him he had only a few seconds left.

'Fleeting Summer' began and he moved his leg back in a lazy spin, then skated back. He had to show more emotion in his skating, create his own story to help his movements, lie when he couldn't without the judges sensing that he had never felt the need to accept his life.

Harry never wanted to accept his life, never wanted to accept that if he Presented as an -

'Focus,' he chided himself as he nearly fucked up the Donut Spin, and pushed it all down while he figured out where he was. 'The first jump,' he thought at the chord of the violin, and positioned himself for the Spread Eagle into the Triple Axel.

It turned into a Double, and he frowned to himself before he quickly quickly wiped it off, thinking quickly where he could make up the points, the applause from the crowd distant in his ears while he changed his last jump to a Triple Flip.

'Make it a Quad,' the greedy monster inside himself said, and he didn't argue with it.

Of course, he didn't make the jump, and almost snapped his wrist like he did when he was twelve as he fell, just on ice instead of grass; but there was enough rotations, perhaps, and felt hot shame at the claps he got as he got to his feet.

He swallowed down the bitterness in his mouth as he came in second overall in the Short Program, and smiled falsely at the cheers of encouragement.

"The Free Skate is where it counts," Dayne told him as they left the stadium, giving him a comforting pat on his shoulder.

Harry hummed, rubbing his wrist to make sure it was alright.

November 18, 2007

"Are you okay, Harry?"

He looked over at his sister, and smiled tiredly, "I will be."

"That bird was a right bitch."

"Ron!"

"You know I'm right Hermione."

Jane gave him a concerned look as the two quietly began to argue, but he moved his gaze back down at the homework he had to finish, before he would have to board a plane to Moscow. He ignored how his quill continued to shake in his hands as the fight went on, until it broke with a sharp sound.

It was harder to ignore Ron and Hermione's glance to him, then their glance at each other, and he decided that it would be better to finish his work in Gryffindor Tower instead of the library.

"Harry," his sister said as he stood, but nothing else as he went.

He passed Malfoy along the way, and they both paused at the same time. Dark circles were under grey eyes, cheeks were shallow, and face emotionless. If they were at least a little on friendly terms, Harry would have asked if the other teen was okay; but they weren't and Harry faltered. Then grey eyes looked away, and the paler boy passed without a word, ignoring him.

Something vengeful inside him wanted to snap vicious words at Malfoy, just to get a reaction out of the other teen, to snap him out of whatever was on his mind, but Harry continued to walk to the tower.

He had his own problems to worry about, anyway.

November 25, 2007

"Skaters fall in their jumps during practice all the time," his coach told him reassuringly. Harry only nodded, then placed the borrowed mat down. "Don't let it get to your head."

Harry sat and stretched, trying not to think of the score he got in his Short Program. But, of course, the number came to mind faster than he could stop it. 65.98, the worse score he had gotten since he had started skating competitively.

"You are too focused on beating Malfoy," Riddle had told him over the phone, "just as Malfoy was once focused on beating you."

And wasn't that a kick in the chest.

But, he deserved the other's lack of attention, in a way.

A hand swallowed his shoulder, "focus on your Free Skate right now, nothing else."

Harry frowned, then stood to hop on his left foot while he picked up his headphones, then placed it over his ears. He was skating first, after all, since he was the only one from both Group A and Group B that qualified for the Free Skate that got a 60 point score in the Short Program. A fall from grace, as the reporters called it, and a rise for the Underdog of Great Britain.

Something hot and disgusting bubbled in his belly, threatened to consume him as mercilessly as the sea. It was something that he had to control, or he wouldn't even get onto the podium at all.

A finger tapped on his shoulder all too soon, and he swallowed as he stood, using a simple spell to roll up the mat before he handed it to a waiting attendant; then he walked. Harry took the smallest sip of water from his bottle, the cover that his sister sung for him faint in his pounding ears, and he barely managed to nod to Gustav when the skater of Hungary waved at him with thoughtful eyes while he passed the skater.

Dayne pulled back the curtain for him, and he softly thanked his coach as he walked threw, looking away from the other attendants as he stared over at the blank ice, not a scratch on the surface. Cheers came from the crowd, but he could barely hear them, could barely smell the crisp, cold air around him, either.

An attendant then walked towards the gate, and he swallowed.

His coach moved him forward, putting an arm around him while he did so, and Harry closed his eyes for a second to bring himself back together. Then he took off his glasses, sliding them in his pocket as they reached the gate, a modest camera rig to his left.

The announcer spoke over the speakers as Harry took off his jacket and headphones, not looking over at his coach while the older man searched him. Taking a deep breath, he nodded to the attendant who opened the gate, then slid onto the ice. Cheers came from the crowd again, and he couldn't tell if the cheers were louder than before, or lesser.

In either case, he kept his 'crowd-pleasing' smile on his face until he went back to his coach, where he let it drop to his resting face.

"Listen to me Harry," his coach said, and grabbed his shoulder while Harry rested his hands on the wall, "I want you to skate the best that you can. Something that you can be proud of. And don't be embarrassed to fall."

Harry stared, then felt a comforting squeeze on his shoulder, telling him silently that he didn't have to say anything. Which was good, for no words came to mind. It wasn't like he figured out the answer for what his coach asked him the other day, either.

"What are you skating for?"

"The first skater representing Great Britain is Harry Potter," the announcer spoke in accented English, and Harry pushed the memory out before he began to skate backwards, the crowd cheering once more, "he is skating to 'L'accordéoniste', a cover his younger sister sung for him."

"I have to change the curse words?" the memory of Jane asked in his head, and he stopped in the middle with a soft smile on his face.

The smile dropped when the song began, and he began to skate sliding steps back, raising his right hand up to his ears, then made a stream of blue flames as he brought it down, sliding back as the fire and sparks turned to harmless nothing before they could hit the ice.

Soon thoughts of things that had nothing to do with his Free Skate began to melt away, thought not completely. Harry kept his face neutral as he did his Combination Jump, first with the Quad Toe Loop, then a single, then a Double Salchow, which he popped. 

'Can't get on the podium now, why should I keep - '

Killing the thought he began his Step Sequence, acting as the dancer who had fallen in love, and lost his lover in the war.

'No, you idiot, not yet! The dancer hasn't lost his lover yet!'

Harry let out a short breath as he landed his second jump, then spun on his skating foot while he made for his Spread Eagle, remembering before it was too late that he had a Quad Loop planned at the end of it.

Which he landed perfectly.

'Doesn't matter.'

His sister's singing was drowned from the cheers, and he thinned his lips going into his Donut Spin, the colorful streak of light he created swirling along with him before he skated away to the second half of the song, reminding himself that he needed to bring himself down to capture that the dancer has lost his lover.

'You already failed.'

Losing his smile, he raised his leg and put his hands behind his back, swirling, then placed both of his feet on the ice as he made for his fifth jump. It was a Triple Toe Loop, wasn't it?

'Might as well quit now.'

Yes, yes it was a Toe Loop.

'Make it a single so you don't mess it up.'

Harry kept his face sad instead of frustrated as he skated on his right toe, then jumped. He had to place a hand on the unforgiving ice on his landing, and he could see Malfoy's smug face as he Edged away, until it formed into that blank look. Then he saw his sister frowning with disappointed.

'I have to make her proud,' he thought, remembering that he had a Lutz planned in his second half for points.

'It's too late for that.'

He hopped into a Flying Sit Spin, then up into a Layback Spin, held his hand out for a lover long dead after that, then skated to pick up speed before his other Edge. Breathing deeply he skated on his right leg, then his left, then leaned on his left toe before jumping.

His foot landed on his ice for a split second, before his mind told him that something was wrong with his skate. Then he felt the ice rise up to meet him, and something snapped.

Harry slid on the cold ice while taking quick breaths, and picked himself up before he slowed too much, knowing he had to finish with his Combination Spin, but the blade on his right leg was off, and he fell back down to the ground while a hand to his hip, confused.

The pain was steady, familiar, and blocked all noise around him. He knew what that meant, had felt it long ago. It meant that his magic was easing the pain, mixing with his body's endorphins. Before it would all fade away, and the pain would hit him with the force of a tidal wave.

Harry looked up when he saw movement, and blinked his burning eyes at the blurred figure stopping at the gate, no doubt waiting to see if he could stand and move. A shaking frown pulled his lips, and he pushed himself up from his left leg, despite his body's urging him to stay on the ground.

Loud cheers entered through his blocked ears, and he couldn't pick up his head, even though he wouldn't be able to see the crowd. Instead he used a simple spell to push himself to the gate, skating on his left foot to the opened gate.

"Hold still M - "

"Don't heal it." The medical staff's wand paused. "I'm done."

Whatever the medical staff said was lost to him, for a pain worse than when he broke his arm entered him suddenly and swiftly.

It was a deep pain, and it settled.

December 21, 2007

The iPod felt hot in his hands as he skipped the Metal song Sirius snuck in there, his throbbing hip leaving him too irritated to even consider listening to it. Unfamiliar landscapes rushed by him as the train made for the small coastal town where he would spend a year to heal his fractured hip, the other patrons in the car with him quiet and barely speaking to each other.

His fingers made to touch the metal that was under his skin, holding his fractured bones together, but he quickly moved it away.

"You have two choices," the doctor had begun while Harry had come off his high from the pain medicine, "to heal the normal way, or with potions. Keep in mind, with potions, you cannot take testosterone for six months after the fact. And, with you nearing to the two year span where you can Wake at any time, you need to make a choice to what you want with your body, for you would need to let your body's chemicals settle for three months after your Awakening."

His hands tightened around the iPod, accidentally stopping the music all together.

Not soon enough his stop came, and he stood with a wobble after the train slid to a screeching halt. Harry momentarily hating his stubbornness as he grabbed his things, until he remembered how amber eyes stared at him in sympathy; but his anger didn't last long as the pain came again, and threatened to bring him to his knees in agony.

With another burst of stubbornness, he gritted his teeth to walk off the train with the few meager things he had, knowing his family would be coming in two days with the rest of his things.

Included in those things were an English-Japanese notebook that Gellert made for him, just basic phrases he needed to know to survive in Japan, things that the two couldn't teach him in a week, and what the older man thought a good idea to have in a foreign country. A foreign country the same old man thought Harry could find rest at, away from blood-thirsty reporters ready to twist his leg for a story.

"You'll love the place," Gellert had told him what seems like a year ago, while Harry had to do his stretches so the bone would not stiffen, "it's nice and quiet, and barely anyone visits the town, anymore. It's perfect for your recovery, csillagom."

Harry frowned, and pull out his train card from his pocket as he fixed his crutch. The former tourist spot was somewhat behind in times, for not having elevator tracts in their train station, and yet they had a card reader.

He slid his card before walking through the gate, glad that there wasn't that many people walking around. It made looking for Ms. Okukawa easier, especially since the few people there didn't loiter around. Though they did give him curious glances, and he wondered if it was the crutch, or the fact that he clearly looked like he didn't knew where he was going.

Something blinding white caught his attention and he slowed, then turned to look at the poster that was held high by someone with a thin body. The sign has his name handwritten in English, so he figured that the person was Ms. Okukawa, the ballet instructor.

He walked over and greeted the person with the proper greeting like Albus taught him to, and blinked in surprised when the sign was put down to reveal a woman that looked to be in her late twenties, instead of someone who was supposed to be a former famous ballet dancer beginning her forties.

"Harry-san," the woman greeted in lightly accented English, holding out a hand for him to shake, which he did. "Do you want a brief tour of Hasetsu, or do you want to go straight to Yu-topia?"

His hip made his decision for him, then asked for her to wait a second before he quickly checked the clock on the iPod. "It's about time for me to take a pain pill," he answered the older woman, who nodded with a hum.

"The car's this way."

Harry followed her while holding onto his backpack's strap tightly, glad that the older woman didn't try to help him. She did, however, buy him a bottle of water to take his pill with, tossing him a granola bar from her purse for him to eat when they settled in her car, which he ate and took his pill, and promptly feel into a sleepy daze in the car.

In the morning, he could vaguely remember that he had met Mr. and Mrs. Katsuki, but he couldn't remember either of their first names. He also met their older daughter and younger son, who was either his age or older. Or maybe he was younger. There was something said about November, he was sure of it.

Harry frowned, his nose still getting used to the new smells while his eyes got accustomed to the darkness, and also the new sounds that came from outside. With a frown he sat up in bed, and there was a faint buzz in his body from the pill that he took yesterday. Slowly he got out of bed and to the door in his room, which turned out to be a closet, the few clothes he took with him hanged up inside.

With a hum he closed the door and looked around, then saw the other door, that would no doubt lead outside. A deep breath in, then he walked slowly to the door as his bladder told him to find a toilet quickly.

The door to his left in the hall was slightly opened, a faint light coming from it, and probably occupied with someone who wasn't a costumer. Yet, before he could hobble to it and lightly knock on the door, a tiny, curly brown haired dog poked their head out from the crack, then wagged their tail while walking towards him, nail clipping on the wooden floor.

A male voice spoke with a questioned tone from within the room in a foreign language, which he supposed was Japanese.

The dog - poodle - paused, turned, and gave a soft bark.

Harry heard the person get off of a bed, and looked down when he felt the dog place their paws on his good leg, tail wagging lazily. He leaned down as much as his hip would let him to pet the dog, but had to stand up straight when there came a growing ache.

The door slid opened as the poodle whined and jumped to his retreating hand for more attention, drawing the familiar teen's gaze away from Harry to the dog.

"Vic-chan," the other teen - same age, something inside his brain told him - said, and the poodle immediately walked over to the fellow skater - right, he was a skater too, wasn't he? - who then knelt to pick up his dog.

'We shared two Cups last year,' Harry remembered, then greeted, "morning Yuuri." Then he frowned, "is it morning?"

The taller teen looked up from the dog to him, said poodle seeming comfortable in his arms.

"Hai - I mean, yes. Good morning, Harry." An awkward silence started to fall. "Do you remember where the dining area was?" Yuuri asked before Harry could speak, then added, "you were, kinda out of it last night."

He winced, "did I do anything inappropriate?"

The taller teen looked down at the poodle, "you just, kept petting Vic-chan, and said he was a living teddy bear."

Harry let out a relieved breath, remembering how Jane said his drugged self had thought it was a good idea to try and dance one of his old routines in the hospital's halls.

"Looks like he's forgiven me," Harry commented, then looked away from the happy poodle to ask, "where's the loo?"

Yuuri gave him a confused look, "loo?"

"Toilet," he quickly corrected.

The taller made an 'oh' sound before he began to lead him to a door, "most of the newer rooms have their own bathrooms, but since this is the 'family' side of the inn, there was barely any renovations over here..."

Harry thanked the - nervous? Shy? - taller before he walked into the room, hearing Yuuri talk to the poodle in his arms while the other teen walked away, sliding the door closed behind him.

Done with his business quickly, he left the toilet and went back to his room, and noticed from his window that the sky was turning pink, and he should probably get dressed for the day. Which he did, slowly, and wondered why - though his trousers were on right - his shirt was on backwards.

'Who helped me change?'

A phantom smell of cigarette smoke entered his nose, giving him a slight headache as well as nausea.

Once he was done he checked the time, then figured it was too early to go anywhere, and he didn't want to bother Yuuri. So he listened to a few songs while he waited for 7 to roll around, though left his door halfway opened, just in case someone knocked on his door and he couldn't hear them.

Which seemed to be the case, if the tiny dog jumping up on his bed after thirty minutes of songs was an indication. The poodle carefully made his way up to him from Harry's good side, then laid his tiny head on Harry's armpit, wagging his fluffy tail as brown eyes kept glancing at him. He tilted his head up to look at the door while stopping his song, making sure to scratch the fluffy head as he did so.

"Are you fit enough to eat breakfast in the dining room, Harry-san?" an older woman with blond hair asked, long hair held back by a headband. "Or do you want your breakfast brought here?"

"I can stand," he said, feeling his cheek get a few licks from the cuddly dog.

"Any preferences?" the older woman asked, her hand reaching for something in her outfit's - there was a specific name for the robe, but Harry couldn't think of it at the moment - pocket, then laid her hand at her side.

"I don't have a preference," he said, sitting up slow so he didn't jostle the poodle. "And I'm not allergic to anything."

"Alright," she said, then walked off.

The poodle picked up his head to look at the opened doorway, then laid back down when the older woman was out of sight. Harry scratched his soft back with a smile, then slowly got up from the bed. The poodle watching him with expressive brown eyes as he stretched for a while, then followed him out.

Yuuri was at school - apparently Japanese students go to school on Saturdays - so the few regulars - plus those that showed up later during the day - decided that those hours should be spent showing the foreigner the wonders of Japanese football, especially a team called Sagan Tosu.

Then, when that was done, they spent some time telling Harry a bit about Yuuri's skating career, obviously having a sense of pride that someone from their hometown was steadily becoming one of Japan's best skaters.

Said skater came back home as Mr. Mutou was telling Harry about the Cup of China in broken English, and Yuuri immediately froze in the doorway, seeming to have caught on what they were talking about.

Then Yuuri muttered a few words in Japanese before he walked - well, ran - off.

Harry stared at the empty spot, then to Mr. Mutou when the old man spoke some words with a sigh.

"He gets flustered easily," Mrs. Yajima told him, taking the remote and changing it to what looked like a crime show, "he'll be better in about thirty minutes."

What the older woman said was true, and after Harry retrieved his crutch from his room, he was walking the street of Hasetsu - gritting his teeth at the pain that flared every once in a while from his hip - with a soft speaking Yuuri, instead of one that looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

The taller teen showed him the corner store, the general food store, a few clothing stores, where his school was located - Yuuri was intrigued that Hogwarts' students only went to school for seven years - and then the rink that his friends ran.

They stopped at said rink - Ice Castle, it was named - to visit said friends, and Harry was introduced to the couple's year old triples, and their rather unique names.

"Feel free to visit later when your injury heals," Yuko told him with a smile while they left, and he thanked her before following Yuuri out.

"Do you want to go back to the inn?" the taller teen asked as they walked down the stairs, and Harry hummed in question, holding the cold metal railing with a death grip.

Yuuri looked to the ground with tight lips before he answered, "you look like you're in pain."

Harry took another step, then answered, "I figured it would be best to balance my inner schedule with Hasetsu's time."

The taller gave him a concerned look, but didn't bring it up as they walked in silence back to Yu-topia, where Yuuri's mother had made them both miso soup; which was delicious, but a bit too sweet for his taste.

In the morning, Harry ate the egg omelet and rice meal Mrs. Katsuki made for him before taking his pill, and he was not that loopy when his family arrived that afternoon. Though he frowned when Vic-chan left him to greet the new arrival that walked into the dining area.

"You're a living teddy bear," Jane said as she squatted to pet Vic-chan, who placed his fluffy paws on her chest to lick her face.

"That's what I said!"

Jane snorted, then stood before making her way over. "Sirius and Remus are talking with the owners," his sister said while sitting down next to him, "making double sure that everything's in order. They'll probably want to talk with you about your Seventh Year, too."

Harry hummed, and reached for Vic-chan again, who gave him a look before walking back into his arms, laying down on Harry's bicep before letting out a soft huff.

"He's sad cause Yuuri's practicing at Ice Castle for his Nationals with his coach who's allergic to dogs," Harry explained, trying to make the poodle feel better with pets on his head, "and Yuuri would be leaving soon, also."

Jane hummed, then asked him, "who's Yuuri?"

"Their son, and a fellow figure skater. Yuuri Katsuki skates for Japan."

"Couldn't have guest that last part," Jane said dryly, motioning all around her.

He would have sat up to give her a look, if he wasn't so comfortable on the floor with Vic-chan.

December 29, 2007

A scratch and whine on the other end of his door drew his attention away from Yamada, and he frowned before he stood up from his chair, then limped over. Vic-chan gave him another whine when Harry slid the door opened, then quickly walked over to Yuuri's door, sitting down before the poodle gave a soft bark.

Harry didn't bother to tell the dog that Yuuri wasn't there, and instead limped over to slid it open a bit, then walked back, sliding his own door closed behind him. There was a slight dull pain as he sat down in his chair, and it seemed Yamada began skating to a classical song, though it was one that he didn't recognize.

'That's a good final pose,' he thought as the woman stood back up from her kneeling position, and brought a hand to his hip as she gave a small bow to the cheering crowd.

There was another whine at his door as Yuuri was called to the ice, and he turned his head to stare before he stood, limping over to slid the door open. The poodle gave him a soft 'boof', and Harry moved to let him in.

Vic-chan sniffed around as Harry went back to his laptop, seeing that Yuuri was finished getting used to the rink and skating back to his coach. Harry frowned as the two exchanged words, seeing that the taller teen looked slightly nervous. He only saw the other have a major freak out - panic attack, Mari called it - once, but he hoped that the older could fight through it and skate something he could be proud of.

The poodle push his little paws on Harry's good leg, and he turned as Yuuri made his way to the middle of the rink while the announcer spoke. Vic-chan gave a little hop, and Harry picked up the poodle, watching the dog settle for a second before he looked back up at the screen.

Floppy ears picked themselves up as best they could when the music began to play, and Harry figured that the other teen played his two songs a lot around Vic-chan. The poodle stared at the screen as Harry fixed his glasses, then cleaned them quickly on his shirt when he saw a smudge in the corner.

When he looked back at the screen, the other teen was coming out of a Broken-leg Spin. Then he began what looked like a Step Sequence, and it was different from what he saw at the other Cups, more beautiful, yet going to the music, like before. There were few skaters who could move like that, and Harry could see the taller teen rising up to be as great as the living legends.

Then Yuuri fumbled on his Triple Loop, and Harry figured that Yuuri had a ways to go before reaching that status.

'We both do,' he thought, then grimaced at the dull pain in his hip that intensified, then settled to a dull ache, and Harry let out a long sigh, relaxing to the unfamiliar Japanese song coming from his speakers, the woman's voice calming.

It didn't surprise him that Daisuke won gold - apparently for the third time, from what the announcers said - but Yuuri won bronze, and Harry learned the wonders of katsudon when Yuuri came home the next day.

February 14, 2008

The cut chocolates were a bit misshapen, but Harry thought he did okay. He separated them, wrapped them with a quick spell, then put them in their respective bags. The Nishigori and the rest of the Katsuki family were busy in the afternoon, but Yuuri should be in his room doing homework, so that would be his first stop.

Harry put them in his shoulder bag before walking - his limp was getting better every day - to the back of the inn, knocking on the wood of the slightly opened door when he reached it. As always, Vic-chan poked his head out and wagged his tail lazily, and Harry bent down to pet the poodle - the pain at his hip either real or phantom - before Yuuri got to the door, and the air stilled a few seconds later.

His pride reared it's ugly head as Harry stood, but he pushed it down as he straightened his shirt.

"I'm sorry," Harry began, looking Yuuri in the eye, "I shouldn't have said what I did. I know that, other people grow up differently than me, and..." Harry looked away to get his thoughts straight. "I didn't mean to insinuate that you would treat Nikiforov like the paparazzi would, or that you would treat the ground he walks on like gold."

Brown eyes looked away with an unsure look, lips thinning, and Harry hoped that he wasn't about to have another anxiety attack right in front of him, because Harry didn't know what the fuck to do if the other teen did.

"It's okay," Yuuri finally said, voice soft, but not filled with panic. "I-I hope you're not mad, but I looked you up." Harry didn't frown, but he was uncomfortable. "And, I can see why you would hate people who only know you from papers, since most of it was lies. And why..."

He nodded slowly, "yeah." The silence became awkward again, and Harry decided to open his bag. "I made this as a form of apology, and also, because I value our friendship." Brown eyes looked down at the chocolate in his hand, and grew red at an alarming rate. Harry felt his own face start to warm in embarrassment. "I misheard what you meant by your definition of Valentine's day in terms of Japan. It's basically the same, isn't it?"

"Kinda," Yuuri muttered while still staring at the bag. Brown eyes flickered up, face still red. "Did you, only make chocolate for me?"

"Aah, no. I made some for the rest of your family, and the Nishigori family." Yuuri nodded slowly. "Maybe, you can tell them what my intentions are, before I give them a bag."

The taller teen gave a breathy laugh, "maybe. Let me finish my homework before we go?"

"Sure."

Yuuri gave a small smile, then motioned for him to enter his room, and Harry did.

March 14, 2008

Harry looked at each bag and box on the table in front of him, positioned so that it didn't mess with his bowl of udon noodles, or his drink. His eyes flickered up to the smiling faces, then over to Yuuri for an explanation.

"It's White Day," the taller teen told him, like that was suppose to make sense to him. "It's where the ones who got chocolate last month recuperate if they want to," Yuuri explained further, cheeks slightly red.

Harry felt his own cheeks heat up, embarrassment setting in his bones as Takeshi gave a hearty laugh and patting his shoulder heavily.

March 23, 2008

Exiting Scandinavium area, Harry held onto Jane's arm, feeling that he was going to pass out at any moment.

Or fly into an uncontrollable rage.

"It's Skeeter, you know how she is."

Harry grunted, looking for the car that Sirius rented, since he needed something to scream bloody murder into without attracting attention.

"Just imagine her dying in the most horrible way possible to make yourself feel better. That's what I do."

Harry gave a snort, but said nothing else, frowning when he couldn't find the car in the darkness.

"Gave her a right talking to, though. She's gonna be feeling that burn for - well, that's a handsome bird." Narrowing his eyes in question, Harry turned, seeing Jane look at someone coming out of the sliding doors. "No, that's a bloke. That Russian guy your friend likes, right? So, is he some kinda fae, or is his silver hair dyed?"

Harry moved his eyes over to who she was pointed at, and saw the long haired Russian skater talking with an old man, who was either his father, or his coach.

"Yeah, that's Victor. Not sure about the fae blood. Could be that his magic messed with his genetics. Remember that Korean skater with the black-green hair, or that attendant with the dark pink eyes you found cute?"

Jane glared at him before she frowned, "doesn't that get confusing? Viktor and Victor."

"Except I know Viktor," he told her while crossing his arms, then frowned down at his chest.

"Hell of a lot more attractive than Viktor - oh, I looked too long at him, wave with me Harry."

He turned to give his sister a look, then waved like she said, and stared in confusion when he saw Victor smiling wide in return before walking over. An action that the old man didn't seem to like, given the tone he used when he spoke in - what Harry assumed was - Russian.

"Hello," the taller greeted with a thick accent, waving his hand quicker; which had painted black-blue nails, he saw.

"Konbanwa," Harry greeted back while the man stopped in front of them, then closed his eyes when he realized what he said.

"Oh, you speak Japanese, Harry?"

"Well, I needed - " Harry stared at the older skater, barely looking at the older man as he walked up and stopped behind Victor. "How do you know my name?"

"Annok - well, Annie, she told me about you." The older skater seemed to smile brighter, "it's always great to see another transgender person be so successful."

'I'm not successful.'

"You're transgender too?" Jane asked, a curious tone to her voice.

"Yes," Victor spoke with a happy voice, "I'm a man. Began my hormones when I was thirteen, after I tore a muscle in my knee. Decided to take the season off to get everything sorted."

The older man made what sounded like a retort, and the older skater turned with a wide smile, though Harry spent enough time with the twins to know what a shit-eating grin looked like, regardless of how it was dressed.

"I'm looking for a doctor right now," he admitted, and backed away at the bright blues eyes that shined down at him when the other turned.

"For which?" Victor asked, the older man behind him still fuming. "I can recommend you to two that are the best I know."

"He's not planning to go to Russia anytime soon," Jane told Victor, who hummed.

"So you plan to in the future?" The older skater mused, the smile more genuine than before. Then he turned to the old man behind him, speaking in rapid Russian.

The older man yelled right back, and Harry stared at them when they went back and forth, then leaned back when the eccentric skater turned so quickly his silver hair swung like a whip.

"Do you have a coach in mind?" Victor asked, the old man glaring a hole into the Russian skater's head.

Harry stared.

"Daina Volkova," Jane answered for him.

A pout, which was gone as quick as it came, "she's a good coach, from what I've seen of her. But, if that doesn't work out - " a long finger was pointed to the old man " - Yakov will take you in."

His eyes moved to said man, who had narrowed eyes, but they were directed at the Russian skater. Despite that, Harry could feel no animosity towards him nor the older skater, so he figured that the old man - coach, apparently - was just tired of his student's antics.

"I'll keep that in mind," Harry said, "ari - err, thanks, Victor."

The Russian skater said something in Russian, which was probably 'you're welcome', before pulling out his phone, "commemorative photo?"

Harry blinked, "I...sure."

Victor smiled back before handing his phone to his coach, then plastered himself to Harry's side. It was disheartening to have the taller squat slightly so they could be side-by-side, so Harry only managed to give a reflex smile before the picture was taken.

The taller straightened while saying "see you next season, Harry" before hopping to his coach's side, who immediately began to - what looked like, at least - berate his student while handing him back the phone. Or just talk with him, it was hard to tell with the rough language.

"We'll find a doctor close by," Jane told him, then began to look around as Harry hummed.

"So...do you think Remus is holding Sirius back from ripping Skeeter apart, or let him at her?"

Harry slowly looked over to his sister, then immediately ran back into the building with a curse, ignoring his hip.

May, 31, 2008

When he finished his workout, the sun was bright and high in the sky, and he stood on the bench to stare at the view the rays created. The town was beautiful to look at, and he could see why people would visit every year, even why someone would settle down in the coastal town. Maybe, if he wasn't set on going to Russia, he would have settled in the town, too.

'I need to get better at skating,' he thought, watching the water slowly moving under the bridges sparkle, 'I need to show the world how good Jane's songs are.'

He let out a long breath, then jumped off the bench, feeling a sharp phantom pain from his hip that he shook off.

"Ohayou Harry," Yuko greeted as he walked through the doors, "have you picked your Free Skate yet?"

"Dayne told me that I should wait until I'm with Volkova," he told her, taking the locker key before walking to the benches.

"Oh, have you been accepted by her?"

"Hai. The paperwork will be sent by fax tomorrow, once she's finished making the contact."

While he undid his shoe laces, Yuko let out a dreamy sigh, "you'll be skating with so many living legends. Anna Dvorak, Akash Chakma and her dancing partner Jennifer Nix, also Victor Nikiforov."

"Victor's skating under Yakov," he told her, sliding his shoes off.

"I know, but you'd be in the same city as him."

Harry grimaced, but kept his mouth shout about her hero worship.

'He's a human being,' he thought but didn't say, 'and not a god.' 

Harry winced at the memory of his talk with Yuuri after Harry saw his walls plastered with Victor Nikiforov posters, even one that seemed to be from Russia.

'Normal people don't know how the media is,' he thought while Yuko hummed a song while writing in her book, then he slid on his new skates.

"Hate breaking new skates in," he commented as he stood, making a note to wear his old ones tomorrow.

"Want me to check the screws for you?"

A phantom pain came to his hip at those words, but he ignored it once more.

"If you don't mind," he said, and watched her slid her book the side, place her hand on the desk, and jumped over with "not a problem" and a large smile.

Placing his hands on the bench he leaned back, holding his right foot up high so she didn't have to bend far to look at the bottoms.

"Seems to be all in order," she said after putting his left foot down, stepping back. "Do you want to skate a basic routine, or just glide around?"

"I think my hip is healed enough for me to skate with jumps now," he told her, standing. "I was thinking my first Free Skate routine, 'Beethoven's 9th Symphony'."

She gave a thoughtful hum, "if you think you're up for it." Then she turned with her hands on her hips, "I might have the song lying around, but maybe not your version. Can you skate while I check?"

"Alright," he said, then slid on his gloves as he walked to the double doors.

The room was cold as always, and Takeshi was doing lazy circles on the ice while his - now toddlers - watched their father with wondered eyes. However, as the doors closed behind him loudly, all three pairs of eyes looked over to him, then waddled over in their puffed coats.

"Ohayou Harry," Takeshi called out from the ice, and Harry greeted him back before looking down at the tug on his hand, and saw all three pairs of eyes look up at him.

"Ohayou," he greeted the triplets, and didn't say anything else, because his Japanese - though better than when he first got to Hasetsu, since he was forced to either learn or rely heavily on Yuuri - was terrible, and the toddlers knew no English.

Lutz continued to tug on his hand, and he looked up at their father while the older came to the gate, but didn't put on his guards.

"She wants to be picked up," Takeshi translated for him, and Harry looked back down at the girl, who tugged his hand harder with a stubborn look.

"Okay," he said, then picked her up.

She wasn't as heavy as he thought she was, and Harry looked over to the other girls, but they went to their father, who picked each up before stepping back on the ice. Harry watched him with worry, but Takeshi skated with them in his arms with ease, as if he did it all the time. Which, considering, he probably did.

Lutz tugged on his jacket, and he looked down to see her point at the ice.

"Just skate around for a bit," Takeshi told him, "they'll tire of it in about a minute."

Harry frowned as he looked back to the ice, but took off his guards with magic, then secured Lutz on his left hip. Taking a deep breath he stepped onto the ice, and skated slow, ready to grab the wall in case she made a sudden movement.

Luck was on his side, for he only had to skate around the rink once before she got bored.

"There you go," he said to the girl as he placed his hand on the wall to stop, and she didn't even look at him.

Smiling slightly he pulled her off him and placed her on the other side, then moved away from the wall.

"Harry - " startled he jumped, and quickly balanced himself when he slid " - oh, sorry."

With a long breath out, he looked over to Yuko.

"It's okay. Did you find the song?"

The woman nodded, a remote in her hand, "just tell me when to pres play."

"Could you play it right now?" he asked. "I need to remember the routine."

"Of course."

He thanked her, then went to the center, mindful of Takeshi with one of his daughters who seemed like she wanted to skate forever, then closed his eyes to wait for the music.

The intense music started, and he felt it enter his body just as it did last time. Faintly, he remembered how the beginning went, but only faintly. His body moved, yet he hopped where he knew a Jump was, or spun on one foot for complicated Spins, ignoring the panic that came each time he landed on his right foot, and instead focused on the odd balance he felt.

"Well you did have surgery recently," Yuko told him when Harry confided in her, and patted her chest lightly when he asked her what she meant.

"Oh." Harry looked down, then back up. "I think I should practice for another minute before I try my full routine, is that okay?"

"Take all the time you need," she said with a warm smile similar to Mrs. Weasley, and he thanked her before he skated to the center.

Moving slow to test his flexibility - funny, that he still didn't have the Danseur flexibility for that dreaded Spin - before he repeated the song in his head, keeping everything simple so he didn't get tired. It was his first time on the ice in a long time, he didn't need to break something else.

"Ready," he called out while skating to the center, and let out a long breath when he stopped.

The music began and he picked his head up, threw his right arm to the side, spun on his foot, then held his pose with his back to the judges - no, he was in a public rink, in Hasetsu. He shouldn't give it his all, just skate to know that he could.

Still, it didn't stop his limbs from tensing, to the point that he stumbled out of his Double Lutz.

But he didn't fall once.

July 1, 2008

Harry watched what Yuuri did in the mirror before trying to copy him, and failed. Minako gave him a frown, then a short nod, and Harry waited a beat before he tried it again, and still couldn't stay bent like Yuuri for that long, or that deep, and had to catch himself before he fell.

"What you lack as a Danseur you make up for in reflexes," the older woman commented in Japanese, and Harry nodded in agreement. "Though you could be a Danseur if you put your mind to it," she stated, then told him to take a break before she talked to Yuuri in rapid Japanese.

Harry backed away to give Yuuri space, then decided to check his phone when it seemed like it was going to take a while, smiling down at Vic-chan when the sleepy poodle picked his head up from his puppy bed.

His friends sent him texts about what happened around Hogwarts that week, and Jane sent him a text describing a new girl she was dating. Since Harry didn't know about the first girl she dated, he was a bit disgruntled, but knew that if the girl broke her heart - which why did they break up otherwise? - Jane would have put her in her place.

Draco sent him a voicemail via his father's phone this time, and Harry looked over at the two instead of looking for his earphones, and shivered at Minako's glare which told him that he didn't hear her call his name. Harry dropped his phone immediately and apologized with a deep bow.

"Give me the Positions."

Harry grimaced at the floor, then stood straight with a blank face before going to his spot.

His limbs and back felt rightly stretched out when they left her studio, and he gave Yuuri a soft hum when he noticed that his friend was staring ahead with thoughtful eyes. The poodle stayed in the middle of them while they walked, even when Harry caught sight of Mr. Uchida, and left them with quick words to talk with the old man when Yuuri seemed like he didn't want to talk with anyone.

"I'll wait here," his friend said softly as he walked away, and Harry turned to give a nod before he reached the older man.

"My granddaughter unfortunately can't take Oliver," Mr. Uchida told him after their greetings, and Harry looked down at the two dogs, the puppy resting her front paws on his good leg with joy. "They are moving to a building in Tokyo that doesn't allow dogs."

He hummed, knowing how set the little girl's heart was at the puppy, even naming her after her favorite Disney move. He reached his hand to pet the happy Kishu behind her pointed ears with a frown. "You'll have to give her to the adoption clinic, then?"

Mr. Uchida nodded sadly, and Harry looked down at the puppy again, getting a soft bark in the face when he stopped rubbing her soft ear.

"My godparents are making sure my apartment allows a pet, in case they visit with Prongs."

"Then, you'll take her."

Harry flickered his eyes up to the other dog, then down to the ground.

"I'll have to check with the travel laws, first. But, I can take her right now, so you don't get in trouble with your landlord."

'I'll have to call Gellert to help with the Visa,' he thought as Mr. Uchida thanked him, and took the leash that was handed to him. 'I hope the Katsukis' won't mind the extra dog.'

Instead of giving him a look when he walked up to his friend, however, Yuuri just seemed anxious. Harry curled the leach around his hand, and gave a glance to Mr. Uchida's retreating back.

"Do you want to walk around with me," he suggested nonchalantly.

Yuuri nodded, and Harry began to walk with his friend to the beach, the dogs walking in front of them with wagging tails. Harry took out his phone and earbuds, sliding them into his ears before he plugged it in. Then he opened his phone and opened his voicemail.

"Zdravstvuj," he heard the familiar voice of Mr. Solovyov greet in his ears, "my son wants to talk with you, again. I am sorry to bother you."

There was a noise of the phone being passed on.

"Privyet," Draco greeted, "when are you coming to Russia already? Volkova already said you have talent to be taught by her, and the temper...temper...will to learn, so what's taking so long?"

He heard the voice of Draco's father speak in the background, and Draco speaking - not arguing, just speaking - right back.

"Call one of my parents when you finally arrive in St. Petersburg," Draco spoke, "we'll meet you at the airport to bring you to the rink."

Mr. Solovyov talked again in the background.

"Fine, your apartment. Dasvindanya."

The phone beeped, then voicemail told him there where no new messages.

Harry took his earphones out of his ears, then slid his phone in his jacket before looking to Yuuri, who had that thoughtful look in his eyes again. Leaving his friend to think, Harry glanced down at the red and white dog, who seemed to still be getting along with Vic-chan, thank god. Harry then moved his gaze away from them and took in the sights, knowing that he would have to leave the coastal town soon, and their inhabitants.

A heavy feeling settled in his heart, and he checked to make sure they were still walking in the right direction before he pulled out his phone again, taking a picture of both Vic-chan and Oliver, who were both studying the bird that was picking at trash on the trash can. They - thankfully - didn't chase after the bird, only barked at it, which made it fly away.

Yuuri said nothing when they arrived, and sat down next to him on the sea wall. Then his friend rested his head on his knees, which Vic-chan tried to dig into, before settling for licking Yuuri's visible face. Harry turned to Oliver and patted her head, then took the leash off, patting her on the side to silently tell her she could go. The dog blinked brown eyes at him before walking onto the sand, giving a happy hop before running to the lazy tide.

Harry didn't look over at Vic-chan's whine, only stretch his leg out while looking to the glistening sea, the afternoon sun shining bright on the blue waters.

The sky was turning pink when Vic-chan went to play with Oliver, and the sun disappeared completely when Yuuri turned to face him. Harry looked over while his stomach growled in hunger. Yuuri immediately closed his mouth and turned away, but Harry placed a hand on his so he wouldn't stand up, then moved his own hand back to his lap.

"What do you want to talk about, Yuuri?"

The taller teen stared at the ocean ahead of him, with a blank face that looked on the verge of panic, or just thinking something he was anxious to ask. Harry looked over to the dogs playing with what looked like a sea shell, relaxed when they didn't seem like they were try to eat it, and waited for his friend to speak.

Yuuri was silent for a few seconds more, then turned to him again.

"I went to the doctor today," his friend began slowly, and Harry gave him his undivided attention, "since I've been feeling, odd recently." Harry's fingers curled.  "I'm a Beta. A full one."

"So soon," he heard himself say, then scrambled for something else, "so - that's good right? You'll be able to skate on the same ice as Victor now."

Yuuri gave a small, short smile at that, so progress.

"I'm sure you'd take the whole two years, Harry." He tightened his fingers further. "You're stubborn like that."

Harry stared, then smiled, "says the bloke who almost twisted his ankle with a Quad Salchow while he already had a sprain."

Yuuri smiled sheepishly back, "well..."

Snorting he leaned against his friend's shoulder, then stood. "Let's go eat at Nagahama Ramen for dinner." His friend nodded, then got up slowly. Harry whistled for the dogs, then sighed when they ran to him. "Going to miss this place's ramen."

"Then make sure to stay in Yu-topia again."

Harry hummed, then began to walk when the dogs stopped in front of them, "text me when you're not training so we can meet up."

Brown eyes stared at him, then away.

"I don't, have your number."

"Oh. So that's what I forgot."

His friend smiled at the ground, and Harry turned, trying not to think of his own Presenting while they walked.

July 20, 2008

"Sorry," Yuuri apologized, and Harry held the other's shoulders when his friend tried to bow again.

"It's fine, Yuuri. I'd rather you further your career than celebrate my birthday, any day." Lips tightened together. "Besides, you're getting to know your new coach, and the new city you'll be living in for college."

Brown eyes glistened at him, and Harry only had a second to plant his feet before Yuuri hugged him fiercely. Harry tensed slightly, then hugged his friend back, giving him a few comforting pats.

"Arigatou gozaimasu," Yuuri spoke into his shoulder.

He smiled slightly, "you don't have to thank me. Just do your best, both on the ice, and at school, when you get back." Harry started to let go, then added, "and don't forget what you're skating for."

Brown eyes blinked at him, then shined with a determined light.

"I won't."

August 1, 2008

"He's not there, Vic-chan," he told the poodle, who whined at Yuuri's door. Oliver nosed the poodle in worry as Harry stared, then slid his door further opened before he walked to Yuuri's, "c'mon. You can sleep in my bed tonight."

Vic-chan sniffed around the room when Harry opened the door - as if he would find Yuuri in the floorboards - and stayed by Yuuri's bed until Harry called for him, though with a sulk.

"He's coming back," he told the tiny poodle as he laid down the pillow on the free spot on his bed, Oliver sniffing it before curling at the edge of the pillow.

Wet brown eyes stared up at him before laying on the makeshift bed, and stared at the door.

August 7, 2008

"Harry!"

Snorting awake Harry sat up, and watched in bemusement as Yuuri jumped onto his bed and placed the laptop on his lap, Vic-chan jumping up a second later.

Then earbuds were put into his ears rather delicately, "I found my new Short Program song."

Harry blinked his tired eyes up at his friend as music began to play in his ears, sounding like some sort of classical piece. It was a good song, yes, and if Yuuri was so hyped about it, then that meant that he could 'marry' the song on the ice.

But the sun wasn't even out yet.

'Be nice,' he told himself, and smiled tiredly, "that's great. I can't wait to see you dancing this against Victor."

In the bright light of the laptop screen, he saw Yuuri's cheeks redden.

August 15, 2008

His eyes were slightly heavy as the plane took off, and it wasn't just because he had been yawning for the past hour, though that was only going to get worse, since St. Petersburg had a 5 hour time difference; meaning he'd have to stay up, or else messing up his sleeping schedule.

'Would have been worse with a portkey,' he thought with a grimace, barely paying attention to the movie playing on the screen.

When it became clear that he couldn't focus on it, he pulled out his notebook, then flipped to the routine he had the skeleton of. In the e-mail his new coach sent him, Volkova told him that it might be best to repeat his old routine from his Junior days, his very first one at that. 'To show the world that it is the new you,' the older woman had written in the e-mail.

'I'm still the same,' he thought, but knew that wasn't true.

Even since his Junior days, he had skated to beat Malfoy, to rub it in his pointy, snooty face. Yes, it was fun to do so when he was young, and he didn't regret his time spent on the ice, or his ruined feet; but it wasn't why he sought out Riddle in the first place. He had wanted to make Jane happy, to enjoy the sport that she couldn't do. 

And now, he would bring Jane's singing to life, enlarge her career, and grab the attention of Opera teachers for her. To do that, he'd have to - well, not get along with Malfoy, but ignore him, like the blond had ignored him before Harry fractured his hip. However, if Malfoy was the same as before, Harry wouldn't hold back in his snide comments.

Maybe he'd punch Malfoy in the face, too, if it was as bad as Fourth Year.

Break his nose in if it was Fifth Year level, his jaw if it was Third.

Tapping his pencil on the paper, he pushed down his dark feelings, then changed his old Free Skate Combination Jump to a Triple Loop-Double Flip, then moved the Mohawk Turn towards the beginning. Skimming it all again, he frowned, then moved the Lunge to the middle. After that, he had to figure out his other seven Jumps, and how to work in his three Spins, too.

'The song is too short,' he thought with a long breath out, and moved his leg up from the stretch, then quickly leaning forward to catch what was sliding out of his journal.

The photo stared at him from the bottom of his airplane floor, and the Katsuki and Nishigori family smiled up at him, Vic-chan licking Harry's bare biscep while being cradled in Yuuri's arms. His heart tightened at the image, then picked it up, and placed it in the back of his journal.

When his plane landed, he wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in his new bed, and never wake up again. But he had to find the loft, which meant finding his godfather, first. Not Sirius, unfortunately, but Remus. Possibly because his godfather got him a damn loft instead of an apartment.

Harry waited for the majority of the passengers to walk out of the plane before he grabbed his shoulder bag, and left with a long yawn that brought tears to his eyes. Once outside, he squished his nose when he smelt how different the air was compared to Hasetsu.

More...dirty was a good word to describe it.

Holding the strap of his bag, Harry followed the large crowd, then walked to the doors that were obviously the front of the building, looking for his godfather as he went.

A body latched onto him as he turned his head to the left, and he made to throw the person off, until he saw familiar red hair.

"Jane," he greeted, grunting when she hugged him tighter. "So, how is St. Petersburg?"

"Hasetsu was way better. Locals were friendlier, and the smell of piss wasn't in the air."

"Doesn't smell like piss," he commented, then asked, "where is Remus?"

"Looking after that adorable puppy of yours," she told him with a wide smile, not letting go of him, "as well as making room for your belated birthday present."

Harry narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but knew it was better not to ask when she was in that mood..

"I guess I'll hail a taxi, then."

Jane nodded, following him out of the building while humming a song.

The building that was going to be his home for a few years was large, and overlooked the river of the city. Harry glanced at all the unfamiliar sights before he was led to an elevator by Jane, and let out another tired yawn.

"This is it," Jane said with a smile, giving a knock to the door before she swung it opened with the key.

Harry hummed, and walked inside when she motioned for him to go first.

It was a large area, and he saw that he was under the second floor, with stairs built into the wall with no railing. He walked passed what was more than likely a coat closet to his right, then a book shelf built into the same wall, until the hallway ended and the kitchen began. Harry narrowed his eyes at the large ass refrigerator that he didn't need, then to the stairs when he heard the unfamiliar sound of nails clipping on metal.

Oliver patted her feet on the wooden floor before getting on her hind legs, curled tail wagging like mad. Harry smiled and bent down, quickly taking off his glasses before he was tackled by the licking monster, scratching her back when he gained his balance.

"She's a good dog, Harry."

He opened one eye, looked at Remus, and smiled, then stood up, to which Oliver gave him a small 'boof' at.

"Hello Remus," he greeted, wiping his face and glasses with his shirt before putting them back on. "So, what is my belated birthday present that Jane alluded to? Did Sirius take in another dog off the street?"

Amber eyes shined, then looked over his shoulder.

Harry turned his head as Jane jumped into his view, "surprise!"

He waited a beat for effect.

"I want a refund."

His sister snorted, then grabbed his arm, "c'mon. I need to show you the little walkway we have." She pointed up to the right, and he looked up to see shelves on said walkway. "It ends with a desk at the end so we can look at the city through the giant windows we got. Our dance and recording studio is between here, can't miss it. And there's also the two bedrooms - I got the master, of course - and also the large guest bathroom that I'm honestly jealous you get. Oh, and say hello to the sofa Sirius got us, it's L-shaped!"

August 16, 2008

Harry could barely take a glance around the new - large - rink before a child with long red-brown hair latched onto him.

"Harry!" Draco greeted, then spoke a string of Russian words at him while seemingly trying to crack Harry's back.

A woman's deep voice spoke at the end of the rink, and the child - ten now - hummed in disagreement before letting go.

"Welcome to Russia," the older woman - Volkova - greeting before speaking to Draco, who frowned deeply before making for the ice.

"He's skating already," Harry stated more than asked, watching Draco do lazy 8's on the ice.

Volkova gave a sharp nod in his peripheral vision.

"However, he is prohibited from competition until he is thirteen."

'That makes sense,' he thought, glancing over when he saw another skater at the end of the rink jump in the air, landing clean.

"Do you have your routine with you?"

"Hai - yes ma'am."

She didn't give him a look, and took his journal before telling him to do the basics of his routine on the ice, and that they would go over his routine after.

Harry nodded, going back to where he saw the lockers.

August 17, 2008

"Want to get dinners with us, Harry?" Draco asked, hands in his pockets as he dug his toe into the locker's floor.

"Sorry, but I needed to study for my professor - teaching job."

Dark brown eyes flickered over to him, "teaching job?"

Harry nodded, standing from the bench, then walked to his bag as he said, "skating doesn't exactly have a steady income. And my N.E.W.T.'s score was the highest you can get in Defense, so I'm qualify to teach around the world, sort of. According to Riddle, at least."

Draco was quiet, then he heard his toe tap on the ground again.

"That's the thing that those stronger in magic can do, right? Defense. With wands."

Harry paused.

"Yeah. Some can manipulate without wands, though."

The child was quiet behind him, and Harry dropped his skates in his bag.

"Draco," he began, but Draco interrupted with, "I bet you don't need a wand."

Harry stared at the wall, then relaxed.

"For some spells, yeah. Dasvindanya."

August 18, 2008

"Why do you parents call you that?"

Dark brown eyes looked over at him, "you don't have names in England?"

Harry slowly stopped skating, "names?"

"Yes, besides Harry. Like...shorter? Or longer, sometimes..."

He looked to the side.

"Well, Mrs. Katsuki calls me Harry-chan. And Harry's already a short name, so..."

"You can call me by name."

"What?"

Draco nodded, "da. Call me Drayok. My friends call me that. I'll call you...I'll think about it later."

Before he could comment on it, Draco skated off.

Harry stared at the empty space for a second before he went back to his warmup 

August 19, 2008

"Try these, mom made them for dinner."

"Draco - "

"Drayok, we're friends now. That's tradition in Russia."

Harry blinked his tired eyes at the child.

"Right. Thanks."

August 20, 2008

"Mom made extra dessert for me, I'll share."

"Draco - Drayok..." He gave a long sigh. "Thanks."

"It's not a problem, Haka."

Harry looked over to the child, then frowned.

"I think that's a dance, Drayok."

The child gave him a look, then turned away with red cheeks.

August 21, 2008

"You should stop trying to do Doubles behind Volkova's back," he told Draco, who immediately frowned at him.

"I can do it."

"Not without damaging your body. Your limbs are still growing, Drayok."

The teen year old frowned some more, then huffed in defeat before skating away from him.

August 22, 2008

"When do you take your teacher test?"

"Later, Drayok. In September, since it's only a part-time job for now."

Draco nodded solemnly, then perked up, "have you started learning Russian yet?"

"Only a few words here - "

"Draco, Harry." He flinched along with Draco. "Unless you are looking to join Ice Dancing, get back to your routines."

August 24, 2008

"You don't have to do this," he told Mrs. Solovyova - wasn't that an interesting thing to learn about Russian last names - who told him it wasn't a problem.

"Mom was born in Ireland before grandparents moved her when she was thirteen," Draco told him, "she knows English better than me."

"Back to work, Drayen'ka."

Draco muttered a few words in Russian before looking down at the papers scattered in front of him.

August 30, 2008

"There are a lot of dogs here," Draco stated, hands deep in his jacket's pockets.

"It is a dog park," Jane stated, then jogged forward while waving the tennis ball, immediately getting Oliver's attention.

Draco grimaced, though it was more in worry than in disgust.

"We can sit at that bench over there," Harry told the ten year old, and started to walk over to it when the child nodded quickly.

September 2, 2008

"Domestic Competitions?"

Volkova turned to give a narrowed look to Draco, and the child slunk away.

"Since you did not compete your second Cup, and with an injury at that, you did not get an invite. Plus, the NISA would want to make sure you can still skate."

Harry nodded, feeling something foreign course through his veins.

'I'm, nervous...'

September 3, 2008

Volkova stepped away, then nodded slowly, seeming pleased.

"Just as I thought. Your dark skin makes the gold pop, regardless of where it lies. And the white and black only heightens your unblemished beauty."

His hand started to go to his forehead, then put it down, letting it rest it on his side. Harry looked back to the mirror, examine the outfit that was based on his old one, and wondered why he saw no lumps on his chest for only a second.

A giddy feeling went through his body, and it wasn't only because he was stepping back on the ice in what felt like a decade.

September 13, 2008

"You know what to do," Volkova said to him, and Harry nodded, pushing down his nerves as he skated to the center.

"The next skater is Harry Potter. He has suffered a skating injury last season, yet seems to have recovered, from what we saw at the public practice. He is skating to his first Junior Program this season, with the first song being La Parfum De La Fleur."

Harry let out a long breath, and danced when the song began.

September 14, 2008

As the deep voice held the note, Harry placed the toe of his right skate down, slowing as he glided backwards, placing his hands down his side, and head back. The blurred light on the ceiling was bright as he took a deep breath in, and he got out of his position quickly, waving to the short cheer of the crowd.

He wasted no time in making for the gate, knowing that Domestic Competitions were places that skaters should not spend too much time on the ice after they were done, with their poses or bows; even though he was the last skater. Still, he turned to the small crowd and gave another quick wave, then turned to Volkova as he got another short round of cheers.

His coach gave him a nod as he stepped off the ice, and he took his guards while he wiped his face with the tissue, then slid them on.

"You looked powerful out there," Volkova told him, leading him away from the gate as Harry held his jacket, too tired to put it on at the moment. "However, remember to not peak before your Nationals."

Harry nodded, knowing she was right, and drunk the cooling water that was offered to him.

A disappointed feeling entered him when he saw 259.87 on the scoreboard, even though he was well above the other skaters.

He tugged on his black sleeve, then his white, and let Volkova give his arm a comforting squeeze.

October 23, 2008

"You want to watch the Juniors?"

Harry nodded, "the older ones might be a competitor against me next year."

Jane hummed disinterestedly, "I guess. But I want to look around. We're in Washington, Harry. Washington. We need to spend every waking moment looking at the sights!"

"Don't you need to do your homework?"

His sister scoffed, "that's what online classes are for." Then she let out a long sigh. "But alright. Let's watch some kids fall on the ice."

"You'd be surprised, Jane."

November 30, 2008

"Hey, let's go to Hasetsu!"

"Jane, that's an hour long train ride. Maybe even four."

"Please!"

His tired limbs protested, so he suggested that they Apparate instead, but in the morning, because of the time differences.

"Right," Jane said with a pout, "that." Then it was gone, "since we're not that far from where we want to go, there's a lesser risk, right?"

Harry nodded, and led his sister back to the hotel, where she bounced about for what seemed like the entire night until the sun rose.

Both the Katsuki and the Nishigori family seemed happy to see him, and Vic-chan had become a tiny ball of cuddling, licking mess the moment he stepped into the dining area, and followed him everywhere in those few hours he had to spare.

"He missed you while you were gone," Mari told him in Japanese as Takeshi took Loop back from his sister, and Harry swallowed passed the lump in his throat as Vic-chan whined in the older woman's arms, and couldn't answer Jane's questioned hum as they walked a few spaces to Apparate.

'It's like summers at the Burrow,' he thought, then cleared his mind before he took Jane's arm.

December 14, 2008

Harry took a small sip of the sparkling wine as the other skaters mingled with one another, finally rid of talking with his sponsors, their quesitons more or less the same.

'I will get on the podium if I Present wrong,' he promised himself, tightening his fist at his side, 'I will.'

His hand holding the wine started to shake, so he downed it before placing the empty glass on the table beside him, and stared at the bottles of real alcohol on the other side, grimacing when he felt someone approach him. With a deep breath in he turned, and relaxed when he saw it was clearly another skater.

"And here I thought there would be no surprises on this end," the skater told him while reaching for a flute behind Harry.

Green-yellow eyes looked down at him in a playful manner as the skater straightened his back, and it clicked.

"Christophe," he stated more than greeted. Then he frowned. "What surprised you?"

"Well, the fact that you got on the podium after such an injury, for one." Harry's hand moved to his hip unconsciously. "And to beat me to silver, at that. Congratulations."

"Thanks. Your routine was very, unique."

The taller's look turned more thoughtful.

"I can see how you and Yuuri get along so quickly."

Harry watched the taller take a drink of his wine.

"You know - "

"Haroshka!"

His head quickly turned to the two voices that yelled, and barely escaped the Russian woman who tried to hug him.

"Annie," he greeted, sliding behind Christophe, just in case. "And Victor. Congratulations to both of you for your wins."

"Congratulations to your Silver and Bronze," Victor spoke with a wide smile, then looked back to Harry, "Oliver must visit with Makkachin again, she must!"

Harry looked between the two of them.

"Are you two, drunk?"

"We just had a few glasses," Annie said while waving him off.

"Pretty soon this is the part where clothes will start coming off," Christophe told him with a 'whisper', and Harry gave him a look.

Arms wrapped around him before he could opened his mouth, and he jumped, quickly whipping his head over as Victor nearly laid his entire weight on him.

"We must take lots of pictures of our babies, Harok, we must!"

"Okay, okay, we will."

Before he could speak further, Victor hugged him tighter, with an excited "yay", then a string of Russian words, so quick that he couldn't catch a single one.

"Maybe that sixth flute was one too many," Annie mused with a toothy grin, then walked over to Christophe, "come Chris, let's go look for Yakov. You'll watch over Victor till then, Harok, won't you?"

"You two - "

"Salut," Christophe spoke with a wave, and Harry grunted as Victor leaned further on him to say goodbye to the two in Russian, then went back to talking about their respective dogs, switching between English, Russian, and French.

Harry resigned to his fate.

January 12, 2009

"Potter."

He frowned at the unfamiliar voice as it broke through the music, and took off his headphones as he turned.

"Malfoy?"

The taller teen - a part of him noticed the differences, and a larger part of him pushed it down, for he had other things to worry about - looked to him with no emotions on his face, and Harry narrowed his eyes.

"Can we, talk after the Competition."

"You...sure."

The taller nodded stiffly, then walked away.

"Focus on your Short Program," Volkova ordered, and Harry started the song over before putting his headphones over his ears.

His turn came all too soon, and Harry stared at the stadium crowd, slowly pulling his headphones down.

"You can peak here if you wish," Volkova told him, but Harry shook his head.

"I'm winning Worlds, and going to the Olympics next year."

Volkova hummed, "but first you must get on the podium, then win the European Championship."

Harry nodded, then took his guards off, before stepping onto the ice.

January 16, 2009

Skating to the podium - it seemed wobbly - in the middle of the rink, Harry glanced to Malfoy, and let his brain keep the information on how different the paler looked than when last Harry saw him. The older teen was as pale as ever, true, and he had grown to be tall and thin, almost like Ron, but more, not gangly. Platinum blond hair was longer than before as well, the thin hair out of the ponytail Malfoy wore for his Free Skate, the straight locks barely falling pass his broad shoulders.

A part of him said that Malfoy's height didn't matter, because Harry would be on the higher podium, and he berated himself for the thought.

Hopping to the top podium, he plastered his 'crowd' smile, then took the bouquet that was handed to him, and bowed when the attendant held up the gold to place around his neck. It felt lighter than it did the last time he won Nationals, but felt just as cold as the back of his fingers touched it to hold the medal up for the cameras with the rest of them.

Then it was done, and all three of them jumped off, and his eyes moved to the right without a thought, locking eyes with Malfoy.

They shared a look before his attention was drawn by the bronze winner, and he gave a small, well faked smile when the girl told him that he inspired her as a child by being the Girl-Who-Lived in Juniors.

With bitterness in his mouth, he ended the conversation quick and skated to the gate, taking his guards from the wall where they laid, and looked for his coach as he put them on.

"Potter."

'Oh, right.'

He turned his head, and Malfoy nodded to the hall, then walked. Harry clicked the last blade in place and followed, ignoring the sparse reporters in the corridor along with Malfoy.

They reached a hall where they didn't seemed to be anyone around, and the blond slowed, moving his head back and forth down the halls, then turned to him, crossing his arms. Harry did the same, thought leaned against the wall on his left.

The pointy face looked uncomfortable, instead of venomous or blank, so that was promising.

"I, apologize." His eyes blinked slow at Malfoy, sure he heard wrong. "Traveling the world, meeting - those that are different than me, I've learned..." Lips thinned. "I, was a right arse in Hogwarts."

"Understatement," was what came out of his mouth at the pause.

Grey eyes looked up, and there was a small flame in his eyes, that was quickly quenched.

"You're not wrong, Potter." The blond took a deep breath, then let it out slow. "I'm not asking you to forgive me, just as you didn't ask me to forgive you. I only want you to know that, I'm trying to be a better person. That's, all I wanted to say to you."

Malfoy gave a bow of his head, then walked away.

Harry didn't go after him.

January 20, 2009

His leg started to bounce as he waited for his score, anxious since he touched the ice on his Triple Loop. Volkova kept silent next to him, arm resting against his. Harry clutched the lilies that were thrown to the ice for him, the same colors that he always got, which were either from the same fan - unlikely - or from someone who saw pictures of him holding those bouquets, and thought they were his favorite.

The screen then stopped showing snippets of his performance, and the number appeared, higher than he had thought he would get, but lower than he needed.

Harry bowed his head into the lilies, the strong scents barely registering in his mind.

'I'll do better in my Free Skate.'

January 25, 2009

"Fifth isn't bad, Harry. Especially not in the European - "

"I landed both feet on the ice in my Triple Flip."

"Harry - "

"I haven't done that since my Junior days."

Sirius didn't speak, but put an arm around his shoulders in support.

It didn't bring him any comfort.

February 13, 2009

"Harry, how expensive were these chocolates?"

He petted Oliver's soft head resting on his lap as he leaned back on the sofa, "not that expensive. But the shipping cost were a hassle."

"Harry..."

"Just eat them, Yuuri. Sent enough for you to share them with the rest. Or you can keep them all to yourself, and we can pretend that my culture snafu didn't happen."

Yuuri gave a soft laugh on the other end, "right. Like extra weight from chocolate will help me with my jumps."

Harry smiled down at Oliver when she licked his hand, then said, "yeah, doubt it will." He began to scratch Oliver behind her pointy ear. "I look forward to see what you have planned for next season, Yuuri."

His friend was quiet on the other end, and Harry wondered if he brought something up that Yuuri didn't want to talk about.

"I'm going to try for a Quad Salchow."

Harry smiled at the memories that came with that declaration.

"I look forward to it. Dasvindanya - konbanwa - poka - damn it - Sayounara!"

Yuuri's soft laughter filled his ear, "see you later."

March 14, 2009

"Yuuri, why are the chocolates shaped like Vic-chan?"

"Tou-san found them while on his way to buy fish from Mr. Hashimoto. And we know you like dark chocolate, so..."

He let out a breathy laugh, tossing a wrapped chocolate to Jane, who was playing the Zelda game Yuuri recommended his sister to play, since she liked games with a lot of side quests but a short main story.

Hazel eyes glared over to him when it bounced off her shoulder, then paused the game to unwrap the chocolate.

March 25, 2009

'Calm down,' he told himself as he stretched, the loud music in his ears barely registering. 'You can do this, you can win.'

"Who are you skating for?"

Harry grimaced, then let out his negativity with a long breath.

"I know who."

His coach turned around with a questioned look, but Harry didn't elaborate, and she didn't ask, even when it was his turn to go.

"Gold is not worth another injury," she told him in English with sharp eyes, "remember that."

Ignoring the flare of phantom pain Harry nodded, then skated back just at the announcer called out his name, barely hearing the crowd cheer words of encouragement to him.

'It's worth it,' he thought, getting into position, 'especially if I want a chance at the Olympics.'

When the music began he erased every thought that didn't have to do with the song, and moved his limbs to the beat as best he could, showing his want, his need, his bare soul to the world.

It was only when he heard the claps that he realized he was finished, and straightened his bend back with a deep breath in. Then he smiled for the crowd before skating to his coach, wishing she wore a darker coat so he could see her better from far away, grabbing the bouquet on the ice as he went.

"You were beautiful," she spoke in Russian, and he stared for a second, then quickly looked away while grabbing his guards off the wall when he saw what looked like a bit of tears in her eyes, handing her the flowers. "You've seemed to have landed two Quads, as well."

Harry paused.

"Did I?" he wondered, sliding on his glasses before his eyes got caught by the bouquet, which were yellow and white roses instead of lilies.

"I believe so," she answered in Russian, leading him to the Kiss-and-Cry after giving him his jacket.

Saying nothing he took deep breaths, let them out slow, until he was seated on the bench.

"You have done good," Volkova said to him, putting an arm around him.

Harry held the stems tighter as they showed pieces of his performance on the screens, the smell of roses faint in the air. Silently he counted each Jump that they showed, feeling his coach's hand tighten on his arm when his recorded self faded before his Flying-Sit Spin, showing the both of them.

Then it showed his score.

His eyes quickly skimmed the number, paused, and read it slower when his combined score popped up underneath it.

'309.15,' he read again, feeling his body being squeezed by his coach in happiness. 'I got the highest score, and broke through 300. But, with Annie next, I...I won Silver...at World's."

Lightheaded he left the Kiss-and-Cry, and walked to the back with the TVs in a haze, feeling his coach's supportive hand around his shoulder.

"Harry dear!" He twitched, then gave a blank look to Skeeter, who was as poisonous green clothed as ever. "A word, Harry, about your performance? Who was it you thought about when you were on the ice? Was it the Beta Division skater, Victor Nikiforov? The two of you seem to be getting rather cozy in St. Petersburg. Have more than your dogs gotten closer together?"

The hand tightened on his shoulder, and he swallowed the biting words.

"You may have the same word I gave you in fourth year," he told the leech of a woman, "goodbye."

"Now Harry," Skeeter began as he walked to the couch where Chris and Kim Yuna sat, but his coach sacrificed herself to talk with the 'reporter'.

Chris moved to allow room for him in the middle as Harry greeted the two of them, and he sat down in the offered space while he looked to the television. An arm laid across his shoulders, and he glanced at the hand, then looked back at the screen, used to how touchy Chris was with everyone.

Annie won gold with a 316.35 score, and he left with Yuna for the ice, feeling lightheaded again.

March 29, 2009

The gala was as noisy as all the others, but it felt, different. His sponsors were all brighter smiles and tighter handshakes, and wouldn't leave him alone until they had their words of 'congratulations' to say. It was a breath of fresh air when he was finally freed of it all, and he walked to one of the long tables and grabbed a flute, downed it, and wished it was alcohol. 

Placing the empty glass on the table Harry let out a sigh, grimaced at the wall when he felt someone pass him by. Then he grabbed another, and turned around.

He was supposed to spend another thirty minutes at the Gala before it was socially acceptable to leave, but his old Hogwarts' days were coming back to him, and it took everything in him not to walk the hell out of the room.

"Mr. Potter." His fingers tightened on the glass, and he looked to the familiar woman, but he couldn't think of her name. "Excellent performance," she told him, showing white teeth with her smile, "and welcome to the 300 club. Even Mr. Nikiforov and Mrs. Dvorak waited until they were nineteen and Presented before breaking that barrier."

Harry gave his 'crowd' smile, and made up something quick in his head.

"I'm happy to be in the same category as them."

"And after you fractured your hip as well. Then again, you can't be a proper skater without breaking a few bones, could you?"

Harry hummed in what he hoped sounded like an agreeing noise, keeping his smile plastered on.

"Though, you have taken testosterone in your year off, haven't you?" His fingers tightened. "But you already had a bit of muscle back in your Junior days, I remember." The older woman gave him a wink, "don't worry, Harry. Whatever you Present as, you will continue to get Canon's support."

He managed to give a convincing "thank you", and kept smiling until the old woman was gone from his sight.

'Like any of you will stay if I become a bloody Omega,' he thought, and swallowed so he didn't grimace.

It was harder when he felt someone else approach, so he turned his head away to the wall.

"Want to leave?"

Harry blinked at the familiar Russian voice, then turned, having to look up at Victor.

"Vitya."

The older man - what was he again? Twenty-three? - smiled down at him with a grin that showed a hint of tiredness, "if we both go, we might not be reprimanded as much."

"I couldn't give a damn about that right now," he spoke dryly, downing the glass before he placed it on the table. "I feel a headache coming on, anyway."

Victor said nothing, following close behind him as Harry made for the doors. Dimly, he knew that nearly everyone would think that they were going to have a drunken shag, but he was too damn angry to give a second thought to any of that.

The afternoon sun was still bright in the sky, but giving that it was Los Angeles, it made sense. People passed them quickly as they walked the streets, not so much as flickering their eyes over to them, even though Victor was wearing a tailored suit that looked like it cost more than a pound of uncut diamonds.

Harry let out a long breath as his anger subsided a while later, and glanced over to his fellow skater, pausing at the empty eyes he saw.

Not thoughtful.

Empty.

He moved his eyes away, trying not to think of another light haired man he knew who had eyes similar to that, and instead thought of what to do. Jane would want a hug, and Yuuri would just want his silent company; but what did Victor want?

Narrowing his eyes he checked his surroundings, then caught sight of a McDonald's. He checked his watch, and found that they had walked aimlessly for about thirty minutes, for it was 7:42.

"Hey Vitya," he said, pointing to the building, "want to get grease on our suits?"

Light blue eyes looked over to him, filled with question, then followed his thumb.

Cupid lips stretched into a weak, genuine smile.

"Sure. It's been a while."

Harry nodded back, hoping his concern didn't show on his face as he turned, because Yuuri hated when someone thought he was weak; or thought that someone thought him weak.

Walking into the restaurant, he gave a quick glance around, and noticed how empty it was as he held the door opened for Victor. The few costumers didn't so much as pick up their heads at them, but the people at the register did, though they didn't even raise an eyebrow, which was odd.

Harry glanced at the menu to see what he wanted while walking, then dug into his pocket for his wallet.

"Split the bill?" he asked Victor before they were at the front.

Light blue eyes flickered down, "depends if you want dessert?"

Harry hummed in question, then remembered the ice cream they sold, "oh. If you're up for it."

Victor gave a lighter smile than before, and stayed by his side while they stepped up to the register, giving that 'crowd pleasing' smile to the tired teen behind the counter.

They placed their orders before getting their drinks, and Harry sat at the corner booth they picked while Victor waited for their meals, and he bit the bullet by checking his phone.

"Apparently we're fucking in a hotel right now," he stated to Victor when his friend placed the trays down on the table.

"Hope you brought protection," Victor stated.

"Sorry. Looks like the media is going to notice an illegitimate baby bump soon."

"If you keep them, I'll take full costody."

Harry took a sip of his soda before he said, "if I'm keeping this kid for nine months, I'm staying in their life. You can have the weekends."

Victor gave an amused laugh, then tore a packet of pepper open, before he shook it over his ketchup cup. Harry raised an eyebrow, but let it slide as he unwrapped his burger. "So, Harok, what's the name of our soon-to-be child?"

His mouth paused around the burger, about to tell Victor that unless the other got sperm from someone there wasn't a biological way a baby was possible, until he smacked himself mentally in the face a second later.

"Well...I've been told that I have a bad habit of naming things after dead people, so maybe you should name them."

Victor hummed, then swallowed the food in his mouth. "Should we give them a gender neutral name, or give them a name based on their sex. Until they're old enough to make their own decision." Harry held up two fingers, continuing to chew his bite. "Alright. If a girl, a form of Alice. If a boy, Axel."

He snorted, and thankfully already swallowed his food before he could get it up his nose. "My friend Yuko has you beat on naming children after jumps."

"Damn," Victor spoke dryly, snapping his fingers.

Harry gave a soft snort, then took another bite of his burger.

April 1, 2009

A loud laugh left his mouth, and Oliver jumped from the couch and gave him an offended bark.

"I'm not dating Vitya," he said after he calmed himself, "I just ate dinner with him, honest. A meal between friends."

Yuuri was quiet for a second.

"It's just, you two looked happy. And you call each other nicknames. And I would be happy too, if you were. Dating."

Harry didn't comment that Yuuri actually did sound like he would be happy. Not joyous, but happy that he was happy.

'Not as large of a celebrity crush anymore?' he wondered, then said, "because we were happy just making up random scenarios with each other over greasy food. And Russians call each other by different names all the time, it's normal for them. It took me a while to get used to it, though." Yuuri was silent. "People are already speculating about how long we have been dating for, apparently.

It's kinda creepy, the amount of photos that surfaced up with us and our dogs, to be honest." Still, no words. "You'd think not a lot of people would care about Figure Skating, yet we're one of the top five most speculated couple in the world. According to Jane, anyway. I don't read those rubbish stories."

"Right." Oliver leaned against his leg, and Harry placed his drink on the coffee table before he knelt. "Sumimasen deshita."

"You don't have to apologize," he told his friend, letting Oliver lick his cheek. "Especially not like that. And don't even think of doing a dogeza when we meet again, either."

A small, breathy laugh came from the other end.

"Anyway, how are your jumps coming along?"

Yuuri went quiet again.

Harry waited, scratching Oliver's chest when she rolled on her back, then lightly grabbed her snout before pulling away.

"They're getting better," his friend finally said, though he didn't sound sure of himself.

"I know you can do it," Harry spoke honestly.

Yuuri hummed without any confidence, and Harry had his fingers snipped by a playful Oliver as he thought of what to say.

"I'm visiting this summer for a week," he decided to talk about, "I was thinking sometime in July."

He could almost feel Yuuri perk up on the other end, "oh?"

"Yeah. Tell me the dates I can visit, and I'll book a flight."

"I'll talk with kaa-san about it. See you soon, Harry."

"Sayounara, Yuuri."

Ending the call, he threw his phone on the couch before scratching both of Oliver's pointed ears, moved his hands to her snout, then stood.

"So, are you dating Yuuri, then?"

Harry blinked, then looked up at Jane, who was seated at the desk on the walkway, turned to face him.

"What?"

She gave him a look through the railing, "Yuuri. Are you dating him, or what?"

He narrowed his eyes, "why do you think I'm dating him?"

"Sounded like he was jealous, was all."

Harry gave his sister a dry look.

"Are you dating Mariya?"

Hazel eyes narrowed, "no. We're friends."  Harry said nothing. "Can't I be friends with a girl without wanting to date her?"

"Funny. My situation is similar."

She stared, then moved her eyes away a few seconds later with a hum.

"I'm going for a walk," he told her, and she gave him a worried look, but he only smiled, to show that he wasn't mad.

"Later," she said, and he clipped the leash on Oliver before he walked out of the loft while repeating the word back to her.

He waited until he was a block away before he called Dr. Hashimoto's number.

July 18, 2009

His cracked door slid open quickly, and Vic-chan came barreling in, jumping high enough that Harry had to drop his phone on the bed to catch the excited poodle.

"You saw me a few hours ago," he said to the licking dog, and looked up to what looked like panicked brown eyes. "Konbanwa. How was school?" His friend studied his face, and Harry tried not to give him a look. "Yuuri?"

"You look so different."

Harry blinked, and Yuuri went red.

"I hope a good different," he said to lighten the mood.

"Sharper than before," his friend muttered under his breath, then jogged over and hugged him tight, to both him and Vic-chan's surprise. Still, he knew better than to ask right away, so he waited. "Sumimasen deshita," Yuuri spoke into his shoulder.

Harry put his free arm around Yuuri, but stopped when Vic-chan gave a whine. Yuuri pulled away immediately, and wouldn't look at him. The poodle gave another whine, and Harry put the wiggling mess on the floor, where he immediately tried to climb up Yuuri, and failed miserable.

When it became clear that Yuuri wasn't going to move, Harry reached out for his friend's hand and sat, gently trying to coax him down on the floor with him. A second passed before Yuuri did, and Vic-chan immediately climbed into his lap. He made to move his hand as the poodle tried to comfort Yuuri, but his friend tightened his grip, so Harry stopped.

Yuuri petted his worried dog with an unreadable expression, and Harry wondered how bad things were in his friend's mind. Brown eyes moved up to look at him, as if hearing his thoughts, but then they moved back to the floor. Then his hand was let go, and Yuuri picked up his dog, and dug his face into his fur.

"I got fourth," were the muffled words his friend said.

Harry waited a beat.

"You can't win medals every time," he told his friend. "Besides, didn't you land a Quad Salchow in your Free Skate?"

"I didn't get on the podium" was what he got back.

All he could do was hum to that.

"Boku no baka," Yuuri stated, and Harry continued to wait, which his mind took that time to translate what Yuuri said.

"I'm your fool?" he questioned his friend, who picked up his head and immediately began shaking his hands while repeating "no" in a panicked voice.

"Watashi - I am an idiot. I couldn't get on the podium again, I overate at the Four Continents, and got sixth for it. On top of it all I was wondering if you think I'm some sort of jealous fan when I don't answer your calls right away because the media keeps saying you and Victor are dating!"

Harry blinked, and made sense of the fast words.

"Yuuri, I know that it's our different Time Zones, and that you're not a jealous - "

"I know!"

Vic-chan barked in surprise and pushed against Yuuri's chin with a whine, and his friend looked panicked again.

"Yuuri," he began, but couldn't find the words right away.

"Sumimasen deshita," his friend muttered into Vic-chan's fur.

Harry leaned back, and his phone on the bed flashed from the light above.

An idea came to him.

"Can I tell you something that Victor did a week ago?" he asked Yuuri, and got a slow nod. "So, a week ago, Victor decided that he wanted to take a lot of pictures of Oliver and Makkachin together in his apartment. And, since it was Victor, the time I got the call was at 1 in the god damn morning." Brown eyes flickered up at that, then back down. "So I go, because this is Victor, with the expensively soft couch I can crash on while he take a billion pictures of my dog, which I do right away.

When I wake in the morning, Victor is coming back from taking the dogs along for his morning walk, and he asked if I want some of the Chinese takeout he got last night. My stomach did, so he goes in the kitchen to heat them up, and I begin to fold the blanket. Now, I hear a suspicious sound come from the kitchen while doing so, and do you know what I see when I look?"

Yuuri shook his head, moving Vic-chan's floppy ear with his chin while doing do. "What I see is Victor Nikiforov, a grown man in his twenties, cutting out the metal bar out of the takeout container, and stick it in the microwave like that."

Brown eyes slowly looked up from the floor.

"Stir-fried rice container?" his friend asked in Japanese.

Harry nodded, and his friend gave a little shiver.

"This is the man who I'm friends with, and who you want to win gold against. A man in his twenties who would rather waste time taking out a metal bar out of a plastic container, instead of finding a bowl to cook his food. For 30 seconds in the microwave, no less."

A second passed, then his friend let out a small, shaking chuckle.

"Victor no baka," Harry stated, and Yuuri laughed so hard he fell on his back, to Vic-chan's delight.

July 20, 2009

His leg bounced like mad, but he didn't do anything to stop it. A few noises came from outside the room, though no footsteps stopped at his door. Harry looked down at his phone, but didn't dare to turn it on. Jane was probably worried, given that he only sent her a text that he was visiting a doctor and not to call; but if he tried to call her, he would only lie to her.

Another set of footsteps passed, and he looked over at the Japanese posters in the room, trying to read the kanji, but knew he failed most of his 'translation'. It was a blessing that the Katsuki family didn't throw up their hands in surrender when they tried to teach him Japanese, and he was glad that he was as good as he was when speaking it.

The door opened before he could think further on that, and dropped his phone on the bright floor in his surprise.

"Sumimasen," he spoke, then gave the proper greeting, which Dr. Hashimoto gave right back.

"How are you feeling?" the doctor asked in Japanese, placing her clipboard on the table while Harry picked up his phone.

"Slight pain here," he told her, moving his hand to his lower abdomen. "As well as feeling, weird."

"And you worry that you are Presenting before the season begins." He nodded. "We did the basic check, since you are of that age, and found that your glands are not secreting the Scent, and are in fact still minuscule."

The relief he felt was better than Mrs. Weasley's hot chocolate on a snowy morning.

"Thank god," he whispered.

"However, I am worried about the pain you are feeling. It is not uncommon for those who quit hormones to get their periods again, after all." His fingers clenched. "If you wish to start them again, you will need to get in touch with a hormone doctor in Russia. Which you need to do, regardless. Though, if you wish to have bottom surgery, I can get in touch with your regular Russian doctor, and give them all of your files."

Harry's hands tightened further.

July 22, 2009

"And you're sure about this?"

"Jane, the ISU doesn't allow monthly testosterone use, and getting surgery would mean getting used to a new weight, which could take months. I can't afford to do it now."

Hazel eyes narrowed, "and when can you afford to do it? I swear, if this is because of your hate-boner for Malfoy, I'm going to kick both of your arses."

Harry crossed his arms and looked away, "no. He's not the reason. Besides, the two of us made up. Kind of."

"Kind of?"

"We can see each other and not pick a fight."

Jane scoffed, then let out a long sigh. "Can you at least tell me why you're waiting, then?"

Harry glanced over to her concerned face.

"I want a coaching license," he confessed, "so I can teach figure skating. And, I don't mind my vagina as much as I hated my breast, if that makes sense."

Hazel eyes blinked slowly.

"So, you don't want bottom surgery."

Harry frowned.

"I'm, not sure. I'm fine with waiting, but..."

Jane gave a short nod.

"Do whatever you feel is right for your mental health, Harry. Fuck everyone else."

He smiled, then turned to sit on the couch.

July 31, 2009

Oliver stared up at him with wet brown eyes.

"No."

Oliver whined again.

"We're not bugging Vitya at this time of night." His dog turned, then grabbed the leash from the wall. "Oliver, put it down." His dog sat by the door. "For the love of - " Sighing loudly, he flopped onto the couch, putting his arm over his eyes.

"It's your birthday," he heard Jane say from up on the walkway.

Harry hummed tiredly in question.

"You could get birthday sex."

"JANE!"

She smiled down at him with that shit-eating grin.

Oliver's whine turned into a bark.

August 8, 2009

Jane's cover began to play, and he skated lazy circles in his spot on the ice, glancing up from the icy floor every once in a while to make sure he didn't run into anyone. When it ended he played it again, feeling that he could get into the music, but he wasn't 'married' to it yet.

After the third repeat of the song, he was satisfied in showing his coach, and he stepped off the ice, where he was waved over by his coach as she talked with Akash and Jennifer.

"At least the song is longer this time." He rolled off the jab. "Tell me, how do you feel about this song?"

"Pretty good."

Volkova nodded, then handed him back his iPod.

"So, you have 'Heat of the Moment' for you Free Skate, but I have yet to hear your Short Program. It's getting late, Harry."

"Riddle is fixing the finer details," he answered.

She hummed in a dismissive way, and he went back on the ice.

October 18, 2009

"Harry - "

"Who - oh it's you." He let out a long breath. "I was about to - how are you doing, Chris?"

"Better than you, it seems." The hand didn't move from his waist. "Something happened?"

"Err, nothing. Nothing at all." Green-yellow eyes stared down at him suspicion, clearly not buying it. "It's nothing, really - " Another pain came from his lower abdomen, and he threw all caution to the wind. "I'm having a period for the first time in - more than a year. So I'm a little stressed right now."

"Aah, well. At least it happened after your performance, else you wouldn't have been on the podium with the rest of us."

"Small miracles that," he muttered, and grimaced as he felt a clot come along. "I just want to lay under a kotatsu for the rest of the night."

Chris hummed. "Well, we're in Paris, so there won't be any, kotatsu around. But, we can look around for something that you're craving."

Harry looked towards his hotel room, then back.

"Sure, I want something sweet."

He got a smile, and Harry frowned when Chris then took his sunglasses off of his head and down to his eyes. Then Harry remembered that time long ago in Juniors when he saw the Swiss skater wearing glasses at the banquet; and quiet a few times in their Seniors.

'Probably prescription sunglasses,' he thought, letting the older skater keep his hand around his waist.

It would stop most people - depending where they went, anyway - from trying to hit on Harry if they thought he was taken. That was probably why Chris has taken to resting his arm around Harry whenever they saw each other, since the other was there for that one guy Harry had to get physical with, and it was obvious that Chris wasn't interested in him in that way; which was the only reason why he allowed the other skater to be so handsy with him.

"Anyone you want to invite, or will it just be the two of us?"

Harry looked up at Chris, then thought.

"I'll invite Yuuri."

The Swiss skater sighed dramatically, "and here I had a romantic outing planned for us." Green-yellow eyes grew playful, "although..."

Harry snorted, then pulled out his phone.

October 30, 2009

The last note died with his right hand in the air, and he let out a breath when the cheers came, knowing that the two of his programmed Quads became Triples, but at least he didn't fall during any of them. It didn't matter, anyway, as long as he did better with his Free Skate, which he would.

Harry skated forward, and paused at the shine from a box that was being waved in the air by what might be a child, with their hair pulled high into three ponytails. He skated over and took the box, and with a quick glance saw that it was a knitted black cat with green eyes, holding a small postcard from Canada, written in what looked like Korean.

"Thank you very much," he said to the child - seven, six? - before quickly skating to the gate, knowing he had to get off the ice for Malfoy to skate.

He glanced at the paler teen as he stepped through the gate, handing his coach the box, and admired the dark blue and green colors the other wore, though couldn't help but compare the outfit to a peacock, though without feathers. Harry grabbed his frames and guards, the former which he slipped on to see Malfoy better. The dark colors heightened Malfoy's pale looks where he almost looked attractive, and the calm demeanor had the same affect.

A hand touched his shoulder, and Harry turned away, slipping on his jacket before he took the box back, smiling at the attendants as he passed them, but didn't stop walking to the Kiss-and-Cry. At the bench, he sat and slipped on his guards before he examined the knitted cat more, and saw that it had a leather collar on, with a knitted gold medal as it's name tag.

He smiled softly at it, not looking over when he felt his coach sit down next to him.

"It's cute," she told him in Russian, and he nodded, thinking of where to stick the box back at home when he heard cheers. "Good, that should get you on the podium."

"90.53," he read out loud, then looked to the ice to watch Malfoy get use to the ice.

"Draco could be a prick sometimes," Annie had answered him when Harry asked her way back in September, "and not a lot of skaters liked him for a while, from what little I've seen of him when we shared a Block. He's seems to have matured, though."

Memories of their school years flickered to his mind, especially their soccer days, when it seems only he could win against Malfoy on the field.

A soft smile grew on his face without him wanting to, "don't fall, Malfoy."

Volkova turned her head to look at him, but he didn't look over. Instead he stood, glanced at the other presents he got, and told the waiting attendant to give it to charity. His coach didn't follow him, and would no doubt talk with the waiting reporters so he didn't have to.

Harry nodded to his fellow rink mates Akash and Jennifer - they were after Pair Skating, no Blocks for either since there wasn't a lot of them this season - then admired the music that played from the speakers as he sat down in the seat. Malfoy looked...he looked good, on the ice. Not beautiful, but, good. Better than his Junior days, that was for sure.

It was with shocking surprise that Malfoy got 87.02 as his Short Program score, but the taller teen got second, at least.

"Nice work," he heard himself say when he passed Malfoy on his way to his own locker, and didn't turn around to see if the taller teen accepted the old olive branch or not.

October 31, 2009

Harry took a deep breath, then picked up the mat before giving it to an attendant. Having heard the song over and over, both on and off of the ice, he didn't feel the need to listen to it anymore - not without getting nauseated - so he took the headphones off and kept them around his neck as he hopped on one foot to the other until it was time.

His coach held out the curtain for him again, and his eyes looked straight to the ice. It took a second for his eyes to get used to the bright lights, but there Malfoy was, dancing to some sort of classical opera music, and wearing a bright white outfit lined in pale bluish grey. The other looked, ethereal, especially with his shade of blond hair.

Harry watched Malfoy kick his right leg high into the air before Malfoy spun once, then bent for his Ina Bauer. He walked slowly to the gate, getting caught up in the song before Harry stopped where he was supposed to.

A tug at his collar told him to take off his jacket, and he unzipped it automatically, noticing that Malfoy wasn't exactly moving to the music, yet he couldn't look away either. Once again, Harry noted that he was beautiful, not in the way other skaters were on the ice; yet there was something there, some sort of passion that Harry liked about Malfoy's skating.

"Your guards," Volkova ordered, and Harry slid them off. "Your glasses."

"When he's done," he said, and shivered when he felt her glare. "Malfoy's nearly done," he argued softly, not turning around.

Disapproval came from behind him, but his coach said nothing further.

Malfoy's final pose was actually alluring, surprisingly, with an arched back, left hand extended behind him, and right arm gracefully up.

Harry found himself clapping along with the audience, thought stopped when he felt something hit the back of his head, something that sounded like plastic. He turned to see that it was a bouquet of dark red roses with baby breaths; real ones, and all healthy looking, like they were just cut from the garden.

His coach made to pick them up, but he bent down first, glancing up at the crowd before he turned back around, and saw Malfoy's pointy, thoughtful look getting closer as he slid to the other gate, behind the camera rig. 

"Hey Malfoy," he called out, then threw the roses clear over the rig when grey eyes locked onto his. Malfoy caught it easily. "Your Biellmann Spin's improved since last I've seen it," he told Malfoy.

From what he could see from the cracks in the rig, long fingers curled on the stems, but the pale face gave nothing away.

Harry nodded to him before he skated onto the ice, both giving a wave to the crowd, and getting used to the ice with his action. After a few seconds he noticed that he could actually read the ads, and realized that he still had his glasses on. Smiling slightly he slid them off, then glided back to his crossed armed coach.

"Remember, fall on your left if you land wrong."

He nodded at his coach's words, then pushed off the wall, extending his arms out to applause.

November 1, 2009

Harry was glad that everything was over. He got silver and gold in his Cups, which meant that he was more than likely going to be guaranteed for the GPF, unless he injured himself before the competition; which he hoped he didn't.

His phone vibrated before he could open his hotel room, and he frowned before he pulled it out of his pocket, then answered it when he saw who it was.

"What's wrong, Vitya - "

"I'm going to be a grandfather!"

Harry stared at the far wall, confused, and surprised that he caught the fast Russian words.

"Explain slower, Vitya," he asked of his friend, speaking in Russian as well.

He could practically feel Victor vibrate on the other end of the phone.

"Makkachin was putting on weight despite our walks, and getting more tired, so I took her to the vet, and the doctor told me that she's got puppies in her belly - well, the blood-test confirmed it. But she's going to have puppies - "

Harry moved the phone away from his ear, grimacing as he wondered if the other man was drunk again.

"Vitya," he said, bringing his phone back to his ear, "so. Some dog - some dog got Makkachin pregnant? Will your landlord let you keep them? Do you even have a landlord?"

"Puppies!"

"Viten'ka," he drawled, and he could feel Victor pout on the other end. "How long do dogs stay pregnant for?" Harry asked instead of apologizing.

"About two months. So, in December, we can expect the little ones."

Harry narrowed his eyes at the wall, then leaned against his door.

"Happy early birthday present, hope you enjoy cleaning up the messes."

It was quiet on the other end, and Harry checked his phone to see that the call wasn't dropped.

"You're not giving me anything for my birthday?" He stayed quiet for a few beats. "You're so cruel to me, Harok..."

"I'll bring both you and Makkachin something good to eat in two days as an apology, okay?"

"Two days?"

"Let me get a good night's rest, Vitya."

His friend was quiet for a second.

"Have a good flight," Victor said, playful tone gone. "I'll see you when you get back."

"Any preference to the food I get?"

Victor hummed on the other end, "I want...drunken shrimp."

Harry almost snorted, "I'm not bringing home live shrimp, Vitya. Goodnight."

"But Harok - "

He ended the call, then turned back to his hotel door.

November 24, 2009

Harry gave a long yawn, getting a look from Draco, who immediately pushed Harry's cup of coffee closer to him.

"Thanks, Drayok."

The child - what was he now, twelve? No, eleven until March - gave him a nod, then looked back towards the dogs.

"Your lover is annoying."

His fingers stilled on the cup, trying to figure out what the child meant by that.

"Not my lover," Harry corrected when he realized. "And what did he do?"

"He called me Drayen'ka and pinched my cheek!"

A tired hum left his mouth, "and what did you do that made him do that?"

Dark eyes narrowed, then looked down at the table as the kid muttered a few words in Russian, cheeks growing red.

"Drayok."

Draco squished his long nose with his grimace.

"He caught me talking to Makkachin," Draco muttered under his breath in Russian. Harry waited. Red cheeks grew redder. "I was talking to the puppies in her stomach."

His lips threatened to spread into a smile, but he kept them as still as he could.

Narrowed eyes told him that he failed.

"So, do you want one? Victor won't be able to keep all of them, you know."

The eleven year old narrowed his eyes further.

"I don't want a stupid dog. I rather my fish, less hassle." Harry smiled in amusement at the emotion behind his voice. "Blyat,"  Draco cursed. "Anyway, you won silver at World's last year. Your island chose you for the Olympics, da?"

His heart skipped a beat.

"I'll learn after the Grand Prix."

Draco nodded, then looked him in the eye, "you're going to win gold."

'I hope,' he thought, but only hummed in answer to the child's statement.

December 6, 2009

"Vitya - "

"Maybe I'll call again," his friend said with a drunken slur, switching to Russian in the middle of his words.

"Vitya - "

"What if Makkachin's giving birth right - "

"Victor." His friend looked over to him with wide blue eyes. "Makkachin's fine," he spoke with a softer voice to his friend, "a lot of people are watching over her right now. Besides, you know Makkachin, she's probably going to wait until you're home."

Blue eyes slowly started to water, and Harry wondered what he said wrong.

"Nationals are soon and I won't be there for her!"

Before he could open his mouth, the taller and slightly less muscular man put his entire weight on Harry to drunkenly sob, toppling them both down onto the bed where they were sitting.

Grimacing, though hearing real pain in between his words, Harry let him, giving him supportive pats on his back.

December 8, 2009

"Look at them all," Victor spoke with an awed voice, still holding up his camera, seeming not to be tired in the slightest.

Harry yawned so loud his jaw popped, and Victor's boyfriend - three months they were dating, was it? The fuck was his name again? Why the fuck should he care at 2:48 in the god damn morning - flickered his tired eyes towards him before walking out of the room, no doubt to the expensive coffee machine that Victor owned.

"Look at them move, Harok."

"I see them," he said in English, too tired to try and speak Russian back.

"Look at the one on the far left, that one looks to be the runt of the litter."

His eyes moved to the smallest dark furred puppy, and kept his heavy eyes opened as they all started to blur together.

"Coffee," Victor's boyfriend stated in thickly accented English, holding out Harry's mug - Victor spent far too much money on a personalized mug that had Harry's flag plus his name as a Christmas gift, even though the Russian man doesn't celebrate Christmas - for him to take, which he did.

Silently the boyfriend held up the sugar container, and Harry grabbed that as well.

"They are all so cute." The taller man put the camera down, and finally, finally, closed it. "That's six. Unless she has seven, I think I should start cleaning up."

"Wait for the placenta first, Vitya."

The older man paused before nodding in agreement, then placed the camera on the dresser. Harry gave the boyfriend back the container of sugar, then took the offered spoon and gently stirred, just wanting to go back to sleep.

"And there's the placenta," Victor stated, and Harry felt slightly queasy as Makkachin ate it up, though it wasn't the first time he saw her do that. "That's a good girl. Who's my strong girl?"

Makkachin wagged her tail weakly, and Harry took a sip of his coffee, grimacing when it became obvious that it didn't have enough sugar in it.

"Should I call a taxi," the boyfriend began as Harry contemplated drinking it as is, or dumping it out. "Or is Harry staying here?"

Victor hummed in question, looking over. With a slight furrow brow he turned fully, bringing a long finger to his face. "Did you two not meet yet?" the older man asked Harry in English a moment later, other hand resting on his hip.

"We've met a few times," he answered slowly, and took a sip of his disgusting mixture so he didn't have to say anything else.

"So I may call you Harok?" the boyfriend stated, and Harry nodded. "Then feel free to call - "

"What's wrong, Makkachin?"

They both turned at the same time, and saw that the poodle was doing the same movements she did the other six times.

"A seventh?" Harry questioned.

"Maybe," Victor stated, a bit of worry in his voice.

He stared at Makkachin, and the whole room seemed to breath better when it became clear that she was in labor. The last puppy, however, didn't want to come out without a fight, and Harry watched Victor dive for his opened laptop on his dresser, seemed to quickly skim something, then went to his dog lightning fast to help the puppy out, who was born feet first.

"Well, found the runt."

The little curled bean of a wet puppy was the smallest of them all, and Harry watched Makkachin finish licking it before moving it with the others.

"All were healthy," the boyfriend stated, "and there were seven. Only you, Vitya."

The older man smiled, "it was all Makkachin."

Harry looked to the poodle, and took another sip of his coffee as he waited for the placenta to come out.

"I'm sleeping on your couch," he said to Victor when Makkachin was back to her normal self, not caring if he messed up the Russian words or not.

Victor pouted, "not going to help me clean?"

Harry turned immediately, "he's your boyfriend."

The boyfriend said nothing as Harry walked out, and he felt too tired to translate whatever they were saying to each other.

Instead he dumped the coffee, rinsed it out, put the mug in the dishwater, toed off his shoes in the living room, jumped over the back of the sofa, then dug his face in one of the throw pillows.

January 14, 2010

"Congratulations," an unfamiliar voice said behind him, and he turned to see that it was Malfoy, who didn't stop walking passed him.

His mouth opened, to comment that Malfoy did good in his Free Skate, and that his voice was deeper by a touch; but his words died before they reached his mouth, and Malfoy was gone.

January 24, 2010

"You look dazed."

Harry glanced over to Chris, and answered honestly, "I am."

"You nearly beat Annie," the older said while leaning against the wall with him, "I would be in a daze, too. But, you're going to the Olympics."

Lightheaded, he turned away.

"We both are."

"Plus, the Russian Legends."

He hummed, "they're with us until they retire."

"Hopefully not for a long while."

Harry frowned at that, looking for Victor in the crowd, and saw his friend give that 'crowd pleasing' smile to a group of fellow skaters, his arms crossed.

"Even legends lose their love for what they do," Harry stated, and didn't look over then Chris turned to him. "I'm leaving, try not to skinny dip in this weather, okay Chris?"

The Swiss skated took the offered road, "you don't feel like joining me?"

"I rather not get frostbite. See you at the Olympics."

"Salut."

February 16, 2010

"Don't let it get to you Harry," Akash said in way of greeting as Harry sat down next to her, "you were only two points from a hundred."

Harry nodded in agreement, numb.

"Your affinity for the center of the rink is as strong as ever," Jennifer added with a teasing smile, leaning forward to look at him. "You were beautiful, you'll get on the podium for sure."

"I hope so,' he thought after smiling at her in thanks, turning back to look at the ice.

It seemed he missed most of Snow's skating because of the damn reporters that caught him, but Daisuke was next.

"Gannbatte," he yelled out as the crowed cheered for the older man.

February 18, 2010

Harry took a deep breath, then let it out as he toed the ice to stop. All he had to do was land the three Quads he had planned, and he would get on the podium. Annie was the only one who got over a hundred, and Harry was one of the few who was in the nineties, and the only one who was nearly at the hundred mark.

His sister's cover began to play, and Harry danced, immediately changing his mindset to fit the song. Triple Toe Loop, Triple Axel, Quad Loop, Quad Lutz-Triple Loop, Quad Salchow, was that all he had in Jumps? Shit, shit he needed to remember, needed to think, needed his period cramps to piss off, needed to calm the fuck down.

It was a blessing when the song ended, and he barely heard the cheers as he breathed heavily. Then he smiled for the crowd, glancing at the waved bouquet held out for him to take. Harry skated to the person, and looked up at the unfamiliar teen while catching the thrown bouquet with his right hand, and thanked the stoic looking teen while he got a short cheer from his catch, glancing down at the bouquet of lilies while gilding to the gate.

"Superb," his coach told him, and Harry nodded to her, unsure.

Two people were talking to each other as he walked to the Kiss-and-Cry, and he told himself they weren't reporters as he sat.

The screen showed his performance, as always, and he tried not to squeeze the flowers with his tight grip, but it was hard. Volkova put an arm around him, holding him close as his score drew near. His hands twitched when the screen popped up, and the flowers fell from his hands when he saw his Free Skate score, and squeezed his fingers when the total score popped up.

'221.85, total 319.93. Is that a record, did I - '

His coach squeezed him tight, rocking him back and forth as she spoke in rapid Russian, barely picking up that they were words of praise.

Then the screen was flipped to Annie, and he could breath again.

"Go and rest," Volkova ordered as they both stood, "I'll take care of the reporters."

Harry nodded his thanks, then left the area with shaking legs.

However, he couldn't force himself to walk to a seat, knowing that the medal ceremony would be soon. The numbers were high, he would be silver. Silver in the Olympics. A small smile spread on his face as Annie skated beautifully on the ice, a golden performance; and he couldn't find it in himself to care that he was below her once again.

He clapped with the rest when her performance ended, wondering what she would get.

It would be high, he knew that much, given her Short Program.

The screens showed two Jumps, with her one and only Quad first. Then they showed the middle of the Step Sequence, her face happy and energetic. His eyes looked over to the judges, and he noticed a smudge on his glasses as he did. Frowning he took them off, but his jacket and skating outfit wasn't exactly the best thing to use to clean glass.

Gasps and cheers started to sound from the crowd, and Harry quickly put on his glasses to read the score, ignoring the print on the glass.

And lost his breath.

317.98 glared down at him, begging him to misread the numbers. A hard sense of vertigo came suddenly, and he tilted to the left, then had to grip the railing to keep from falling over.

"That's my Haroshka," he barely heard his coach say behind him, and he looked over his shoulder as he was pulled into a short hug filled with pride. "Now, to claim your gold."

His head nodded, and his legs followed his coach down, but his mind was elsewhere.

The attendant gave him the bouquet of flowers - purple ones, he noted - when he arrived, then slid the gold over his head before they stepped away, opening the gate to the bare ice.

They wanted him to skate on the ice towards the audience, the same as with World's.

Except he was in the middle of the older skaters, with Annie on his right, and Daisuke on his left.

Harry took in a deep breath, then stepped onto the ice, waving to the roaring crowd with a plastered smile on his face.

February 23, 2010

Victor glid onto the ice in his white sleeved jeweled outfit with an equally white toothed smile, and the crowd's cheers were almost deafening.

"Crowd favorite, huh?"

Harry turned his head to the skater who spoke, recognizing him from the Pair Skating.

"He is," Chris answered, leaning further into Harry, which made him frown slightly at the action. "And with good reason."

The skater hummed, then turned back to look at the ice.

Chris moved away before Harry could ask the other what that was about, so he let it go. Instead he watched his friend, who was skating back to Feltsman. The older man looked as grumpy as the last time Harry saw him, but Victor only smiled that 'crowd' bright grin as he spoke, before slowly skating back, raising a hand to his pulled back hair, then placed his hands at his side.

The soft rock song began to play as Harry felt Chris lean against him once more, but he didn't question it as he watched his friend dance. There was something about his movements, something, slightly stilted, that had Harry worried. Until Victor raised his hands to his head, and spun on one foot smoothly as he arched his back.

Harry blinked in shock as those around him gasped in what sounded like horror, while Victor flung the silver wig over his coach's head, smiling bright as he danced more freely; even the music changing to something more upbeat.

Yet when Victor was done, the whole crowd seemed mixed between congratulating Victor on his performance, and mourning his old hairstyle.

February 27, 2010

The Exhibition was over, the Gala was done, and he was in a dimly lot hotel room with a drunken Russian telling him that he'd broken the World record in the Beta Division, but barely felt anything because of it. Harry said nothing when Victor finished his words with a long sigh, then let the older man flop onto Harry's outstretched arm on top the bed.

Harry took a deep breath, and forced himself to speak, "Vitya."

His friend hummed, then turned to rest his head on Harry's chest, long limbs encircling him.

"Are you awake?"

His friend hummed again.

Harry stared at the ceiling.

"I think you should get some help."

Victor didn't twitch, didn't argue, he only held Harry tighter, as if he was Makkachin.

March 15, 2010

"Happy birthday, Drayok."

The twelve year old looked down at the stuff poodle that Harry got him as a joke gift, waiting for him to either throw it at him, or demand to know where his true gift was; which was sitting on the table in the kitchen, next to the meal Mr. and Mrs. Solovyov made for the party.

He didn't expect the child to get teary-eyed and hug him tight, but he patted the child on the back in comfort all the same.

April 6, 2010

"Why are you eighteen?"

"Time," Jane said, feeding Oliver the pieces of cooked chicken they didn't put in their dinner.

Harry stared at the scene before he laid back down, putting his arm over his eyes after he flung his glasses away.

July 31, 2010

Stepping out of the Leaky Cauldron, Harry took a deep breath of fresh air, then let it out slow. It was great to see his friends again, to share a laugh with both Ron and Hermione after so many years of talking on the phone, to speak with those he hadn't seen since Hogwarts; but it was, unnerving as well.

There were those who were dating, those who were married, who had a child, who was running their own company, those who had high ranking jobs. Life went on without him as he lived in Hasetsu and Russia, dancing in a career that he only had about four more years competitively before his body would begin to give out on him, seven if he was one of the lucky ones; and he knew how far his luck went.

Harry let out a long breath, thinking of the co-teaching job he was doing, then the coaching job he was toying with. On one hand, he would be stuck in a classroom, teaching teenagers, instead of traveling the world, meeting new people, seeing people he knew, eating with said friends.

"Those in the Olympics get a coaching degree, don't they? Harok, become my coach! After I beat you in my Seniot Debut, that is."

He stared in front of him, then looked at the dark sky, surprised that it wasn't raining.

The door opened behind him before he could get lost in thought, and he moved out of the way with an apology on his lips, then paused at the familiar pale teen - adult, the other man was a month older - who stepped out of the pub.

"Malfoy."

Grey eyes focused on him, and he couldn't help but stare when he noticed that Malfoy was slightly tipsy.

"Why are you in London?" the other asked with a clear voice, platinum blond hair swaying as Malfoy moved closer.

"Because most of us wanted to drink after the birthday party without Mrs. Weasley berating us," he answered honestly, slightly enamored at the intoxicated man, who had red cheeks instead of pink.

"Right. You're twenty, too." Malfoy stood in front of him, and Harry noticed that they were also looking each other in the eye while standing straight. The paler must have noticed as well, for grey eyes narrowed for a second. "And, how is twenty treating you?"

Harry wondered what was with the slightly shaking tone, but decided to answer, "mostly the same. Jane's looking to study Opera outside of Russia, so I'm looking for a roommate."

Grey eyes flickered up from Harry's lips where they wandered, then leaned to the right.

"Would you take in a newly Presented Gamma-Alpha then?" His heartbeat stopped, and he had to force his arms to his side so he didn't sniff his wrists. "I have longer hair now. You like people with long hair, don't you?"

"You Presented already?"

Grey eyes stared at him, then a defeated scoff left thin lips, "we're both twenty. I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner."

Harry curled his fingers, but couldn't tighten them.

"I-I see."

Grey eyes blinked slowly.

"I'm sure you'd be an full Alpha, through and through."

"I'll be a Beta," he said, hearing the hope in his voice.

Malfoy frowned slightly in thought.

"Right. Because you were born female, the backwards thinking ISU would judge you unfairly for your muscular figure alone if you presented as an Omega. They'd want you to quit skating all together so you could carry - "

"Well aware, Malfoy."

The other stopped, and looked apologetic.

"Yeah, you would know the risks more than me. Sorry for that."

Harry grunted deep in his throat.

Malfoy took a step back, "well. I'll see you next season, then. Happy Birthday, Potter."

His mouth opened, but all he could get out was "thank you" before Malfoy disappeared into the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry frowned to himself before he turned to look at the sky again.

August 15, 2010

"Harok, I'm your new roommate! Isn't this great?"

He stared at the heart-shaped smile beaming at him, glanced to Makkachin as she squeezed between his legs to get inside, and watched the two that Victor still needed to sell follow their mother.

Then he looked back up at his smiling friend, remembered the shit-eating grin Jane gave him before she left, and called his other friend.

"Hello Yuuri, sorry to wake you up at 8 on a Sunday. But I'm moving back to Hasetsu for peace and quiet."

Yuuri hummed sheepishly in question as Victor slummed with a pout.

"See for yourself," he said, putting on Facetime, then turned it to Victor when the call connected a few seconds later.

The sharp yelp of shock had all four dogs run to him, and they began to circle him, sniffing him in curiosity.

"Hello," Victor greeted happy in English, then looked back to Harry, "Makkachin loves your home, Harok. How can you be so mean to her and her babies?"

"And how am I going to explain the extra pets to my landlord? Yuuri, want me to get anything for Vic-chan?"

"I'll pay the expense, please don't go!"

Harry took a step back to avoid Victor's hug, and almost tripped over one of the dogs.

"A-are you okay?"

He let out a long breath before bringing his phone to his face, "I'm fine - " The wide eyes and hugged pillow to his friend's chest was a bad sign. "Want me to call you back, Yuuri?" A beginning of a nod, half of a shake of his head. "Above the dance and recording room," Harry said to Victor as he stepped to the side, his back on the wall, "go unpack."

Victor looked like he wanted to ask, but he closed the door and called the dogs to follow him, which only three did.

"Go on," he told Makkachin.

Expressive brown eyes stared at his phone, and Harry moved the screen to his chest.

"Come on, Makkachin," Victor called from the stairs, and the large poodle walked away a second later.

He watched them before he moved the phone back, seeing only Yuuri's eyes from behind the pillow.

"I didn't really think before I called," Harry spoke to his friend in Japanese, hearing Victor and the dogs begin to walk up above. "I was just messing with Vitya and you popped up in my head. I would have called Chris, but I would have gotten my phone back the next day with an account on some social website." Brown eyes blinked slowly, then he saw the hint of an amused smile. "Did I say something the wrong way?"

Yuuri shook his head, then picked it up more, "you said everything right. social media, right?" Harry nodded, and Yuuri rested his chin on his pillow. "So, he's really as essentric as you said."

"About as much as you."

Brown eyes blinked, "me?"

"Who was the one who would wake me up at random hours because you wanted to show me something right away?" Yuuri flickered his eyes away. "True, you're not as bad as Vitya, but now I'll have both him and his dogs sleeping in my bed once he's done showing me whatever he found at 3 in the morning."

"He still has three dogs?"

"Yes. And it's Summer, Yuuri."

A soft chuckle, and the pillow was pushed down as Yuuri sat straighter.

"So, term has started, right? Your classes doing okay? How about the pay?"

Brown eyes narrowed as his friend frowned, "well...yes." Pale cheeks seemed to go red, "And, I'm managing."

He wondered if he should bring it up.

"You should have went to college elsewhere, a lot cheaper." Yuuri nodded, and there was no mistaken the red cheeks. "Do you, want to tell me how you're getting money?"

Brown eyes blinked, then his friend nearly dropped his phone as he shouted "no no no, nothing like that" in distress. "I-I just - well I - " Yuuri rubbed the back of his neck. "I, dance on a pole in my free time."

Harry stared, then let out a relieved breath, "I thought you was working the corner. Last thing I wanted was to find you in the obituaries."

"No," his friend said, looking him back in the eye, "I just dance. Sometimes I get a lot of money, sometimes I don't. But, I can afford healthier food now."

"Dancing must do wonders for your confidence."

Yuuri frowned, "somewhat."

There was a bang from upstrairs, and his friend looked up with him.

"Should you go check on him?"

"Nah, Vitya's a grown man, he can take care of himself."

Yuuri gave him a look.

"The same man who puts plastic containers in microwaves?"

Harry flickered his eyes back to the ceiling.

"You're right."

"I guess we'll talk later."

"Yeah, you can tell me about your programs then."

His friend hummed, and Harry glanced back down to see if he could tease him.

"Maybe I'll bring Chris and Vitya to one of your shows."

His friend gave him a confused look.

"My shows - no don't!"

"I was joking," he said to his friend with a smile, then glanced at the ceiling when he heard footsteps. "But, don't you want to have a dance off with Chris? I wouldn't put it passed him to have taken a few classes in pole dancing."

Yuuri hummed as Victor walked down the stairs, the other man nearly tripping as the two puppies jogged passed him, then waited for him at the bottom with wagging tails.

"How much you want to bet that Vitya's made a mess upstairs?"

Victor looked at him through the cracks of the stairs, then gave a small hop off the last step and made his way towards him.

"From how you've told me, it's likely. I'll sent you a picture of my costume when - "

His wrist was taken, and his phone was brought to a 'pouting' Victor's face, "you two are gossiping about me?"

Yuuri made a long "uhh" noise.

"We're talking about his outfit," Harry told Victor, lightly tugging his arm to get it back.

"I know I heard my name."

"You're getting old, Vitya."

Blue eyes dulled for half a second before they 'watered'.

"No I'm not." Harry stared at his friend before Victor looked back to the phone, "Yuuri, right? Do I look old to you?"

Brown eyes looked away from Harry back to Victor.

"No," was all his friend said, and he didn't look quite as panicky. "Please, don't ruin Harry's microwave."

Victor leaned back on the wall, taking Harry's arm with him.

"What lies has Harok been spreading about me?"

"No lies."

Blue eyes didn't look away from the screen, and Harry made to move so he could see Yuuri's face, but paused.

"You keep things tidy," Yuuri said with a soft voice, probably still coming in terms with who he was talking with.

Victor hummed, "and what else? Do I have a messy lifestyle? Or not clean the dishes?"

"You have a dishwater," Yuuri stated, then confessed, "but you forget to take the dishes out of it."

Victor hummed again, but didn't give Harry a look. "I only did that one time, and that was because I was being a good host." Then his friend gave a smile Harry's never seen before, "you know about me, so that must mean you're that Yuuri, who's family runs a hot springs inn, either a fan of ice dancing in particular, or a skater - " Harry almost looked to the phone in apology " - and you have an adorable dog that Harry won't show me pictures of."

"Hai - yes, yes they do. You should visit the onsen some time."

His eyes almost flickered down to his flustered friend, but he was busy trying to decipher Victor's face.

"Are they opened during the off season? I would love to go. Maybe you can show me around, Yurka?"

"Umm, it's Yuuri - oh, the names - I mean sure - yes."

"Great! A nice, relaxing soak in a hot springs sounds like a great idea after a long season. Don't you agree, Yurka?"

"I - hai - right - I mean yes. I'll, give you the number to Yu-topia, and you can set up an appointment. If you wish to stay longer than a few days."

"Aah, business tone," Victor teased, and Yuuri began to stutter again.

'He's flirting,' his mind translated for him, as Harry seemed all but forgotten by the two.

"Don't worry, Yurka, I'll take that number. And maybe yours, so we can plan when we can visit the hot springs together. Maybe we can have Makkachin visit this cute dog of yours that I still haven't seen a picture of. Or even given their name."

"It's Vic-chan. And, Harry..." He looked to the phone. "You can, give Victor my number. I, need to go to sleep."

"Have a good rest Yurka," Victor spoke with that new smile down to Yuuri, who muttered a "good night" in Japanese before Harry heard the beep.

'Least he turned his phone off before passing out,' Harry thought as Victor smiled down at his phone like it was a batch of pleasantly colored flowers given to him by a lover.

Then said phone was handed to him.

"He seems a bit shy," Victor said as he pulled out his own phone, and Harry opened up his contacts a second later.

"And you have a crush on him," Harry couldn't help but say.

Victor said nothing, but added the number into his phone with bright blue eyes.

'Good,' he said as his friend called out happily to Makkachin, 'though he still needs help with his growing depression.'

Victor picked up his poodle, then hummed in dissatisfaction, despite the many snouts that were sniffing and licking his face.

"Okay, Makkachin, let's find a better spot."

Then Victor was jogging up the stairs, a trail of excited dogs behind him.

Harry watched until his friend was gone, then opened up his contacts again, slightly amused.

"Okay, you are still up. You might want to sit down for this one."

"Already am. Something happened in St. Petersburg?"

Harry looked back up at the ceiling.

"Victor Nikiforov has a crush on Yuuri."

Mari was quiet on the other end.

She was quiet for a long while.

Then he heard his friend take a deep breath in on the other end.

"You're sure?"

"Victor's planning to visit Yu-topia on the off season with him."

Mari was quiet again.

"Isn't Victor a playboy? That's what Minako says about him, anyway."

Harry frowned, what little amusement he felt gone.

"That's what people think, but that's only because he focuses more on Figure Skating than dating." 'And other things that don't have to do with the ice or his dog,' he added in his mind.

"And most people can't deal with someone putting their career over them," she finished. "Well, Yuuri can fend for himself if Victor turns out to be not like you think he is. Thanks for telling me so I'm prepared."

Harry glanced at the ceiling when he heard rapid footsteps, then looked back at the wall in front of him.

"Prepared for their visit, or..."

His friend was quiet, then he heard her take a long drag.

"For whatever happens...I should take those posters down, just in case."

Harry narrowed his eyes in confusion, then remembered.

"Hai, that would be, awkward. I'll take to you later, Mari."

"Take care of your heart, too, Harry."

A spasm of fear went through him, which he quickly squished down.

"I don't plan to date anytime soon."

Mari was quiet for a second.

"Hai. Take care."

"Night," he said, then ended the call with a shaking thumb.

"Stop cutting your hair, girl! Look at this mess on your head!"

"Now you're going to wear this dress, and don't embarrass us in front of your teacher. Do you hear me, girl?"

"I don't date girls, Harry."

"Why don't you wear a dress suit? You'd look cute in a pencil skirt with your hips, you know? Borrow mine, Harry."

"Mr. Potter, your hair seems longer since last we've seen you last. Do you plan to grow your hair out like the Beta skater Victor Nikiforov?"

"Why don't you wear lip balm? Your lips are so chapped."

"You need to lose some muscle before I can date you."

"You're too buff."

"Where's your chest, anyway, worked it all off at the gym?"

"Harok?"

He blinked his heavy eyes, then looked over to Victor, and nearly fell at the heavy mass of dark brown poodle that leaped into his arms, the other dogs circling in concern. Harry stared down at the three as a cold snout sniffed his neck, and moved his head as the puppy licked his face.

"I'm fine," he told Victor, then put the poodle on the floor.

He realized his mistake too soon as Makkachin tackled him to the ground, and his friend could barely save him from the four dogs trying to comfort him at the same time.

Blue eyes looked up at him slightly - huh, when was Harry taller than Victor? - after they escaped, then crinkled with Victor's smile.

"Let's eat in today."

Harry nodded, then began to walk out of the hall, dogs nearly tripping him.

"I'm craving katsudon. You want to try katsudon, Vitya?"

His friend hummed in question.

"Yuuri's kaa-san - mom, makes it. She does it better than me, and I don't put peas on mine, but she told me the meal has many different variations, so..."

Victor gave a soft smile, "sure. You know I like trying new things."

"Good. Because you're helping me make it."

Victor smiled brighter, and Harry made sure to have the dogs stay in the living room before he searched the cabinets to see if they had the ingredients.

"Let me cook, video the dogs in their new environment for me." The skillet paused over the burner. "Please?"

Harry put the skilled down and crossed his arms in thought, then hushed the runt when the puppy barked up at him, shooing them both out when the other puppy joined her sibling.

It was a good thing Harry banished the dogs and kept them occupied, for a heap of hot oil splashed onto the floor when the pork fell from Victor's chopsticks and flopped into the skillet. Harry tried not to laugh, stopped the video on Victor's face, and uploaded it per Victor's request on his - newly made ten minutes prior - YouTube account. Then he cleaned up the mess with a spell as his friend stared at the skillet intently. He watched warily as Victor continued to use the takeout chopsticks to flip the breaded pork, slowly taking a few steps back.

There was only a little splash, so he relaxed, until that piece was done, and the second pork slice was slowly brought to the skillet.

"Just use some tongs, Vitya."

"You said it's cook with chopsticks, and that's what I'm going to do."

Harry frowned, then took another step as a precaution as Victor reached the skillet.

When both of the pieces were on the rack to drain, he breathed easier, then got the other ingredients.

"Pour in a cup of rice, then two cups of water, and put it on the stove on high heat until it boils. Then low heat, cover it, and simmer."

Victor frowned at him, then looked down at the bag of rice.

"That's not what the instructions say to do first."

"The instructions are usually wrong. Mrs. Katsuki told me this is the proper way to cook rice if you don't have a cooker."

Victor hummed, then turned to the measuring cup as he asked, "you learned cooking at Hasetsu."

"I learned how to cook a long time ago, trail and error." 

Unwanted memories started to surface, and he pushed them down.

"But yes, I learned more than Japanese in Hasetsu. I  wanted to help around the inn, since I was staying for a year."

Victor hummed, then did as Harry said.

They both looked at his phone on the far counter when it dinged, Victor almost pouring the mixture in the skillet onto the granite surface instead of the bowl of rice, until he stopped himself.

Harry went to his phone and opened it in curiosity.

"Your first subscriber?" Victor asked as the other man picked up the burnt chopsticks and a finished bowl.

"Probably a bot," Harry stated as he stared down at 'Phichuchu has subscribed to your...', then went to turn off notifications.

"Vkusno!"