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Harry let himself into Kingsley’s house with a tap of his wand against the front door. It was a rather ingenious ward, because if Kingsley wasn’t home, or if he was otherwise occupied, the door wouldn’t have opened. Harry wanted it for his own place, but he just never seemed to have the time or inspiration to weave the complex magic needed.
Thankfully, the door had opened, and he pushed it forward to step inside, shaking out his umbrella before he placed it into the stand. He shuffled his shoes off, and hung up his outer-robe on the hook that had somehow become his.
Kingsley was in the living room, already watching the door expectantly when Harry walked inside, and he took one look at Harry’s face before he sighed. He gestured Harry to sit on the sofa, where a light grey and fuchsia cross-hatched blanket was already waiting, and got up to go to the kitchen.
It dawned on Harry that the fact that they had a ritual for this was probably a little bit ridiculous. And perhaps also slightly pathetic. Regardless, he tucked himself into the corner of the sofa nearest the armchair that Kingsley always sat in, and wrapped the blanket around himself.
Kingsley rejoined him about ten minutes later with a tray in his hands. On it were two steaming mugs of tea, and a plate of egg sandwiches. Harry knew that as soon as he bit into the sandwich, the yolk would go everywhere, because Kingsley was an actual legend and he made the best egg sandwiches, and nobody would ever prove Harry differently.
“Have I told you lately that I love you?” Harry asked, with a smile, as he accepted a plate, and a mug of tea.
He sipped at the tea—loaded with sugar, just the way he liked it—before diving into the sandwich with relish.
It didn’t matter that he’d come straight from a dinner date, Harry always needed comfort food when he came to Kingsley after a first date, and the man knew it.
Kingsley didn’t ask any questions until the sandwich had been demolished, and the tea was half gone.
“Well?”
Harry looked at him for a moment, and then snorted. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“The beginning seems as good a place as any,” Kingsley pointed out, shifting a little in his armchair so that he was better facing Harry.
“Okay, okay, but let me preface this by saying that the restaurant was actually lovely, and we need to go there, because I really liked it and they didn’t do that awful starstruck thing that they did at the new one on Diagon Alley, but if I subject myself to anymore first dates there, I’m going to start hating it.”
Chuckling, Kingsley nodded. “Okay, we can do that.”
Harry nodded, and then wrinkled his nose. “Okay, so the guy was late. I actually thought that I was being stood up for a little while, I was getting ready to go when he finally turned up.”
Kingsley shook his head as Harry had known he would; the man was a stickler for timeliness.
“So, he introduced himself—he was called Ian, by the way. I think. I… yeah, I think that was name—and then immediately went into a monologue about his whole life. And I mean everything, Kingsley, it was awful. Like, fifteen minutes in, and he was still telling me about the cats that he had when he was ten, or something.”
“Okay, so we know that we don’t let Percy set you up on any more blind dates,” Kingsley said, shaking his head.
“We really do know that, yes. I honestly think that I’d rather give up on sugar,” Harry agreed, lifting his mug in explanation. Kingsley snorted. “And then, when I didn’t think that it could get any better, he started in with the worst chat up lines.”
That surprised a laugh out of Kingsley, and Harry huffed.
“Go on, laugh it up, I’ll just go and sit in a corner and cry,” he said, scowling.
Kingsley rolled his eyes at him. “Tell me his chat up lines,” he requested.
“He said, ‘Go on, feel my jacket. It’s made of boyfriend material.’ I wanted to hide under the table, it was so cringy! And he didn’t even seem embarrassed when I just stared at him.”
Kingsley shook his head. “That is terrible. Did nobody tell him that chat up lines aren’t actually for first dates?”
“Clearly not! But if there’s a handbook for first dates, this guy threw it out of the window into a bloody storm, and then watched it get destroyed by lightning.”
“So… what happened then?”
“Well, he bored me to almost-tears all through dinner,” Harry said, grimacing. “Told me all about his toy train collection, which I mean, if you wanna collect toy trains, you do you, but like… I don’t need to hear about it while I’m trying to eat my pasta, you know?”
“I do know.”
“And then he asked me if I ‘get much tail, being a hero and all’, and that was the point that my insides died, and I gave up hope of ever finding someone to love me. I’m going to be one of those old cat ladies.”
“Except for the fact that you’re not yet even remotely old, you’re not a lady, and you don’t like cats.”
Harry tilted his head, and then nodded. “Yeah, except for all of that.”
Kingsley shook his head fondly and then left for the kitchen again, taking the pots with him. When he came back, it was with the biscuit tin and two fresh mugs of tea. He sat on the sofa this time, right beside Harry, and after he’d placed the mugs and the biscuit tin on the table, he lifted his arm for Harry to cuddle into his side.
“Is it this hard for everyone?” Harry asked, tucking himself in close. “It’s not like I’m looking for perfection, Kingsley. I just… I want… I…” he shook his head. “I don’t think I even know what I want at this point.”
“You’ve had an… unfortunate string of bad first dates,” Kingsley admitted, his tone soft. “But maybe you’re looking too hard. Maybe if you relax about it, you’ll find what you want where you least expect it.”
“You think?”
“I do.”
“Hmkay.”
…
Kingsley was practically hidden by the enormous stacks of paperwork on his desk when Harry stopped by his office a few days later.
“Uh. Busy?”
Kingsley peeked around the nearest pile and grinned when he saw Harry. “I’m never too busy for you. How did you even get in here, though? Matilda is determined that I’ll catch up on my paperwork today, she’s been guarding the door like a hippogriff with a grudge.”
“She is quite the stubborn lady, isn’t she?” Harry agreed. “But I was a little bit sneaky, because I told her that I needed to ask you about an old case that you worked on when you were still in the Auror office, and also, you know that she had absolutely no resistance against my puppy-eyes.”
“You do have a strong puppy-eye game,” Kingsley replied, smiling. “So, what did you actually need?”
“I came to see what night would be best for you to go to that restaurant on Horizont,” Harry replied, shrugging lightly. “And I also fetched you scones.”
“You are wonderful,” Kingsley said, accepting the box that Harry was holding out to him. Inside, there were two scones, a tub of cream, and a little jar of jam. “And so long as there are no disasters, the only night I’m not free is Saturday, but since you’re not free then either…”
“I’m not?”
“You’re not,” Kingsley supplied. “If I have to face the torment of a Ministry Ball, so do you.”
“I thought you loved me,” Harry replied, pouting slightly. “You know that those things are more dangerous than anything that I do day to day at work, right?”
“Harry, you’re an Auror.”
“Exactly!”
Laughing now, Kingsley shook his head. “You’re really not going to be my date?”
“Of course I am, but I reserve the right to complain about it relentlessly regardless.”
“Of course you do, silly me.”
“So… Thursday?”
Kingsley nodded. “Thursday.”
…
“Why can’t I ever have a date that goes this well?” Harry complained, as they left the restaurant.
He tucked his arm into Kingsley’s as they walked together down Horizont Alley, ignoring the photographer who was stalking them, and failing at being subtle.
“Perhaps it’s because you’re already comfortable with me,” Kingsley suggested. “You always know that you’re going to have a good time, because we always do.”
Harry thought about that for a moment, and then nodded his head. “Also, you’re not a misfit, and my friends keep trying to set me up with misfits.”
“Maybe they’re trying to tell you something,” Kingsley said. “Because honestly, Harry, you’re one of the greatest Auror’s I’ve ever known, but you’re utterly oblivious to things that are right in front of your damn face.”
“Oblivious? To what?”
Kingsley just shook his head. “Nothing, it’s nothing. Do you have your robes prepared for Saturday, or did you forget to go to the dry cleaners again?”
They fell back into easy conversation, but Kingsley’s comment didn’t leave Harry’s mind for the rest of the night, even when he was lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling.
What was he being oblivious about?
…
Harry poked Ginny’s side gently, and then sat down beside her. They met for coffee every Friday morning—the only time both of them were off work and didn’t have any other commitments.
Harry let her rant for a while, as he always did, though at least half of the time, he only pretended to listen to whatever she was mad about. When she was done, he said, “Kingsley said that I’m being oblivious, but I don’t know what he was talking about. Am I oblivious?”
She frowned. “Do I get any context on this conversation or should I guess?”
When he explained, she sighed.
“Oh, Harry. You’re so lovable, but he’s absolutely right, you really are an oblivious twit sometimes. I can’t believe that you thought that Percy would seriously set you up with Ian Chambers—the guy is a complete jerk and everyone knows it—or Hermione with Alex, actually. Even Ron wouldn’t truly set you up with Jake, and Ron is a disaster on a good day.”
Harry blinked. “I don’t understand.”
“Do you really want me to spell this out for you?”
He nodded, furiously.
“Okay, you asked for it. You’re in love with Kingsley, he’s absolutely in love with you, and we’ve all been waiting for the dating announcement for about three and a half years now.”
“I… what?”
…
“You’ve been quiet this evening,” Kingsley said, when the two of them stepped out onto the balcony for a breather.
Most people were dancing now, but Harry had never been to a Ministry Ball and not stepped out to see the gardens all lit up. It was his favourite part of the evening, every time.
“Thinking,” Harry admitted. “I had coffee with Ginny yesterday morning, like usual, and she said something that… well, it confused me a little. And then I got mad with myself, and then I got a little mad with you, and now I’m just… confused again.”
“Mad with me?”
“Little bit, yeah.”
“Wanna tell me why?”
“Why didn’t you tell me that I was in love with you?” Harry asked, and then shook his head, because that was probably the wrong question. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were in love with me?”
“Ah.”
Harry looked up at him.
“I was happy with things the way they were,” Kingsley said, eventually. “And I figured that you would get there on your own, eventually. I didn’t want to push you.”
“So… she was right?” Harry pressed. “You are?”
“I… have been in love with you for so long that I don’t even remember when it actually started,” Kingsley replied, softly. “But Harry… it doesn’t have to change anything. I know that, regardless of who you date, or what you do, that you’ll always have room for me in your life, and I’m okay with that.”
“But… What if I want it to change? Actually, no, I don’t want anything to change, but I want to… add things?”
Kingsley smiled. “If I have it in my power to give it to you, then it’s yours, Harry.”
“Will you kiss me?”
“It would be my absolute pleasure.”
…
Harry didn’t need his wand to get into Kingsley’s place now. The door read his magical signature and let him in regardless of whether Kingsley was out, asleep, or busy.
He dropped his umbrella into the stand, took off his shoes and outer-robe, and entered the living room to find Kingsley already on the sofa, with a tray of tea and egg sandwiches on the table, and Harry’s favourite blanket draped over the arm.
Harry leant down to kiss him before he sat down next to him, leaning into his side automatically.
“Did you have a fun time with Ron and Hermione?” Kingsley asked, leaning forwards to grab the mugs of tea.
Harry nodded. “I did. It would have been better if you were there though.”
“I know, I’m sorry. Maybe Matilda has a point about me getting my paperwork under control.”
Harry laughed. “Maybe she does.”