Badger and Lion

Author: Dusk Magnum

Created: July 8, 2004

Date Written: July 12, 2004

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER! I'd sure like to, because Harry needs a significant other (which is where our humble Hufflepuff comes into play), but seeing as I don't, I'd rather like to make this clear. Jo owns the story and all the characters, not me, darn it, so leave me alone already!

Notes: Italics denote thought; also certain spells, charms, and potions listed in this fanfic will probably not have been learned by Harry in the original Goblet of Fire, but he's been able to do spells that we've never seen him learn, so he had to learn them sometime, right? These spells are, for the record, NOT MADE UP (except perhaps for the potions—I like to get inventive sometimes). They are all the result of Jo's work, and from reading and rereading the first five novels over and over. Check if you like.

Part 3: Hermione's Deduction

"So, what are you planning on doing with Cedric?"

Harry jumped out of a dreamy reverie involving bashing Snape in the head with a cauldron and looked up at Hermione, who had obviously just asked him something (a good something, by the smug look on her face). They were in Potions on a cheery Friday morning, all learning how to make a Babbling Beverage. The image of Snape holding his hands out in front of his face and beggin for mercy quickly dissipated as he said, "Pardon?"

"Cedric. Cedric Diggory." Harry's heart gave a violent throb. "I know you were talking to him last night, right before dinner; you came in looking quite happy, and we hadn't been able to find you all day."

Harry didn't answer. Hermione looked both complacent in being right again and understanding at the same time. Harry finally hissed "Shh!" when he remembered that Ron was on the other side of Hermione, but it was no use: He was now feverishly stirring the contents of his cauldron, which had, instead of dissolving into the boiling, gluey-liquid, had clumped up together. He was murmuring things to himself, occasionally snapping his head back up to the board, where instructions were written, and double-checking his supply of ingredients.

"What makes you think just because I talked to him once I'm going to plan on doing something with him?" Harry finally said in a bare whisper, shooting glances at Ron. "I just talked to him about Quidditch and… you know, the Triwizard tournament and all that. We both have two very big things in common, you know. And it's a lot to talk about."

Hermione said, "Oh," unconvincedly and turned to her cauldron, which was issuing light-red, foggy vapor that drifted lazily above their heads. She turned the temperature of the flame down to a simmer and added a tangle of violent-green, thorned weeds, stirred counter-clockwise five times, and turned back to Harry. "I don't believe you," she said tactlessly. "What's up? Really, Harry. You're one of my very best friends, I think that merits an explanation."

Harry checked to see that Ron wasn't listening (which he apparently wasn't; his cauldron was now spewing out thick, poisonous-looking gas that didn't seem to want to leave the vicinity of his head) and inhaled deeply. "It's nothing really," he said. "It's just me and Cedric got to talking, and he's a lot cooler than you'd think. I mean, I know I used to hate him, because he's going out with Cho, but really he's not all that bad of a guy." He let the effects of these words sink in and wondered why he was so hesitant to tell everyone. We're just friends, after all. "He's a good Seeker; he gave me some tactics, and we talked about the first task and all the stuff we thought of doing to fight the dragon in the first place. He said something about hitting it with a spell that increased its weight, so that it would fall—"

Hermione, whom Harry was expecting to give out the name and proper effects of the spell he'd just mentioned, interrupted instead to say, "So you think he's pretty cool." She had a look of determined calmness and understanding on her face that Harry didn't like for some reason. "Are you going to hang out with him more?"

"I don't know, maybe," he said, when he meant in fact Yes, of course, I'm going to hang out with him some more, are you mad? Then this thought—of being overexcited at the prospect of meeting Cedric again and talking to him—sickened him. Hermione seemed to notice when he wrinkled up his brow in concentration.

"Harry…" she said with a sigh. She looked behind her at Ron, who was stamping out the sleeves of his robes that had just caught on fire. "You know you can talk to me anytime you want. Especially if you don't want to talk to Ron about… erm, certain things."

This statement hit him hard. "Why wouldn't I want to talk to Ron about some things?"

"Just… Harry, if you really have no one else to talk to, and you need to get something off of your chest, I'm here. And I want you to know that before you go telling it to other people—"

"Telling what to other people?" he said heatedly, ignoring his boiling Babbling Beverage, which was orange and was supposed to be the light yellow color of Hermione's.

She looked nervous. "Nothing. If you need to talk, that's all I'm saying."

"Yeah, well, thanks," he said, rather more roughly than he intended to put it. What is she talking about? Why are girls so hard to understand? 'Going about telling it to other people'—what the heck is she talking about? His heart gave a series of harder pulsations and he turned his attention back to his potion, trying to rectify whatever mistake he'd made. But his thoughts were not on bashing Snape with a cauldron, nor Hermione's strange, furtive attitude, but Cedric, and how much he'd enjoyed talking to him.

Potions ended, also putting a stop to his thoughts. He got up, swung the strap of his bag over his arm, and hurried out of class before Hermione could follow. In the back of the classroom, Snape was accusing Ron of trying to melt the cauldron on purpose. Ron was looking dumbfounded, and didn't have time to follow Harry as Snape performed a Vanishing Spell on his potion and began lecturing him on the proper methods of potion-making ("One, Weasley, as hard as this may be for you, you must pay attention!").

He decided to go back to the common room for break and lay down. It was only a half-hour, and he didn't particularly want to see Hermione or discuss anything with Ron, so he led himself to the secluded fourth-years' dormitory and shut himself inside, laying exhaustedly on his four-poster bed. For a few seconds, he merely stared out the window at the Whomping Willow, which could be clearly seen from his vantage point. But then he leapt up, unlocked his trunk, found the Marauder's Map, and whispered, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good" on a sudden whim. He watched as a dot labeled Hermione Granger made its way down the grounds of Hogwarts before stopping at the willow tree in which Cedric and Harry had talked at. Then—with a jolt—Harry saw another dot labeled Cedric Diggory sitting at the exact spot that Hermione now was. Was Hermione going to reveal to Ron that Cedric and Harry had been talking all afternoon the day before? Was she going to accost the second Hogwarts champion and question him about their topics of conversation? Not that it's anything to worry about. All Cedric and me talked about was Quidditch and the second task, the normal. But we did talk about other stuff, too…

Harry found himself on his feet suddenly, without knowing how he had gotten in that position, and was walking fast now to the door. He passed Seamus and Dean on the way, who were apparently going back to retrieve a report on Crippling Chrysanthemums for Herbology; they greeted him as he passed, but were too nervous to talk, as was he. Harry found himself glad to be leaving Gryffindor Tower now, but was worried about what would happen when he got down to the willow tree he and Cedric had talked under. What were they talking about anyway? Hermione didn't know Cedric at all; what would they have to talk about?

But when he got down to the grounds, panting slightly and his heart thumping madly, he found Cedric sitting alone. He looked like he was thinking hard; he was staring at the iron-gray lake, rippling softly in the breeze, and not moving a muscle. Harry didn't care where his friend had gone now. He started towards Cedric but heard something directly in front of him—footsteps maybe—but discarded the idea, seeing at his paranoia at being discovered talking in-depth with a person who was supposed to be his rival. When he walked right in front of him, there was nothing there, and whatever he'd heard had now vanished. Harry sat down next to Cedric with a hesitant smile.

Cedric looked up. "Oh, Harry!" he said, grinning amiably. Harry's smile widened. "You're here again."

"You, too," he said slowly, at a loss for anything else to say. He was so sure that Hermione was down here and was talking to Cedric about something that he couldn't think of anything to say.

"Well, so what's up?" Cedric finally said. Harry wondered about telling him that about Hermione's strange reaction to his telling her about conversations with Cedric, but didn't.

"Potions," he said. "Which is never fun."

Cedric agreed and the two dove into a discussion about how much they hated Snape—Cedric told him about an incident involving a Wit-Sharpening Potion and an accidental double-dose of dendrick root that caused unprecedented mayhem. They talked for the entire break so that when the bell rang Harry found that he wasn't the only one who needed to get to class and had none of his stuff. He and Cedric said quick goodbyes and exchanged smiles and then ran towards the castle; Cedric to the greenhouses, and Harry back up the stone steps to the large oak front doors. He needed to get back to Gryffindor Tower. He looked at the map as he went, when he was out of the scope of prying eyes, and noticed that the dot Hermione Granger was now standing at the top of the marble staircase. He looked up and, confused, saw that no one was standing there at all. Then something clunked into place like someone had oiled the cogs in his brain.

"HERMIONE!" he yelled, running up the stairs; several Slytherins passing him did mocking impressions and yelled "Hermione!" in tiny, annoying voices. He looked at the map to see that the dot was now running down the corridor. He followed closely, and found he wouldn't be surprised if smoke was coming out of his nostrils now. It all made sense—why Hermione hadn't been there at the willow tree when he'd arrived, why he'd heard those footsteps.

Finally he caught up with the dot and reached his hand out. It groped a silvery, smooth cloak and he pulled it off when they had turned the corner, stuffing it into his bag and looking angrily at the now-visible Hermione. She looked devastated. "Harry!" she said. "I didn't—well, you know I didn't mean anything by—"

"Where did you get my cloak?" he said, cutting her off, his eyebrows raised as he advanced towards his friend.

"I don't—oh, Harry, I went to get it myself," she spluttered, looking fearful.

"No you didn't!" he said. Hermione was very, very unlikely to break the bonds of his respect and privacy. "You didn't, either! You got someone to do it for you—maybe you convinced Neville or Seamus or—RON! He's the only one who really knows about my cloak, doesn't he? He's the only one who knows exactly where I put it in my trunk!"

Hermione was cowering in fear now as Harry came within a half a foot's distance from her. "I just wanted to figure out why you've been so secretive lately," she said weakly, but her voice became stronger and more confident as she spoke. "Since Wednesday you've been zoning out and smiling like you're under a spell or something, you looked rather like you were Winky drinking too many butterbeers, if you ask me—"

"Well, I didn't ask you, did I?" Harry retorted angrily. "So you really were at the willow tree, watching me and Cedric talk? Well, I hope it was worth betraying my trust, because man, the subject of how much we hate Snape must be REALLY illuminating, I suppose you have all the information you need to graduate from school now!" But she looked at him with apparently all the strength and courage she could muster and said, "I know, Harry." Harry stopped dead in his tracks, not moving. Not one inch. His breathing pace became tense and harried as he stared at her, lost for words.

"You know? You know WHAT?" he said, and a passing group of Ravenclaw first years jumped.

"I think you know what I know," she said calmly, never taking her eyes off of his green ones. His heart was thumping so hard it hurt as he backed away.

"No, obviously not, or I wouldn't have asked," he said, trying to sound rude and in her face but ending up sounding like he'd just recovered from laryngitis. She didn't wince, not once, but stared back at him with both pity and bewilderment in her eyes.

"You have to know," she said, sounding confused. "I mean, it's you, isn't it? You're the one who's—who's—well, the one who's… gay."

It was like his brain, which had one minute been itching with anger and racking his brain for witty insults and more questions to ask her, had suddenly frozen. It felt cool, detached, and unusual. But most of all, he felt that he knew what Hermione was talking about. His head flew back to the thought of Cedric in the pool, and his sudden, inexplicable urge to get in with him (though he thought that was just because it had looked so wonderfully warm and soothing). He also remembered his overexcitement at the prospect of talking to the Hufflepuff seventh-year again. The gears of his brain seemed to grate suddenly, throwing his mind into stark disbelief, but then a flood of concrete understanding passed over him, nauseating, unbearable. He continued to stare at Hermione, mouth open, completely silent for the second time that day.

"Gay?" he whispered, his throat constricted. I can't be gay. I like Cho, for crying out loud! I can't be gay! It's impossible!

"I know, Harry, I know what it must feel like," she said. Harry backed up, his mouth closing and shutting like a fish over and over again, his brain stagnant and yet so alive with crackling energy, trying to work out this startling revelation. Hermione looked very, very sad. "But please, you have to understand that you needed to know. And I needed to know!"

"Why did you need to know?" said Harry, his mouth dry and his heart pumping twice as fast as it ever was around Cedric.

"It's as I said," she told him matter-of-factly, "you needed to know. The only way you could know if someone else told you. Trust me. I've dealt with this kind of thing before."

"You're not—?"

"No, of course I'm not," she said quickly, and this made Harry feel worse. No one could be forced to compare with him now. Am I really… it's just impossible to believe that I'm gay… When did this happen? Where was I? "But I've helped people that have been in this position. I know what it's like. And you'll never believe it until somebody else tells you. Preferably a friend."

"This is—it's crazy—"

"I know it's crazy, but just listen to me. Don't tell Ron, okay? I know Ron. You know Ron. You may be his best friend, but look how he reacted the night your name came out of the Goblet! Just don't tell him about this, okay?"

He merely stared. She looked sympathetically at him and said, "C'mon, I can afford to skip Arithmancy for one day." This in itself was an astonishing sentiment, and a mark of the loyalty she had for him. Harry, still gaping at her open-mouthed, followed her back to Gryffindor Tower, listening to her questions and only barely aware of what was going on.

This can't be happening.

TBC

DM, Signing Off:

Ah. Such startling revelations, no? Been there, done that, except I'm bi, so it's slightly different in Harry's position. Yeah, anyway… Hope for feedback of this newest chapter. Be critical if necessary! A first time fanfic writer such as myself needs these helpful hints. And also, what Hermione says isn't always true—I just had to have her find out in the strangest, most unbelievable way I could've conceived. Okay, I could've made it stranger, but oh well!

And just for the record, Harry, it IS happening… Dusk Magnum