Helped along by unwitting classmates, Harry has a crisis about his masculinity... or lack thereof. But with the aid of Ron and Hermione, he learns that manliness isn't always a virtue.
Author Note: This is a trio friendship fic inspired by the thought of what if Harry was pretty and petite (without too much exaggeration on those features), but not gay. How would he deal with the sudden realisation that he is effeminate? This story is written not to make fun of slash stories. I do like slash stories. It is written, rather, as a way to torment Harry.
In this story there will be a lot of discussion of homosexual situations; however, there won't be much follow-through. Also, Harry is, arguably, a bit out of character. But only a bit.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I do not make money writing this.
Based in the beginning of the fifth year:
***
Masculinity
Chapter One
Harry's crisis started with that prick, Malfoy. Or rather, it started as a prank. Actually, it probably started when the Weasely twins decided it would be a good idea to invent highly amusing prank items and then sell them to vindictive students. However it happened, Draco Malfoy was now temporarily infatuated with his schoolyard nemesis, which undoubtedly led into the steady progression of poor Harry's crisis.
The culprit? A scorned girl and a Weasely Wizarding Wheezes product that boasted wholesome fairytale love. The completely innocent victim in this whole mess? Harry Potter. If the scorned girl was angry enough at Malfoy to make him fall in fairytale-love with his arch-rival, then he probably had it coming. The stupid bastard.
"Eyes as emerald and lively as forest foliage, lips as ruby and blossoming as the sweetest roses, skin as fair and clear as virgin snows and hair as black and silky as the darkest midnight hour," Draco Malfoy sang out. "The loveliest of them all, splendour compared to none."
Harry's face flushed. "What?" he hissed. He whipped around, staring in horror at Malfoy. He was expecting to be insulted, maybe hexed, not serenaded with romantic poetry.
Malfoy dropped to one knee, his eyes glazed over. "Harry your beauty captivates even the most heavenly angels, and they sing in your exquisite glory." He captured Harry's hand and kissed it fervently until Harry managed to wrench it away.
"Malfoy?" spoke Ron, slowly and a little unsure from behind Harry. The rest of the Gryffindor fifth year stood there, in dumbfounded disbelief.
He ignored him and continued. "No enchanted mirror is needed my flower, you are the fairest of them all." He smiled charmingly at Harry. "You are Snow-White with the seven Gryffindorks. May I be your prince and kiss our tender love alive."
Immediately Dean and Hermione began to dissolve in laughter, Hermione's bordering on hysterical. The rest looked even more confused than before. But Harry looked ready to die in mortification.
"Princess Potter," Dean snickered.
Harry who never even remotely connected himself with femininity was suddenly very concerned. He wasn't buff or big and broad shouldered, having a smaller seeker build, but no one had ever mentioned his slight form looking girly. Suddenly, he deeply regretted putting on lip chap this morning, hoping his lips didn't actually look ruby. He couldn't believe the nerve of Malfoy suggesting he was effeminate. Didn't he know it hurt to have cracked lips.
Wild and blinded with sudden anger, Harry threw a brash fist at the bastard's face as he stood. The prick easily caught his wrist before he could make contact. And as the love-sick boy gazed down at him, Harry felt their height difference like never before.
If he could have just punched Malfoy really, really hard, it would have solved his problem. What's better than knocking someone who called you a princess flat on their arse when proving your manliness? Nothing, that's what. However, Malfoy effortlessly grasping his wrist was quite detrimental to his cause, to put it mildly. Even Hermione had managed to hit the stupid prick.
"Was I too forward?" Malfoy asked, looking honestly befuddled. "I will handle you delicately like you deserve."
Violently trying to shake off Malfoy's hold, Harry felt his face heat with fury and humiliation. "I'm not delicate or lovely. Do not compare me to flowers and do not suggest in any way I'm like a fairytale princess!" he thundered.
"If I did not think it would upset you more I would kiss away your distress," the prick stated sadly. He stroke Harry's cheek once before letting go of the struggling boy and walking away, throwing a lingering glance over his shoulder.
Harry had a stormy expression on his face, his whole body trembling in rage and humiliation.
"I wonder what Harry would look like in a dress?" Seamus pondered rather loudly, making the others snigger uncertainly. The git.
And Harry couldn't face his housemates to reply. The betrayal had hit too hard. Some friends. He felt Ron's large hand rest on his shoulder, feeling as if his much taller and broader body was dwarfing his.
"You're trembling," Ron voiced hesitantly.
He twisted around to face Ron, about to reply but stopping short at Ron's expression. Ron's countenance was tentative and his eyes gentle, almost like he was inferring that Harry was indeed delicate. The expression increased ten-fold as he caught sight of Harry's dismayed expression. "I'm not feminine," he finally grounded out after a pause.
Hermione stepped up beside him, putting a comforting arm around his shoulders. "It isn't necessarily bad to be considered pretty," she said. He stepped sharply away from her in dismay, stumbling back into Ron who caught him. Hermione just affirmed his worse fears. Taking the chance to look up at Ron, who was still holding him straight, he caught him squinting at him, eyes searching. Ron's eyes widen in recognition and his ears turned bright red. A sensation of doom fell heavily in the pit of Harry's stomach.
"Harry isn't pretty," Ron quickly said, but even Harry could sense the lie. "You're a prime example of... masculinity." He cleared his throat awkwardly as Lavender and Parvati giggled.
"No, he's beautiful," Seamus said smirk implanted on his face.
"Go to hell!" Harry spat. He forced himself to walk away in slow and controlled steps, watching as all but Ron and Hermione seemed highly amused. Even good old Neville couldn't suppress a nervous giggle. He sent a stray spell behind him, which, if the outrage cry was any indication, had hit Seamus
***
Harry was sulking in bed, bed curtains tightly drawn. "Harry, don't let them get to you," Ron urged sympathetically. "Come down to dinner. Hermione and I won't let anyone say anything else about you being girly."
Harry remained silent. And Ron must have felt ridiculous standing in front of the closed bed curtains, feeling as if he was speaking to himself, because he angrily pulled them open to reveal the pathetic sight of Harry curled despondently on his side. "I think you're fine the way you are. No one actually thinks you need to look manlier."
"I just found out I look like a bloody girl," Harry mumbled into his pillow, "I can't just get over that."
"I don't think you look like a girl. But I can understand why Malfoy did. He does hang around Parkinson, and it's hard not to be prettier than her. Looks like a dog, that one."
Harry fought a smile. "I know I'm overreacting," he confessed, "but I always hoped what the Dursley's said was all lies. I can't help but think what if they were right about me all along."
"I've seen your relatives, and no offense, they are butt ugly. You can't take what they say to heart, especially when it comes to looks. And after all, being unreasonably cute has its advantages. You always get the last piece of cake from my mum." Ron sat at the edge of the bed, and Harry rolled over to face him.
Harry would have felt comforted if it wasn't for the strange look on Ron's face. The new softness and wonderment in his expression upset Harry more than the others calling effeminate did. "You promise you don't think of me differently now?" he asked.
"You'll always be Harry to me," Ron reassured.
He knew Ron was being sincere in his intentions. The bewilderment of him being slightly prettier than Ron had previously noted would wear off with time, he was sure. "I am getting hungry," he admitted with a grin. In the meantime, Harry would just have to prove his masculinity.
"I'm thinking of shaving my head," Harry announced at dinner to Ron and Hermione.
Hermione dropped the fork she was holding, and twisted in her seat to stare at him. "That would be dreadful, Harry," she protested.
"My hair gives me nothing but trouble."
Ron rolled his eyes from the other side of Harry. "Don't be daft Harry. Being bald won't help a thing. You won't look manlier, only funnier," he reasoned brusquely.
"I wasn't thinking of that," he lied unconvincingly. "My hair is just a nuisance."
"You look perfect the way you are, as lovely in the inside as the out." Hermione smiled consolingly. Both boys looked uncomfortably away and back towards their potatoes.
Across the table separate from the three, Dean and Seamus sat together, conversing in whispers. "You heard about the Weasley twins' new product?" Dean asked.
"Yeah, I just bought Bawling Bon Bons," Seamus answered.
"Did you test them yet? I hear they are super effective."
Seamus grinned deviously. "I certainly am not going to eat one. But I know who could test one for me," he said, furtively glancing over at Harry.
"You're going to pick on poor Harry?"
"It's just a harmless prank. And he was being an ass. He seared off my eyebrows," he said as he quickly squirted the syrupy inside of a large chewy candy in Harry's goblet. No one paid any attention, but Dean, who shook his head in exasperation. "It will wear off in about fifteen minutes," Seamus assured.
It was few minutes later when Harry finally drank from his goblet. At first Harry's lower lip began to quiver and his eyes became tellingly shiny. Soon his breaths came in short gasps.
"Are you alright there, mate?" Ron asked worriedly, catching Hermione's attention.
He silently nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Harry was extremely worried he was turning into a girl. First the effeminate looks he did not outgrow, and then the unexplained urge to be emotional and blubber. He knew he wasn't being fair to females in general, but it was the only reasonable explanation.
The tears came in a sudden and violent rush, and he could not stop them. Covering his face in his hands, he felt his whole body shudder.
"Harry, what's wrong," Hermione gently asked, touching his shoulder.
"I-I-I d-don't know!" He felt beyond mortified and ashamed. What happened to proving his masculinity? He buried his face in Ron's shoulder sobbing as Hermione rubbed his back soothingly. By this time most if not all of the Gryffindor table was staring blatantly at him.
Ron glanced around nervously. "Shush Harry. You need to stop crying to get out of here." That was painfully true; unless he wanted to walk pass all of the other houses weeping hysterically to the doors. The very notion of it made Harry cry harder.
Nervously, Ron took his napkin and lifting Harry's chin, clumsily began wiping the never-ending tears. Hermione continued rubbing his back making the appropriate noises of comfort.
"Kill me now," Harry whimpered between gasping sobs. "If there is any fairness on this earth..."
And Harry's world went black.
With a gasp Harry abruptly came to. But his friends weren't paying him any mind; too busy arguing amongst each other. But currently Harry couldn't care, too preoccupied with the sheer relief he felt from now having ceased sobbing and being comfortably in the privacy of his dorm, once more lying on his bed. He really shouldn't have left it. For the love of Merlin's beard, why did he listen to Ron?
"That was inappropriate, Ron!" Hermione scolded, her wand still pointed at Harry. She must have just enervated him. Harry pulled himself in a sitting position, curiously listening to the heated discussion held over top of his head—Ron standing on one side of the bed, Hermione facing off on the other.
"I don't see why. It solved the problem."
"No it didn't. It avoided the problem."
"Harry was bawling hysterically in the hall. I stunned him. Now he isn't anymore. How is that avoiding the problem?" demanded Ron.
"Obviously Harry has some serious emotional issues, and ignoring them and casting them aside won't make them go away. He's going to need to face them if he's going to get better."
"Not if I can help it," Harry muttered darkly. Both of his friends turned to him, Ron grinning and Hermione scowling. "Good thinking, Ron," he commended.
Ron looked especially pleased, casting Hermione a smug smirk. "Hermione, here, wanted you to discuss all your deep-seeded emotional issues at the dinner table," he said. "Get a good cry out, make a few personal revelations, and come in terms with your inner self and all that other wonky, wish-washy stuff, never mind the hundreds of people staring at you." He gave a dramatic shudder.
"I owe you one," Harry replied solemnly.
"Oh, I give up!" Hermione threw up her arms in exasperation. "But when you're forty and spending a small fortune on therapy, you'll be sorry you didn't listen to me," she warned, shaking her fist furiously.
"And she thinks you have the issues," Ron said in a stage whisper. "I fear it's projection."
"Ugh," she cried. She whirled around and stormed out of the room, muttering under her breath. "You guys are unbelievable. Why do I even bother at all?"
Harry and Ron watched her go in silence. After a moment's pause they turned to face each other wide-eyed and amused...
...and they laughed until they were gasping for breath and both had tears streaming down their cheeks, until their hysterical laughter sounded possibly several octaves higher than Lavender's and Pavarti's girly giggles, until they were collapsed on the bed, falling all over each other, until Harry didn't care about all of that and everything else, and neither did Ron. And that was all the emotional therapy Harry felt he would ever need.
To Be Continued...