Chapter Text
It had been four full weeks since Harry had last seen Evan. And he had felt every single one of those weeks, every day, every second, like a sharp pain in his side. The Order had deemed it safer for Harry to return to Privet Drive on his own to take advantage of the remaining weeks of security the blood protection spell offered before his seventeenth birthday broke it forever. Of course, Harry had not agreed with this logic, and argued vociferously, but in the end, a few harsh dismissals from Mad-Eye and some gentle pleas from Mr Weasley had made him back down. Very unwillingly.
And so here he was, away from Evan for the longest period of time since those agonising weeks of last summer when Harry had been questioning his sexuality and worrying about a stupid Daily Prophet article. Had that really been a year ago? It seemed unthinkable now that he could ever have doubted what he felt for him. Evan was now part of him. And this enforced absence was almost as bad as any torture Voldemort or his Death Eaters could bestow on him.
But, if today went to plan, that period of separation would soon be drawing to a close.
Harry had just returned to his bedroom after yet another argument with his aunt and uncle about their protective custody and cast an eye over his packing. How they could still be so blind after everything that had happened was unbelievable. It was incredible to think there were still people out there who did not live with the dread of Voldemort and his Death Eaters in every waking moment. Still, in just a matter of hours, the Dursleys would be out of his life for good, and he’d be back with his friends, hopefully at the Burrow, and most definitely with Evan.
That thought was all that was stopping him from going insane.
Harry added the finishing touches to his packing, checking through his rucksack for the fiftieth time to make sure he had everything. It was odd seeing how his entire life could fit into one relatively small bag. Anything which meant anything to him was in that bag. In addition to his Muggle clothes, wand, Cloak, Marauders’ Map and some books and potion supplies, he had his photo albums, his souvenirs from the England game, the locket from RAB and all the letters he and Evan had written to each other in their long separation this summer. In one small pocket of the bag he also had the little grass bracelet Evan had made for him almost a full year ago. It was yellowed now, even though Harry had cast a Preserving Charm on it at Hogwarts. It was stupid perhaps, but it was important for him to keep. It was a symbol of everything they’d shared that summer, of Harry finally beginning to come to terms with the loss of Sirius, of accepting the side of him he’d long kept hidden, of how he’d opened up his heart fully to someone else for the first time. Evan had given him another bracelet since, the leather Quidditch band he’d gotten for Christmas, and of course, they both still had their security bracelets from the match, but this one held a special place in his heart.
Harry twiddled his security bracelet around his wrist, flicking the little shamrock charm absent-mindedly. He hadn’t removed it in over a year. It was still as vibrantly emerald as the day the Auror had placed it around his wrist, vivid despite the inevitable wear and tear of a year at Hogwarts. If he twisted it slightly, he could see a distinct tan line had formed underneath. But it matched Evan’s, and so Harry never took it off. Almost as if touching it helped him feel closer to Evan. He knew Ron would be rolling his eyes if he said anything of this to him. Even to Harry it sounded ridiculously sentimental. But things were simply never logical with Evan.
Harry swept the old newspapers from his desk into the bin, turning his eyes away from the one about Dumbledore. So much had changed in the world since he’d met Evan, and not only in his own personal life. He now knew what Horcruxes were. He knew what his ultimate destiny was. And now Dumbledore was dead, and Harry had to do it all on his own.
He pushed aside the usual wave of dread which threatened to overcome him at that thought. Not now. Don’t think about it now.
Uncle Vernon was stomping around downstairs, still loudly complaining about the necessity of ‘sneaking off like criminals in the dead of night’, and Harry fought the desire to throw something. He had no real concept of what danger he was in. What danger Harry was in. For the first time in his life, Harry envied his uncle.
Four days. Four days until he was seventeen and could finally begin the task he’d been marked for since he was a year old. He wasn’t sure if he felt more anticipation or dread at the thought of that. Here finally was the chance to fight back against the looming shadow which had dominated his entire life. But to do so would be to risk everything. Risk his own life, and those of his friends. And all without Dumbledore’s guidance. Harry simply didn’t know if he could manage it all.
He sank into his bed and held his head in his hands, breathing in and out deeply. This was yet another side effect of being apart from Evan so long. Without him, Harry could almost allow the despair to completely floor him whenever he thought of it. Evan had comforted him after the death of Sirius, and now he’d needed him in the weeks since Dumbledore’s death almost as desperately. Evan never allowed the darkness to prevail for long. With him, Harry could hope. Without him, he struggled to hold it together every day he was stuck in this house he despised.
The doorbell rang, and Harry immediately sprang up from where he’d been perched on the end of his bed, brushing aside his momentary melancholy. In Uncle Vernon’s current mood, he didn’t think it wise to let him deal with Daedalus and Hestia on his own. Harry raced down the stairs and pulled open the front door.
“Harry Potter! An honour, as ever!”
Daedalus had swept off his hat and sank into a bow, but Harry barely saw him or the dark-haired witch at his side. He was too focused on the figure standing behind them, shock rippling through his body.
“Evan!”
Evan grinned at him, the early evening light setting off a golden glow in his hair. “Hi, Harry.”
Harry laughed out loud, the first time he’d done so since arriving back at the house and stepped out onto the doorstep to pull him into an embrace. Evan returned it enthusiastically, and Harry was immediately engulfed by Evan’s familiar scent, the comforting sensation of having his arms encircle his body. The heavy weight which he’d been carrying around in his chest the last four weeks dissipated instantly. This was so right . This was exactly where he was supposed to be.
“What are you doing here?” Harry asked, when he finally pulled back. He ran his eyes all over Evan, drinking in every last detail, searching for any change. “I thought you were staying at the Burrow?”
“There’s been a change of plan,” Evan said, and a cloud of darkness crossed his face. He glanced at Daedalus and Hestia, who had watched the exchange silently. “It’s a long story.”
“Mad-Eye will explain,” Hestia said tersely, stepping into the hall as Harry stepped backwards to let them all in. “Too complicated.”
Harry’s heart sank, knowing there was far more to this than they were letting on, but not pushing it. He really didn’t like where this was going.
“Good day to you, Harry Potter’s relatives,” Daedalus announced happily, sweeping into the living room to address the Dursleys, who looked utterly disgusted at being addressed thus. He then launched into an explanation of the plan for them to drive away from the house and then Apparate while Harry, Hestia and Evan followed him into the room.
It was odd seeing Evan here in Privet Drive, the site of Harry’s miserable childhood, and Harry noticed Evan’s shoulders tense immediately when he caught sight of the Dursleys. His lips pressed together, possibly with the effort of keeping calm when faced with the people he knew to have mistreated Harry his whole life. He stayed admirably stoic, however, even when Hestia was outraged on Harry’s behalf at their lack of interest in where Harry was going and when Dudley had made his strange attempt at reconciliation.
“I still find this utterly ridiculous,” Uncle Vernon muttered, just as they were about to leave. “Being forced out of our own home for harbouring a marked man!”
“For harbouring your nephew ,” Hestia amended, her own disapproval still evident.
“Only technically,” Vernon said, casting a scowl in Harry’s direction. “Not that he’s ever shown any loyalty to those who raised them. God knows how much we’ve forked out on things for him over the years, and where’s the repayment been?”
Harry bit back the urge to retort with the fact that they’d very seldom ever bought him anything new, and even the second-hand things he’d received had been given only with the most grudging sense of obligation.
“I paid you back, remember?” he said, speaking through gritted teeth. “A portion of the winnings from the Championship. As promised.”
Uncle Vernon snorted. “Barely anything. If you’d really won a competition that big you must’ve gotten more than that. You’ve fiddled us, boy! I saw the letter from those official people about how much you got. All those galleons and whatnots. What’s the exchange rate I want to know? You haven’t given us nearly what you owe.”
Harry breathed in deeply to stop himself shouting back, having already gone over this argument several times since he returned, but saw Evan to his side growing more outraged on his behalf, his composure finally breaking.
“He didn’t owe you anything, ” Evan said, shooting Uncle Vernon a very dirty look. “You’re supposed to be his family . You should be celebrating what he achieved, not writing him a bill!”
Uncle Vernon’s upper lip curled, as it always did when anyone dared refer to Harry as his family. He turned his full attention to Evan now, sizing him up, and Harry’s hackles rose as he saw the look of disdain Uncle Vernon was now giving him. An uneasiness crept down his spine. Evan stared back, looking unruffled, save for the simmering anger in his eyes.
“And who are you exactly?” he asked, casting his beady eyes over him, probably annoyed he couldn’t criticise his flawless Muggle attire. “Another one of those Order busybodies?”
“This is Evan Turner,” Hestia said, intervening quickly, perhaps seeing some danger signs and keen to prevent things escalating. “He played on the team with Harry last year.”
This did not impress the Dursleys, all of whom looked at Evan with increasing distrust, possibly imagining him atop a broomstick and shuddering at the thought. The sight of them dismissing Evan sent a flare of anger burning in Harry’s chest. How dare they look down on the person who’d been more of a family to him than they ever had? The first person he could remember ever telling him he was loved, something which they themselves should have been doing his entire life?
“Evan’s my boyfriend,” Harry blurted out, suddenly heedless of the consequences, staring Uncle Vernon down with his heart hammering in his ears. “That’s who he is.”
The reaction was immediate. Uncle Vernon’s pink face drained of colour and went an ashy grey. Aunt Petunia let out a gasp of horror and clutched her throat like something was strangling her. Dudley’s jaw dropped to the floor and he stared at Harry like he was an alien.
Evan’s head had jerked towards Harry, astonished perhaps that he’d so boldly come out and said it. But Harry didn’t look at him. His entire body was trembling, but he wasn’t about to look away or back down. Let them say what they wanted. Let them express their disgust. He didn’t care. He had Evan now. Evan loved him. Evan meant far more to him than any single one of them.
For a long moment, there was no sound in the living room. Daedalus Diggle twiddled his hat nervously between his hands, and Hestia glanced uneasily between them all. Harry sought to get a control of his breathing and push down the rising nausea he was experiencing as it sank in that he’d just come out to the Dursleys. I don’t care , he told himself. Whatever they say, I don’t care. I don’t give a damn what they think.
The shock seemed to be leaving Uncle Vernon. The paleness had now shifted into a furious scarlet and his moustache bristled, always a danger sign. It was the sign Harry had been most attuned to looking out for as a child, the sign that Uncle Vernon was now beyond reason. It was the look he’d always had when Harry had used accidental magic. The look which spoke of his profound disgust for everything Harry represented. And he was once more under its gaze.
He looked almost too furious to speak. He looked from Harry to Evan and back again, clenching his fists. He met Harry’s gaze, and in the depths of his eyes, Harry saw a greater danger lurking there than he’d ever witnessed before.
“I always knew you were a freak of nature, boy,” he said, quietly, voice trembling. “But you’ve really done it now.”
Harry’s stomach lurched unpleasantly. Don’t let it get to you. It’s what you expected.
Behind Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia was still standing with a hand on her throat, looking as if she was about to be sick. Dudley just looked dumbfounded, as if someone had asked him to work out a difficult sum.
Uncle Vernon’s eyes flashed and he took a sudden step closer to Harry, his fist half raised. Immediately, Daedalus, Hestia and Evan whipped out their wands to point at him. Uncle Vernon stopped short, flinching at the sight of the wands, but the dangerous glint did not leave his eyes. He looked back at Harry, glaring at him from the relatively safe distance outside of arm’s reach.
“I never want to see you step foot in any house of mine ever again,” he said, hissing through clenched teeth. “You hear me? You keep away from me and my family. I won’t put up with queers around my son. I’ll never have another thing to do with you for as long as I live.”
“You promise?” Harry said, trying to make his voice as indifferent as he’d always heard Evan’s be when facing comments like this. He wasn’t quite sure he’d pulled it off. His voice had wavered far too much. Evan took a step closer to Harry. Something which did not go unnoticed by Uncle Vernon.
“You’re disgusting,” he spat, glaring at both of them. “Freaks, all of you. I’m not going anywhere with you lot. You’re a damn abomination, you know that?”
“And do you know that you’re completely at the mercy of us and our wizarding friends?” Evan responded, when Harry was momentarily speechless. The usual cool, calm tone of Evan’s voice was replaced with one far more tense, and he glared back at Uncle Vernon with almost the same amount of vitriol. His wand was still in his hand. “Stay here if you like, but you’ll be dead by the morning. So it’s up to you; die a slow, painful death with your family, or go with the freaks and live. Your choice.”
For a moment, Harry thought Uncle Vernon might actually punch Evan, and fervently wished he hadn’t left his wand in his newly packed rucksack upstairs. They faced each other down; one of them the man who had raised Harry, and the other the man who had first shown him love. Once again, Harry was struck with admiration for how Evan handled situations like this. Harry wasn’t sure he could trust himself to speak.
Eventually, Uncle Vernon turned around, snapping so quickly to face the other direction he must’ve gotten whiplash. He stormed out of the room, snarling at his wife and son to follow, and slammed the door so violently the glass pane in the kitchen door shattered. Harry swallowed the lump in his throat and stayed as calm as he could while he said a strange sort of goodbye to Aunt Petunia and Dudley, neither of whom could look him in the eye as they did so. Daedalus and Hestia offered Harry grimacing apologetic smiles as they left, and before long everyone was gone, leaving just Evan and Harry alone in the house where Harry had spent sixteen miserable years of his life.
Suddenly feeling weak at the knees, Harry sank into the nearest couch. He let out a long, shuddering breath.
“Well,” he sighed, “I guess everyone knows now.”
“Harry—” Evan collapsed down next to Harry on the couch and grabbed his hand. “I—I’m so—”
“Don’t be sorry,” Harry laughed humourlessly. “It’s just what I expected from them. And I don’t care. I really don’t. They’re not important to me.”
Evan watched him closely, as though trying to detect a lie.
“Harry,” he said gently, “are you sure? They’re your last living relatives, and—well, they’ve basically just …”
“Cast me off?” Harry asked. He gave a slight shrug. “To be honest, I don’t think it’ll make much difference. I wasn’t exactly planning on staying in contact.”
“That’s not the point,” Evan said, his voice still incredibly gentle. “The fact is, they still did it. That—that can’t be nice.”
Harry turned to look at Evan and forced a smile to his lips. “You don’t have to do this, Evan. They’ve always hated me, and I’ve always hated them. It makes no difference whether they hate me for being a wizard or for not being straight.”
Evan summoned a matching smile, and slipped his arm around Harry’s shoulders which Harry leaned into.
“It still affected you, Harry,” he said, murmuring into Harry’s hair. “You’re more bothered by this than you let on.”
Harry stared at the fireplace across the room, reliving memories of when the Weasleys had come to collect him for the World Cup. Trust Evan to see right through him.
“Is that weird?” he asked quietly. “It’s not like I didn’t know what they’d say. I don’t even care about their opinion.”
“It’s not weird,” Evan said, rubbing his arm up and down Harry’s. His voice was tight. “You have a right to be able to tell your family something like this without them turning on you.”
“They’re not really my family though,” Harry said. “You are. Ron and Hermione are. The Weasleys are. They all accepted me. So why the hell does this feel so horrible?”
“Rejection always feels like that,” Evan said, shrugging. “No matter who it is. But you’re right, Harry. They’re not your family. So don’t let them get to you.”
Harry laughed, turning to look at him. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
Evan’s returning smile was broad, and the next moment he’d leaned in to kiss him. Harry melted into the kiss, more than eager to make up for the four weeks they’d been apart, pressing himself ever closer to Evan. Evan was more than willing, and his kiss became more intense, perhaps as keen as Harry was to renew their physical connection. The next thing he knew, Harry had fallen back to lean into the couch and Evan was leaning over him, hands reaching out to touch him.
Harry moved his head back slightly and laughed suddenly.
“What?” Evan murmured, beginning to smile, face still close enough to Harry’s for him to feel every breath brushing across his cheeks.
“Just the thought of what Uncle Vernon would say if he came back to see us doing this in his living room,” Harry said, chuckling as he imagined the look on his face.
Evan’s smile became rather fixed; he obviously did not find it as funny as Harry did, but in another moment they’d both forgotten about it as Evan bent down to kiss him again.
After a minute or two, they moved away, Harry sighing happily. He reached out to brush Evan’s cheek with one hand.
“I’ve missed you,” he said to him.
“Same,” Evan said, pressing his cheek further into Harry’s touch. “I’ve been going crazy thinking about you stuck here with them all this time.”
Harry shrugged and pushed himself back up into a seated position. “They’ve been okay. I know how to handle the Dursleys.”
Evan still did not seem as blasé about it as Harry was. He too sat up and cast his gaze around the room, eyes lingering on all the many photographs of Dudley around the walls. He had clearly noticed the lack of Harry’s presence anywhere.
“I’d better get my stuff,” Harry said, and he got up to run back up the stairs to collect his rucksack, broom and Hedwig’s cage. When he’d made his ungainly way back down the staircase, he stopped in the hall to see that Evan had followed him out here. He’d frozen in front of the cupboard under the stairs, peering inside it, looking faintly sick.
When he noticed Harry had returned, he turned to face him.
“They put you in here?” he said, and there was a definite tremor of anger in his voice. He glanced back at the cupboard. “They put a child in here?”
Harry edged a little closer and also looked inside, surprising himself as he noticed just how small it was to him now, reliving all those mornings of waking to see the underside of the staircase above him.
“Don’t feel sorry for me, Evan,” he said, turning away from it, feeling his cheeks flush. “It was ages ago.”
“That doesn’t make it okay, Harry,” Evan said, slamming the door shut with more force than necessary. “And I don’t feel sorry for you. I’m furious. How dare they treat you like that?”
Harry shrugged, looking down at the ground. “I survived.”
When he looked back up, Evan was slowly shaking his head at him. “You shouldn’t have had to survive , Harry,” Evan told him sadly. “You should have been living .”
Harry couldn’t meet his eyes for long, and looked away again, clearing his throat. He’d told Evan almost every detail about his childhood by now, but he still did not like discussing it. Not because he found it difficult, but because he simply wanted to move on from it all. To not allow this to overshadow his new life in the wizarding world. He wondered if he’d ever be able to put this Horcrux debacle behind him in the same way.
Ron and Hermione did not even know the full details of what his life had been like before Hogwarts, though of course Ron was fully aware of his forced imprisonment and of the bars which had been on his window five years ago. It was a reminder of a time when he’d been helpless, when he’d struggled to understand who he was and how he fit into the world. Now he was no longer helpless. He had a way to fight back, finally, and a chance to end the evil forces which had always surrounded him. And no longer was he alone either. He now knew who he was, and he knew who was important to him. Thinking back to those long years in his cupboard would achieve nothing.
“Why did you tell them, Harry?” Evan asked when they stepped from the hall back into the living room. He was watching him closely, almost cautiously. “You knew how they’d react. It couldn’t be anything other than a negative experience. Why say anything at all?”
Harry thought about this for a moment, and turned to smile back at Evan.
“Because I don’t want to hide you,” he said to him. “Not ever again, Evan. You make me happy. They never did. And I wanted them to know that despite their best efforts to make me as miserable as possible, I found happiness in the end.”
Evan stared at him a moment, and then wordlessly stepped forwards and pulled Harry into his arms. Harry closed his eyes and let the embrace wash over him. Uncle Vernon called this abhorrent did he? Yet saw no fault in the things he’d done to Harry over the years? How could he ever let anything that man said upset him? Hopefully, Harry would never have to set eyes on him ever again.
Evan drew back sharply when they heard a sudden roaring sound and many people moving around in the garden.
“They’re here,” Evan said, a suddenly tense expression on his face. He glanced at Harry. “Come on. We’ve got a plan to get you out of here, and I just know you’re not going to like it.”