Reckless Abandon (Drarry)

Chapter 11

HARRY POTTER GAY!

The Chosen One Chooses Men!

What Really Happened Between Harry Potter and His 'Girlfriend' Ginny Weasley?
What Really Happened Between Harry Potter and Voldemort?
Get the REAL Story Here!

Who was Harry Potter Away With For A Dirty Weekend? Pictures Inside!

Identity of Harry Potter's Secret Gay Lover Finally Revealed!

Harry pulled up the collar of his coat, ducking his head down, as he rushed along the street. Everywhere he looked, it seemed like corner stores and newsstands were covered with massive, awful headlines about him. Speculating on how long he had been gay, digging up any old picture of him standing beside a man, speculating that they had been secret lovers. It was all made up, not any truth to any of the sensationalistic crap the papers pumped out, looking for a quick buck.

It had been like this all week, and Harry had kept himself hidden away in the office or at home. His manager had given him a pile of old paperwork to work through, knowing he was too exhausted from it all to focus on work in the field.

His co-workers gave their support quietly, patting him on the back and giving him his space. Silently letting him know they were OK with him being gay. They were mostly younger men and women, raised in a time where the muggle and wizarding worlds were becoming much more tolerant of different sexualities.

But the general public was far more mixed in their reactions to the news. He was supported by some, insulted by others. Either way, it was a hot press item and Harry was heartedly sick of it.

He slammed the door of his house shut with a bang that rocked the walls. Shrugging off his wet coat, he hung it on the coat rack and kicked off his boots, not caring that they landed halfway down the hallway.

Clementine stood on the last step of the staircase, no doubt roused from her office by his noise. "My oh my, must you make such a racket?"

Her tone was teasing but Harry was in no mood for it today. He snarled, pushing past her to stomp up the stairs.

She was light-footed, running past him to stand on the second floor landing, blocking his way. "Enough, Harry. I'm sick of having you act like this in the house. Now get changed into some comfortable clothes and meet me in the drawing room in five minutes. We are going to work this out."

Her firm, commanding tone was backed up by an imposing glare that Professor McGonagall would have approved of. She didn't wait for a response from Harry, spinning to march into her office and slamming the door behind her.

Huffing in frustration, Harry continued to his bedroom on the third floor. He continued to slam doors and stomp around, knowing the infuriating woman was right below and could hear everything.

Sighing, he went back downstairs, and went in to the drawing room. He had calmed down a little, the door slamming working out a some of his frustration. Now he was just feeling exhausted, burnt out. He slumped on the sofa near the blazing fireplace, taking some comfort in the warmth and comforting crackle.

Clementine came in, setting a bottle of firewhiskey and two tumblers on the coffee table. She poured two fingers worth of the dark golden liquid into each glass, and clinked one against the other before taking a long sip. She gazed down at Harry until he shrugged and picked up the other glass.

The strong liquor burned as it slid down Harry's throat, and he set the empty glass down with a grimace. Firewhiskey had never been his preferred drink.

"I can't believe you gulped it down like that! This is one of the highest rated peaty firewhiskies of the year." Clementine poured him another drink, sitting back on the other sofa and crossing her legs.