Coup de Foudre - Part 6

[eaivalefay]

Coup de Foudre - Part 6


Harry was a proponent for honesty. He believed in being as honest as he possibly could. In this particular moment, when he said he wanted to look around, he really, honestly meant it. The last half of the sentence simply hadn’t come out. He wanted to look around…for Bale. It was one of the few times he knew he would have the time and privacy to try.

It was an ever more pressing issue in his mind, weighing him down. He couldn’t shake the feeling of impending disaster. He didn’t know what disaster was brewing, but all week he’d felt it pressing into him, settling in, waiting to go off. In the end, it had to be Bale, didn’t it? And after the other day, seeing him there with that damn charm hanging around his neck…

If Bale had his fingers in magic, it turned all of his ideas on their heads. Jack and the others could have very well been right when they voiced concerns about Bale being Harry’s stalker. And if he was Harry’s very own, then how many others knew where he was? How many others knew and cared where he was? How many knew about Adam or the few others he’d dated?

He sighed softly and steeled himself. He knew if Adam—or anyone, for that matter—found out he would kill him. They’d been over the ‘don’t go after Bale’ skit what felt like a thousand times at this point. But now it was more than a stalker issue, it was a magic one, and that was definitely Harry’s area. Jack was not equipped to handle that. He was barely equipped to handle it himself.

He headed back down the hall he and Adam walked only an hour ago and hit up the receptionist’s desk.

The bloke behind the high counter looked up at him. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yeah, is there any available back exit I can use?” He asked. “I arrived a bit conspicuously, you see, and I’d rather not be noticed leaving.”

The receptionist directed him back down the hall to a lift on the other side of the building. “There’s a key code for it. Today it’s 7328. Be sure to remember it to get back in.”

“Thanks,” he nodded and headed back down the length of the hall. He reached the lift with some relief, some part of his mind worrying Adam would catch him at this. Adam, Harry was sure, would pitch a fit. It didn’t matter though. He had to deal with this situation before it got any more out of hand.

Because even worse than Bale being Harry’s stalker, he really could be Adam’s. The Idol singer could have a magical stalker, and that disturbed him on all sorts of new levels. A magical maniac could get away with so much more than a muggle one. A magical one had, well, magic on his side. He could toy with Adam’s head, bend his will, kidnap him in the blink of an eye. Never mind everything else about the wizarding world.

The lift took a lifetime to hit the first and they were only situated on the fifth. He found himself tapping his foot impatiently until the doors slid open with a soft ding. He tried not to think of their worlds bleeding over into each other. That couldn’t happen, not yet. Adam could not find out about Harry’s past from a damn newspaper.

The elevator doors emitted him in a back entryway letting out into an employee parking lot. He stepped outside into the bright sun and hot California weather, wishing he’d thought to bring his sunglasses. Standing in this bright morning scenery it was hard to imagine San Francisco had smog problems. The way Leo went on he’d expected to come across a city drowned in murky fog.

He headed out, hitting the pavement to circle back around and check out the fans purportedly still at the building’s main entrance.

There was a charm he distantly remembered from those mad days running from one location to another with one battle party or another. More often than not it was him, Ron, and Hermione, and Hermione took every opportunity to expand his and Ron’s knowledge of curses. They paid attention, because at that point they’d figured out paying attention to ‘Mione helped keep them alive. It was a more complex form of revelio. He was half tempted to call Hermione to make sure he remembered how to cast it correctly, but he suspected calling out of the blue after over a year of silence with such a question would invite too many reciprocal questions.

Besides he was nearly positive he remembered it correctly. Well enough.

The front of the building was still surrounded by a small number of fans. There were fewer than there had been, but enough to make him wonder what they expected to happen outside the quiet studio building. He crossed the street and settled himself in a kiosk near the end of the block, settling in to watch. There was no sign of Bale, but then, he didn’t expect there to be.

He unhooked the phone and rested it on the top of the open phonebook, as though he was about to make a call. Then he knelt, tugged up his right trouser leg, and pulled the wand out from the place he’d strapped it last night. He could do a bit of wandless magic, but having a channel made it so much simpler and far less draining. He never quite worked out how Dumbledore managed so many wandless charms without any visible effort.

Straightening, he focused back out the grimy glass doors. Flicking his wand, he murmured, “specialis revelio.” There was nothing at first as he strained to see the entire area, then a spot on the far side from his kiosk shimmered a little, the way heat became visible on a scorching hot day in the desert. He focused on it as it narrowed and started darkening into a human shape.

It was definitely Bale. He smiled to himself in grim satisfaction. Bale didn’t appear to notice anything unusual. He hadn’t expected him to, but it was still some small relief.

He absently picked up the dead phone and placed it against his ear as he stared out the glass. He would wait here for as long as he could. If Bale didn’t move off in an hour or so Harry would give in and offer up a little incentive. For now he preferred to stay out of sight.

What he forgot about stakeouts was how bloody boring they got. The minutes ticked past slowly. At first Harry barely took his eyes off his prey. Bale was leaning against a lamppost, eyes trained on the entrance to the building. After a good 45 minutes Bale hadn’t budged an inch even though most of the other fans began moving off. Harry started checking his watch. At half past the first hour he began checking it obsessively. Only a handful of fans were left, three women chatting together and Bale off to the side.

He gave up with the phone and hooked it back on its stand. He bounced in restless frustration. Surely Bale had to give up soon. Even the women were beginning to fidget and looked ready to call it quits.

They did, fifteen minutes later. Bale barely moved. Harry growled to himself. He was on two hours, and bloody hell, Adam would discover his absence soon. He had to get a move on with this. He hung out for another half hour, gave up and yanked the booth door open.

All it took for Bale to notice him was Harry crossing the street and heading up the pavement. Bale looked up at the movement reflexively. He still didn’t move, only watched as Harry neared. Harry stared at a point just off the left of Bale, hoping he wouldn’t tip off his quarry that he was on to him.

Bale started shifting and edging away the closer Harry came up the block. Twenty meters off he began trotting the opposite direction. Harry picked up his pace after him, dashing to catch up as Bale turned a corner. When he ran around the edge of the corner building he saw Bale already a block down, running. He broke out into a dead run after him. He was not getting away this time.

They ran several blocks, up, across, and down. He got the distinct and satisfying feeling Bale didn’t have bloody clue where he was going. Harry may not know the terrain, but it looked like Bale didn’t either. If it was a little less crowded he’d send a curse flying and topple the bastard, but as it was, he had to get Bale somewhere more secluded. There would be fewer risks of bystanders: victims or witnesses.

He was more than a little surprised when Bale led them both down an alleyway. It was wide and streaming with light from the noon sun and it was clearly a dead end.

At the far side Bale tugged at a heavy metal door before he collapsed against it, gasping.

Harry slowed down, keeping an eye on him as he approached. A cursory inspection of the alley and Bale’s outright frustrated behavior told him there were no traps set up.

A couple meters off he came to a stop, absently running the tip of a finger against the smooth wood of the wand clutched tightly in his hand.

“How did you see me?” Bale asked after a minute, turning around and leaning against the door, still panting heavily.

He stared at him, a bloke who really didn’t look like much of anything. Average height, little muscle tone, and pale with yellow straw-like hair. He considered for a second before speaking. “You’re not as clever as you think you are.”

Bale’s expression twisted into fury. “I should have knifed you when I had the chance. Done the world a favor.”

He held his ground, but he really wanted to step back from the obvious venom in the man’s eyes. He shook his head, “You were after me the entire time.”

Bale laughed outright, pure acid. “I’m going to follow you around for one of them? Those filthy, repulsive muggles?” He spat, mouth curled. “We’re not all eager to fuck a muggle like you, Potter.”

Harry stared. “You’re a purist?”

Bale’s chin lifted. “We are a superior race. You destroyed our cause, left us to be mixed with them,” he jerked his head toward the street. “Like it’s acceptable behavior to fraternize.”

“You’re a squib,” Harry said incredulously. “You’re after me because I got rid of Voldemort? He would have crushed you like a piece of shit. You were nothing to him, worse than a muggle.”

Bale hissed. “Shut up. Shut up. I am pure. I am nothing like those insects. I am useful. The cornerstone—”

“Oh, Merlin,” Harry said. “You’re a nutter. Look, I could do the whole spiel about muggles aren’t less than us and all that, but you’re not really going to go in for that, are you?”

Bale spat at him.

“I might also point how in your logic I am superior to you by the simple fact I can hex your head off with a flick of my wand.” He raised it, more as a point than as a threat.

Bale braced himself against the door. “Go ahead. Kill me.”

He snorted in disbelief. “You’ve got to be… Merlin.” It was moments like these beating someone’s head against a wall sounded like a good plan. He didn’t know if it’d be more productive for it to be his own or this bastard’s. “I don’t really have time for this, you know? I want an oath from you you’ll leave me and Adam and everyone else on the tour alone. A magically binding oath.”

Bale glowered. “You’ll have to kill me, Potter. I won’t stop. I’ll keep tracking you down. But first I’ll put that smug little pet of yours out of his misery. I’ll do the same for every single muggle you take up with.”

Harry felt ice water rush down his spine, causing gooseflesh to prickle out all over his skin. He tightened his grip reflexively on his wand, twisting it, and Bale went flying across the alley into the opposite brick wall. He collapsed to the alley ground in a heap.

Harry slowed stepped forward until he was towering over the groaning heap. He leaned down. “I have seen and done worse things than you can possibly imagine in that walnut sized brain of yours. There is nothing you can do that could horrify or even shock me. If you think I will hesitate in dealing with a shit like you, you are very, very mistaken. One. Finger. On Adam or anyone else, you’ll be finished.”

The only response he received was a pained groan. He stepped back. This bloke couldn’t even handle a little run-in with a wall. He suddenly had serious doubts about any harm Bale could inflict. But that wasn’t something he could really risk. Not with Adam’s life.

He frowned and bit his lip, staring down at the figure as Bale slowly regained more and more energy. Harry couldn’t leave him here. He couldn’t kill him. He couldn’t exactly turn him in without any evidence. …at least, not to the muggle police. Aurors, on the other hand…

He sighed. He really did not want to deal with a bunch of aurors with their noses stuck up their arses. He’d had enough of that the one year he stuck around England after the war. He looked around for something, anything he could use. All he could spot was a lamppost halfway back up the alley. It would do, he supposed.

Bale was just sitting up. Harry flicked his wand again and ropes sprung out from the end, whipping through the air to wind around Bale’s wrists, drawing them tightly together. Then he levitated him over to the lamppost and set another rope whipping around Bale’s arms and torso and the sturdy metal of the lamppost.

He strolled over and met enraged brown eyes. “I’m not going to bother apologizing here, Bale. You threatened me as well as several others. Did you think I would let you go loose and risk putting my friends in danger?”

“You’re going to leave me tied here?” Bale snarled. “Someone will see me and untie me eventually.”

“Your logic is awful,” he said with a shake of his head. “You want a despicable muggle to free your ‘superior’ arse? There’s a boost to your self-esteem. Of course, that’s assuming the right sort of muggle finds you. Not all of them are nice and, often, the mean ones like their alleys. That’s also assuming anyone can see you wearing this lovely piece of metalwork.” Harry lifted the length of cord away from Bale’s chest, the thin disk of metal shone dully in the light. He eyed the engraved runes with some interest.

When he looked up he saw Bale’s horrified expression. “Relax, I’m not leaving you here to rot.” He tugged hard on the necklace, the cord snapping and slithering to hang from his grip. “There. Now the aurors will be able to see you.”

“Aurors?” Bale asked sharply. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“That’s a matter of perspective, isn’t it?” Harry responded absently as he looked around. There was nothing to write on, was the problem. Of course, why would there be in an ally? He walked over to one wall and picked up a waterlogged plastic bag that had most assuredly seen better days. One spell transfigured it into a usable, if somewhat off-colored piece of paper. He dug the now constant sharpie out of his pocket and scribbled a lengthy note.

When he was satisfied he got all the salient points down he signed it with a flourish. Bale was watching him uneasily. It was about time the git felt some of the pain he’d been inflicting on everyone else.

“They’ll never hold me. I haven’t done anything illegal,” Bale said, an edge of fear creeping in his voice.

“I know,” he told him solemnly. “That’s why I’m leaving them a little gift.” He transfigured the sharpie into a thin, black vial before raising his wand to his head. He closed his eyes against Bale’s alarmed expression and focused on the memory he wanted to capture. He carefully pulled his wand away, a thin silver strand following. It slid into the vial and he sealed it before wrapping the note around the vial and casting a sticking charm. He tucked it between the rope and Bale’s torso. “That should convince them to press charges, mate.”

One last spell and he could get the hell out of here. Merlin knew what Adam was getting up to or thinking while Harry was out here dealing with this shit situation. He raised his wand straight in the air and cast a basic spell that would nonetheless send officials running to the scene in a flurry, because it would mess with every piece of muggle technology within a decent block radius.

“Don’t worry, Bale, you’ll be picked up any minute now.”

Harry walked out of the alley and couldn’t quite stop the grin as he saw the nearest stoplights gone dead and traffic accidentally deadlocked. A huge weight felt lifted off his shoulders. Bale was out their damn lives.

His mood didn’t wane even as he realized he had no clue where he was. He vaguely recognized the street they’d last run down on and started walking back up it. It was slow progress, stopping at every intersection, but he hung around at each spot until something became familiar again. He was surprised to find they’d run a few circles and were only two blocks off the studio.

He was a little worried to see the stoplight at that intersection was out too. He took a minute to step into the kiosk he’d used earlier to check the phone, finding it dead. Bugger. That meant the studio building was probably on the fritz. If it was, Adam undoubtedly discovered Harry’s absence.

He glanced down at his watch, unsure how long he’d been gone at this point. It was dead too. He groaned. Now he remembered why he hated that bloody spell and why government officials did too. Back at the Weasleys’ Arthur would give him an earful for causing so much chaos and paperwork.

He steeled himself and headed across the deadlocked road, ignoring the honking horns of aggravated drivers. Inside the door the receptionist waved him down.

“Sorry, sir, the elevators are out. Do you have an appointment?” She asked, moving closer to her computer and then stopping. She gave it a dismayed look. “That is, my appointment logs are unavailable at the moment…”

Harry smiled brightly at her. “I can take the stairs. I’m here with Mr. Lambert today. Oh!” He dug into his jeans pocket, only just remembering they both had been given passes that morning. “Here, visitor’s pass.”

“Alright, but the elevators,” she sat back down in her chair. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience. They should be back up momentarily, if you’d care to wait.”

“Really, the stairs are fine. They’re over there?” He motioned to the left and headed over at her nod. He knew the lifts wouldn’t be running for at least another hour. The wizarding clean-up crew had to clear the disruption spell from the air. Harry had cast it a tad stronger than he meant. He hoped it wasn’t too much of a bother.

Adam was lounging their private waiting room when he walked through the door.

“Hey, baby,” he smiled from his spot on the far couch. “Where’ve you been?”

“Went for a little walk,” he said, heading toward the kitchenette. “I thought you’d be in the booth with Max for awhile longer. Something wrong? The lifts were out when I got back.”

“Yeah, power went out in the building about half an hour ago. Seemed a natural place to take a break,” Adam laughed softly. “Tried to call you when you weren’t here, but even my phone’s on the fritz. Weird.”

“Your phone’s related to the building electricity?” Harry chuckled. He hoped Adam didn’t do that uncanny bit where he saw right through Harry’s cover.

“Mmm, yeah, really weird.” He could feel Adam watching him, but when he turned around his eyes were closed fast.

“You should rest. Sleep,” he amended.

Blue eyes slit open, glimmering under eyelashes. “Did you eat anything?”

“No,” he admitted. “But I’ll eat now. Walking made me realize I was hungrier than I thought.” He glanced back at the kitchen. There were a few microwavable bowls of noodles and soup in the cupboards, he knew, but that sounded far from appealing. Maybe an apple, or one of the power bars they’d brought along.

Adam scooted over until he hit the back of the couch. “C’mon. Grab something and we can nap together.”

Harry grabbed food from the duffle bag and headed over to the couch, settling in carefully. “Sorry your session was interrupted, love.”

Adam’s breath puffed through his hair. “It’s not your fault. Shit happens.”

“Still.” He dug the raisin-oat bar out of its wrapper, breaking off a piece.

Adam’s lips fluttered across his temple and his arm made its way snuggly around his chest. “We needed a break. “It’s fucking sick though. The tracks are going to be sick. Come back with me for the last half. Whenever we get up and running again.”

Harry smiled at the power bar. “Would love to.”

“You don’t need to go explore the streets of San Francisco again?” He hummed into his hair.

Harry wondered if Adam suspected anything. “Nope, I’m good.” He twisted and kicked around a bit until he was lying on his back.

Adam was making a face at him. “Comfortable?”

“Mostly,” he grinned up at him and popped another piece of flavorless oatmeal bar into his mouth. He chewed slowly and studied Adam, who was staring right back with a quizzical expression. After he swallowed he said, “So, you’ll get done a bit later than expected then?”

His nose scrunched. “Yeah, we’ll probably push it as far as we can.”

He nodded, “Makes sense. If we get to the airport early enough want to grab a late, er, very late dinner at that little restaurant we saw on our way in? With all the palm trees?”

Adam blinked down at him, looking for all the world like he couldn’t process Harry’s question. “Why Mr. Grey, are you asking me out on a date?”

He laughed in startlement. That wasn’t what he was expected. “Suppose I am, yeah.” The brilliant smile that bloomed across Adam’s face made their entire struggle until this point worth every second. Harry couldn’t help thinking he wanted to put that smile on Adam’s face as often as he could manage.

Adam leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss at the very corner of Harry’s mouth. Then his tongue flicked out, teasing. “I would love to.”

“It’s a date then,” Harry smiled. He flicked the wrapped over onto the coffee table. “Rain check if it blows up in our faces and we end up dashing to the airport in an effort not to miss our flight?”

Adam burst out laughing. “Yeah, rain check, but we’ll get out early enough. I have a feeling.”

----------

As it happened, they didn’t have time to grab a cup of coffee at the airport, let alone anything resembling dinner. Harry hadn’t been surprised. Adam was dedicated to making his album; he’d only been working toward that goal since he got far enough on American Idol to guarantee he could make an album.

Only they didn’t find much time on the other side of the flight either. Angie arranged for a van to pick them up at the airport and hustled Adam straight into the sound check for Portland. Adam made a crack about singing from one point of the country to the other before vanishing from Harry’ sight.

Now here they were, four days later, three shows later, and preparing for their very last in Manchester, New Hampshire. They had spent barely five minutes spent alone since San Francisco. Harry and Adam were both either working or in meetings. Even on the bus they couldn’t catch a break, caught somewhere between the antics of six grown men stuck in a tin can or catching as much sleep as they could before the next major event occurred. It was maddening. It was dawning on Harry he didn’t have much more time with Adam that he could take for granted.

He shoved the wheeled wardrobe out of the hall and into the long, narrow room it would be needed in, in just a few short hours. Their last show. He was having a bit of a hard time wrapping his mind around that one and he wasn’t handling it as well as he could either. It felt like the tour had gone on forever, and equally like it shouldn’t end.

“So this is where you’re hiding,” Adam’s head ducked into the room, all eyeliner and smiles. “Are you too busy for a questionable cup of coffee?”

Harry glanced at him in the mirror. “You’re not ducking out on your last interviews for the tour, surely.”

“The interviewer called. Stuck in traffic apparently,” he chuckled. “Something about a parade downtown. Now we’ll be doing it in an hour and, failing that, over the phone. Need any help?”

“Not really.” He edged another trunk out of the way against the wall. “Sorting a few things out so there’s a little less chaos later. I could go for coffee.”

“Great!” He vanished for a second and then reappeared, this time walking fully into the room and bearing two steaming Styrofoam cups. “I came prepared.”

Harry eyed the cups suspiciously. “You weren’t kidding about the questionable part, eh?”

Adam’s smile broadened. He shrugged a shoulder and promptly froze as the hot liquid sloshed dangerously up the side of the cup. “Can’t win ‘em all,” he said when it stilled enough to hand off. “But it’s a handy excuse to not get pulled aside in the hallways.”

Harry grinned, “That makes these, what camouflage coffees?”

“More like,” he hummed, “ah, defensive shield coffees.”

Harry watched him look over the trunk he’d moved five minutes ago, considering it. “It’s solid. We can sit on it. Not like there are other options around.”

Adam sat, jeans and belt buckle tugging at his shirt. He patted the space next to him. “C’mon, baby. You need to take a minute. Whatever happened to good old fashioned coffee breaks?”

“What in the world says ‘old fashioned’ about either of us?” Harry sat down. He took careful sip of the coffee. It was hot enough to burn and that was its sole promising quality. He discreetly set it on the floor to the side.

Adam, watching him, followed suit.

“You’re not going to try it?” Harry asked.

“I know how to learn by other people’s mistakes,” he said blithely.

“Prat.” It’d be far more enjoyable to share the misery of terrible coffee, in his humble opinion. “It’s not every day you get the opportunity to taste coffee that carries the flavor of dirty water.”

He laughed, “I’ll take that risk, baby.”

Harry watched Adam stare at him from the mirror across from them. “I can see you, love. Penny for your thoughts?”

“Something’s been bothering you,” he said. “Last few days? Want to talk about it?”

“Ah.” He suddenly wished he had his cup of coffee back off the floor so he had something to distract himself with. Picking it up now would be a little too far past the point of obvious. Adam slid closer and he subconsciously leaned into the newfound heat source. “Mostly it’s how chaotic the days have been. What are you going to do now, tomorrow?”

Tonight, he knew, they would crash at their last hotel. The Idols had flights out to their respective homes tomorrow as well as half the crew. Harry wasn’t entirely sure what his plans were yet.

An elbow bumped gently into his side. “Mind coming back to planet earth, baby? Or if you’re going to stay out in orbit, take me up with you.”

Harry flashed him a brief smile. “I’m at a bit of a loss.”

Adam blinked. “You’re coming back to LA, aren’t you?”

He nodded absently. “I’m not flying, I don’t think, but the busses are heading back there to unload. I’ll be in LA in a few days.”

“I assumed you were flying with me,” Adam said, sounding surprised. “Jack’s been muttering something like that.” He flapped a hand. “Bale, you know? Jack’s very insistent with management me and Kris have bodyguards when we leave. You do want to stay in LA awhile, don’t you?”

Harry stared up at him in surprise. “I… Yeah, ‘course I do. I didn’t think… I didn’t know Jack was arranging bodyguards, which, by the way, I am not technically. I mean, well, I am, but officially, I’m not.” He grimaced, “Yeah, that made a lot of sense, didn’t it?”

Adam chuckled and slid an arm over his shoulder. “Crazy as it might sound, I understood everything you just said. If you’ll recall, Angie signed some form or another awhile back, declaring you hired as official security. And you know what a bulldog Jack can be about something when he sets his mind on a goal.”

“I do not endorse being Jack’s ‘goal.’” Harry pushed his weight into Adam’s side.

“He’s getting you a job,” he protested.

“He’s being a bloody matchmaker.”

“Since when?” Adam was laughing again, entirely entertained by the idea. Harry pushed into him again.

“Merlin only knows, but he’s been all for us going on weeks now,” he said.

“Really? I should send him flowers. Or maybe some of those butter cookies. He’s crazy for them. Keeps stealing them from the snack tables.” Adam broken into fresh peals of laughter, doubling over. “Oh my god.”

“It’s not that funny,” he protested. “It’s not funny at all.”

“It’s hilarious,” he said. “Shit. Thank god for waterproof eyeliner.”

Harry chuckled entirely despite himself. “Serves you right.”

“Hey, kids,” Jack appeared in the doorway. Adam cracked up again. The bulky guard eyed him with some annoyance. “Adam, you’re supposed to be in the green room. Your interview started five minutes ago.”

Adam waved him off, still laughing hysterically.

Harry rolled his eyes. It was his turn to elbow Adam. “You said it was put off, that your interviewer was late?”

Jack answered, “She was, but traffic miraculously cleared sometime between then and now. Harry, I wanted to have a word with you, if wonderboy here would kindly get a move on to his own work.”

Adam caught his breath. “Sorry. It was a speak of the devil moment.” He was smirking broadly as he tipped his head closer and dropped a brief kiss on Harry’s lips. “Let him send you to LA tomorrow, baby,” he said quietly. “You can crash at my place.”

He got up and headed out the door, biting his lip and grinning broadly as he slid past Jack

Jack turned to him. “Do I want to know?”

“My instinct says no,” Harry said.

He harrumphed, “If this showboat went on any longer our wonderboy would be the death of me. You can come back to this later, let’s head up to my office.”

“Whatever for?” Harry asked. He barely remembered to grab the abandoned cups of coffee as he trailed Jack out of the room.

“You weren’t planning on drinking those?” Jack nodded at the Styrofoam.

“Since I don’t want to drop from stomach poisoning, no,” he tossed them in a bin as they passed. “What’s this about, Jack?”

“There’s a nice way of describing that dreck. I got my little pot running in the office. We can have a decent cup there,” Jack said.

“Jack,” Harry griped, “Why is your hearing suddenly selective?”

“Ha! It’s always been selective, kiddo,” he said. He nodded at a passing roadie. “Melanie wants you out front, Joe.”

Harry fell into silence and simply fell to following along, nodding and calling greeting at the occasional passerby. Jack was clearly not going to talk until they were ensconced safely in his office. He could do without the intrigue.

Jack’s latest office was just off the amphitheatre’s personal holding cell, occasionally employed for a rowdy, and often drunk, concert-attendee. It was dark and cramped and stacked with Jack’s miscellaneous papers and gadgets. A small six-cup coffee pot sat carefully and protectively in one corner, four white mugs stacked beside it. Harry poured them both a cup, handing one off. They drank it black. Harry suspected Jack didn’t believe in coffee additives like sugar or cream. It suited him fine; Harry wasn’t picky about his coffee.

“That’s the real stuff,” Jack nodded his approval. He sat one of the two available seats. “So, you got plans?”

Harry waited until he was sure Jack had no intention of elaborating on that. “For after the tour? Nothing’s come up.”

“Good, I got you a job,” he said, full of satisfaction.

Harry blinked. He knew very well what it was from his conversation with Adam, but he still felt the perverse desire to play coy. “I’ll be heading back to Hollywood with the buses then? Unloading, getting everything stored away?”

Jack, much to his amusement, positively glowered. “Cute.”

“That’s cute?” He arched his eyebrows in feigned innocence. “What do—”

“Alright, knock it off. I got you a job as Adam’s bodyguard. Angie was surprisingly supportive of the idea, but then, she’s seen what you can do as long as I have. The suits on the other end of the phone took a little more convincing, but I am convincing.” He gave a broad, toothy smile.

Harry took a drink of coffee, blessedly strong, thinking. “Adam will need a new bodyguard eventually.”

Jack looked skeptical. “Planning on going somewhere?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “You might as well know we’re dating now,”

Jack snorted, “I already knew that.”

“And it’s not appropriate for me to work for him and date him,” he finished, ignoring the interruption.

He nodded in slow acknowledgment. “True enough. However, until this Bale matter is resolved. You and me know the case best, and a handful of others. Most of us have work we’re moving on to. I’m heading over to New York for a short gig. I want someone around who knows what to watch for, what to do.”

Harry felt an upwelling of guilt. Blast.

Jack caught something in his expression. He leaned forward in his chair. “Did something happen?”

“What do you mean?” He asked. He contemplated the plusses and negatives of telling Jack, the same way he’d thought about them the last four days. If he told Jack the man could relax and take appropriate steps to wheel back protection. Perhaps he could put Adam, Kris, and everyone else at ease. Yet… If he told him, there would be all the questions of how, and why, and what Harry had done with the body.

“Harry,” he spoke in low tones. “I hate to break it to your deluded soul, but when someone knows what to look for you’re a damn easy read.”

Harry grimaced, “I thought that was a trick only Adam picked up.”

“What happened?”

He sighed and sat in the other chair. “I dealt with Bale.” There was a minute’s stunned silence followed by,

“Come again?”

Harry stared straight at him. “I caught up with him in San Francisco. I didn’t know how to tell you or anyone else. I am not sure I honestly should.”

Jack’s eyebrows went up. “What’d you do? Damn, how did you find him? You can’t have taken him to the police. There would have been checks called in here to verify. Never mind the media catching wind.” He considered Harry. “Is this something I need to be concerned about?”

Harry snorted, “Concerned about? You’re worried you’ll have to turn me into the police now, Jack? No, I didn’t do anything daft. He’s alive and well and certainly in prison by this point.”

“In prison?” Jack asked. “Anything in there about individual rights and due process?”

“Of course,” he was startled by the mere idea of skipping that part, of skipping justice. Though he didn’t know for certain, did he? “Er, I think so?” He offered an apologetic look. “I didn’t follow up on it, to be honest with you. I sent him to the…police with enough evidence to put him away. He was certainly guilty enough.”

“Our evidence was always sketchy, Harry,” he reminded. “We don’t – didn’t know for certain who he was stalking, let alone his threat level. We simply had to take all due precaution with the way he slipped in and out of the place.”

Harry nodded grimly, “His intentions were bad, Jack. That evidence I sent was a…recording of him spewing hate and threatening…” He really did not want to think about it. He breathed out a slow sigh, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders.

“Threatened what?” Jack asked.

He sighed again. So much for getting rid of tension. “Adam. Kris. A lot of people. Threatened to kill them, me. You. Anyone who rubbed him the wrong way.”

They sat in silence for awhile. “Celebrity stalkers don’t usually present murderous intent toward their victims,” Jack said finally, looking over to Harry sharply. “What was he tailing us for? Did he say?”

He felt the hot flush of anger and guilt creep up over his cheeks. “Me, Jack. You were right, he was focused on me.” There was no point in hiding it. It was important to make sure Jack understood Adam was out of danger, along with the others.

Jack nodded calmly. “And he’s taken care of?”

“Quite.”

“Legally?”

“Yes. Entirely, Jack.”

“Alright. Can’t blame me for wondering, kiddo.” Another silence fell. Harry brooded until Jack spoke up again, “Still signing you up to bodyguard Adam. We’ll just ‘forget’ to sign this form sitting on my desk her contracting you for the new few months. It’ll get you back to LA quick enough, and the two of you can muddle through what it is you want to do that side of the country. Sound good?”

Harry smiled gratefully. “Sounds perfect, Jack, thanks.”

“Flight leaves tomorrow, bright and early. Get your things packed tonight,” he advised.

“Three months on tour and I still don’t have all that much to deal with,” he reassured. “Maybe two bags, if that.”

Jack nodded, still thoughtful. “Have you told Adam?”

Harry sent him a questioning glance.

“About Bale?”

“Oh.” Bugger, he thought. “No, I’m not sure how. Or if I should.”

“You should tell him Bale’s out of the picture,” Jack said. “How or why, that’s up to you.

Harry nodded silently. That was the complicated part, wasn’t it?

----------

“Home sweet home,” Adam said, twisting his key in the door and elbowing it open. He led the way into the tight, dark entryway that went on five feet before blooming into the small living room with the three windows on one wall. “It’s a dump, but a thousand times better than a bus.”

“I think that’s the third time you’ve said that.” Harry sounded too amused. Adam glanced back at him, watching as he pushed his sunglasses up and looked around. “Posh. More than most places I take up in anyway. You need a new couch though. It looks ready to collapse.”

He glanced over worn suede cushions. “I’ve had that since I tried out the whole college life. It bit the dust years ago. Make yourself comfortable, baby.”

He strolled back out to the door. His three suitcases and two bags lined the narrow corridor. He started hauling them inside. If he thought about it he couldn’t fathom how he’d squeezed this shit on a bus for three full months. Never mind all the gifts from his fans, which management had thankfully stored for him until he could go through it all.

After making sure everything was wedged in the entryway, and juggling a little to squeeze the door shut, he headed back into the living room. Harry had dumped his two duffle bags on the floor next to the coffee table – he would like to know just how one traveled for months with just two bags of supplies, dammit – and was walking the length of the walls, peering at the pictures framed and hanging there.

Adam let him be and headed into the kitchen, separated from the living room by a short bar. They would have to go shopping, he was sure. Before the start of Idol he had made sure to throw everything perishable out and he’d never kept a lot of other things.

Turning around, he found Harry leaning on the bar, watching him. “The photos, are they friends or art?”

He laughed, “Both. Lee can’t help himself. Most of it’s from Lee anyway. There are a couple things from friends or art festivals.”

He nodded, sliding onto one of the two oak barstools, quiet and thoughtful. He’d been quiet all day, not that Adam could blame him. They barely slept for all the last minute packing and partying and goodbyes. Then they all made a run for the airport. He and Harry took the longest flight known to man with a two hour delay thrown in for kicks. But Adam was innately a social soul. He knew it. Yeah, he went through periods of “Adam time” and solitude, but when he was with someone, he liked…being with them. And Harry had left the building. He was reaching the point of prodding him just to see what fell out.

“We’ll have to go shopping,” he said eventually, but he turned and tugged the fridge open anyway. “There might be something to drink… Or it might be crammed full of food.” He stared for a little bit. Was he tired enough to be hallucinating? He didn’t think so. He’d gone without sleep for way longer than this without imagining things. Exactly 68 hours, in fact. He closed the fridge and reopened it. Nope, it was all still there: milk, his favorite cheese, iced tea, a ceramic dish that looked suspiciously like a casserole.

“There’s a note on the counter, love,” Harry said.

Sure enough, next to the stove there was a note with his mom’s tidy cursive telling him not to worry and everything was taken care of. She’d call him when she was sure he was in. “Never mind shopping then. Mom’s been sneaking around here.”

“That’s thoughtful,” he said.

“Yeah.” Really, maybe he could prod a little. He was just working out how to politely phrase a ‘what the fuck is up?’ When Harry blurted out,

“I caught Bale.”

He was pretty sure his brain froze. Just stopped working at those words and then fell apart from the lack of motion. He cleared his throat. “What?”

Harry picked at his fingernails, staring at them intently. “I caught Bale. In San Francisco. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

He stared at him for awhile. Finally he said the only thing that kept circling back to the front of his mind. “So that’s why you’ve been so distant.”

Harry looked up, blinking owlishly behind his round glasses. They stared at each other. “That’s it?”He asked eventually.

Adam huffed, “What do you want me to say? I must be getting used to your secretive habits.” Mostly he was relieved this didn’t have something to do with their relationship. He wasn’t sure he could handle Harry backpedalling out of it.

A soft thump resounded in the quiet room as Harry dropped his head on the counter. “That’s… I am not sure that’s a good thing at all.”

He shrugged and shuffled around to the cupboards and pulled out two tall glasses before hitting up the fridge again. “I get you have secrets, Harry. Everyone does, in fact. I don’t care what you’re hiding. You’ll tell me eventually, when you’re ready to.”

A pathetic groan came from the barstool. “You’re too fucking nice, Adam.”

Adam grinned into the fridge as he pulled the iced tea out. “I am, I really am. Practically a fucking saint.” There was a grumbling noise. He turned and set the glass of tea next to the mop of black hair.

Harry straightened up with another grumble. “Bale,” he said finally, after Adam settled on the other stool, facing Harry, “Was in San Francisco. I know you asked me not to go chasing after him, but it was an opportunity I wasn’t letting slip by.”

He made a noise of complaint. Harry bumped him with his knee. “Jack wasn’t even there if something had happened,” he said despite the silent reproach. “And you didn’t tell me – which you said you would, FYI – and what the hell would I have done if you hadn’t come back?”

“I came back,” he said softly, watching Adam closely.

“You might not have,” he responded firmly and stared right back, hoping he would get his point across.

A smile fluttered across Harry’s face and vanished just as quickly, eyes dark with, what, Adam wasn’t sure. He wanted to think it was something dramatic, like the weight of this conversation. Harry leaned forward, stretched his arms around Adam’s shoulders and neck, tugging lightly until Adam conceded and slipped forward a little until their foreheads bumped together. Adam slid a foot to the floor to brace them both and settled an arm around Harry’s waist. It was an awkward position yet still somehow comfortable.

“Adam,” he said softly, “I will always come back. Whatever happens. Stalkers or other psychotics. Life doesn’t beat me that easily. I’ll always come back.”

“Cocky,” he hummed, chucking despite himself. Somehow, he could believe it coming from Harry. It came with that confident, cool personality type, the one that always screamed it’d seen the world and nothing could phase it. That really fucking attractive quality that just made Adam itch to find ways to surprise him.

Harry pulled back reluctantly. “I caught Bale and he’s been arrested. I didn’t… I have some connections with the police and so when I turned him in it was kept quiet. The media won’t pick up on it, not that they ever worked out there was a stalker in the first place. Jack didn’t know about it either until I told him yesterday so he could manage things with your security. I didn’t want you worrying about him anymore though.” He huffed, “If you were in the first place.”

Yeah, Adam was so not telling him Bale only freaked him out when Harry went tearing after him like some goddamn bloodhound. He quirked a smile at his questioning look instead.

“Bugger,” Harry muttered, rubbing an irritated hand up along the back of his neck. “You’re terrible at taking precautions.”

He could not help laughing at that. “You are so not allowed to bitch about me and my precautions. You run after some lunatic with no one knowing and no one able to help you if you get in trouble? Precaution fail, baby.”

Harry made a face at him. “I could say I’m trained and it’s not the same thing.”

“Fail,” he insisted before swatting Harry’s thigh. “You were a policeman in a past life? You never mentioned it.” It was pretty easy to guess though. The tour’s entire crew had some bet or another going about Harry’s past activities.

“Mm, yeah, for about a year,” he said. “The regulations were tedious and the hours hideous so I gave it up.”

“Was there a uniform?” He inquired as innocently as he could which, if he was honest with himself, was probably not particularly innocent. Especially if Harry’s raised eyebrow was any indication.

“Of course. I wasn’t in a special division.”

He hummed appreciatively. “Still got it?”

His lips twitched. “I have all of two pieces of baggage, and I know you’ve dug through them on a few occasions. Have you seen a police uniform?”

He pouted, “No.”

“I had no idea you liked a bloke in uniform, love.” He was trying not to smirk. Adam wasn’t having any of that. He pulled Harry forward suddenly, still having his arm draped around his back. Harry tumbled forward against his torso, his grip tightening reflexively around Adam’s neck.

“I like my roadie in all kinds of outfits,” he informed his disoriented catch. “Including his current pair of jeans and shirt which, FYI, is so last decade.”

Harry let out a breathless laugh. “You’re a—”

Surprise kisses were always fun, in his opinion. Caught completely unawares, the kiss went straight from nonexistent to full hot and heavy, tongue and heat and intensity. Adam really was a fan of them. Harry’s fingers were tangling in his hair, catching slightly in the product at the roots and holding him in close. Adam flicked his tongue across Harry’s, over his teeth, pulled back slightly to nip and suck at his lower lip. His palm rested along his throat, fingers brushing against the hair of Harry’s neck, exerting enough control to push and guide him exactly where he wanted him.

He could kiss Harry for hours. It sounded like the best damn plan he’d had since deciding to try out for Idol in the first place. But they could not stay in the kitchen. It would get too uncomfortable way too quickly.

Reluctantly he pulled away, groaning in disappointment at the loss of contact. Harry tried to follow his retreat, but Adam pulled back further, hand still braced against Harry’s neck. “Want to see the rest of the apartment?” He asked breathlessly.

The incredulous and pissed expression on Harry’s face warmed him to the toes. He was such a sick fuck, but he loved knowing how much he affected Harry. Loved it. Would do almost anything to see it. He smiled happily, bright and purposely obliviously. “The bathroom’s through the bedroom, and a bore unless you want to shower.” At Harry’ entirely unimpressed response, he continued, “But the bedroom’s…definitely something to check out. My picky about my mattress. It has to be comfortable. Top of the line comfortable. We should go try it out.”

And he couldn’t get more obvious than that, could he? Harry’s distinctly less displeased expression agreed with him.

“You are bloody lucky, Lambert,” he growled out, wincing slightly and rubbing at bitten his lip. “And it better be a brilliant mattress.”

Adam wanted to do a happy dance. Actually, he wanted to drag Harry into his bed and ravish him. So he did, catching his hand and pulling him along to the door across the room.

Harry didn’t resist, following close behind him. He peripherally heard one thud followed by another as Harry kicked his shoes off. Adam did not waste any time, simply led them straight to the bed and tumbled them both into it.

“Um,” Harry laughed as he bounced, “We might’ve gotten undressed first, love. Hard to fuck this way.”

Adam slid over his hips and looked down at him quizzically. He was already undoing Harry’s belt buckle and when he pulled on it Harry lifted his hips helpfully. “We’ll be doing a hell of a lot before we even get to fucking,” he said, bubbly and possibly a little high on sleep-deprivation and Harry. Definitely on Harry, yeah.

Harry was fighting off a grin. Adam flicked the button of his jeans open and slid the zipper down slowly. He brushed his knuckles purposely against Harry’s half hard cock as he slid his hands under the waistband of his jeans to pull them down. The smile turned into a groan as his insanely green eyes widened. He pushed his hips up into the light pressure of Adam’s hand.

Adam was going to have so much fun finding all the things that forced an involuntary noise from Harry. Like the way he hummed, nearly vibrating, as Adam slid fingers lightly up his stomach under the thin cotton material of his shirt. Oh yeah, so much fun.

His pocket buzzed before it broke out into (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction. He groaned, from disappointment instead of from the fun he wanted to be having.

“Adam?” Harry was panting. He hooked an arm around his waist, half sitting up between Adam’s legs. “That’s your mum’s ringtone, isn’t it?”

“Fuck,” he dug his phone out and hit silence. “I can call back.”

“She’ll be worried,” he said. “Or she’ll come over. And I don’t think we’ll be free for awhile.”

“Fuck.” He stared at Harry desperately for a minute. Harry pushed at his chest. “Oh no, no, no, no. You are not going anywhere.” Harry arched an eyebrow, but fell back in bed. Adam hit his speed dial. He fell down over Harry, groaned at the sensation if his dick pressing against Harry’s belly, bracing his weight on one arm beside Harry’s head, other hand clutching his phone to his ear. “Ringing, go to voicemail, go to voicemail.”

Harry started snickering.

“It’s not funny, Harry, oh my god—hi, mom!”

Harry began positively vibrating beneath him from suppressed laughter. Adam bit at his jaw pointedly. He would have his revenge.

“Um, yeah, yeah. Everything was here. It was great, thank-you,” he spoke into the phone. Harry’s arm twined around his back, tugging his shirt up to run fingers along bare skin. “Uh, dinner? What time is it? I don’t know, we—I’m pretty beat. Jet lag, no sleep.”

And oh fuck, “A party? …everyone will be there?” He looked down at Harry, disappointed. “When’s that start? Um. Five?”

‘It’s eleven,’ Harry mouthed. Adam felt relief slide through him.

“Five’s good. Yeah. I’ve got a guest.” He smiled as his mom spoke, “Yeah, Harry. He’s staying at my place. See you at five. … Love you too. Bye.” He tossed his phone on the nightstand. “Oh my god.” He dove in to kiss Harry. “Worst timing ever.”

“It took three minutes,” Harry said.

“Worst timing ever,” he insisted, biting at Harry’s jaw again. “But I think I remember where we were.”

----------

Adam lay curled in his side, sliding his fingers through his sleeping partner’s messy hair. He wasn’t sure he’d ever stared at anyone with such contemplation before. Harry was one of those complex types that inspired contemplation, a lot of it, involving puzzles and secrets. He was mess, if Adam was honest with himself, unwilling or unable to talk about something in his past.

Any other guy, Adam knew he would never be attracted to that much complication. He’d been there before, and he didn’t really want to go there again. It just fucking hurt too much. But with Harry… Adam couldn’t explain it even to himself. There was something about Harry that promised it was all worth it.

He sighed softly to himself. Like right now. In this moment of time Adam was just happy. Flat out over-the-moon stupidly happy.

Maybe it was because Harry was everything he liked in a guy, mixed up in all the messiness. Even the crazy Adam had to admit he sort of loved. He had a thing for puzzles, for figuring them out. He had a thing for crazy too, which totally explained both Harry and Brad and pretty much his entire life. He also had a thing for confidence. And sarcasm. And the British. He really had a kink for the British. He’d never been sure if it was the accent or the propensity for sarcasm.

Or maybe it was the way Harry didn’t seem to care at all Adam was getting stopped everyday and asked for his autograph. Or occasionally being chased by overexcited fans. Or that he was fine with Adam being so busy, having so little time to dedicate to dating, because he was pushing so hard to get his album ready for release. Pushing so hard to prove himself in his chosen field.

The sun was only beginning to set, affording him a perfect view of the object of his thoughts. It was September, but still hot enough in LA to make sheets after overrated, especially after sweaty, messy sex, so the sheets were kicked down past their feet. His eyes roamed over the firm, pale skin of Harry’s back and side. He leaned forward just enough to press feather kisses along the sweat-salty skin of his shoulder, fingers tracing lazily down his side.

Harry hummed and stretched slowly. “Wanted something?” His voice was thick with sleepiness.

Adam smiled against the shoulder. “I hate to say it, but we need to get up soon.”

He groaned plaintively.

“Agreed.” Adam bit at the shoulder. “But we promised mom, and if there’s really a party she will kill me for bailing.”

“You should go visit your friends,” Harry agreed, burying his head under a pillow.

He huffed in outrage and tugged it away. “We should go visit my friends. You do not get to sleep in if I don’t, baby.” He dropped back a little when Harry swatted blindly at him and noticed a dark line of something low on his back. He frowned, he didn’t remember that being there…

Adam slid down the bed and pushed gently at Harry’s hip, trying to get him to turn so his back was lit up by the setting sun. “Baby, roll over.”

He was peering at him over his shoulder. “Adam, what are you…”

Then it connected in his head. “Oh my god! This is your tattoo? Right? Fuck, I forgot. Lemme see it, baby.”

Harry snorted and finally obligingly slid onto his stomach. “It’s not a big deal, is it?”

“Not a big deal? It’s hot.” Adam hovered over his lower back to check it out. It was a bolt of lightning, long and thin, outlined in black with shades of blue and yellow. It started at the center of his lower back and branched over to his side and down the side of one hip. “How the hell did I not see this earlier?”

Harry shook from smothered laughter. He rolled over, still looking sleepy. “It’s fine. It hides from strangers. Gotta be comfortable.”

Adam climbed up the length of Harry’s body. Smiling and hovering, he said, “It hides.”

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“From strangers.” He just wanted to verify his facts.

“Mhm.”

“I’m not a stranger.”

“No.”

Adam grinned like a dope down at him and Harry was grinning back. Harry leaned up the last few inches and kissed him. He pressed him back into the mattress, deepening the kiss, arms braced to either side of Harry’s head.

Then his phone rang.

Harry wiggled, “It’s your mum.”

“Probably.” His voice was muffled as he pressed his face into the pillow next to Harry’s head. “She’s developing horrible timing.”

“We should get ready for your party.”

“I don’t want to,” he whined, half hopeful Harry would bail with him.

“It’s a few hours. You’ll survive.” He wiggled out from under Adam. “Anyway, I don’t want to make a bad impression on all your friends by being the bloke who convinced you to ignore them.”

Adam sat up. “I’d defend your honor.”

He shot him a smile. “Defend my honor by getting your arse out of bed and into the shower.”

Adam stuck his tongue out.

----------

Harry grasped about blindly at the nightstand for the suddenly noisy, vibrating disturbance, still half asleep and not thinking. All that circled his sleep-saturated brain was that Adam was gone. He knew that because every morning Adam had to get up before him he invariably woke Harry up with drowsy, lazy, brilliant sex, and Harry was still reeling with exhaustion from the bout earlier that morning. So Adam had to still be away for a session or something to do with his album. But if it was Adam calling… He grunted into the pillow he refused to uncurl from, still grasping blindly for the mobile.

The ringtone did not sink in until he finally gave up and sat up fully, sheets pooling around his waist and cold air hitting his bare chest. He shoved his spare glasses on his nose and picked it up, staring blearily and somewhat accusatorily at it. It wasn’t until he read the name that the song finally sank in. ‘Merlin’s Magical House’ played over and over, the ringing never stopping, the mobile never disconnecting or switching over to voicemail.

He was suddenly very awake and mostly clearheaded, the song hitting him like a bucket of ice water. Hermione would never call him unless there was a Dire Emergency, as she had put it. Even her tone conveyed the capitalized nature of the term.

“Hello?” He answered tentatively despite himself, not sure he believed he was talking to one of his best mates after over a year of silence, since the whole Bermuda affair.

“Harry, I was starting to worry.” Hermione’s brisk, focused voice sounded far away. He supposed it should since she was speaking across the world.

“What’s happened?” he asked.

There was hesitation on the line. “We need you to come home, Harry.”

Harry’s eyes slid shut and he took a bracing breath. He guessed as much as soon as he’d heard her voice – every time they talked he invariably needed to go somewhere for some magical fiasco – but he didn’t want to believe it. He was just getting comfortable with the place he found himself in. With Adam. “What’s happened?”

Another hesitation, then Hermione cleared her throat and seemed to gather her nerve. “Well. Yes, right. You tied up a squib, pinned a note to his chest, and set the aurors on him.”

“You’re asking me home for that?” Harry was more confused than anything, though indignation edged its way into his brain. “Bloody hell, if he wants to press charges, he was stalking me, threatening my life and the lives of several muggles. I wasn’t going to let him continue just because he’s a squib, Hermione. That’s about as daft as saying a muggle’s harmless or—”

“I know, I know,” Hermione said, breathless. “I quite agree with you, if you must know. As you should know actually. I am not sure the American aurors do, but Tonks talked them around when they contacted us initially. You are still quite the international hero—”

“‘Mione,” Harry said, hoping like hell it would get her back to the point. He did not need to hear another story of his everlasting fame and glory. What he wanted, and needed, was a few more hours of sleep and then maybe a walk to the local shops before he made that pasta salad he’d planned. He really wanted to forget Hermione even called and he felt guilty even thinking that.

“Steve Bale is an outsider,” Hermione said, as if this explained everything even though he was quite positive it explained nothing at all.

“Ah, okay?”

There was the exasperated sigh, the one telling Harry he was being thick again. “The question of course is an outsider of what?”

“…society?” Harry hazarded.

“No, Harry,” she said. “Have you been in touch with the wizarding sects at all in America? Have you had any news on international events?”

“None,” Harry said. “I haven’t wanted any, ‘Mione. I don’t think our world is my world. I mean, it isn’t for me. Not anymore.”

There was a moment’s silence and then, “I’m glad you’ve worked that out, Harry. We’ve known it for years.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “Ron didn’t like it at first. He insisted you would come back. But Bill and I talked him around eventually. You know how pigheaded he is.”

“You knew this entire time. Couldn’t drop me a line about it then?” Harry shook his head.

“It seemed something you ought to learn for yourself. You’re the one who picked a seven-year sojourn throughout the world. Left us a mobile to keep in touch.”

“Right.” She had a point, Harry couldn’t deny it. He loved his friends, people he considered family, but he just had to get away. The wizarding world was too oppressive. But hell if he’d ever known what he wanted to do with himself. Running had seemed like a great option to start with.

“Seven years is a bit long,” Hermione spoke as though she knew what he was thinking. Maybe she did.

“What news am I supposed to have heard that somehow relates to Bale and my returning to England?” It seemed a better topic to focus on.

“There have been increasing attacks on villages in the UK directly associated with magic, especially magic-friendly muggle villages and towns with high concentrations of magic-users or squibs. It’s alarmingly reminiscent of… Well, you know. Minster Shacklebolt has been keeping a firm eye on the issue and Tonks has made it top priority for the aurors’ department.” There was a rustling and Hermione’s voice became faint. “Ron has papers here, seven muggle-magic villages, three in Britain, two in Scotland, and two in Ireland. Another three strictly muggle towns attacked in Britain. A strictly magical village in Scotland.”

“Any cities proper attacked? Or Hogsmeade, Hogwarts?” Harry finally climbed off the bed, rummaging around in the drawer Adam had insisted he take over – originally two drawers and part of the wardrobe, but Harry whittled it down to one drawer despite protests – looking for some clothes to throw on.

“No. I suspect that this group finds them too risky. The attackers don’t appear to want to be seen. Not yet. However, there have also been some international incidences that appear to be connected. A wizarding immigration point in Canada, off the east coast. Four events in Russia, one event each in Germany and Spain. If anything has occurred in America, the government is keeping tight-lipped about it, but when they questioned Bale, they recognized him as associated with the attacks and forwarded the information to us as per our countries’ agreements.”

Harry hummed agreement. “The few times I’ve had contact with the American side of wizards, I’ve found them very muggle-friendly, sort of mixed in with the rest of society, but really internationally insular. They don’t blend much with other nations, except for tourists, occasionally immigrants, but that’s discouraged.”

“Of course. They don’t want bad blood to start there. Well, after the last three major wars occurring in Europe, I can’t say I blame them. During Grindelwald’s rise especially the eastern coast of America had trouble with immigrants and spots of Grindelwald’s followers kept popping up.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair roughly, mobile still tucked tightly to one ear. “And Bale’s connected to this new…whatever this is?”

“Yes, quite. He would like to join them, he has stated explicitly,” Hermione said.

“But he’s a squib.”

“Quite.”

“They’d kill him, I gather?”

“Not if he brought your head to them,” she said quietly. “You’re the mark, Harry. The unachievable goal. It is why Bale focused on you and—”

“And?” Harry didn’t like Hermione’s uncertain tone of voice.

“This Adam Lambert bloke?”

Harry froze, a sinking, scared feeling in his gut. Hermione was both asking a question and not. But… “How do you know about Adam?” He felt the insane desire to tack on ‘we’re just friends,’ even though they really weren’t anymore. They were far past that point.

“So it’s true.” Hermione’s breath exhaled loudly over the mobile’s speaker.

“Hermione, what do you know about Adam? How? Who else knows?” Harry asked urgently. It suddenly hit him square between the eyes that turning in Bale had to have consequences. It was obvious in hindsight that one would be Bale’s confession about stalking Harry and, by proxy, the tour. And Adam. Did the aurors let that out to the media though? Did the American papers know? Did the British papers? A ball of worry tightening in his stomach.

There was surprise in her voice, “Not many. We received the information from the American report, and two days ago from Bale himself.” She seemed to grasp on to Harry’s worry when she added, “Don’t worry, Harry. The media hasn’t cottoned on to it. There’s nothing public. The Americans do not want this international crisis slipping out to the media and Shacklebolt has been careful to protect your privacy from prying eyes.”

Harry relaxed. As he released the breath he’d been holding he found his one hand clenching at the edge of the long, low, wooden dresser, cedar biting into his palm hard enough to leave a long deep impression of white skin. “These faceless attackers, would they attack Adam if they knew I was—if we were friends?”

“More than likely,” Hermione said. “There has been some debate between Ron and Tonks about setting up a watch on Adam, for his protection. However we don’t have authority across the pond.”

“It would only draw attention, ‘Mione.” He took a deep breath. “And you need me to come back. I don’t understand why, except to protect those I’m around on the off chance the world finds me. Or do you think Bale revealed my location to this new cult?”

“No.” He could envision her shaking her head, wild brown hair bouncing along. “I don’t think Bale breathed a word. He wanted your fall to be his conquest, no one else’s. It was his ace in the hole.”

“Then why do you need me?”

“The attacks, Harry. I didn’t mention everything,” Hermione said.

“Okay.” He was tempted to impatiently ask, ‘are you going to?’ He had no doubt his tone said it implicitly.

“All of the attacks are more than a little similar to the Death Eater’s favorite methods of ransacking villages.” The worry was thick in Hermione’s voice, bordering on fear.

“The Death Eaters are all captured or dead,” Harry said quietly.

“Not all of them, Harry.” He wondered if Hermione was biting her lip the way she used to when she was particularly vexed and worried about a problem she couldn’t quite solve.

“Most of the ones who slid back into the woodworks held minor positions at best. No genuine rank,” he argued. That old, familiar knot of fear, anger, and determination was settling inside him. Once upon a time he’d felt it every day, after he’d come to the realization it was up to him to hunt Voldemort down and stop the deaths.

“Alecto Carrow and Rabastan Lestrange,” Hermione said the names pointedly. “Never accounted for. If they…”

He knew what she was thinking. The odds were they were dead. In the final battle more than a few bodies had been damaged beyond recognition. But if they were still out there, they had been in Voldemort’s inner circle. They would know everything about his methods of attack. They would perhaps know enough to do serious damage. “Wouldn’t we have heard something of them by now? In ten years?”

“I am not sure that’s a risk we can take,” she said eventually. “I am not sure that is a risk you can take, Harry. If this one man could find you, so could others.”

He didn’t respond as he sank down onto the corner of the unmade bed. This was so far removed from what he wanted, he didn’t have words for it, he didn’t have thoughts for it, except the repeating mantra of no no no no no no no.

“It won’t be for long,” she finally said quietly. “We’re hoping a few months. And…and it’s safer, for Adam Lambert. He doesn’t have anything to do with this mess, Harry. If you stay, he might get involved and—”

“I’d protect him,” he said flatly. He would, he had no doubt in his mind. He would die before letting anything happen to Adam.

“Right now odds are you can protect him best by letting him be.”

“Disassociating myself, you mean,” he said a little more with a little more venom than he meant. He knew he was being daft. Hermione was right, the best way to protect Adam from some purity uprising was by letting him remain another anonymous muggle not remotely connected to the magical world.

His problem was, he didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay next to Adam, watch his career blossom and sort out his own life. He wanted to tell him everything about magic and his past. He didn’t want to leave Adam in the dark.

“It won’t be forever, Harry,” Hermione said finally. “It’s what’s best for now.”

“I know.”

----------

It wasn’t until after dinner – some pasta and zucchini thing Adam was hoping to see again sometime in the near future – that Harry said he had bad news.

‘Bad news’ was never a good thing. Okay, that… Yeah, okay, bad news was never good, for obvious reasons, but Adam found more often than not that it meant ‘we can’t see each other anymore.’ Especially when there was some new, delicious menu item. It was some social ritual: here’s a nice meal, and by the way, I’m dumping you.

And he wasn’t being fair, because ever since Harry took over the kitchen a few weeks ago most meals were incredible and somehow complex. Adam was finding pots and pans and utensils in his kitchen he didn’t even know existed. Some of them he didn’t actually want to know existed. A melon baller made sense, he was a fan of fruit salads, but who in their right mind needed a pasta rake? How often would something like that ever prove useful?

Harry was watching him with a mildly panicked expression. Just possibly because he’d been sitting here in silence for ten minutes contemplating cooking tools.

“Did you hear me?” Harry asked eventually. He slid off the barstool and stacked the dishes setting them in the sink. Adam wondered if he’d start cleaning up the kitchen.

“Bad news,” Adam finally acknowledge. He picked up his beer, tossing the last few mouthfuls back. “Let me guess, this isn’t working out, you’re looking for a place. We can’t see each other anymore—”

“What?” He looked truly startled, causing Adam to pause mid-speech. “No! I mean, that’s not… We won’t see each other for awhile, but, no… Bloody hell.”

Why was Harry always, always confusing? Adam could read him like a book, but when it came to speech somehow they spoke an entirely different language. “God, is that a no, we’re not breaking up, or a yes, we are?” He burst out finally when Harry simply stood there, leaning against the sink, looking like he wanted to hide. But that made no sense. Why should Harry want to hide? He wasn’t the one getting dumped.

“Adam, I have to go home for awhile. To England,” Harry said, catching his gaze and holding it.

“Oh.” The tension gushed out of him just as quickly as it had hit him fifteen minutes ago. He let out a deep sigh, shoulders sinking. “Fuck, Harry, you really suck at giving bad news.”

Harry grimaced.

“No, really. You suck at it. I would avoid trying it in future,” Adam insisted. He reveled in the relief for a minute and a thought occurred to him. “Or you’re really frighteningly good at giving bad news. Because visiting England for awhile is really not bad in light of your not breaking up with me.”

Harry let out a sigh of his own. His fingers were gripping the edge of the counter hard enough Adam thought he had to be getting a cramp by now. “I’m going home to England, Adam.”

Adam nodded, but couldn’t stop from protesting, “It’s not your home anymore.”

He looked startled, “No, it’s not. Not really.”

“Why the sudden decision to go?” He asked. Harry began biting at his lip, a sure sign there was something more to this. He wondered if it had something to do with them, if this was a brush-off of some sort. Maybe Harry was more affected by Adam’s absence, his work on the album, than he thought.

“A friend, Hermione, called,” he let go of the counter to cross his arms, tucking his hands at his sides. “There’s some crisis or another. I don’t know how bad it is.”

He kept meeting Adam’s eyes, not looking away or faltering once, and Adam felt the last of the worry slip away. It definitely wasn’t them. He just knew. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Harry said.

Adam smiled briefly, “Yeah. I hope everything’s okay..? But vastly better news than I expected.”

His mouth twisted into a frown. “Are you even going to fucking miss me?”

Adam stared in shock, “Yeah, hello. Just went on about not wanting to break up.” What the hell? Either Harry was overreacting to a trip away or he was missing something. Something huge. And Harry wasn’t the type to overreact about traveling. Hell, the guy travelled alone for what, seven years? “What don’t I know?”

Harry looked briefly confused then taken back. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone,” he said.

Harry forgot to add that part on. Adam stood and walked around the bar. He leaned against the counter across from Harry. “You don’t know how long? Days? Weeks? Months?”

Harry flinched, “Months, probably. It’s…”

“This really isn’t some fucked up way to break up with me without having the balls to actually do it, is it?” Because, fuck, months?

Harry laughed without amusement. “When have I ever refrained from telling you my full and rude opinion or intention?”

Adam smiled. He had a point there. “What sort of crisis is it that will keep you in England for months? I thought it was a family thing.”

“No, it’s political,” he admitted. Adam noticed he was relaxing some, as though now that they were talking he could relax, as though the silence had been weighing on him. “Mostly political. A sort of repeat performance, I guess, of some bollocks that I had a hand in cleaning up years ago. Hermione figures since I have experience in it I should be brought on the team.”

“Why don’t you say no?” He demanded. He wanted to keep Harry here, with him, as selfish as that might be. They were living together, going out on actual dates, having hours-long conversations in the middle of the night. Adam did not want to lose that. “And wait, alright. Math is not my strong suit, but you had to be—”

“Just a kid, fresh out of school,” he agreed. “I can’t say no because Hermione’s not wrong. I could be a help.”

“You’re not obligated to them, Harry,” he said eventually with a little frown. “You don’t owe anyone, and you don’t need to run off to fix others’ problems just because they tell you you’d be helpful.”

“I’m starting to work that one out,” he admitted softly. “Helping, it’s built into me at this point. Merlin, I want to stay here, I do.” He looked at Adam pleadingly.

Adam felt like someone was trying to claw his heart out. He took a shaky breath. “Then stay.”

“I…can’t.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I want to, but I can’t. It’s… What Hermione is asking me to do is help save… to save lives in the end and I can’t…ignore that.”

“Save lives.” He repeated. A new edge of panic was settling in next to what had to be his breaking heart, because Harry looked so damn lost, and Adam didn’t think he could rescue him from it. “Is this something like being a bodyguard then? Or a policeman? It’s dangerous?” Is there something I can say to convince you to stay?

“Yeah.” Harry bit his lip. “It’s a risk, but I can help others.”

He held out a hand, “C’mere.” Harry took it and slid into his arms. “You’re not obligated.”

“I know.” He pressed his face into Adam’s chest.

Adam rested his chin on top of his head. “We’ll keep in touch, baby. Phone calls, texts, email.”

Harry chuckled, “I still bloody hate computers.”

“You’re missing out on the 21st century,” he teased. “I’ll be here when you get done with whatever. This dangerous political thing.”

He felt Harry tense slightly in his arms. “You don’t… I’ll be gone for months, love. You’ll be in a caught up in your own windstorm. Your music will be a hit, you’ll be traveling all over the country. You don’t’… I won’t ask you to wait.”

Adam could not believe what he was hearing, and he wasn’t having any of it either. He curled his fingers in the messy black hair and tugged back gently until Harry was looking at him. “Honey, shut up.” He dropped a kiss on his forehead before meeting his gaze again. “You have some serious fucking martyr issues.”

“Adam,” he started, eyes serious. “It is dangerous. And I don’t know what will happen—”

“You’ll come back,” he said calmly.

“You don’t know that.”

He leaned in a smidge more, until Harry’s eyes began to blur from the nearness. “You’ll come back, remember?”

Harry let out a slow breath and leaned in, mouth pressing against his own briefly. “Coup de foudre.”

Adam wracked his brains, “Struck by lightning?”

“Love at first sight.”

Adam laughed, “That zing when you see that person.”

Harry smiled, “Yeah.”

-----FIN-----

Part 5 || Master Post