Chapter 3

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter is the last bit of filler before the real story kicks off – the next ones will be a lot longer. I continue to be humbled and delighted by the amount of wonderful feedback this series is still getting. I love you all, wherever you may be – even if you are slugs living at the bottom of the sea. ESPECIALLY if you are. Things are going to heat up after this so stick around – we've still got three and a half books to go! See you all next chapter!

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John's head was spinning. He couldn't believe it. He wasn't entirely sure he hadn't imagined the words Cedric had just said to him. All he could have hoped for was that Cedric liked him, even just the tiniest bit, in that way. And now here he was speaking the three words that almost every Hogwarts girl (and he was sure some of the other boys) would give their wands to hear him say to them. And he was saying them to him – John Just-Your-Average-Gryffindor Watson. He felt like he was going to laugh and cry and explode and be sick all at once. And the fact that Cedric – Cedric – was looking at him with such nervous anticipation, as if he thought there might be a chance John would reject him. It was so bizarre that John had to resist dousing himself in boiling tea just to check it wasn't a dream.

But how to answer?

It seemed like a stupid, ridiculous question to be asking himself in light of the situation. Seriously, he was having to think about this?! He'd never said "I love you" to anyone before. Romantically, at any rate. It should have been a no-brainer – he would respond in kind to Cedric's confession and they would go on to kiss and start a relationship. Right? But. . . There it was. Sherlock's face rising to the surface of his mind. His stupid, smug, self-absorbed, sodding perfect face. It felt. . . wrong, somehow, to say those words to anyone else other than him. But why? Sherlock was the last person on Earth who would respond gladly to those words, or to say them himself. John really liked Cedric, and fancied the pants off him, but did he love him? Actually, genuinely love him? It seemed like such a big word now, and he was mentally kicking himself for even having this internal debate? What was the matter with him? This was all Sherlock's fault, for swanning into John's life three years ago, dropping books on his head and dislodging everything John had once thought logical. The logical thing would be to fall for someone normal – someone to whom intellect and rationality weren't the final words in life, the only things worth functioning for. The fucking logical thing would be to say yes to Cedric right now. Cedric, who even now was starting to look like he was regretting his words as John's silence trailed on. For God's sake, SAY SOMETHING! John's mind bellowed at him from all corners of his head.

"Are you sure?"

In an ideal universe, they weren't the three words he would have said, nor were they the words Cedric would have undoubtedly have wanted to hear, but at least they were words at all. Cedric sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It was lighter than Sherlock's – the sun from the window behind him bringing out mahogany highlights. Apart from this, the two boys did share some physical attributes – pale skin, straight nose, strong jaw, long, clever fingers. However, Cedric's eyes were softer, his full lips more likely to be found smiling, his body broader and more muscular. Jesus, John was turning himself on.

"John," Cedric said. "I think about you pretty much all the time. My heart goes crazy whenever you're around. God, sometimes when you smile I think it's going to explode. You're the most adorable person I've ever met, you're just so cute. You don't treat me like I'm some kind of untouchable celebrity, and I can actually be myself around you. I don't feel like I have to impress you. I've even started dreaming about you sometimes," he smiled a little guiltily. "So, yeah – I'm sure."

John jumped at the sound of enthusiastic applause from the table next to them, where two girls older than Cedric were grinning at him – one tall and freckled with short, dark red hair, the other shorter, with brown curls and glasses.

"Sorry," the tall one said, ruefully ceasing her clapping.

"Good speech," the other added to Cedric.

"Thanks," he said with a slightly embarrassed grin. The girls gave John encouraging smiles and returned to their own conversation.

"Well?" Cedric said, turning back to look at John. "Have I just made a total arse of myself?"

He said it in a light-hearted tone, but John thought he still looked nervous. He felt a rush of affection for the older boy. He might not be sure if he was in love with Cedric, but he knew for certain that he meant a great deal to him, and he knew that he would have to be some kind of lunatic to turn this kind of offer down. Cedric was good and kind and handsome – everything John could ever hope for in a boyfriend. Putting aside his old affections for Sherlock, how was he so convinced that he didn't love Cedric? It might not have been the burning ache of longing he'd felt for Sherlock, but perhaps that wasn't what he needed right now. What he felt for Cedric was warmer, softer, and actually made him feel good about himself. Cedric was right – he didn't have to be anyone else but him. He didn't have to worry that what he was saying was stupid or would warrant an eye-roll or sarcastic comment. So he gripped Cedric's hand and smiled. He saw Cedric visibly catch his breath, and that was enough to cement his decision.

"No, you haven't," he said. "I love you too, Ced."

There was a small exclamation of emotional delight from the next table. The redhead and brunette had their fingers pressed to their mouths, trying to pretend they hadn't been eavesdropping, but casting an excited glance over at Cedric all the same. John didn't mind – the only thing that mattered was the look of unsuppressed happiness that had filled Cedric's face, illuminating his handsomeness like a sunbeam.

It was nearing dusk as John and Cedric approached the end of John's street. Cedric was going to Apparate back to his house, having passed his test that year, and had insisted on walking John home. This made John feel slightly like a teenage girl, but he wasn't complaining too loudly as Cedric had held his hand the whole way. After they left the coffee shop, they'd walked round the shops for a while, and spend quite a long time just walking round the park, talking. John had wanted to kiss him the moment they'd stepped out of the cafe, but since they were still surrounded by people, then later at the park by loads of children, they'd decided not to. John couldn't deny he was nervous as they approached the sign for Elmwood Avenue, as he knew the moment was sure to come soon. The neighbourhood's residence had mostly retreated back into their houses, aside from Mr. Everett at Number Six, who was still washing his car. The low sun cast a buttery glow over the roofs of the houses, reflecting off the cars parked along the street.

"Well," Cedric said, and all the moisture evaporated from John's mouth. "Guess I'll see you soon, then?"

"Yeah," he said, trying for a smile which felt a little quivery. "Definitely."

Cedric raised a hand and gently cupped the back of his head, and John felt a ripple of thrill run down his spine. This could only be it. He numbly felt Cedric's other hand move to rest at the small of his back, their torso's touching, as he slowly lowered his head finally pressing his mouth to John's. John felt his whole brain mist over, the sensation liken to slipping into a warm bath on a cold day. John had never kissed anyone before – boy or girl – but when Cedric's lips moved against his he automatically respond in kind. He closed his eyes and slipped his arms around Cedric's waist, pulling himself closer as Cedric entwined his fingers in John's hair and deepened the kiss. He tasted like sweetened coffee.

"So," Cedric said, when they pulled apart, "are you going to tell your parents?"

"Don't think they'd be all that surprised," John said, his voice slightly shaky. His stomach felt like it was fizzing. "Think my mum's probably twigged. She guessed easily enough with my sister."

"Your sister's gay too?" Cedric raised his eyebrows. "Wow, that's almost overkill."

"Yeah," John laughed. "But I think I got the better deal."

Cedric smile broadened and he planted a kiss on John's forehead. "I'll tell mine tonight."

"Really?" John felt a little anxious. "Will your dad freak out?"

"Maybe," Cedric shrugged. "I don't care."

He still looked a little nervous so John stood on tiptoe – feeling a little stupid – and kissed him softly. "Send me an owl after," he said. "I'd say phone but you probably don't have one."

Cedric shook his head. "I'll send Juniper either tonight or tomorrow. I'd better go."

"Okay."

"Sod it, come here."

It was another ten minutes before John finally walked up his front path. He was feeling light-headed and dreamy, a ridiculous smiled slapped over his face, something Harriet didn't fail to notice as he entered the house, where she was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. The new short haircut she'd adopted that summer made her look rather formidable, along with the fact she was a good five inches taller than he was.

"So," she said as John stepped out of his shoes and shrugged off his jacket. "How long have you been a homo, Merlin?"

John paused for a second and locked gaze with his older sister. It was the one thing they had in common – the exact same shade of dark green in their eyes – though now it seemed there was something else they shared.

"Not as long as you," he said. He was half expecting a clout, but instead she just folded her arms and smirked.

"You know about Clara?"

"No," John said. "But Sherlock figured it out last time he was here."

Harriet rolled her eyes. "Of course, Spock would guess."

"So who's Clara?"

"None of your business."

John pushed past her into the kitchen and started making himself a sandwich. He hadn't eaten earlier due to nerves and was starving.

"Must say," Harriet continued, "considering you're a mousy little squirt you've done pretty well."

"Yes, I have," John said irritably. "Cedric's one of the most popular guys at school."

"Oh, so he's one of you lot too?"

"Yep. He's seventeen."

"And he likes you? Paedo."

"Fuck off," John said loudly, just as his mother appeared at the French windows to the garden.

"John Hamish Watson!" she said sternly. "Do not use that sort of language."

John grimaced and Harriet smirked. He stuck his middle finger at her as Mrs. Watson turned her back to put the kettle on.

"Anyway," she said, a little less severely. "Did you have a nice day?"

"I'll say," Harriet muttered.

"Yes," John said over her. "It was great."

"Who were you out with? Greg?"

"No, it was, um. . . another one of my friends."

John's stomach was starting to squirm. The moment was fast approaching. He just hoped his anticipations of his mother's reaction would be correct.

"Mum," he said, his throat feeling a bit too tight. "Can I talk to you about something?"

Hearing the sincerity in his voice, Mrs. Watson turned and folded her arms. "Of course, pet."

"Well," John swallowed. "It's kind of about Cedric. . . the guy I was seeing today."

A flash of realisation passed over his mother's face, which made him think his next sentence wouldn't come as that much of a surprise.

"He's, um, well. . . he's gay."

"Oh yes?"

"And, err. . . I guess. . . um. . ."

"You are too."

She said it calmly, matter-of-factly, like she was commenting on the weather. John's face flushed scarlet and he diverted his gaze to the kitchen countertop. There was a brief silence in which the only sound was the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. John could sense Harriet's eager anticipation for their mother's reaction.

"Well," Mrs. Watson said, reaching for a mug from the cupboard above the kettle. "This Cedric. . . Is he a nice boy?"

Not quite the question he'd been expecting, but better than fire and brimstone.

"Um, yeah," he said. "He's amazing."

"How old is he?"

"Seventeen," John said, a little apprehensively.

Mrs. Watson looked surprised, but didn't seemed perturbed by this fact, thankfully seeming not to share Harriet's views on the subject.

"Is he a wizard too?"

John nodded. She looked relieved and smiled.

"Well, darling, I'm very happy for you."

"You are?" He didn't mean to sound quite so surprised.

"Of course, love," Mrs. Watson looked a little hurt. "You're my boy and I don't mind who you choose to go out with. And your dad would feel the same."

"Where is he?"

"In the shed," she gestured to the open garden doors. "Do you want me to get him?"

"Mum," Harriet interrupted. Her arms were tightly folded and she was looking slightly less smug than before, her eyes fixed on the floor by their mother's feet. "I'm gay too."

"Pardon?" Now Mrs. Watson did look shocked. "Harry, are you serious?"

"Yes," she replied, a little petulantly.

"You're not just making fun of your brother?"

"No. I mean it. I've got a girlfriend. Her name's Clara." She still didn't look up.

Mrs. Watson sighed and walked across the room to her children. She put one arm around John's shoulders and gestured for Harriet to come closer, which she did – albeit a little begrudgingly. The three of them stood there for a while, Mrs. Watson's arms enclosed tightly around them.

"I miss something?" Mr. Watson's voice came from the French windows, where he was standing with a pair of muddy garden gloves in his hands.

"Yes, dear," Mrs. Watson said. "Both our children are gay."

A pause.

"Blimey," Mr. Watson said. "Reckon it's in your genes or mine?"

"Hush," Mrs. Watson said fondly, planting a kiss on the top of John and Harriet's heads.

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John woke up the next morning – his clock said eight-forty-six – to the sound of tapping on his bedroom window. Juniper was perched on the outside sill, a small parchment envelope held in her beak. He sleepily crossed the room and opened the window to let her in, upon which she dropped the envelope into his hands and flapped over to Hector's cage, who began clicking his beak excitedly at her appearance.

The address on the envelope was untidily written, not like Cedric's normal print, so John opened it with an air of trepidation, which turned to outright dismay as he read the first line of the letter.

John,

Not good news. Dad went completely ballistic. Of course this doesn't make any difference in how I feel about you, but it does mean that meeting up again is going to be difficult, as Dad has banned me from leaving the house for the rest of my mortal life. I know this completely sucks but I have to go with it for a while, just until he calms down a bit. Hope it went better with your parents.

I love you.

Cedric.

John was torn between throwing his chair out of the window or throwing himself out of the window. This was so unfair. The first romantic thing to ever happen to him and the universe had decided, "Nope! Not for you, Watson! Ha ha ha!". Cedric was right – it completely and utterly sucked. He sat down heavily at his desk and wrote a response saying he was sorry his dad was being a prick (in slightly more eloquent terms), that his parents had been perfectly fine with it, that if Cedric needed somewhere to say at any point he could come to John's house, and that he loved him too.

Once he'd sent Juniper away again, new letter clutched in her beak and Hector hooting slightly mournfully after her, John went back to his bed and threw himself down onto it. He tucked his legs up to his chest and sighed deeply. He was come over with a sudden overwhelming desire to see Sherlock, but then remembered that he probably wasn't speaking to him now after the argument yesterday. He didn't think Greg would be the best confidant in a situation like this, since he'd probably do that awkward-guy-friend thing and end up saying something stupid, which left just one person he wanted to speak to.

After he'd finished sulking and gotten dressed, and found the piece of parchment in his desk with Molly's number on and sat down with the phone at the bottom of the stairs. She answered after three rings, and the moment she said the fated words "are you okay?", the floodgates were open and he was telling her everything that had happened between two days ago and that morning. She was delighted, of course, about Cedric revealing his feelings to John, but suitable distraught when he read out the letter he'd sent.

"D'you reckon his dad will get over it?" she asked, as John morosely chewed a piece of toast his mother had brought him from the kitchen.

"Dunno," he mumbled. "He seemed okay at the World Cup. Must just be a twat in secret."

"But when we go back to school it won't matter," Molly said encouragingly. "He won't be around to get in the way."

"I dunno, Moll," John leaned his head against the wall. "I think him and Cedric are pretty close normally. Don't reckon he'll want to go against him too much. Which I can understand, I guess. It just sucks. Seriously."

"It does," Molly agreed, sighing down the line. "Well, leave a couple days and see how it pans out. Could be he just needs to cool down a bit."

"I hope so."

"Have you heard from Sherlock?"

"'Course not," John snorted. "Can you seriously imagine him apologising first?"

"Guess not," she said. "You're having a bit of a crap time of it, aren't you?"

"You can say that again."

"You're having a—"

"Shut up, Moll."

"Sorry."

John moped for the rest of the day, despite his parents' attempts to cheer him up, and Harriet telling him to stop being so bloody po-faced or she'd sock him with a lamp. In the evening he locked himself in his room, idly flipping through his textbooks for the following year, trying to take his mind off the whole thing, not that it did the job all that well. Again, he found his thoughts drifting to Sherlock, and wondering what he was doing right now. Probably trying to memorise the entire text of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4 before they'd even set foot on the Hogwarts Express. What would happen if they still hadn't made up before school started? Would Sherlock go back to sitting at the Ravenclaw table at meals, and stop hanging out in the Gryffindor Common Room? Everyone else would probably twig someone had happened, and they'd definitely notice if Cedric stopped hanging around with him too, if his father forbade him from doing so. John spent an unpleasant few minutes imagining the taunts he'd probably have to endure from Malfoy, Moriarty, and the other Slytherin half-wits who liked to take the piss out of any Gryffindor slung their way. He was interrupted from these lovely thoughts by Hector making such a racket to get out of his cage that Harriet started banging on the wall from her room next door. John swung open the cage door open and Hector hopped out on the desk, giving his wings a good flap in John's face before sailing off into the darkening sky outside.

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John didn't hear anything from Cedric for a good three days after that, when he was woken by the dulcet tones of "Oi, Merlin! Bird for you!" from Harriet downstairs. Yawning, he shuffled down the stairs, his slippers flapping with each step, and saw Juniper perched on the back of one of the kitchen chairs, his father watching her with interest. He himself was a Muggle postman, and found the idea of owl delivery rather entertaining.

"The head office must be a bit of a mess," he chuckled as John took the letter from Juniper, who ruffled her feathers and accepting the piece of toast Mr. Watson held out to her. "I remember back when we lived in Surrey there was this bloke and his family trying to keep owls away from their house by blocking up every gap in the place. Think he was a bit barmy, to be honest. Had to deliver the normal post through one of the windows."

John helped himself to bowl of cornflakes and sat down to read the letter, his stomach doing little back-flips as he pulled open the rough wax seal on the back.

John, Cedric wrote, his writing much neater than last time.

Dad's not quite so mad now, though he's still not all that pleased with the idea. He's still said I'm not allowed to see you for the rest of the holidays.

John's heart sank to his slippers.

But that doesn't mean we can't still see each other at school. I'll come find you on the train once we leave and we can talk about it. I'm so sorry for all this nonsense. If it comes to it I'll move out and live in a box somewhere if he can't get over it by the end of the year.

I know I said it last time but I still mean it – I love you. You're amazing and I hope you can forgive me for messing you about like this.

Cedric xxx

Three X's. John's faced flushed warm as he re-read the last line of the letter. He couldn't hear those words enough, even if it was proving a little more complicated than he'd been expecting. Well, if Cedric was willing to take the crap from his dad then John could just wait a bit for him. There was only just over a week left until they were due to return to Hogwarts, where they could see each other again every day if they wanted to. So perhaps things were on the up. He raised a hand to touch his mouth, remembering how it had felt to kiss Cedric – how warm and sweet he'd tasted.

That was something definitely worth waiting for.