AN: Here's a quick start to four or five chapters because of the holidays (happy early Hannukah!), and I really needed to write something more light-hearted. Can you believe I wrote this in one day? It really shows.

Inspired by several episodes of Scrubs, the 'What if MJ was a Dude' interview with Andrew Garfield, the fics that came from that, and that scene I wrote in And We'll be Chasing Stars. After this is done, I have plans for another short multi-chaptered fic with a Lady AU for Harry/Ginny.

Behold! Obliviously-Bi!Harry with Rule 63!Ginny (as I add my Queer Potter heacanons in this rom-com).

Title is a Florence and the Machine song.

Disclaimer: I own copies of the Dresden Files, not the actual rights for Harry Potter or the origin of this trope.

Title: You've Got the Love: Chapter One: The Dilemma of Engaged Friends

Word Count: 2K

Summary: Harry has a small crisis regarding his sexuality when becoming someone's flatmate. He wouldn't be having this problem if he'd roomed with Neville instead.

"Harry, we love you," Ron said. "We really do, mate. Honest."

Harry nodded. He had no clue where this conversation was heading.

"But there comes a time…" Ron faltered and looked to Hermione for help. His fiancée sighed and set her cup of tea down on the little table in their living room. She nodded. "What I'm trying to say is—bollocks. Hermione, I can't do it."

"Ron."

"I can't!" he insisted, making his tea slosh over the rim. Hermione's glare grew sterner. Ron bowed his head and groaned.

Harry pretended to be more interested in adding extra sugar in his cup. Ever since Hermione had moved in with them, things like extra sugar and certain teeth-rotting treats were becoming scarce in their small flat.

"Harry," Hermione said. Her voice wasn't as sweet as Ron's, but it was soft in the way that it was meant to be addressing bad news. "Have you ever thought about moving out?"

He knocked over the sugar bowl. "What?"

Ron scooted on the couch, his hand sliding into Hermione's. She raised their joined hands so that her engagement ring could sparkle perfectly in the light. Harry remembered being there when Ron had bought that ring. It was the first thing his friend had bought with his Auror salary. Harry was joking at that time on how she would prefer a rare manuscript than a piece of jewelry.

Now there seemed to be less laughter.

"Really?" Harry said. He squirmed in his chair. "Don't you want me to be a convenient source of help around here? After ten years of being best friends, you're kicking me out?" He purposely looked to Ron when saying this.

Ron squeezed Hermione's hand and the two shared one of those moments when they had an entire conversation with one glance into each other's eyes. "So, uh, I think Neville mentioned something the other day about needing a flatmate."

"I don't want to live with Neville," Harry said. "Why can't I just live here until the wedding or something?"

"…and that's what happened," Harry explained to George an hour later. "Do you think I can stay with you?"

George raised his head from the counter. He had dark circles under his eyes and there was an uncharacteristic beard growing on his chin. "No." He waved Verity away who made a face at the back of his head. "You don't want to live with me and Angie and the baby," he said gravely.

"But I'm his uncle Harry," said Harry. "And we're family and I don't want to live with Neville."

"What did Neville ever do to you?" George moved behind the counter and gestured a line to form in front of the other register. Harry followed him.

"I've been to his flat before," he said with a shudder. The flatwarming party had been disturbed with several of Neville's plants unintentionally breeding together, and making a venomous something that ate the cake and some of the presents. Harry wasn't so eager on visiting since. Seemingly innocent plants that could gobble a three-layer cake were best avoided.

"Don't you have a girlfriend or someone to stay with?" George snapped his fingers in front of a customer's face. The teenage wizard was gawking at Harry much like one would at a zoo. "Eyes up here, or I'm charging extra."

Harry shoved his hands in his coat pockets, trying not to wander too long on his last romantic relationship with Daphne Greengrass. They'd gotten together not that long after he was given his Auror license. He'd been drawn to her because of her sharp wit and pretty dark eyes. Then, out of the blue, she had sat him down two years ago and said that he was great, but she felt that their relationship wasn't going anywhere.

He had been rooming (and brooding) with Ron since.

"Do you know anyone that needs a flatmate?" Harry asked.

"Well." George scratched his chin. "Because my social interactions have increased so much since Freddy's birth—" He threw his hands up in the air and waved them. "Oi, yes," he said to his line. "I know he's bloody Harry Potter, now move on!" Much like the original wizard in front, the small gathering of witches and wizards were keen on knowing Harry's crisis. He suspected that it would be in Witch Weekly tomorrow. It would possibly be titled as 'Desirable Bachelor Harry Potter Seeks New Best Friends and Living Conditions'.

"Can I have an autograph?" piped up one of the younger boys in the line. He escaped his mother's side and walked up to Harry. His mother bemoaned.

Harry had a policy regarding autographs about anyone under the Hogwart's acceptance age. Those were allowed, but anyone older he tried to decline for the sake of his sanity. And that the younger ones were generally nicer to talk to. They were less likely to follow the gossip talk or whatever the tabloids had to say about his lunch.

He knelt down and took the self-inking quill that the boy held out. "Sure. Who do I make it out to?"

"Harry," he said with a gap-toothed smile.

"Nice name," said Harry, inwardly groaning. He wondered how the roster was looking for Hogwarts. How many Harrys and Harriets were entering the next few years? "He signed the piece of parchment with a messy flourish. "I like your jersey."

The boy was wearing the Puddlemere colors with a familiar number on it. He smiled brightly. "I really, really like Quidditch but Mummy says—" He looked behind his shoulder and at his mother. "She says I can't fly on a real broom yet."

"You will once you get to Hogwarts." Harry did his best to be artistic and tried drawing a broomstick under his name. He gave up and made what was hopefully a quaffle. He handed it to the younger Harry.

Inspiration struck.

"Hey, George," Harry said slowly.

"Finally, can I start selling your action-figures?" he asked. For the past year George had been trying to get Harry to agree about selling a line of action-figures of him in his Auror robes. It was alarming to see how detailed they were and all of the 'special-effects'; like the weak Disarming Charm that it could do, and how it could sign things. Harry was bent on saying no up to his dying breath. They were disturbing miniature versions of him that were up to no good.

"What? No." Harry stood up and waved at the younger Harry who suddenly left the shop with his haggard mother. "When does Gid get back from Wales?"

Quidditch season was over, which meant that George and Ron's youngest brother was moving back to his flat full-time. His empty and spacious flat that was free from well meaning (and almost-married) friends and vicious Harry-eating plants.

It was perfect! He and Gid knew already each other, they were both single, there was Quidditch to talk about; and Harry could always count on him to have a stash of chocolate lying around somewhere.

What could possibly go wrong?

"Have I ever told you that you're my favorite Weasley?" was the first thing Harry said after he knocked on the door.

Gid blinked and opened his door a bit wider. He pocketed his wand and gave Harry a weary but rueful grin. "Don't say that, I can almost hear Ron crying in the distance. He'll never forgive you, you know." He leaned against his doorframe with his ankles and arms crossed. "What bring me the honour of having you here?"

Harry could see more of the inside of the flat. There was a large duffle bag on the kitchen table and several stacks of clothes piled around it. "How was Wales?"

"Chilly and that's not the question you want to ask." Gid jerked his head. "Come on inside."

Harry let the door close behind him as he entered and surveyed the place. There were minimal changes since he had last said goodbye before the season started. The few houseplants looked a little wilted and there was some dust on the furniture. But there was a spare room that Harry knew existed next to Gid's and was connected with a shared bathroom. There was a perfect amount of living space for the both of them.

Surely Gid wouldn't mind…

Harry had known him for years now. Sure, Gid had been somewhat awestruck when he was younger, always leaving the room when Harry had entered or unable to talk to his face. But a friendship had blossomed in Harry's Fifth Year and was the only one able to hammer some sense in his head. Then came Sixth Year, and Harry felt like their friendship had been growing stronger since. If Ron and Hermione were being unreasonable, there was always Gid to talk to. He was someone to share an unhealthy amount of love for Quidditch with, and a capable Seeker to play against. Harry honestly enjoyed his company and the laughter that often accompanied it.

"Is that how Aurors question people nowadays?" Gid handed Harry a chilled bottle of Butterbeer. "Sorry that I don't have anything else. Everything's a mess right now."

Harry's attention turned back to the wizard. Gideon 'Gid' Weasley took a lot from his brother, like their tall heights and wide shoulders that always made Harry feel shorter than he actually was. He had a shorter nose than Ron's, and his hair was longer in the front and shorter in the back. He was very freckly from staying outdoors so long, and often came to the Burrow smelling of broom polish and leather—although now he smelled more of sweat than anything else.

Harry twisted the cap off and went straight to the point. "Ron and Hermione thinks it's best if I move out before they get married."

Gid uncapped his own bottle. He appeared unfazed by this comment. Instead of coming to Harry's aid, he said: "It took them that long?"

"Prat." Harry jutted his chin and had to crane his neck to glare at him. Gid had always been the taller one. It was frustrating at times like this. "I'm your friend."

"And as your friend, I have the right to ask what were you thinking of living with everyone's favorite old married couple?"

"That's why I'm thinking of living with you, Gideon," said Harry right when Gid took a big swallow. It was timed perfectly.

Gid's drink spilled over his shirt. His brown eyes went very wide as he spluttered. "Wh-what?"

"Wow," Harry said, adopting Gid's earlier tone. "Are those the reflexes professional Quidditch players have nowadays?"

"Me?" Gid sounded doubtful. He set his bottle down next to his duffle bag. "Don't you have other friends?"

Harry shrugged and casually sipped his Butterbeer. "Why not? It's not like you're going anywhere except the conditioning stuff."

Gid closed his eyes. "I'm flattered that you follow my schedule so well."

Harry clasped a hand over his heart, sighing deeply. "But I'm your biggest fan."

"More like my most annoying." He opened both eyes and studied Harry carefully. A corner of his mouth tilted up. "When are you thinking of moving in?"

Molly was ecstatic and Ron was frowning by the time they had told everyone that night at the Burrow.

"My brother?" he said for the umpteenth time.

"Yeah, so?" Harry reached for some peas. He caught Gid laughing with Hermione and Molly about something. It was probably about him and his living habits. It wasn't that Harry thought he was a bad flatmate at times. He was mainly pesky about getting the dishes done and keeping things slightly tidy. He was sure that he was all right to live with. At least Ron had few complaints. That was all that mattered to him.

"He's my brother!"

"It's better than staying with Neville and his army of killer plants." Harry passed the basket of bread to Percy and went back to adding more food to his plate.

"More like bodyguards," Ron said with a grimace. "Remember what happened to Seamus during Valentine's Day?"

"They got the needles out eventually." Harry chewed thoughtfully on his chicken. "'sides, I like your brother."

Ron narrowed his eyes and looked at Harry and then to Gid who sat down near them. "What's your excuse?"

"Someone to remind me to do the laundry. Pass the peas, please." Gid smiled when he was handed food. "I think it can work. What do you say, Harry?"

"I think it's a wonderful idea," Molly said.

George, on the other hand, was feeding a giggling Freddy. "Hear that, baby?" he cooed. "Your uncle Harry doesn't want to live with you—ouch."

Angelina smiled pleasantly and readjusted her position in her chair. "You're just mad that he doesn't want you to sell those silly toys."

"When do you plan on moving?" Arthur asked.

"This Friday." Harry wiped his face with a napkin. "I don't have much to bring with me. Ron and I have shared custody over those muggle spy novels. Right, mate?"

But Ron was busying having one of those moments again with Hermione. They were staring into each other's eyes, and were maybe having a day's worth of conversations between them. Again.

So Harry shared a conspiring smile with Gid behind Ron's back. It made him feel better.