A/N: This going to be a HP/AU multi-chapter Slash fic. Like over 50,000 words long. (Crazy long.) I'm writing this for the 50,000 word Romance Challenge in the HPC forum. I got this killer prompt and now….presto! A story appears.

I'm excited and nervous about this story. I think the idea of writing 50,000 words is totally daunting at this point, but I'm sure I'm going to start writing and completely forget that there is a word minimum. Lol.


In this world Sirius didn't die when he fell through The Veil in the Battle at the Ministry. He just went through to the other side and passed out. :o) Also, no dead Dumbledore. :o)

I have some interesting twists and turns planned for this diddy….

This is a SLASH PIECE. Harry and some sexy men from the World of HP may or may not be getting' it on, snog, or other things equally romantic and sappy.

I hope you guys like it!


UPDATE- 10/7/14 I have gone back through this piece and reworked a few things. Hopefully I should have a new chapter out this week! (I know. It's be ages and for that I am soooooo sorry!)

Warning: I own nothing. Nothing at all. It's a shame really, cause I'd love to own me some Snape. Mmmmm…..

Harry took a bite of crisp bacon, savoring the greasy flavor as it melted on his tongue. Nothing was better than bacon. Except for, possibly, Quidditch, but he honestly wasn't too sure about that. Bacon and Quidditch were each delicious in their own unique ways and while he loved both of them, he was in the kitchen. He couldn't possibly chase a Snitch in the cramped space; so, for the moment, bacon would be his first love.

Bacon and birthdays, nothing could be better.

Today, he was finally "of age". Harry smiled, filled with pleasure in knowing that he could perform magic away from Hogwarts without the fear of being called in front of the Wizengamot (again), Apparate and Disapparate, and, most importantly, he could make his own decisions.

If he was so inclined, he could pop down to Diagon Alley, go to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour for a mouth-watering ice cream sundae and discuss medieval witchcraft with the proprietor or, stroll down to Quality Quidditch Supplies and gaze longingly at the new model Firebolt that hung in the display window. Gaping at a storefront window was a respectable way to pass an afternoon.

On the other hand, he could do absolutely nothing but sit on the sofa and be a complete lay-about. It didn't matter what he chose to do with his time. He was a grown-up and it was summer break; his time was his own. Harry popped a bit of strawberry waffle into his mouth. This was going to be the best birthday ever, the best year ever if he had any say in the matter.

"Morning," Remus brightly called as he entered the kitchen.


"Happy Birthday," Sirius bellowed, an enormous grin plastered to his face. "Ah… seventeen, you're practically an old man."

"If I'm an old man, you're ancient," Harry teased.

"Oy! Respect your elders. I'm not old," Sirius whined. "I'm still fit."

"I dunno, Padfoot. I think you might have a few creaks in those hips and you've go a bit of grey coming in right there." Remus pulled one of the aforementioned strands from its owner's head.

"Ow! Mooney, shove off!"

"Yes, dear," Remus smirked, pulling a cup from the cabinet.

The two old friends shuffled around the kitchen getting their desired items for breakfast as Harry watched, feeling warmth at the sight. Sometimes he couldn't believe his good fortune. Living with Remus and Sirius made him feel that he finally had a family, a real home, and a sense of security that he had never experienced at Number 4 Privet Drive.

"Any owls yet?" Sirius inquired as he poured his tea.

"No, not yet," said Harry with a shake of his head.

Remus and Sirius looked at each other, excitement gleaming in their eyes.

"Ah well, I guess we have the honor of being the first. Right, Mooney?"

"Indeed we do," said Remus before placing a small red and gold package on the table as his godfather set down another, which had been hidden in the old grandfather clock, beside it.

"Happy Birthday, Harry!" they shouted in unison.

Harry tore into the first present, quickly removing the lid to find a small golden ball. He lifted it carefully out of its soft tissue paper nest, turning it over in his. He instantly recognized he had been gifted with a Golden Snitch. He lovingly placed it back into the box for safe keeping before shredding the paper wrapping Sirius' gift.

Harry gasped at the sight of the latest model broom: The Firebolt XLT, the one he had been daydreaming about moments before. Harry lovingly stroked the beautiful cherry-wood broom handle. It was lighter than his old Nimbus 2000 and the original model Firebolt that Sirius had sent him in third year. Being careful not to scratch his gift, Harry reverently laid the broom down on the table to inspect it more closely. He noticed a little lighting bolt and HP inscribed on the tip of the handle.

"I can't believe you got it detailed! Thank you both. It's brilliant," Harry gushed as he hugged his father's closest friends.

"You're quite welcome. I expect you to do us all proud one day and play for England," Sirius teased with paternal pride.

"I'd love that," Harry said wistfully.

Remus laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Harry, your parents would be so proud of the man you've become. "

"I know we both are," added Sirius.

Harry cleared the lump in his throat with a grunt. "So….umm…who's supposed to be on duty today?"

The werewolf gave him an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Harry. I know it's you're birthday, but it's…Professor Snape."

"Damn," Harry swore. It just had to be Snape.

Dumbledore had ordered, as a precaution, that when either his godfather or Remus needed to leave the safety of Grimmauld Place, an Order member would come to the house to stay in their stead, much to Harry's dismay.

"Yeah, rotten luck that Snivellus has to be here. I can hardly stand to look at that hook-nosed berk's face, but don't worry," a mischievous grin spread across Sirius' face, "I'm sure we could think up a good prank to pull on the greasy git to brighten your day. Maybe turn his hair pink or transfigure his robes to look like Mrs. Longbottom's? What I wouldn't do to see Snape in that stuffed vulture hat," Sirius cackled.

Remus slapped his head. " Grow up would you? He's Harry's Professor. This isn't fifth year," he chided. "But I do have to say, it was rather hilarious to see him in that getup," Remus added with a quiet smile.

The flapping of wings interrupted the pair's jovial banter as a large russet coloured owl flew into the kitchen and dropped the morning edition of The Daily Prophet in Harry's lap. He unrolled the paper and blinked at the incomprehensible headline.


Harry blinked. That couldn't possibly be right.

Harry read the headline again.

This had to be a kind of practical joke that the twins had concocted: trick paper crafted for his birthday. Harry darted his head right and left, searching for any sign of the notorious pranksters.

"Anything wrong, Harry?" Remus inquired.

Harry crushed the paper tightly in his hands. "No. Nothing. Nothing at all. Ummm….I just have to pop back up to my room. Forgot….something."

Harry calmly left the kitchen, then bolted up the stairs to his bedroom where he opened the paper and anxiously began to read.



-Exclusive by Rita Skeeter of The Daily Prophet

Everyone knows his name. There isn't a witch or wizard in Britain or (I may be so bold as to say) the world who can't claim that they are unfamiliar with the life of Harry Potter: the boy who tragically lost both his parents in the war, the Champion of the Triwizard Tournament, and Witch Weekly's Most Eligible Bachelor. What wasn't so well know about The-Boy-Who-Lived was his apparent taste in paramours. In a shocking turn of events, it has been revealed that Harry Potter, lothario of the teenage wizarding set, is in fact a homosexual.

The announcement was released on the boy's seventeenth birthday, July 31st, as is traditional for wizard nobles upon reaching the Age of Courtship. As the last of the Potter line, Harry will become Lord Potter and stands to inherit a substantial trust, including land, properties, and magical heirlooms upon the finalization of his marriage to an eligible Courtier.

Over the years, the emerald-eyed heartthrob has flaunted his girlfriends to the press. His scandalous romantic entanglement with Hermione Granger and Bulgarian Bonbon, Viktor Krum, seeker for the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team during the Triwizard Tournament (see page 5 for related story) only highlights one of many female conquests on his rather extensive list, which has lead the nation to believe Potter was indeed a heterosexual.

The news that young Potter no longer favors the fairer sex brings up many questions.

Firstly, why the information has been such a closely guarded secret? Unlike our Muggle counterparts, the subject of homosexuality has never been an issue, as some of the most celebrated couples in wizarding history have been same sex. With this being the case, why did The-Boy-Who-Lived feel the compulsion to misdirect his adoring fans and supporters? Is it part of a hidden plot? Does his current girlfriend Ginerva Weasley know? Were his past girlfriends part of the conspiracy or was he just unaware of his orientation? Whatever the case maybe, this reporter will be sure to uncover and report the truth to our dedicated readers.

On a more personal note, we here at The Daily Prophet hope that Mr. Potter has the happiest of birthdays today, as well as wishing him all the best during this courting season. We also send our best to the lucky man who manages to snatch him up.

(For continuing coverage of Courting Season and complete Announcement listing, see page 3.)

Harry collapsed back onto his bed, panic threatening to overwhelm him. Grimmauld Place was supposed to be Unplottable. He hadn't left its confines all summer, except to sit in the gardens behind the imposing house. He hadn't spoken the words aloud and hadn't written them anywhere. So, how did Rita Skeeter find out?

This summer had been a revelation. Girls had always been a mystery to him. Aside from Cho Chang and Ginny, he had never truly been interested in chasing after the opposite sex. They were nice. Hermione was a girl. She was one of his best friends, but it was never sexual. As he thought back upon it over the past few months, he realized he should have recognized the warning signs when he described his kiss with Cho as 'wet.' As Snape was always gleeful to remind him, he was a bit of a dunderhead.

He more than likely wouldn't have pieced it together if it hadn't been for the dreams. Every night, since the last week of the term, Harry had dreamed of pale skin and corded muscles. The persons the bodies belonged to weren't clear at first, but he was always filled with contentment and sticky pajama bottoms after his nightly visitations. It was a month into his dreams that he finally recognized one of his fantasy lovers. The white blonde waterfall that trailed over his body had been the giveaway: Lucius Malfoy. While his ferret of a son made his stomach roll, Harry had to admit that Malfoy Sr was gorgeous, posh, cultured, and terribly fit. A stunning contrast to his other nightly bed partner.

That man had been harder to identify. He was tall, hair as dark as ink - the opposite of Malfoy in every way. His lover had long, lovely fingers that played his body like a virtuoso and a voice like sin. It had taken waking up mid orgasm with that man's name on his lips for it to sink it. He had been dreaming of Snape.

If that didn't prove Harry Potter was a homosexual, nothing would.

"Damn," Harry groaned into his pillow. How would his friends react?

Hermione would probably just give him books and tell him it everything would be fine, Ginny on the other hand? Harry shivered. She was going to tear him apart, Ron, too.

Clutching his hair tightly, Harry let out a frustrated growl.

He had been meaning to do it, honestly, but the opportunity had never really presented itself. Ginny was still, technically, his girlfriend and hurting her was the last thing he ever wanted to do. Ending a relationship was awkward no matter what the circumstances, but the additional blow of his sexuality…there was no easy way to do it and someone was going to be hurt. Now she was going to read it in the paper.

"Bloody bollocks! What a complete cock-up," Harry swore as he tore the paper to shreds and tossing the bits of paper in the waste-bin.

He had to get out of here. Grabbing his wand, Harry rushed down the stairs to the sitting room. Maybe if he sent her an owl now, he could beat the post. Just as he was sitting down to begin the letter, he startled at the sound of a tiny beak tapping on the window. Hesitantly, he walked over and opened the window. He knew that owl and that owl had a Howler. Harry grimaced in dread filled anticipation as Pig zoomed into the sitting room, flapping his tiny wings into his head.

"Ow! Pig! I can't get the bloody thing from your beak if you don't stop moving," he growled as he plucked the crimson envelope from his beak.

"You can go now. I'm going to open it. Really, I am."

Harry plucked a treat from the mantle box. Pig gave an affectionate nip before flitting out the window back to The Burrow.

The envelope felt heavy in his hands, like a timebomb waiting to go off. With trembling fingers, Harry quickly opened the letter.

Is there something that you wanted to tell me Harry, anything that you might have mentioned, that I needed to KNOW?

Maybe that little, insignificant fact that you're a poof!



I can't believe you hadn't the stones to tell me yourself. We've known each other for years! You're best mate is my brother!

I can't believe I had to find out in The Prophet in an article by that slimy bint Skeeter!

That daft cow knew before I DID!

You've been leading me on this whole time, using me as cover. Did you mean for me to care for you? Was that your game?

Harry James Potter, if I ever see your face again it will be too soon. You have made me look RIDICULOUS! WE'RE OVER! OVER, YOU WANKER!

With the last word ringing in his ears, the letter shredded itself into pieces, grumbling about Harry being a selfish, lying git.

"I guess that saves me the trouble of doing it myself," he mumbled unhappily.

Harry plopped down heavily on the settee. This day just couldn't get any worse.

"You okay?" Remus quietly asked as he and Sirius entered from the kitchen.

"Yeah…I mean, I suppo—no. Not really, no," Harry sighed.

"Howler," Sirius said.

Harry nodded.

"Couldn't help but over hear."

"Yeah, from Ginny."

He noticed Sirius fidgeting and braced himself for what was next.

"So…umm…Harry, you're…"

"Queer," a silky, mirth-filled voice purred. "The Great Harry Potter is a homosexual."