Chapter Two: Talking Straight

If Harry had a hit list, Violeta Longspring would be the very first name written. Well, maybe under Voldemort and Umbridge, but still a strong contender for top three. In the whole entire clusterfuck that was the wizarding world, all the headlines cared about was that bloody Witch Weekly article? What kind of pathetic prats even read that rubbish?

The Daily Prophet, however, was not rubbish. And what with the head reporter buying the story from WW, all of the respectable newspaper-readers (along with the raunchy-gossip-rag-readers) knew that Harry was a- what did she say, again?

"Fruit snack".

Weren't those her words of choice? Yes, now the entire school knew that he was gay. And Harry really couldn't care less about that bit, because most of the wizarding world was fairly progressive. Maybe not the oldest families, but only because they preferred to keep their bloodline pure. By marrying their cousins.

No, it wasn't the abrupt outing that was bothering him. It was his other confession, the "mystery blonde", the beautiful boy who was probably going to hex him silly next time they met face-to-face. He had to have gotten wind by now, surely he was going to confront Harry anytime now-

"Harry!"

He jumped, but sighed in relief when he saw that it was only Seamus.

"Seamus, hi! Need this month's Quidditch schedule? I think I have it right here, just a sec-"

"No actually, got it from Weasley. But listen, I wanted to talk to you about something."

Harry looked up. "Yeah?"

"Y'know, I've known for a while that you play for the other team."

Harry stared at him, eyebrows furrowed. "Puddlemore United? You know that I haven't responded to their owl ye-"

Seamus laughed loudly, earning him a glare from Madam Pince. After shooting her a sheepish grin, he turned back to Harry. "Harry, talk straight with me here." Then he laughed again, as if he had said something amusing.

"What the hell are you on about? I really haven't confirmed that I'll be playing next year!"

Shaking his head, Seamus clapped Harry on the back with the air of a proud -yet pompous- uncle."Oh, you poor newbie. Just you wait, the Durmstrang boys are going to eat you alive. Though I take it you'd prefer a certain Slytherin to do that instead."

Harry flushed scarlet. "Don't know what you're implying."

He winked. "Course not. Well, I better be off, Dean and I have some, er, studying to do."

"See you on the pitch, Sea."

Watching his retreating figure, Harry sighed. All of Hogwarts probably knows by now. Hell, the sexually famished Durmstrang boys probably know by now. Oh God, I'll be dead by the end of the day…

He was too preoccupied with his worrying (and dirty fantasies involving Victor Krum) that he didn't notice the figure studying him intently until he glanced up to check the time. His eyebrows shot up. "What-?"

Pulling up a chair and straddling it, the boy pulled out a copy of Witch Weekly. "We need to talk."