A/N: Hello, I'm back! I apologise for my unexpected disappearance a lot of things happened. I got an interview for Cambridge uni so I had to prepare for that and then the end of term brought loads of deadlines so yeah, sorry again. My new year's resolution is to upload a new chapter of this every Sunday like I said I would. So yeah sorry again (I wouldn't be British if I didn't apologise three times) and I hope you enjoyed the chapter and happy new year :)

HARRY:

"Where did you go last night, Harry?" Harry was surprised they had even made it to breakfast before Hermione started grilling him on where he went. She usually didn't last that long before asking.

"I had to finish my charms essay," he told her. It wasn't a lie. He had stayed in the Room of Requirement for hours after Malfoy had left. For once the reason he had got so little sleep wasn't nightmare related.

"That's not what I asked, Harry. Where did you go? I know you weren't in the library because I went to return some books and you weren't there."

"Why does it matter where I was? I just needed to be alone, so I could concentrate." That's what he always said. Hermione huffed. "I mean, if you'd rather me stay and copy your essay then I could do. Then I wouldn't have to concentrate." She huffed again.

"Now there's an idea," Ron said through his mouthful of food. Harry and Hermione instinctively leaned to the side to avoid being sprayed with little bits toast. Hermione grimaced at him and Harry stifled a laugh.

Harry finally decided he was in the clear with Hermione – for now, at least – when the post arrived. She collected her Daily Prophet and immediately opened it out and began to read and Harry turned back to his breakfast.

Harry was barely able to concentrate in Potions. The fumes from the very exciting potion that they were brewing – the name of which Harry had forgotten in the short amount of time since he last looked at his book - were rendering him nearly incapable of keeping his eyes open. In fact, considering his potion was a swirl of red, green, and purple rather than the brown it was supposed to be, he reckoned he'd managed to make it more exciting. He kept stirring sluggishly but to no avail: the colours just wouldn't mix.

"Having some trouble over here, Harry, m'boy?" Slughorn asked, walking over and peering into his cauldron after it had emitted a small cloud of purple gas. "Keep working on it. I'm sure you can fix it." At the beginning of the year, Slughorn had been extremely disappointed to learn that Harry was no longer exceptionally good at Potions. He thought it was because of everything Harry had been through during the war. Harry didn't plan on correcting him. Slughorn moved along to investigate Hermione's cauldron which, unsurprisingly, was exactly the right shade of brown.

Harry wiped away some condensation from his glasses as he continued to stir. His eyes began to wander around the class, looking at everyone's cauldrons. His eyes settled on Malfoy's, which Harry was pretty sure didn't even have all the ingredients in it yet, since Malfoy wasn't actually stirring it. He looked more tired than Harry felt. He seemed to be in the middle of chopping his Chinese Chomping Cabbage into slices, but the hand with the knife in it was stopped mid-air, and he was staring down at it as if in a daze.

Harry studied Malfoy's face. His white-blond hair was messy and falling into his eyes, which had dark shadows under them. Harry wished he would smile more; he didn't want him to be so unhappy. He didn't know why he suddenly cared about the welfare of a Malfoy but he supposed it was because he felt like he owed his mother after what she did in the Battle of Hogwarts.

"Has he said something to you?" Harry heard Ron ask from next to him. He quickly whipped his head back to face his cauldron and then looked at Ron.

"Who?"

"Malfoy. You've been staring at him for, like, five minutes." Harry felt his face heat up. "If he's said something to you I swear I will k- "

"Ron," Harry said, stopping him mid threat-on-Malfoy's-life. "No, he hasn't said anything. And I wasn't staring at him. I was just thinking. I didn't even realise I was looking in his direction."

Ron looked at him suspiciously for a moment before shrugging. "Okay," he said, turning back to his cauldron, which, rather dishearteningly, looked closer to brown than Harry's did.

Harry was totally exhausted by the time he finally lay down that night. He wondered if maybe that would mean he could get a decent night's sleep for once instead of being interrupted by nightmares, but, as usual, he was wrong.

He dreamt that he was a graveyard. The graveyard. It was dark and eerie and Harry could only look and listen and hope that no-one was there with him. He took a step and flinched at how loud it sounded in the quiet.

"Hello?" A voice rang out from the darkness, causing him to recoil. He recognised it immediately, although he couldn't see where it had come from. "Is somebody there?" It was Cedric.

Harry looked around wildly, trying desperately to see through the murk. Then Cedric appeared in front of him. He had a soft glow around him, allowing Harry to see him clearly. He was just as tall as Harry remembered, and just as well-built. Neither of them said anything; they just looked at each other. Harry realised Cedric didn't look like he had when he had died: he was wearing Hogwarts robes and didn't seem to have a single scratch on him. Harry studied his face carefully. He looked just as alive as he ever did.

"Harry," Cedric said finally.

"Cedric." Harry's heart was pounding in his chest. This wasn't right. He looked much too handsome and much too alive. Wait – handsome? As much as he had tried not to be, Harry had always found himself jealous of Cedric's relationship with Cho. Now, though, looking at Cedric like this, he felt like he understood Cho's infatuation with him.

"Thank you, Harry." Harry pushed all those extraneous thoughts from his head and tried to think what Cedric could possibly be thanking him for. It was Harry's fault he was killed, after all. Crouch had only been targeting him. Cedric's death was unnecessary; he died a 'spare'.

His thoughts were interrupted when Cedric disappeared. He looked around but couldn't see anything. The darkness seemed to have become more oppressive; he couldn't even tell he was in a graveyard anymore. Suddenly, it got lighter, still dark, but lighter – light enough so that Harry could see further around him.

The graveyard was just as overgrown as it had been last time he was there. In fact, everything was the same as it had been: the tree, the church, the hill, the house. Then Harry noticed Cedric was beside him again. This time, however, he looked like he had on the night he died. He noticed the Triwizard Cup on the floor next to them and he felt a feeling of dread settle over him.

After that everything happened so fast. His memories flashed around him in a blur of pain and fear; his scar burned and his throat ached from screaming he hadn't realised he was doing. Wormtail; Cedric; Voldemort; the Death Eaters; his parents; Cedric. Harry awoke with his heart beating fast, sunlight peeking through his curtains.

When he had regained his bearings and his heartbeat had slowed, Harry put on his glasses and looked at his watch. It was still early for a Saturday, so he doubted any of his dormmates would be awake. He poked his head out of his curtains and sure enough, no one else was out of bed yet. He pulled his journal and a self-inking quill from his bag and settled back on his bed ready to try and make sense of his dream.

I dreamt about Cedric last night and of course it was horrible but there was one thing that confused me. I don't know if writing in here will help but when I saw Cedric in my dream, I felt some kind of attraction to him. I'm trying to remember back to fourth year when he was alive, and I think I found him attractive then too. I'm not sure, but I think I felt the same about him as I did Cho and Ginny, but that's impossible: I'm not gay. If I was gay then I wouldn't have felt the way I did about Cho or Ginny, so I can't be gay.

I wonder if it's possible to be both gay and straight. I've never heard of it but then again, I'm not exactly well-versed in the topic. I'll have to look for a book in the library. I'm pretty sure that I would get exactly the book I was after if I went to the Room of Requirement, but this is definitely not something I want Malfoy finding me looking up. At least there's more space to hide in the library.

Does being attracted to only one guy even make you gay? I'm probably just remembering Cedric wrong and overthinking things. I definitely know I'm attracted to girls so surely I'm just straight. That's it. I'm straight. I'm just overthinking this.

Having reached a firm decision about his sexuality, Harry hid his journal right at the bottom of his bag and got up to shower and dress before breakfast.

Harry sat with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny at breakfast. They were talking about something Hermione had read in the Daily Prophet that was probably important, but Harry wasn't paying attention. He was looking up and down the Gryffindor table wondering whether he found any of the boys attractive or not. He thought not, but his eyes lingered on Dean and Seamus, who were talking happily not very far down the table from him. He couldn't help but wonder if he was like them. Maybe he should ask them for advice. Or maybe not, considering he didn't really want to tell anybody and those two weren't exactly his closest friends.

"Harry," Ginny said, from opposite him. "Are you looking for someone?"

Harry looked at her and shook his head. "No. I'm just – I don't know – distracted." He remembered what she'd said about Dean at the beginning of term: 'I can't believe I was his beard.' He wondered if she'd also been his beard.

"I've organised some people to have a friendly game of Quidditch since the championship was cancelled this year. Are you coming? I was counting on you for seeker." When it was announced at the beginning of the year that the house Quidditch championship wouldn't be taking place because the pitch and stands hadn't been repaired yet (they had prioritised the castle), Harry hadn't really cared. He was just glad to be rid of yet another thing that people expected of him. Since then, though, he had come to miss the freedom of flying and the peace it brought him.

He nodded and quickly finished off his breakfast before the four of them headed down to where the Quidditch pitch used to be. Despite there not being any proper matches, the teachers had set up temporary changing rooms and a broom shed so that students could play whenever they wanted.

When they arrived, they joined the small group of students milling around outside the changing rooms. There were some Gryffindors that Harry recognised and some Ravenclaws, including Luna, who did a little wave when she saw them. Ginny went to stand next to her, before addressing the group.

"Hey, guys. I think everyone's here, so we might as well get started. It's going to be Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, Luna's going to commentate and everyone who's watching can judge since we don't have a referee. Okay?" There were murmurs of agreement and the small crowd dispersed, some people going into the changing rooms and some people, including Luna and Hermione, staying outside ready to watch and adjudicate.

Harry and Ron were the only Gryffindors in the boy's changing room so they ended up with a bench to themselves, but Harry couldn't help but notice one of the Ravenclaw's muscles as he was changing into his Quidditch robes. He felt a slight pull of arousal in his lower abdomen and turned away, his cheeks heating up. Maybe he wasn't as straight as he thought.