And then he walked by. He looked nothing like himself, but Sirius would know Dirk anywhere. He should let him go, he shouldn't even let him know he was here - give him peace for one night, at least. But Sirius wasn't entirely sober, and Dirk had been chatting with another man at the bar tonight. He expected it, he wanted him to be happy and move on, but at the same time, he absolutely hated it. And he knew he had no right to. "Hey!" He called, the jealous side of him unable to keep his mouth shut.

Henry knocked, then immediately sauntered into the room and threw himself sideways into the nearest chair, his legs hanging off an armrest, ankles crossed. Dirk Cresswell had come recommended, as a good place to start if he was trying to finally get a handle on his “money situation” (his manager’s words, his his). Spending three years hopping around the world, living out of a rucksack and eating like a raccoon, meant that he hadn’t really spent much of the money he’d been earning, both wizard and muggle. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to live in his sister’s spare bedroom forever. 

“So, Dirk, you do...” he pulled off his sunglasses, finally looking at the man behind the desk, and wiggled his fingers in his direction. “Money stuff?”

And then Dirk walked in, and he felt even worse. He was undeniably glad to know he was alive, at least, but he looked even worse than Sirius felt, and he didn't even feel like he could go check on him anymore, no matter how desperately he may want to talk to him. For once, Sirius wasn't thinking about himself - surely Dirk wouldn't want to be bothered by him anymore, and he was afraid of doing the wrong thing. Had he seen him celebrating with Emma? Did he know he'd gotten her out of harm's way? Had he already talked to Remus, or James? He was at a loss. So he bit his lip anxiously as his eyes tracked him from across the room, barely daring to blink, sharply watching for any sign he could glean about how he was doing. 

Sirius heaved a loaded sigh, standing up and stretching. His back and shoulder popped as he reached up toward the ceiling and he shook himself. If nothing else, it felt good to move. His stomach grumbled and he padded toward the kitchen, resigned to a bowl of cereal as he had little else in the house worth eating, and he wasn't sure he could muster the energy for it even if he did. And then the door opened with a bang and he raised an eyebrow, spoon halfway to his mouth. What in the hell had gotten Remus so worked up? But it wasn't Remus who appeared, it was Dirk. Had he not locked the door? He swallowed, suddenly feeling nervous and no small amount of guilt, putting his spoon down and diverting his gaze. They hadn't spoken in days. "Most people knock." He mumbled, dropping his chin into his hands and glaring into his bowl.

Henry ran a nervous hand through his hair, forced himself to even his breathing and quiet the butterflies- moths, Sybill’s voice chimed in in the back of his head- in his stomach. 

He didn’t really date. Not with any longevity to it. It had been so long since he’d had an official first date, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d made it to a second. But lunch with Dirk last week had been so delightful that the warm glow from his company had lasted for days after. Even when he’d politely refused Henry’s invitation to come home with him, Henry’s attraction wasn’t dimmed. He could respect people’s boundaries, could perhaps respect that Dirk was playing hard to get. It didn’t mean he wasn’t going to keep trying, though. 

He was just finishing laying out the giant blanket and picnic basket beneath the tree he’d chosen when he spotted Dirk a bit of the way off, heading toward him on the cobbled path. He was, of course, perfectly on time. 

Henry had planned to let Dirk come to him, perhaps lounge alluringly on the blanket with a glass of butterbeer waiting, but he found he couldn’t bring himself to wait. He took off toward Dirk, meeting him halfway down the path, grabbing one of his hands and pressing a kiss on each of his cheeks. When he pulled back he could feel his face burning and flushed. 

“Hey,” he said breathlessly. “I was- I was planning to be a bit more dignified with the- the greeting. But. Couldn’t help myself, I guess. Has it really only been a week? I- I’m rambling. How are you doing?”

He ran another hand through his hair, looking away, glancing back when he couldn’t help himself. Time had clearly done nothing to cool the spark he felt around Dirk.

And as his eyes landed on Dirk, he thought just how well this new arrangement was going to work for him. "Creswell." He purred into his ear as he came up behind him, a hand landing on his hip for a fleeting second before he leaned on the bar next to him and ordered a fresh drink. "The hair wasn't enough for you?" He asked with a smirk, gesturing to his green skin. 

morning lovely - nice to run into you at the festival. bit domestic though, don't you think? round two this weekend if you think you're up for it. 

Dear Dirk, 

I hate that I understand, but I do. My life has been marked by waves of acceptance- for all the wrong reasons- and violent rejection on society’s behalf. Even now I’m learning just who I can rely on, based on which friends and contacts will still talk to me, and which have decided I truly am nothing more than the base instincts that comprise one half of my blood. 

I don’t know nearly as much about you as I wanted to, but given what’s happened I can guess precisely why you’re leaving. I don’t have enough words for how stupid this is and how cruelly unfair to the both of us. You have a place in this world, and those who would accuse or deny you on the basis of blood are the meanest, lowest kinds of fools.

Please don’t say goodbye. That implies permanence, and I’m not sure I could take that. We had so little time together but what we did have meant so much to me. I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you, to the point where I probably jumped ahead more than a little, at least in my own mind. I like you so much that if there weren’t a war on, I’d almost certainly ask where you are so that I can just bring the next date to you. But I’m a registered creature now and the Ministry has decided I’m hostile, so even if I could justify leaving my sisters, I don’t think I’d be allowed to pass customs. 

I can’t promise not to do anything reckless, especially when it comes to defending your good name- because you are good, and you’re so kind, and so smart, and just so wonderful, and I don’t think I’ll ever stop being furious at what was done to you-, but I promise to be careful about it, if you promise me something. Stay safe, but don’t bury yourself. You have so much to offer people, and there are so many amazing places to see beyond this dreary little island. I don’t know if you plan to stay where you are for long, but if you travel I’ve got plenty of recommendations, and if you ever need somewhere to lie low, I’ve a flat in France that’s all yours. Really, if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. 

Of course we’ll get to see each other again: I refuse to accept a world where we don’t. Besides, when I want something I’m not the type to just give up on it. I hope I’m not just flattering myself to think that you still want me too. Although if you do end up getting swept off your feet by some handsome foreigner, at least do me the courtesy of a warning letter, so I know precisely who has eclipsed me in your affections, and can curb my impulse to challenge them to a duel to satisfy my own sorrow.

yours always,

Henry

P.S. This doesn’t change anything, but I hope it’ll make you laugh to know that I’m pursuing a lawsuit against the Daily Prophet for defamation, so they have to deal with me in court now which should be thoroughly entertaining. Watch the international papers- I’m generally beloved all over, so my fall from grace and subsequent bitchfit about it will surely be entertaining.