Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters you see. All rights belong to the respective owners and I am making no money off of this.

Fading Illusions

Chapter 23: Lacuna

A/N: lacuna - an unfilled space or interval; a gap

From Chapter 22:

Icarus may have flown too close to the sun, but at least he escaped the Labyrinth and was able to fly. Number Four was Harry's labyrinth. It poisoned everything it touched, an insatiable monster that took everything and gave nothing in return. To escape it, Harry needed to fly freely under the cool clouds and the radar. To escape it, Harry needed to be cunning.

Intelligence and cunning. Nature versus nurture. Harry had read about the theory in a book. He had been smart by nature, but he had become cunning by nurture—or lack of it. The Dursleys were cruel, arbitrary, impatient, irrational, and a hundred other less than complimentary adjectives, as evidenced in their dealings with their nephew. A clear case of the haves and have nots. Harry had read about that in a book as well.

Harry wanted, coveted, that which he didn't have, so he taught himself what he lacked, or he found it for himself. Love, kindness, thanks. Qualities the Dursleys lacked. But Harry didn't think of himself as lacking, never compared to someone like Dudley. Especially when he found himself having something the Dursleys never could: Hermione.

Harry, hyperaware of the many eyes watching him and the expectations from his guardians, was exceeding his own expectations with his work. He caught himself moving to write down the wrong answer before remembering to break old habits and the wants of the Dursleys and fixing it.

Harry wouldn't help doing well in class, especially with nothing and nobody to remind him not to.

He would finally be able to fly.

"In a few weeks, there will be a CPR course with the ability to become officially certified," Madam Pomfrey said hurriedly as students ran out the door Wednesday morning. Harry took the time to check over his notes as he packed up his bag.

"You sure know your stuff, Potter," a voice said from the desk next to him. Harry felt his cheeks begin to redden. This was Hufflepuff Heartthrob—capital letters well deserved— Cedric Diggory.

"It's nothing," Harry said, lifting his bag onto his shoulder. Health and Wellness was an easy class. The day had been focusing on first aid and the basics of CPR and the Heimlich, the former of which Harry had plenty of practical experience with.

"No, seriously. You should speak up more," Diggory said, smiling as if it was as easy as breathing, which for him, it might have been. "You clearly knew the answers," he continued. Harry's grip on the notes in his hands tightened.

"I—" and Harry had known the answers, absentmindedly jotting down the answers before the professor had the chance to say them. Clearly, Diggory had seen that.

"Harry and I already took a course last summer," Hermione said and Harry hummed in agreement. It was the truth. The two had taken the course but Harry wasn't old enough to officially be certified at the time. Not to mention, he wouldn't have been able to pay the certification fee if he did qualify.

Cedric nodded along. "That's cool— Have you joined any clubs since you transferred?"

Harry looked up at the older boy, wondering where the conversation could be going. He glanced at the clock, noting the time.

"No, not yet," Harry said cautiously. "Er- do you have any you recommend?"

Cedric smiled again, voice smooth and confident and Harry would have been envious if he wasn't already. " Right now I'm focusing on Student Council and the soccer team." Right, Harry thought. Hufflepuff Hearthrob and Student Body President. He certainly looked the part.

"Harry plays soccer," Hermione spoke quickly. Harry gave her a bewildered look, and she blushed.

"Oh really, which position?" Cedric asked, either politely pretending not to have seen Hermione's blush or was too used to seeing it.

"Goalie," Harry said.

"Perfect," Cedric said, confusing Harry further. He was beaming now, and god, even his smile was perfect. "What do you have next?"

"Snape," Harry said with a slight grimace. Cedric's smile didn't dim but gained a twinge of sympathy.

"I'll catch you later and we can talk more. You don't want to anger Professor Snape more than you need to."

"See you later, Potter, Granger." He waved them as they scurried off to class.

"He even calls Snape, 'Professor,'" Harry said, amazed.

"I know, isn't he wonderful," Hermione agreed, a light blush dusting her cheeks.

"But what did he want?" Harry asked.

"Maybe he was just being nice? People can be like that sometimes." Harry disagreed but then again, he'd never met someone like Cedric before. The ease in which he held himself, perfectly sure of who he was and what his place in life was.

They neared the door to Professor Snape's classroom and their moods grew somber. Harry straightened his shoulders, trying to emulate Cedric, aiming for a confidence he didn't feel.

As he stepped through the door, he felt Snape's glare before he saw it.

"Potter," Snape said, tone scathing as the sun. Harry snapped to attention at the tone, spine somehow becoming even straighter. "If you are determined to gallivant around my classroom as you do in the halls, you will be rewarded with detention. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

A few students ran into the room, papers flapping in their hands as they rushed to take their seats. Snape said nothing.

Harry's notes were laid neatly in front of him, and he slowly gripped his pen before relaxing again as Snape began to speak. With a sense of dark amusement, Harry began to write. At least someone believed in his false confidence.

Harry was walking into the Great Hall when he heard someone shout his name. Cedric Diggory, who surely had never been hated by a single person in his life.

"Potter, how was class?"

"Snape hates me," Harry said.

"Professor Snape might be a bit harsh, but he definitely doesn't hate you. He doesn't even know you." Harry sent him a look as dry as Aunt Petunia's 'famous' biscuits. Not even Marge's pet demon, Ripper, would eat them.

"But thank god you play. I hate being goalie."

"Huh?"

"Let's scrimmage after class soon, yeah? You should definitely try out for the team."

"Huh?" he said intelligently.

"Teams play year round, with the option to switch at the beginning of term if they really want." Harry resisted the urge to cut the older boy off as Cedric powered on with his explanation. "I'm only backup goalie because the old one graduated the year before and then the actual one broke his leg and can't play"

"What do you normally play?" Harry asked, finally able to ask a reasonably intelligent question.

"Defence," Cedric said. He smiled down at Harry. "So you'll come?"

"Uh- sure, if you want."

"Amazing! It'll be fun."

"Er- if you say so."

"I'll see you there! Meet you out on the field," he said before the two split up, going to their respective houses' tables.

Harry still was trying to wrap his head around the idea. His last attempt at playing had ended with Vernon banning him from playing and a week out of school from the flu he thought bitterly. This sounded too good to be true. Harry felt as if he was waiting for Snape to come around the corner to sneer at him and voice his most innermost thoughts. You think you are special enough to join the team in the middle of the season, Potter? Think again.

Lavender's voice broke him out of his thoughts. "Oh em gee were you talking with Cedric?"

"Oh, yeah I sat next to him in Health." They looked at him, faces expectant for more information. "Uh- he seems nice?"

"Nice. That's one way to put it," Hermione said.

"Exactly! He is totally locker-door material."

"What?"

"You know-" she said, raising her eyebrows slightly, "-serious boyfriend who's earned a spot in metal high school storage compartment"

"We don't even have lockers?"

"That is completely besides the point, Harry."

"What's the point?" a new voice asked from across the table.

"That Harry here doesn't get the point," Fred said.

"About as dull as a butter knife," George added, waving said butter knife around in the air.

Harry squawked indignantly.

"I'll reserve my judgment," the newcomer said dryly.

"Blaise!" Hermione said happily as he sat down next to her.

"I don't think we've been formally introduced," Blaise said to Harry.

"Oh! Harry, this is Blaise! Blaise, this is Harry Potter," Hermione introduced.

"It's nice to meet you, Potter." Harry sent back words of agreement.

"You're in chemistry with us," Harry said, now having a name for one of the strangers in his class.

"Among other classes, yes," Blaise agreed, filling his plate with looked to the space behind Harry. Harry resisted the urge to turn his head to see if there was something he was missing. "You were just talking with Diggory?" Blaise asked.

"Yeah," Harry said, reaching out to grab his cup. "He mentioned something about trying out for goalie?" Harry said, unafraid to voice his confusion with the encounter.

Blaise looked Harry up and down with a scrutinizing eye and let out a soft hum.

Harry was about to take a sip of his water when Blaise said, "You'll do."

Harry paused, lowering his drink. "Do for what?"

"Goalie, Diggory never liked the position and was a better forward anyway." Harry thought about this information. It finally explained Cedric's enthusiasm after Hermione had blurted out that odd compliment.

"Do you play?" Harry asked, still trying to get more information out of another set of confusing encounters.

"Not anymore," Blaise said, not elaborating further.

Hermione changed the topic to chemistry class and Harry was content to let her dominate the discussion. Thinking of the class and the dour professor left a bitter taste in Harry's mouth. As Hermione reviewed the naming conventions of bonds with Ron, Harry's gaze unintentionally drifted towards Hufflepuff, where Cho was sitting again.

Hermione scoffed at him.

Blaise narrowed in on her soured attitude.

"What's that about?" Blaise asked Hermione.

"She doesn't like Chang," Ron oversimplified, leaving Blaise still confused.

"Chang is a Ravenclaw, what's she doing at Hufflepuff?" Hermione huffed.

"She's dating Diggory," Blaise said.

"What?" Harry and Hermione said at the same time. Harry first instinct was to feel betrayed before he realized how stupid that was.

Blaise looked between Harry and Hermione and sighed. He shared a look with Ron that Harry couldn't bother to decipher. Harry felt even more oblivious than before. He was always missing something and it was never appropriate to ask.

"They're dating, or at least they're going to Hogsmeade together this weekend." Harry examined the couple. They were sitting so close together their shoulders were practically touching. Of course they were together. They were both perfect, it made complete sense they would gravitate towards each other.

Desperately needing to change the conversation, Harry blurted out a question that had been on his mind.

"Hey, so, why do we call them professors if they don't have a doctorate?"

"It's tradition," Ron said.

Harry's mouth opened in incredulity before he sighed. "I'm starting to sense a theme," Harry said dryly.

"Is Professor Binns… always like this?" Harry whispered, staring in horrified awe at the front of the room.

"Yeah, Ron said happily, as if there was nothing wrong with a Professor droning on about the War of the Roses.

"He doesn't care what we do as long as we aren't too loud," Neville said from behind them. "The twins sell notes for this class."

"Sometimes, they also sell answer keys," Seamus said with a smirk. Harry shared quite a few classes with the boy and Ron and him were good friends.

"Is that how you failed the last test, Finnigan?" Blaise snarked.

"Shut it, Zabini," he said, slumping down in his chair.

"Well, they never claimed the answer keys are right." Ron shrugged. "At least the notes are decent. Most people use them since Binns is so…" he trailed off.

Harry knew exactly what he meant and nodded in agreement. "So don't trust the twins to help you cheat, got it." His eyes widened as Blaise's last name finally registered.

Harry sputtered and Hermione shot him a cheeky grin. She knew exactly what had him so flustered.

"Wait, Zabini, as in Elora Zabini?" Harry said, whipping his head in Blaise's direction.

Blaise stilled minutely before shooting Harry a razor sharp grin. "Yes, that's her."

"Wow," Harry said, examining Blaise a bit more closely. They had similar features

"You're familiar with her movies, then?" Blaise asked even though the answer was obvious.

"Yeah," Harry squeaked, then coughed a bit at Hermione's cheeky grin. "She's in Wingflux," Harry said, voice back to normal.

Blaise let out a sudden laugh. "Out of everything you could have said, you went with that one?"

Harry felt the tips of his ears, hidden in hair, flush red. "It's nice," Harry said softly, defending his choice. He knew what Blaise was referring to. Wingflux was an older children's movie. It wasn't as popular as her more recent movies where she starred as a seductress black widow, marrying wealthy men who all died suddenly and left her everything.

"Her new stuff is great," Ron said. "I think the movie theater in Hogsmeade is still playing it."

"Hogsmeade!" Seamus cheered, only catching part of the conversation. He leaned forward on his desk. "Do you know what you want to do this weekend when we leave?"

"I need to grab stuff to restock my stash," Ron said.

"Movies. Obviously," Padma said.

"We're allowed to leave?" Harry asked incredulously.

Blaise looked at him before glancing over to Hermione and smirked. " -Prepared didn't prepare the new student for his first Hogsmeade weekend it seems. Tut tut."

Hermione smacked him lightly on the arm, "I'm not perfect Blaise." She turned to Harry, "Sorry, Harry, it honestly slipped my mind."

Harry was ashamed to say it hadn't clicked, even with all the talk of dates to Hogsmeade recently.

'Yeah, they can't keep us locked up here forever," Ron began to explain. "We can go on the weekends or after school if your parents say you can. There's chaperones but they are pretty lax as long as you follow the rules and are back to the bus on time."

"Wait, Hermione," Harry said, still confused, "I thought you said you hadn't left the grounds yet?"

Hermione sent him a sheepish look. "I never really needed to go."

"She spends all her free time holed up in the library," Blaise cut in.

"I don't think my guardians ever signed anything for that?" He looked around, as if someone else could answer the question for him. "At least I don't remember this ever being brought up."

His mind churned. Was it too late for him to get a permission slip now? He just wanted- he didn't even know how to put it in words. He wanted to be normal. He didn't want to be left behind. He didn't know if he could take it again.

"Just ask at the front desk if they have the papers," Ron said as if it was obvious.

"C'mon, let's go," Blaise said quietly standing up. When the others didn't move to follow, he sent them a questioning look. "What?"

"It's the middle of class, we can't just leave," Harry said slowly, unsure if he was missing something obvious.

Blaise sent him another look as if Harry was a particularly amusing pet. Harry stood up and followed.

"I can't sit here any longer, I'm coming too," Ron said.

It was a quick walk down the main office. In less time than expected, the receptionist found the slip in Harry's file and told him not to worry about permissions, as he had all of the necessary ones signed.

Harry felt dazed. "Oh. That was simple."

Hermione bumped their shoulders together and gave him a reassuring smile. He returned it but was preoccupied with his thoughts. Why did he doubt the Flamels? They had been nothing but good to him, amazing even. He ran a hand through his hair. Was he too broken to even remember to rely on others after being let down time and time again? He didn't know.

"Seems like we're all going to Hogsmeade, then," Blaise said.

"Let's hope it'll be more exciting than class is," Ron joked.

Blaise glanced at his watch "We still have half an hour left of Binns."

"Let's at least walk slowly," Ron said.

Blaise smirked at Harry. "Maybe we'll get stuck on the moving staircases again."

Hermione lightheartedly shoved his arm at the teasing. "No, let's not do that. I want to start that paper Flitwick assigned." Harry watched the interaction, enjoying how Hermione's playful smile lit up her face.

"Ugh, you're such a nightmare sometimes," Ron said without heat.

"Hermione's right though," Harry said, avoiding looking at Hermione and Blaise, "I'm supposed to meet Cedric after classes."

"Oh right, I forgot about that. Should be fun!"

Hermione was chewing on her bottom lip, a sign she was nervous about something. "Harry are you… allowed to play soccer?" she said slowly.

Harry stopped walking, mind racing to think of an answer to her question. Memories of the cupboard. He pushed those thoughts away. "What do you mean? Of course, I can," he said quickly.

He took a calming breath. Memories of Vernon banning him from playing at Stonewall, of his punishment afterward. Hermione was still looking at him with that disappointedlook on her face.

"Nobody here has banned me yet, have they?" he forced out the joke. It wasn't funny.

"Harry, that's not what I meant and you know it."

"Apparently I don't know it, Hermione. That's me, Harry, always missing the point."

"Harry—," she began, reaching out to him. Unconsciously, Harry took a step back. Hermione stopped herself and dropped her hand back to her side.

"You're injured. Are you medically cleared to play?" she said.

Harry didn't react, heart beating fast. Hermione had never been this direct before. He didn't know how to react. His palms grew damp with sweat. His first instinct was to deny it, to say that Hermione had no idea what she was talking about. He ignored that.

"I'm fine, Hermione," he said instead. I'm fine. It was safe. He was trying his best to be fine, to be normal, to be himself. Who are you, Harry whispered treacherously though his mind. He ignored them too. He didn't need Hermione to confuse him further about this.

Hermione grew visibly frustrated, jaw clenching and her hair starting to puff up despite the product. "No, you're not! You stop responding to me for weeks and then you show up here without a word! No explanation whatsoever! And you're hurt! What is it? Fractured rib? Broken? I can't take it anymore."

Harry's lips twisted into a sneer. "Can't take what anymore? Not knowing something?" he seethed, words aiming to hurt.

"The lies! I can't take the lies!" she fired back, throwing her hands into the air.

Harry didn't want to lie to her anymore. He never wanted to in the first place, but the lies kept them both safe. They hid the ugly truth that neither of them said aloud.

Harry let go of his growing anger, voice growing small and he visibly crumpled. "I said I'm fine, Hermione. Drop it." He looked into her brown eyes, pleading with her. "Please." He was so tired.

"Harry," she said, moving to grab onto his arm before pulling back again. The slight quiver in her voice made him waver.

"Look. I'll—" Harry let out a deep breath and pulled her towards him, arms looping tightly around her as he pulled her as close as their bodies would allow. "See," he said into her hair. "I'm here. I am fine."

She was silent for a moment and Harry thought perhaps Hermione was thinking better of it, of him. Maybe realizing that maybe it was better not to force a friendship with someone as stubborn and hot-tempered as he was. And then he felt it, her arms slowly coming around to embrace him back.

Her hair smelled different with whatever cream she put in it, but she was still Hermione. They still fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. Hermione nestled into Harry's neck and he rested his chin on her head.

They stayed like that, wrapped up in each other's arms. In what felt like an eternity, but was more likely less than a few minutes, Harry spoke into her hair. "I have to go. I'll be fine."

"Of course, you'll be," she said sardonically.

Harry had already started backing away, but the tone in her voice was enough to have him moving forward again until he was standing right in front of her.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked heatedly.

"Nevermind," she said with a watery laugh. She gave him a tight smile. "You'll do great."

He cleared his throat. "I have to go," he repeated.

As he walked away, he rubbed his side. It ached.

"How was practice?" Ron asked as Harry walked into their room.

Harry dropped his bag onto the floor. "Fine, not much of a practice. The coach was out, so it was mainly running a few drills and meeting some people."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just stupid stuff."

"Come on," Ron said, motioning Harry to follow him.

"Ron. What—"

Ron cut him off, "Shhhh. Watch."

Harry knew enough to not say anything else as they walked to Dean and Seamus's room.

Silent as can be, Ron slowly set the door ajar. He plastered himself to the side of the hall and reached his arm through the opening and expertly smacked the light switch down, plunging the room into darkness. Shrieks of confusion followed, and the sounds of two boys footsteps thundered towards them.

"Run!" he shouted with a blinding grin, grabbing Harry's arm and laughing as they ran down the hallway.

Harry looked back and saw his yearmates sprinting behind them.

At the end of the hall, Ron pushed Harry to split up. Darting around the corner, Harry's heart was beating heavily as he heard Dean cursing at him. A laugh bubbled out of Harry's chest as he bounded down the stairs, aiming to get to the common room.

He turned a corner, making the split second decision to try a different route as a hand covered his mouth and dragged him suddenly into darkness. Immediately, Harry began to lash out against his assailant, sending a bony elbow backwards and making contact. They let go and Harry spun around, ready to fight.

"Ginny?" he said in a harsh whisper. He stared at her with wide eyes.

"Shit, Harry. Most people would just lick my hand to make me let go," she said, rubbing her shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine, didn't expect that is all."

"Why did you do that?" He asked, breathing heavily.

"Ron told me to grab you," she said, flicking her ponytail over her shoulder

"Thanks for that, and sorry for uh, elbowing you," Harry said. He was tired and sore but in a good way. Yes, his chest hurt, and yes he may have jostled his bad arm too many times with the ball but he felt better than he had all week.

"Don't worry about it, I'll just blame the bruise on Ron," she said, flashing him a vicious grin before it softened. "He should meet up here soon." Harry took the time to look around the small room. There was no real door, only the large tapestry on the wall that he was dragged through.

"What is this place?" he asked in wonder.

"It's a secret alcove. I like to use it to study during finals if the common room is too loud. It's also got a great view." She pointed to the small window which overlooked the grounds. A small tornado of autumn leaves had picked up beneath the nearby lamppost.

The tapestry ruffled and Ron ducked into the hideaway. "That was great," Ron said, still slightly out of breath and his hair was askew.

"What was that about?" Harry asked, gesturing to the hallway.

"Tradition!" Ron said, trying to ruffle Ginny's hair as she walked past.

Harry snorted at the response, too amused to be annoyed and too tired to press for a different answer. He watched as Ginny ducked under his arm and smacked him, smiling sweetly while Ron cursed in pain.

"Aren't you worried about them telling someone?" Harry said.

"What's the number one rule I told you about?" Ron asked.

"Uhh… don't piss off the twins…" he said. "Or you," he directed at Ginny.

"Well, that is indeed a very good rule," she said from a comfy-looking armchair.

Ron smiled. "An even better rule," he began, "the unspoken one, is that a good rat is a dead one."

Harry pointedly glanced around the corners for rodents, earning him a snort from Ginny for his antics.

"If you snitch everyone will hate you," she said. Harry nodded. It made sense.

"So, number one unforgivable: even if you only committed a small offense, no snitching," Ron said.

"Or someone would throw you in the lake?" Harry guessed, crossing his arms.

"Exactly," Ron said, pulling Harry to his side. His hand came up and held the back of Harry's head, his fingers ruffling Harry's messy hair.

A strange, warm feeling, even better than Emma Granger's homemade hot chocolate, spread through him.

The feeling lasted throughout the night until Harry was layingin bed and reflected on the day. His conversation with Hermione hovered irritatingly close to the front of his mind, always returning whenever he thought he was done thinking about it. Despite it being no particular surprise – he'd never been wanted, he knew that – Harry had been hoping to make progress, to make a difference since he had started at Hawthorne.

But he was still the one unable to fight back, body becoming paralyzed with dread when he thought about being confronted with the truth. And what Hermione had said was the truth, even if Harry didn't want it to be. The fear burning in his stomach at the idea of further confrontation far outweighed the guilt he felt whenever he remembered the look on Hermione's face. How she'd slowly dropped her arms in defeat when she realized Harry would not, in fact, allow her to touch him.

Was it easier, he reasoned, to live with the guilt, than to risk what Hermione might see if he let her get too close. Because Harry knew that if he didn't keep his distance, it wouldn't be long before she realized he wasn't worth the effort. And he was almost certain his heart wouldn't be able to take it if, after discovering the depth to the years of misdirections and lies, Hermione were to look at him differently. Would she think less of him, or even worse, would she look at him with pity, the way that the Grangers did in the hospital no matter how hard they tried to hide it and Harry tried to ignore it.

Harry stared into the darkness of the ceiling and tried not to let these negative thoughts consume him.

Harry wondered how long this tentative peace would last before he would be burned.

Omake as a late April Fools gift:

"Hey, Ron," Harry whispered to the dark of their room.

Voice clouded with sleep, "Yeah, whatzit."

"Why do you do the hair thing?"

Ron made an unintelligible noise.

"Huh?"

"Tradition," Ron mumbled out, a bit louder.

"You can't keep saying that in response to all of my questions. It isn't helping."

Harry didn't get a response. He heard the sound of blankets rustling before he summarily got hit in the face with a small pillow.

"Goodnight," he whispered.

"G'nite."

A/N: Woo Hoo! We have a plot! Editing took a bit longer than expected because I picked up crocheting as a hobby which is super fun!

Thanks again to the best beta dylanpidge for this. Let me know what you think!

Question of the chapter: what are some of your favorite tags/tropes? I love a good fem!Harry, or really any well developed gender bending. Recently reread Red Hair and Grass Blades by Flustered on ao3 and its such a good read. I will take any and all genderbending recs as well.