Harry entered the next heir's meeting with trepidation, knowing they would have three extra members. The larger group of Slytherins were already there when he arrived, Parkinson and Bulstrode with their arms folded over their chests and wary expressions on their faces as they eyed the rest of the room. Draco had his hands in his pockets and was rocking back in his chair, every inch the effortlessly uncaring pureblood. It made Harry grin. "Sorry, Malfoy, have you got somewhere else to be? You look a bit bored."
Draco smirked at him. "As a matter of fact, I promised I'd help some idiot Gryffindor with a Potions essay. But he was late." His gaze turned pointed, and Harry rounded the table to claim the empty chair beside him.
"You try getting away from Hermione bloody Granger when she's in one of her moods," Harry retorted, elbowing Draco so that only a quick spell had his chair slamming back to rights rather than sending him flying backwards. "You shouldn't sit like that, y'know. You'll crack your head open." He pressed his knee to Draco's under the table in a show of silent support, knowing the blond was far more nervous than he let on.
"I appreciate your concern," Draco replied wryly. "Now, would you care to explain to the girls why you insisted Blaise drag us here?"
Harry looked up, seeing the faces around the room had all turned varying shades of bewildered. Neville was the only one who looked amused, sitting between Parvati and Sullivan. "Right, yeah." Harry stood, turning to the two Slytherin girls, and bowed with palms open. "Well met, Heir Parkinson, Heir Bulstrode," he greeted. "Might I introduce you to… honestly, most of the named heirs of the current Wizengamot seat-holders. We're only missing a handful."
"You're taking the Potter seat?" Bulstrode blurted, her pureblood manners disappearing in the face of such a shock. "We thought you wanted nothing to do with it."
"I didn't know it existed until summer before third year," Harry told her. "Raised by muggles, kept ignorant by Dumbledore."
"Harry, be careful how much you tell them," Susan warned. Harry waved her off, sitting back down.
"Draco trusts them," he reminded her. "That's enough for me. Besides, if we have any hope of convincing them to trust us, they need to know we're not in league with him."
"Harsh words from the Gryffindor Golden Boy," Parkinson teased, leaning forward in her chair in a way that showed off her cleavage where her shirt was undone by several buttons. Harry didn't look for even a second.
"I haven't been quite so golden in a while," he replied evenly. "No one in this room serves Albus Dumbledore. And I know you don't want to serve Voldemort, either." Parkinson flinched.
"The Dark Lord is dead."
"Is he?" Harry met her eyes with a knowing gaze. Parkinson faltered. "You know as well as the rest of us it's just a matter of time. Draco tells me neither of you ladies want to follow your parents. No one here will make you. Cassius is here for the same reason. But we aren't going to tell you to go to Dumbledore for help, either."
"So what are our options, then?" Bulstrode cut in sharply. "You?"
"If you like," Harry agreed. "For various reasons, I'm not going to be able to sit this war out. But even if I could, I don't think I'd want to. Neither side has a particularly fantastic political manifesto, and we in this room plan to offer… let's call it a third side." He hadn't been quite so bold in stating it before, but the others had to know it was where he was headed. "We are the future of the government, as long as we manage to get Dumbledore's claws out of the Wizengamot and Voldemort's lunacy removed from society entirely. If you'd like to join us, we would gladly appreciate the extra numbers. If you'd like to turn around and keep your mouth shut and wait for Voldemort to come back, that's fine. The offer of help stands regardless of what you do from this point on; if you and those you care about ever need a place to avoid either side of the war, you have my word that the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter will be ready to assist."
Both girls' eyes went a fraction wider at the magic that accompanied his vow. "You're really serious about this," Bulstrode murmured. Harry nodded.
"I have to be."
"We aren't going to let the wizarding world languish like it has been for the last century," Susan said, unflinching as she eyed the Slytherins. "And we're certainly not going to let it stay in Dumbledore's hands. We know that we can be better. But we will do so with all magical people as equals. Purebloods, half-bloods, muggleborns, even those with creature blood; all of them have just as much right to be here as anyone else. If you have a problem with that, you can leave now."
"I don't want muggleborns dead," Parkinson sniffed, "I just want them to stop bringing their filthy habits and customs into our world. If we're not careful, the Statute will be broken, and it'll be the Witch Trials all over again."
"If they have magic in their blood, they have the right to use it," Draco agreed. "But we also have the right to teach them to be like us, rather than being expected to become like them."
"That's fair," Anthony murmured, relaxing a little. Clearly a few of the heirs had been expecting a rant about blood purity. Harry smiled to himself, wishing he could take Draco's hand under the table. One meeting wouldn't change the years of animosity built up in the group, but… it was a start.
"We'll have plenty of time to talk politics in future," Harry said, reaching into his school bag. "But I really need to get this essay done." He set his Potions textbook on the table, digging around for a quill and the half-written essay. "If Hermione tries to help me with it one more time I am going to scream."
"Well, we couldn't have that," Draco drawled lightly. "Let's see what you've got so far." He stole Harry's quill off him, setting in to read the unfinished essay with a faint frown on his lips. Harry wished they were alone, so he could kiss it off the blond's face.
"No wonder your grade has been improving this year," Parkinson mused, and Harry chuckled.
"It's not entirely his doing," he insisted. "I've been paying better attention. But not having this git throwing things into my cauldron helps." Draco elbowed him in the side without looking up from the essay. "Oi! Now who's the barbarian?"
"It's still you," Draco assured. "You're a terrible influence, too."
Harry grinned cheekily. "Someone has to keep you humble."
They were being stared at, but he refused to quit goading Draco, wanting everyone to see that they weren't going to start hexing each other. That Draco could be trusted.
It would be slow going, but he'd get there.
.-.-.-.
Harry didn't think much about the extra mail Hermione had been receiving in the days since the Witch Weekly article. Ginny had some too, but not nearly to the level Hermione was getting. Ginny burnt hers without even opening them, but Hermione insisted on reading every one. "I want to know what they're saying about me," she said, reaching for the letter on top of the stack.
"Why? It's all bollocks," Harry pointed out, picking up a discarded letter. "'Harry Potter is too fine a young man to be played around by you, trollop'."
"So you are too fine, but I am okay?" Viktor asked, dropping into an empty seat on Hermione's other side. He smiled at her, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek; ever since the second task, he seemed bolder in his affections. It was sweet, if Harry didn't think too much about how false Hermione was.
"I mean, look at me," Harry said, mock-posing. Ginny smacked him over the back of the head as she passed, not breaking her conversation with Luna. "Rude!"
Suddenly Hermione screamed, jumping to her feet and dropping the letter she was holding. Harry's wand was in his hand before he could even think about it. Her hands were covered in a yellowish-green liquid that smelled strongly of petrol, and was making enormous boils appear on her skin.
"Bubotuber pus!" Viktor exclaimed, sliding down the bench to avoid the nasty liquid. Hermione's hands were entirely covered in boils by now, and she bit her lip against a whimper of pain. "Come, I vill take you to your medivitch."
"I'll clean this up," Harry promised, already vanishing as much of the pus as he could see. Viktor placed an arm around Hermione's shoulders, hurrying her out of the hall.
"I warned her not to mess with Skeeter," Ron muttered, still eating despite the chaos. "This is probably just the beginning."
"This has gone too far," Harry muttered, scowling. It was one thing when the articles were just a minor inconvenience he could laugh at; if people were actually getting hurt because of the things Rita was writing about him, that was too much.
"What are you gonna do? Give Skeeter an interview?" Ron asked. "She'd probably stop if you told her who you snogged at the Yule Ball."
That gave Harry an idea.
He jumped to his feet, hurrying around the tables until he was by Ginny and Luna at the Ravenclaw table. "Hi," he greeted, squatting down to be at their level. "Luna, your dad runs a magazine, right? The Quibbler?" He was sure she'd talked about it before to him. The blonde girl nodded, smiling. "Would he be willing to run an article for me?"
"I'd have to check what his schedule is like for the next issue — there's supposed to be a fantastic article about the Blibbering Humdinger coming in — but I'm sure he'd be happy to publish you. Are you going to tell people to leave Hermione alone?" Luna asked curiously. Harry's answering smirk was purely Slytherin.
"Not quite. I'm going to give him the scoop Rita Skeeter wishes she could have."
.-.-.
It only took an evening for Harry to write an article he was happy with, and he brought it down to Luna the next morning, handing over the rolled up parchment. She unrolled it, reading quickly, her pale eyebrows rising with every line. "This is awfully brave of you, Harry," she commented once she was done. Harry shrugged, ducking his head uncomfortably.
"If people want to be angry, I might as well give them something true to be angry about," he reasoned. And then they'd have to be angry at him, and not the people around him. He could handle hate mail.
"Well, I'm sure Daddy would be happy to run it; I'll send it to him right away. I don't know when the next issue will be released, though."
"That's fine. Thanks so much for this, Luna. And thank your dad, too. I really appreciate this." This was the only way he could be sure his words would go to print exactly as he had written them. Luna smiled.
"Anything for a friend, Harry." She tucked the parchment safely inside her robes. Harry returned to the Gryffindor table, sitting down next to Neville. "What was that all about?" the taller boy asked, and Harry shot him a quick grin.
"Just giving Rita Skeeter something to really complain about," he replied vaguely. He glanced back at Luna, and then his gaze caught something that made him pause. Ginny was over at the Ravenclaw table too, but she wasn't sat with Luna. She was sat between two Ravenclaw boys in Harry's year, and seemed to be flirting pretty blatantly with one of them. Her hand was on his shoulder as she leaned in close and giggled, and the boy smiled shyly at her. Harry looked at Neville. "Why's Ginny over at the Ravenclaw table?" he asked hesitantly. Neville looked up, eyes casting over to the redhead, and then he looked away, his smile faltering.
"Oh. She's got her sights set on Stephen Cornfoot, I expect."
Harry's brow furrowed, puzzled. "But… I thought Ginny liked you? After the Yule Ball you guys were all… cozy."
"She does," Neville confirmed. Now Harry was even more confused. Neville sighed quietly. "We talked about it, the other week. I really like her, and she really likes me, but… neither of us have ever dated anyone before. And she… Ginny says it scares her, how much she likes me, and she thinks, when it happens, we'll be pretty serious about it. She says she wants to see what it's like to date other people first."
Harry blinked. "So… she likes you, and you like her, but she's gonna go flirt with Stephen because… she likes you too much?"
"That's about the sum of it," Neville agreed with a shrug. "I don't really mind waiting. When she does agree to go out with me, I don't want her constantly thinking about what she might be missing out on. I'm not really interested in other girls, but if she wants to see what other boys are like… it's not like I've got a hundred other options waiting for me." His smile turned self-deprecating, and it made Harry frown.
Ginny's reasoning made absolutely zero sense to Harry — what was the point in dating people you only sort-of liked if there was someone you knew you really liked waiting right there? Even if you did end up only ever dating them? — But he supposed it wasn't really any of his business. Neville seemed alright with it, even if he was studiously avoiding looking towards the Ravenclaw table. "Well. Okay, then. If you, uh, ever need to talk about it…" Harry trailed off, and Neville's smile became a little more sincere.
"Thanks, Harry." Neville paused, drinking his tea. "So what are you doing with Luna? I thought you hadn't figured out yet how Skeeter was getting her information."
"I haven't," Harry replied, though he made a mental note to double down on his efforts to figure out. "And when I do, that'll be going to my lawyer, not to Luna. No, I'm coming out in the Quibbler."
Neville dropped his teacup. Luckily, it was mostly empty. "You're what?"
"I'm not saying anything about, y'know," his eyes flicked to the Slytherin table for the briefest moment, "for obvious reasons. But if Skeeter's determined to pair me up with every girl I barely even talk to, well, I can at least correct her on that. Then hopefully no one will get any more bubotuber pus in the mail." He hadn't seen Hermione since the incident, though he'd been assured she was out of the hospital wing.
"Harry, that's… are you sure?"
"It's bound to come out — heh — sooner or later. At least this way I can control what's said about me. Do it on my terms." He wasn't blind; despite what George said about the wizarding world being accepting of it, there weren't many people out and proud at Hogwarts. People were still talking about George and Boris going to the ball together. Whether it was the muggle attitudes influencing everyone, or something else… if he was going to make waves in the media, he'd rather it be with the truth than with Skeeter's lies.
"Wow. Well, as long as it's your decision." Neville bumped their shoulders together supportively. "You've got me in your corner. And all the others, too. Besides, if anyone's awful to you about it, you can always set the twins on them." Harry grinned at that; Fred and George would certainly be happy to correct some viewpoints if Harry asked.
.-.-.-.
Luna managed to give him three days warning of the article's release, and Harry decided he should probably give some people advanced warning. He told Draco first, the first chance they were alone together. The Slytherin gaped at him. "Are you sure?"
"Bit late now if I'm not, isn't it?" he said wryly, though he knew Luna's dad would pull the article in a heartbeat if Harry said he'd changed his mind. "I'm sure. People will want to know eventually, and I refuse to hide such a big part of who I am. I just… I imagined my life going forward if I didn't say anything, listening to people in the papers speculate about which girl I was dating — having people ask me when I was going to get a girlfriend, or if I fancied this girl or the other, and it just felt… awful. I have to pretend about so much, Draco. I'm not pretending about this."
Draco stared at him for a long moment, then leaned in and kissed Harry breathless. "You noble, attractive bastard," he muttered when they eventually parted, silver eyes dancing. "You'll be a role model, y'know. There hasn't been an out gay wizard of your social standing since Dumbledore came out."
"Dumbledore's gay?" Harry asked.
"Yes, but that's not the point. He didn't come out until he was old enough that no one wanted to speculate on his sex life anyway. You're fourteen — young, gorgeous, your whole life ahead of you, and right in the public eye. It's going to be huge."
"Yeah, maybe. But I'm used to the papers talking shit about me. I'll have the people who matter on my side." Harry dropped a kiss on Draco's lips, smiling. "I'll have you on my side."
That made Draco go a little pink, a reluctant smile taking over. "I can't let you do it all by yourself. You're barely civilised."
Harry laughed. "At least now you've got a bit of a warning; plenty of time to think of some snarky little remark to make. Preferably one that's a little better than insulting my kissing skills," he teased, watching Draco's blush deepen.
"I was thinking on the fly, alright? Even at my worst, I'm above insulting people for any perceived promiscuity." Draco glared hotly. "It didn't give me many options."
Grinning, Harry ran a hand through Draco's hair. He thought it was sweet that, even when pretending to be the Slytherin Ice Prince, he refused to call Ginny or Hermione sluts. "Well, I'll be happy to take kissing lessons from you any day," he drawled, sliding into Draco's lap. "If you think I need improvement."
"There's always room for improvement," Draco insisted, hand sliding down to grab Harry's arse.
They didn't talk any more about the article, after that.
.-.
He told the heirs in the middle of a meeting, to distract them from an argument about arranged marriages. Silence immediately followed.
"Well," Susan said eventually. "That explains a lot."
Harry snorted. "Thanks, I think?"
"That's such a Gryffindor move," Cassius added, though if Harry wasn't mistaken the Slytherin actually sounded sort of impressed.
"He is a Gryffindor," Draco sighed, as if it were some sort of unfortunate medical issue.
"You dragging some unlucky boy into the limelight with you, or?" Parvati's eyes were bright with the potential for good gossip, but Harry shook his head.
"Nope, just me. Anyone I may or may not be involved with doesn't deserve to be caught up in the mess that is my personal life. Not everyone can be as public as I am."
"That's a very roundabout way of admitting you're seeing someone the public wouldn't approve of," Daphne drawled. Harry flushed.
"No comment," he croaked. Several people laughed.
"Whatever, it's not our business. Congratulations, I suppose. Is that an appropriate thing to say when someone comes out?" Anthony looked unsure.
"We support you? I don't know." Sullivan shook his head, shrugging. "As long as you're happy. And as long as Rita Skeeter's furious."
"That is the plan, yes," Harry agreed.
Last but not least, Harry gathered a small group of people in Gryffindor Tower the night before the article was due to come out, more nervous than he had been with any of the others. There were a few people in the group he'd already told, and they offered him supportive smiles.
"Hey, so, I'll try and make this quick," Harry started, knee bouncing anxiously. "I just wanted to give you a bit of a heads up about something that's happening tomorrow, since if anyone's likely to get questions, it'll be you lot." He looked around the gathered faces; his dorm mates, three of the five girls in his year, Ginny, the twins, and the rest of the quidditch team. His friends. They wouldn't judge him for this. "Skeeter's been writing a lot of crap about me lately — and about people close to me — so I thought I'd hit back with something true for once. I wrote an article for the Quibbler, it'll come out in the morning. And, uh, so will I, I suppose."
Both the twins looked at him in shock. "Really? To everyone?" George asked.
"Yeah. Better that than having it hanging over my head, wondering when someone will find out and tell everyone. At least then it's over with and everyone knows." The more he talked about it to others, the more confident Harry was in his decision. He didn't want to keep having to come out over and over again for the rest of his life. He was in the position of being able to say something and have just about everyone in the wizarding world listen; he might as well say what he wanted.
"That's really brave, Harry," Lavender said supportively, reaching over to pat him on the knee.
"I don't get it," Ron said, frowning. "What's the article gonna say?"
Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes, wondering if Ron was being purposefully obtuse. "It'll say I'm gay, Ron," he said, glad his voice didn't even tremble. "I've written an article in the Quibbler to tell everyone that Skeeter's article is bullshit because I don't even like girls."
Ron gave a forced-sounding chuckle. "That's a bit drastic, just to get her off your back, isn't it? Just make up a girlfriend or something. Let her think you're dating Ginny. Just because you don't want to tell her who your real girlfriend is."
Harry gave an exasperated look skyward. Ginny put her head in her hands despairingly. "I don't have a girlfriend. I'm not writing the article to get Skeeter off my back — I'm writing the article because I'm gay and people might as well know, if they're going to make shit up about me."
Ron turned pale, then very red, then a little bit green. "You're— what? But— but we've roomed together for years! That's— you can't be—"
"Tell me, little brother, why Harry can't be gay," George asked, his tone icy. Ron went even greener.
"I just meant— he's not like that, y'know? All…"
"All what, exactly?" George's voice just got colder. "Remember who you're talking to, Ronnikins." It seemed to hit Ron that his brother had gone to the Yule Ball with another boy, and he let out a quiet little 'meep' noise.
"Don't worry, I haven't been perving on you while you're changing," Harry said with a roll of his eyes. Of course Ron would have a problem with it. "You're not my type." That made George smirk.
"If you've got a problem with Harry, you've got a problem with us," Dean piped up, gesturing to himself and Seamus. "We like boys and girls. But you're not either of our types either, Ron," he added dryly.
"Welcome to the club, Harry," Seamus added cheerily, winking.
"But I— but you—" Ron didn't seem to know what to say, and Harry didn't really want to stick around for whatever awful jumble of words made it out of his mouth.
"I'm not here to argue with anyone. I just thought you might like to know before the article comes out in the morning. Now I'm gonna go to bed. So, uh, thanks, I guess." Harry got to his feet, and when he did, he ended up bundled in a hug between the three Gryffindor chasers.
"We're proud of you, Harry," Katie said with a grin, kissing him on the cheek. Harry beamed at them.
"This is because of me, isn't it." He turned at the voice, meeting Hermione's sad gaze. Her hands were still a little raw from re-growing skin. "Because of all the hate-mail I got."
"Not completely," Harry insisted. "I just want Skeeter to know that she can't bully me or my friends. I'll do things on my terms, my way, and she can stuff it. But yeah, it'll be nice if you and Ginny stop getting hate-mail." Hermione's lower lip began to wobble, and Harry sighed. "I'm doing this for me, Hermione. I'm not waiting to be forced out whenever someone wants public opinion of me to take a hit. Might as well get it over with now."
She stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. "As long as it's on your own terms."
Harry turned away to head to the dorms, and from the sound of flesh smacking flesh behind him, Ron had finally managed to get a sentence out. Harry kept walking; George had it handled. It wasn't his problem.
.-.-.-.
He went down to breakfast with Neville on one side and George on the other, Fred and Ginny trailing close behind. Ron was once again not speaking to him, and Hermione didn't seem to know what to do about the whole thing, but Harry continued not to care.
Luna waved at him from the Ravenclaw table, and he waved back, otherwise keeping his head down. An unfamiliar owl flew towards him with the morning post, a rolled up magazine attached to its leg. Harry's stomach swooped like he was doing a Wronski Feint. The front cover had a drawing of some sort of bizarre horned creature, but in bold letters it also had the words 'Exclusive article from Harry Potter, Page 7'
Harry flicked to page 7, forgetting to breathe as he scanned the article.
'Harry Potter: The Heart of the Matter
Since I was a baby, I've been in the public eye. Most of that attention has come from an event I barely even remember. But it has brought me fame, and unfortunately there's nothing I can do about that now. The older I get, the more people want to know about my life — and the more people decide to make up their own facts when I refuse to give them what they want.
Being a teenager is difficult enough without reporters watching your every move. You were all teenagers once, I assume; you remember how it is. It's hard to figure yourself out, and even harder when you feel like you can't even breathe without making the front page. But as I grow older, something has become inordinately clear to me, and it feels disingenuous to keep that a secret when so many people seem to care about my love life. I don't know why; I promise you, it's not that interesting.
I'm gay.
I'm not dating Hermione Granger, or Ginny Weasley, or any other girl the rumour mill has seen fit to link me with. I'm not dating any girls, and I won't be, ever. I understand that it's the default to assume that boys will date girls, but let's be honest; I've never gone with the default option.
I know a lot of people will think I'm confused, or I'm doing it for attention, but they couldn't be further from the truth. I'm doing this so that people will leave me alone. So they'll realise that I'm just another fourteen year-old boy, who happens to like other boys, and get on with their lives. I won't have this information used against me or anyone I care about, and one day, when I'm ready to tell the world that I care very deeply about someone, I don't want it to be a surprise when that someone is male.
It shouldn't be a big deal. Love is the strongest magic in the world, and it shouldn't matter who it's between.
I would love for there to be no articles about me in the paper, or magazines, but that doesn't seem to be possible. So I thought I'd give this one straight from the source, so that at least somewhere is printing the truth. Whether you like it or not is none of my concern.'
Harry couldn't help but grin as he finished reading; it was exactly how he'd written it. Ginny beamed at him, reading over George's shoulder. "It's perfect, Harry," she assured quietly. Neville hummed in agreement on Harry's other side.
"I'm proud of you, kid," George murmured, dropping a kiss to Harry's temple.
Not many people in the school had subscriptions to the Quibbler, but that didn't matter; it only took a few copies to float around before word began to spread. Harry's copy made it halfway up the Gryffindor table before it was nicked by Susan, who gave him a thumbs up and passed it to Ernie and Hannah. Harry could see at least three copies on the Ravenclaw table, and two more on the Slytherin table.
Everyone was whispering, but no one was jeering. Not yet.
Harry looked up at the staff table, amused to see a copy of the Quibbler passing from Sprout to McGonagall. His gaze landed on Dumbledore, and his smile widened. The man looked furious. He was hiding it well, but he clearly wasn't impressed. Harry didn't really understand why, but he was happy to be responsible for anything that made the headmaster mad.
.-.-.
Within a day, everyone in the school had read the Quibbler article. Within two, it seemed like everyone in wizarding Britain had read it. Harry had eyes following him everywhere he went — which honestly wasn't that much different from a regular day, except for how some of those eyes had turned speculative. Suddenly, guys he'd never even spoken to before were stopping him in hallways, complimenting him on the article, or his shirt, or his hair. It took Neville pointing it out to him for Harry to realise they were hitting on him. It was worse than when the Yule Ball had been announced!
"Daddy says we've sold more issues of this Quibbler than any in the past," Luna told him one lunchtime, smiling dreamily. "I suppose the article about the Blibbering Humdingers is very popular."
"Oh, definitely," Harry agreed, stifling a chuckle. "I'm glad it's doing well, Luna. Thanks again for publishing it."
"The truth is an important tool," Luna said, and then walked away. Harry watched her go, wondering if he would ever understand her. He doubted it.
Harry had honestly been expecting a little more resistance from his schoolmates. The flurry of owls that greeted him every morning was expected — the letters of support in amongst the hate were actually a pleasant surprise — but so far, none of the other students had dared be openly rude or derisive about his sexuality. Perhaps because there were just enough people in positions of power who weren't straight that the rest of them kept their mouth shut. Draco had bumped into him on the way to Care of Magical Creatures the morning the article went out, just muttering a 'nice article, Potter' and walking away. It was the closest the blond could get to a public show of support, and Harry appreciated it. Even if in private, Draco wasn't quite so thrilled about the whole thing.
"I don't like the way that Ravenclaw sixth year was looking at you at lunch," he said with a scowl the first time Harry got him alone. "Or that Hufflepuff boy in the year below."
"I'm not interested in them," Harry pointed out, kissing the grumpy look off the blond's face. "For some godforsaken reason, I've thrown my lot in with you, and I intend to keep it that way. No many how many blokes look at me during lunchtime." He couldn't help but smile, finding Draco's jealousy adorable. That just made Draco scowl harder.
"But they think they have a chance!" Draco retorted. "Nowhere in that article did you say you weren't single. All they know is you're out and looking for someone to tell the world you care very deeply about."
"What did you want me to say? 'Oh, by the way, I'm dating this blond Slytherin prat, but keep it to yourselves because if his father finds out we'll both be dead'," Harry pointed out a little sharper than intended. Draco flinched, then sighed, his anger fading.
"I know you couldn't," he murmured, leaning in to press his forehead to Harry's. "I just hate that people don't know you're mine."
"I know I'm yours," Harry assured him. "And you know I'm yours. That's all that matters." He tugged the taller boy into a kiss. "You're mine, too. You know that, right?"
"I know," Draco promised. "To my endless surprise, I wouldn't have it any other way."
Harry's heart pounded in his chest, and he knew it was way too soon to be having the kind of feelings he was having, they'd not even been together six months, but he couldn't help himself. He was in deep, and he knew it.
He just hoped Draco was right there with him.
.-.-.
One person Harry didn't tell about the article until after it was already out was Sirius; he called the man a couple of days after the Quibbler published, and he could tell from the look on his godfather's face that he'd already seen it. Harry wondered if Snape had passed it along, or if Remus had seen it somewhere else. He knew Sirius didn't have a subscription.
"That's one way to do it," the animagus declared, grinning. "Very well written, pup. Moony and I are so proud of you. So's Snape, but he won't ever say it. You have to sort-of interpret the eyebrows and the sarcasm; I'm getting much better at it, these days." Harry laughed, shaking his head.
"Thanks, Pads. Sorry I didn't warn you sooner." He hadn't felt the need to, honestly, since Sirius already knew he was gay.
"S'alright. Bit of a surprise when Severus brought it over last night, but I don't blame you for doing it. It'll shut Rita Skeeter right up." Sirius looked delighted by that. "How's it going down at school?"
Harry told him how things had been since the article came out, including Draco's jealousy. "He seems to think I'm gonna drop him since there's all these boys who want to date me now they know I go their way. As if I'd look twice at any of them when I have him." He shook his head exasperatedly. "It's not his fault he couldn't see how much of a fool you were for him before he decided to kiss you," Sirius teased. "He doesn't know he's stuck with you now."
"I tried to tell him," Harry insisted pathetically. He paused, biting his lip. "Sirius, am I going too fast with Draco? Not— not physically," he hastened to clarify, feeling his cheeks heat. "But it's only been a few months and I already care way more about him than I think I'm supposed to. Like… like love-kind of feelings, maybe? I don't really know. I don't know what love is supposed to feel like." He hadn't had much of it in his life.
Sirius sighed, though his eyes were fond. "You're probably better off talking to Moony than me about this, pup; I've never really been in love. But from what I understand of it, it happens when it happens and you're best to just let it. Merlin, Remus fell in love with Snape when he was twelve, even if it took him a few years to admit to it. Your dad fell in love with Lily the second he laid eyes on her when they were eleven. I'm not going to sit here and tell you you're too young to love Draco."
"But what if I tell him and he doesn't feel the same? Or something happens and it turns out it's not love after all and I end up ruining everything?"
"I think it's safe to say you're at least a little bit in love with him," Sirius said gently, grinning. "And that's okay! That's great, even! Whether you tell him or not is up to you, but allow yourself to feel your feelings however they come to you. You're young, sure, but that doesn't mean you can't feel these things just as strongly as someone twice your age. And as surprised as I am to be saying it, there are worse people to give your heart to than Draco Malfoy."
"I really think I love him, Sirius," Harry whispered, looking at the closed drapes of his bed as if someone was about to rip them open and laugh at him.
"Then you hold onto him and don't let go," Sirius said firmly. "Some people need to go through a few people before they find the one that fits. Others get lucky enough to find the right fit on the first try. You do you, pup; as long as it feels right, just go with it."
Harry thought about Ginny, flirting with random Ravenclaw boys because she was too scared of the depths of her feelings for Neville. Harry refused to be like that. He had Draco, and he wasn't giving that up for anything, even if his feelings terrified him. "Thanks, Pads," he said quietly, smiling. Sirius grinned back at him.
"It's what I'm here for, kiddo." He paused then, looked a little more serious. "Severus said Dumbledore didn't seem thrilled by the article."
"He wasn't impressed, no," Harry confirmed. "It was actually quite funny. I don't know what his problem is, though; Draco said he's gay too, so it can't be that."
"He probably just wasn't expecting you to take initiative like that," Sirius pointed out. "The Compulsion charm isn't supposed to make you impulsive in that way."
"Only in ways he can control," Harry said with a scowl. "Well I'm not sorry I did it. I'll just have to see if he tries to cast the charm on me again." He gave his godfather a thoughtful look. "Should I reel things in a bit? Try and play into it, so he doesn't get suspicious? Or d'you think it's a bit late for that."
"I think that ship might've sailed, pup," Sirius agreed dryly. "And to be honest, I think you might want to start making preparations for the whole thing to go under. I don't know how long playing dumb is going to work for you."
It was nothing Harry hadn't thought himself, but it still made his stomach squirm anxiously.
"Snape says I should hold out to the end of the year," he said. Sirius hummed.
"I think if you can manage it, that'd certainly be ideal. Only a couple months left now. But he's going to figure out sooner or later that you're throwing his charm on purpose, and then it's just a matter of time before he learns you've lost the block."
"If I can make it through fifth year, it'll be a miracle," Harry agreed sourly. "I know it's coming, Sirius. I'm hoping I won't have to deal with it for a while, but I'm aware it could happen any day now." He'd like to get a little closer to being able to claim his Wizengamot seat before having to expose Dumbledore as the manipulative old man he was, but things rarely worked in Harry's favour.
"Just be careful, pup," Sirius said. "You've got a good crowd around you there, but that'll be for nothing if Dumbledore gets to you first."
"I know. I will," Harry promised. "I just want to focus on getting through the tournament right now."
He had enough on his plate without adding Dumbledore to the mix.