Harry was getting slightly worried; Ron had been grinning at him manically for the past hour, and he couldn't concentrate on reading Quidditch through the Ages. Every time he turned a page, he would see his best friend smirking at him, in an almost Malfoy-like manner. It was pretty disconcerting.
Did Ron know?
It had been earlier on, when he, Ron and Hermione had been in the Gryffindor Common Room, having another of their "Golden Trio" conversations. It was just like old times, when they laughed until they cried – drinking bottles of smuggled-in butterbeer. Of course, you couldn't get drunk off butterbeer, but everything did seem ten times as funny.
"So, when are you going to ask out Cho?" asked Ron, who for some reason, was laughing uncontrollably.
Harry snorted. "Cho? That is so last year, Ron. I don't want her crying on me again…"
Hermione slapped his shoulder. "Harry! Don't be so cruel -"
Ron fell about laughing. "Harry can't ask out Cho, Hermione. I mean, isn't it obvious he's gay?"
Harry dispelled the spark of fear inside him, and played along. "Oh yes", he laughed, winking at Ron. "How did you know?"
Hermione's eyes were wide, and she stopped laughing. "Ron – how did you find out?"
"Huh?" asked Ron, frowning.
Behind Ron, Harry was making frantic shakes of the head to Hermione, who saw him – and whose eyes widened in horror.
"Haha, just joking, Ron!" she laughed unconvincingly.
"More butterbeer!" shouted Harry, and he filled up Ron and Hermione's glasses with a rather shaking hand.
But Ron still retained that perplexed expression.
He hadn't meant to tell Hermione. But sometimes, when you're upset and angry and unbelievably confused, you just have to blurt it out.
"What is it Ron?" asked Harry, pushing his glasses up his nose once more. It was late now; the moonlight was spilling into the Gryffindor dormitory – and the page of letters in front of him seemed to merge together into a messy jumble.
"Is it true?" Ron asked, sitting himself down on the end of Harry's bed.
"Is what true?" It was always better to feign ignorance.
"What Hermione said?"
"What did Hermione say?"
"You know…"
"Ron, she was drunk off a completely non-alcoholic substance."
"But…just tell me it isn't true then".
Harry threw the book at him, and it smacked him on the shoulder.
"Ow!"
Ron threw the book back at him hard, so the spine hit him in the face. Harry swore, and his glasses fell onto the bedspread. "Ron!"
Ron snatched them up, put them on and rearranged his face into what was presumably a solemn and understanding expression.
"Harry Potter…"
"This is EMBARRASSING and I don't even know why! By the way, you look like a prat."
He snatched the glasses back off Ron, smashed them on his face and buried his head in his pillow.
"Are you gay?"
There it was; the question. A thousand possible answers; either a truth or a lie; but whatever the answer – it needed to be thought about. Friends fall apart, families split down the middle, and arguments are formed, just because of that one single question. But, true love also comes with it.
Harry pulled the covers over his head.
Ron shook him slightly, grinning.
"Are you gay, Harry?"
"Yeeeeesssshhhhhhh" came the muffled answer from the boy-who's-head-was-buried-in-a-pillow.
"I KNEW it!" yelled Ron.
"Okay, okay. Stop grinning like a maniac already, you're making me nervous", snapped Harry.
"Hey, Harry – I don't care if you're gay or not. Don't be ashamed about it".
"I'm not".
"Why didn't you TELL me?"
"I didn't want to tell anyone! I still haven't completely got used to it yet".
"Okay, okay. So – since when?"
"Since when what?"
"Harry"
"Sorry, fine! Erm, beginning of last year?"
"And… who is it?"
Harry hit Ron, smacking him hard on the arm.
"I'm sorry, but I have to ask!"
"Well, tough luck Weasley!"
Ron stood up, and crossed the room, until he reached Harry's trunk. With an evil smile, he opened it up and took out Harry's prized possession – his Firebolt. Harry's heart thumped, just to see it in Ron's hands.
"Ron…put down the Firebolt…"
"Just tell me who it is Harry…"
"Please Ron!"
"I'll snap it!"
"I'm begging you Ron!"
"Just tell me…"
"FINE ITS DRACO MALFOY, HAPPY?"
There was a loud thump, as Ron dropped the Firebolt on the floor.
"Draco Malfoy? As in the Slytherin Draco Malfoy?" he yelped.
"How many Draco Malfoys do we know?" Harry muttered sarcastically. But, seeing Ron's face, he dropped the sarcasm. He nodded. "Look, I don't know why it's happened – nor why me – but I can't help it- do you understand? I really really like him"
" – But why him? A Slytherin! I mean, I'd rather you liked me, to be honest. I'm rather disappointed".
Harry looked up quickly in shock, before sighing in exasperation when he saw Ron barely containing his laughter.
"Look, please just accept it. It's not as if he's going to like me back, is it! He hates me, hates everything about me… doesn't he?"
Harry bowed his head, avoiding Ron's eyes.
Ron felt a surge of affection for his best friend.
"Hey, Harry – I wouldn't be so sure about that if I were you…"
Harry looked up, poorly concealing red eyes. "What do you mean, Ron? If this is a joke…"
"I'm just telling you what I heard Harry. Well, Dean heard it from Seamus, who heard it from some Ravenclaw, who heard it from Luna, who overheard some Slytherins talking about it".
"Oh, so a pretty reliable source, then".
"Well, Luna was searching for Wrackspurt -"
"-huh?"
"Don't ask. Anyway, a group of Slytherins passed. You know the lot – Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Greengrass, and Theodore Nott".
"Unfortunately. What did they say?"
"Put it this way, Harry. I don't think your perfect relationship with Malfoy is completely unlikely…"
Harry literally jumped on Ron, pinning him down.
"What. Did. They. Say!"
"Bloody hell, Harry! All I'm saying is, Malfoy seems to pretty over-interested in a certain Boy-Who-Lived…"
Harry jumped up from the bed, straightening his jumper as he did so. He threw open his Hogwarts trunk, and began rooting through it – chucking random objects around the room in his haste.
"What are you doing, Harry?" asked Ron, after being hit in the head with a flying Sneakoscope.
"Ha! Found it!" cried Harry gleefully, pulling out the shimmering Invisibility Cloak. He threw it around himself, causing a good deal of himself to disappear. "Come on, Ron!"
"Harry…Where the hell are we going?"
"To the Slytherin Dormitories of course… Actually, Ron – you may want to stay here".
And without another word, Harry had disappeared – with only some quiet footsteps and the distant creak of the Fat Lady's Portrait letting Ron know he had actually gone, disappeared into the night.
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