Disclaimer: Based on J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter. Don't hurt me for having fun.

A/N: I'm baaaack! And with an outline, too. I think I can pretty much get all 25 of those chapters out. Lets just hope evil plot bunnies don't ruin my outline beyond recognition. Because then I need to start over from scratch, which is not good. Anyway, here's a little bit shorter of a chapter, but hopefully good nonetheless. Enjoy my lovelies!

Chapter 8: Friend or Foe?

As Harry looked at his two friends, he couldn't help but feel like they expected him to say something. And call it a gay guy's sense, but he thought he knew what that must be. Even if the topic was forced, Harry was going to avoid it as long as Ron was in the room, and may be even if he wasn't there.

"Hey," Harry said, searching for words. "Sorry about ducking out early at the feast, I couldn't take it anymore. All the people, and the Triwizard tournament, I just had a long day, and was, well, overwhelmed."

"That's understandable. I was having trouble not leaving the Hall myself," remarked Hermione. "I couldn't stand the Beauxbatons girls at all." She openly glared at Ron.

"Take that back," Ron snapped. "They're a good lot, and you bloody well know it."

"See, this is what I have to deal with," commented Hermione. "What you even see in them, I don't know."

"What's to see, they're beautiful," replied Ron, sighing.

"There's more to people than just physical beauty! Like intelligence. Goodness of heart. Generosity. Humor. The person him or herself. I bet you don't even know them. Your probably haven't even bothered talking to them!" replied Hermione.

"Who needs to know them? You know, all of that other stuff is a load of rubbish," retorted Ron. "And for your information, I have talked to her."

"Oh that's right. One of them came over and asked for food," said Hermione, making Ron blush in embarrassment. "And she was quite stuck-up, I might add." Ron grunted in anger.

"She was not! She was pleasant, polite, and--"

"You just thought she was all of those things because she was pretty!" cried Hermione. Ron looked quite upset at this accusation.

"Ron, watch what you say..." Harry warned, but Ron failed to listen.

"No, I didn't! And everyone knows looks are more important than any of that other stuff anyway," he commented, as though it were known fact. Hermione blew up.

"I can't believe you! You have the depth of a piece of parchment, you superficial--" said Hermione.

"You must admit, Ron" cut in Harry, before Hermione could hex Ron out of existence, "you have been spewing rubbish yourself." Apparently, he said something wrong.

"You guys are daft as a brush, I could care less what you say! You're just mad because you're--you're not anywhere near pretty," spat Ron, choosing his words fairly carefully.

Hermione turned away for a moment, her robes ruffling slightly.

"I'm going to bed," said Ron. But before he could, Harry heard Hermione mutter something. Suddenly, Ron started clawing his face and ran away towards the dorms. But before he sprinted up the staircase, Harry caught sight of a bat-bogey.

"Good riddance," cried Hermione as Ron slammed the door to the boy's dormitory shut.

"Is Ginny anywhere nearby?" asked Harry, looking for her. He was sure she had cast the spell.

"Er-no, she went to bed hours ago. But why do you ask?"

"It's just, I swear I saw bat-boogeys..."

"Oh, that. Ginny taught them to me, right useful in a pinch, I must say. Ron crossed the line, and I just took justice into my own hands."

"Hermione!"

"Like I said, it's justice. I have no problem with that. But honestly, I don't know what I see in him," she told Harry, shaking her head. She looked oddly forlorn, despite how angry she had just been.

"Yeah, well, everyone has their off days. He'll come through. I just wish it'd be sooner rather than later," remarked Harry forebodingly. Hermione thought for a moment, then nodded in agreement, if only slightly.

"He's still a thickheaded bastard, though," she commented.

"But he's our thickheaded bastard, and I told you, he'll snap out of it," Harry replied, earning a slight smile from Hermione.

"Let's go sit down somewhere, I need a rest after that," said Hermione, pulling Harry along. Apparently she not only wanted to rest, but to rest with Harry. She wanted to talk and would not take no for an answer.

Before he knew it, Hermione had dragged him across the room. Pausing for an instant, she plopped down in one of two cozy chains in the secluded corner of the common room, and motioned for him to follow. Reluctantly, he sat down, slowly settling into his chair. They, looked at each other for a moment.

"So, Harry," she started, breaking an awkward silence that had settled between them. "Anything on your mind?"

Harry pondered this question for a minute, wondering if it was time to tell Hermione that yes, he did indeed have something on his mind. Forget on his mind, it was on the forefront of his mind every day since he had figured it out. He was worried sick not only over his friends accepting him, but also if Cedric would be able to like him.

"Yeah, there's a lot on my mind," remarked Harry after a long pause. Hermione raised an eyebrow and looked at him intently. "The Triwizard tournament, for instance."

"But you can't even enter, Harry!" replied Hermione, now frustrated and flustered. "Why would you care?"

"I don't know, eternal glory seems tempting and all," Harry commented conversationally.

"Is that really all that's on you're mind, that's bothering you? Are you going to tell me what's bothering you?"

"Oh bother!" replied Harry.

"See, I knew something was bugging you. What is it?"

"You."

"Now, really! Please show me maturity beyond that of a five-year old. Something's wrong with you. Tell me what it is."

"Okay, fine. There's something else that's bothering me, I guess."

"I thought so. You know you can tell me anything, right Harry?"

"Yes, Hermione, I know."

"It's just, I'm worried about you. You've been very...introspective and emotional lately and I don't know why. I wish I did, but I only have hypotheses."

"I'd like to hear them."

"Er-I think you'd rather not."

"Why?"

"I don't know if it'd offend you Harry--" commented Hermione. And suddenly, Harry felt butterflies fly into his stomach, his breathing hitch, his body go cold, nervous shivers overtake him...all at once. It was a mysterious amalgam of emotions, of anticipation of what would come next. He knew it was a perfect chance to tell her, and another chance like it might not pop up. So, he dived in and hoped for the best.

"Hermione,"

"Yes?"

"I'm--" he paused for a moment, trying to get the word to come out. It wouldn't though, no matter how hard he tried. He was just too God damn nervous, the butterflies in his stomach were fluttering around way too much, and he was shaking pretty badly. But then, all the memories of Hermione being a close friend, a good friend, someone who he could always trust flooded his mind. He built up all of his Gryffindor courage, all of his will, to say the word.

"--gay," he finished, after a notably long pause. He looked at Hermione for a response, but saw none forming. She just looked like she was deep in thought, however, with her brow slightly furrowed. After what seemed like an eternity, she looked up and smiled at him.

"Oh Harry, I'm so glad you felt you could tell me! And you know I'll always be there for you!" she replied, tears filling her eyes. She jumped up and hugged Harry, and soon enough, Harry found himself crying too, as the giant weight he had been carrying for months finally lifted off of his shoulders.

"Now look what you've done!" he said, looking at her. "Now you've got me...all.. emotional." She smiled, with fresh tears still glistening in her eyes.

"I can't help it!" she replied, wiping her eyes. "I-I've just never had a friend who, who would trust me so much."

"Rubbish," replied Harry.

"No, it's-- true," she sobbed.

"But, you're the best person I know!" he commented, his emotions settling. "You're smart, kind, witty, energetic, perceptive..."

"Oh, stop!"

"But it's true Hermione. I'm glad you're my friend."

"Well, fine," she said, still smiling. After a good few minutes of mild banter, the two found their way back to a more constructed conversation.

"So, you like guys?" said Hermione, wiping away a final tear.

"Er-yes..." said Harry, clearly shy about the matter at hand.

"Oh, don't be so timid. I think you'll find it helps to actually talk about it," she said.

"That's easy for you to say."

"I suppose it is," remarked Hermione. "Tough luck. So, who do you like?"

"What?"

"You must fancy someone. Who is it?"

"What makes you think I fancy someone?"

"The fact that you know you're gay. Now, tell me who."

"No!"

"So you admit you like someone?"

"Wait, I didn't mean that..."

"Yes, you did. Now, who is it?"

"Well, it's a crush."

"On who?"

"It's unrequited at this point though" admitted Harry.

"Well, we'll see if we can change that," said Hermione. "Now, which lucky guy is it?" Harry blushed.

"It's--Cedric. Cedric Diggory." There, he said it. It was another giant weight off of his shoulders.

"Ahhhh, yes, I suppose he is quite--well--fanciable. We haven't seen too much of him though, have we?" asked Hermione, beginning to count with her fingers. She seemed to be going over just how many times they had seen him. "The first time would have been the World Cup... Have you known since then?"

"Known what?"

"That you're gay."

"Pipe down Hermione, I don't want everyone hearing us."

"Oh, right. So, has it been that long?" continued Hermoine, unabashed.

"Yes."

"And you've only had contact with Cedric a handful of times."

"Yeah."

"Minor problem."

"Tell me about it. I've been dying to just talk to him and I just haven't been able to."

Hermione thought over this for a moment.

"You'd think you would have seen him more, wouldn't you?"

"Exactly. That's why I think he's been avoiding me."

"Yes, it would appear that way, wouldn't it?"

"That's what I thought, but why would he want to avoid me?"asked Harry.

"Oh, there's loads of reasons for that, but each one is just as probable as the next."

"Yeah, I was thinking along those lines. That's why I ambushed Cedric after dinner today. To figure out exactly why I haven't seen him at all."

"So that's why there was all that yelling after dinner, and the huge crowd gathering!" commented Hermione. "I didn't really notice you at the center of it; Ron and I were already at each other's throats."

"I'm glad you missed it, though. I wish everyone else missed it, too. This is a little early for the spotlight to be over this particular part of me."

"Did you say anything about liking blokes?"

"Hermione, quiet!" said Harry, looking around the room. It looked like no one had noticed what Hermione said.

"Sorry, I'm just sort of excited. For you, I mean."

"I know you'll keep the secret," replied Harry.

"So, did you say anything to Cedric about being gay?" asked Hermione, with her voice noticeably lowered.

"No I didn't. If I did, it would have been all over the school as fast as you can say Petrificus totalus. There really were a lot of people there, weren't there?"

"Well, I exaggerated, there weren't that many people--"

"Yes, there were, don't try to make it seem better than it was."

"Sorry," apologized Hermione.

"It's fine. I just feel bad for Cedric. He didn't handle being in the spotlight that well."

"Why did you think that is?"

"Oh, I made him crack under pressure. And no one wants to be seen like that."

"You WHAT?" said Hermione, losing her composure. When she realized that she had, in fact, had quite the outburst, she smoothed out her robes, and looked Harry in the eye.

"You did what?" she asked again, this time controlled. Harry couldn't help but smile.

"I told you, I was trying to figure out why he'd been avoiding me."

"You don't really know he was avoiding you in the first place..."

"That's what he said. But after two months in my position, you come to conclusions, and actions must be taken. So I snapped at him."

"What'd that tell you?" inquired Hermione.

"Well, he really cracked when I asked why. Wouldn't tell me."

"Interesting."

"Of course it's interesting. I'm pretty sure he likes me now. Right when I got to the point of why he was avoiding me, he locked right up. Wouldn't let me push any farther. Kept saying 'stop.'"

"And how long did you push for?"

"Ummmm, I asked quite a few times. Then I tried to ask nicely."

"That's something, at least. You didn't completely destroy him."

"Yeah, and I told you, he's got to like me."

"Harry, you can't be that sure," replied Hermione, shaking her head. "I'll admit, it does suggest a lot, but you can't bank on his sexual preference. There really are a myriad of other possible reasons for his reaction."

"But none quite as likely," said Harry with a grin.

"I'll admit, that part is true. Just, don't get your hopes too far up."

"Why?"

"I-I couldn't stand to see you crushed," remarked Hermione, looking away from Harry for a moment, and letting a stray tear slide down her cheek.

"I won't be crushed, Hermione. Don't worry. I just would like to see what could happen."

"I really hope you won't be. It's really hard to fall that hard, especially from the first person you think you love."

"Hermione," said Harry soothingly.

"So, let's get to work," Hermione interjected, pushing ahead. "I think the best path of action is just getting close to him for now, and--"

"Hermione," Harry said, trying to get Hermione's attention. She ignored him.

"And if you get close, you should become his best friend. We can see what happens from there."

"Hermione!" said Harry, with a bit of force behind his voice.

"Yes?" she replied, finally acknowledging him.

"You warned me about being hurt by my crush like you knew how it feels...how do you know?" asked Harry. Hermione's lower lip trembled.

"Because, I just fell," she replied, crying silently.

cHcHcHcHcHcHcHcHcHcHcHcH

After a good half hour spent plotting on how Harry would get to Cedric, the packed Gryffindor common room began to empty as people headed off to bed. As Harry watched a group of guys head up into the dormitories, Hermione stiffled a yawn.

"I think they have the right idea," she remarked, looking at the last boy in the group climb the stairs. "We've covered enough to help get you and Cedric to at least be friends. I'm going to head off to bed then. See you tomorrow!"

"Yeah, see ya later," replied Harry, now yawning himself. After Hermione had gotten to her feet and gone to bed, Harry forced himself to leave the awfully comfortable chair and to walk up the stairs to his dormitory so he could collapse and go to sleep.

However, as he looked down at his bed before he fell over, he noticed a small, clean white envelope. Without a moments hesitation, he ripped it open and read it.

It was from Sirius. After months of waiting, he had finally gotten back to Harry about his scar. Even though Harry was glad to hear from Sirius, he found himself a little depressed after he finished.

It didn't matter anymore that he was unfathomably tired. The only thing that Sirius had talked about was Harry telling Dumbledore about the scar.

It looked as though he was to pay a late night visit to the Headmaster.

ChcHcHcHcHcHcHcH

With the Marauder's Map in hand and his Invisibility cloak covering him, Harry approached the Headmaster's office. But once he arrived, he was faced with a bit of a dilemma. How on earth could he get in? He didn't have any idea what the password might be, and found himself panicking. It was only a matter of time until someone caught him up here, he was sure. And sure enough, one minute later, a teacher began to patrol the hallway.

And not just any teacher.

It was Professor McGonagall, looking stern as ever. Despite his brain telling him to do otherwise, Harry ripped off his cloak.

"Professor?" said Harry, trying to get McGonagall's attention. After what appeared to be a frightened hop, she looked over at Harry. She looked relieved, yet angry.

"Potter!" she asked, pursing her lips tightly and striding over to him. "What are you doing out of bed this late?"

"I came to see Professor Dumbledore," Harry replied.

"First of all, it is doubtful that the headmaster is awake at this hour. He, like every other human being, has to sleep. And secondly, may I ask why you didn't see it fit to ask to be escorted by a prefect or myself? You are well out of bounds. I'm afraid that I'll have to deduct--" but before McGonagall could deduct any points or assign a week's worth of detention, Harry interrupted. McGonagall looked quite angry now.

"It's my scar, Professor. It's been hurting me, and I thought it urgent that I see the Headmaster immediately."

"Even so..." she replied, still not convinced. Harry gulped.

"I had a dream about Voldemort, and..." but that was all McGonagall needed to hear, as she quickly interrupted him.

"Peanut Butter Cup!" said McGonagall, earning a bemused look from Harry.

But right then, the door to the Headmaster's office opened as the Gargoyle moved out of the way, and McGonagall led Harry up the stair case right into Dumbledore's office. As Harry peered in, he saw all of the usual clutter, including a new feature: a tall, teetering stack of papers that seemed to be wearing a wizard's hat. McGonagall and him stopped for a moment, and waited.

It wasn't until she coughed that any movement came from the room. And even then, it was only a pair of twinkling eyes that appeared over the papers, looking quite gleeful.

"Ah, I thought I heard something stirring," said Dumbledore jovially.

"Peanut Butter Cup?" he added, his arm appearing from behind the papers and motioning towards a bowl on his desk. McGonagall shook her head.

"Albus, are those from the Ministry?"

"Yes, I'm afraid, they seem to find joy in towers of paperwork. I fear that they consider such a trait normal. But normal is vastly overrated, I must say. But enough about my boring duties," said Dumbledore, and the papers instantly disappeared. "What brings Harry here at this hour?"

"It's urgent. Potter's scar is bothering him." Dumbledore nodded, as though he expected this.

"Well, sit down, Harry" he said, waving his wand until an apparently harmless chair flew in from another room. "And thank you, Minerva. I think that will be all."

"But, shouldn't I--"

"I shall make sure he gets to bed safely," said Dumbledore finally. McGonagall nodded and swiftly left the room.

"So, your scar has been bothering you since this summer and you have been having dreams about Voldemort. Am I correct in that assumption?" asked Dumbledore.

"Yes...but how did you..."

"You shall find that you are not the only person receiving letters from a recently escaped felon," said Dumbledore, looking over his half-moon spectacles at Harry. Comprehension dawned on Harry.

"Oh. That explains a lot, I suppose."

"That it does," commented Dumbledore. "But it does not explain, however, why you did not tell me."

"I don't know, really. I didn't want to make a big deal out of something so minor. It's just some pain every now and again."

"So it's a regular occurrence?" asked Dumbledore, his tone losing its previously jovial nature.

"Yes. I guess it is."

"Well, I am glad that you did come to tell me now, even if it took Sirius's suggestion."

"What?"

"Well, when he told me of your scar, he seemed desperate to find a way to help you. Naturally, I suggested myself," remarked Dumbledore conversationally, his eyes twinkling once more.

"I suppose that makes sense. But why you?"

"Because, I believe that your scar is a mental connection to Voldemort, and I am one of the few individuals capable of helping you."

"How?" asked Harry, now interested. He wanted a way, any way, to end the pain and the sleepless nights he had constantly faced.

"Occlumency is how, Harry. I am a trained Occlumens, capable of teaching you. Again, I believe that this fairly esoteric art may be the protection that you need."

"Occlu-what-sit?"

"Occlumency. The art of barricading your mind against outside invasion. Trained Occlumens are practically the only people capable of teaching any person, no matter how gifted."

"So you'll teach me?" asked Harry, looking happy at the thought. Dumbledore smiled, but shook his head slightly.

"Not yet," he answered, and watched as Harry's smile faded. "I will, but not yet. First, I need you to practice clearing your mind every night before you go to bed. After a month of preparation, I think we will be ready to begin. And remember, do not speak a word of this to anyone outside your closest circle of friends."

"Yes, Professor!" said Harry, not the slightest bit abashed by Dumbledore's comment. "I guess I'll head back to bed then."

"Before you do, is there anything you'd like to tell me? Anything at all?" asked Dumbledore. All of the sudden, the giant weight of Harry's hidden secret fell upon him.

"N-no," Harry stuttered.

"An ear of mine will always be present if you need someone to listen to you," said Dumbledore, opening a drawer on his desk and putting his hand inside it. He rummaged around for a minute and pulled out what looked like a rather bedraggled ear. "Whenever you think you need to speak to me, simply tap this with you wand and say exaudio."

"You don't have to do that, Professor."

"Ah, but I'd like to," answered Dumbledore. When he motioned to give the ear to Harry, Harry wouldn't accept it. "Now, now, don't be rude. Take it, Harry. You may find yourself in desperate need of someone to listen to you in the coming months, I'm afraid." At that ominous warning, Harry took the ear, although reluctantly.

"Thank you, sir."

"You're very welcome. And are you sure you wouldn't like a peanut butter cup? I find them most delectable..." said Dumbledore, popping one into his mouth.

"I guess I might try one..." said Harry, putting his hand near the bowl.

"Careful, they're enchanted," warned Dumbledore. But before Harry could ask what he meant, one of the harmless looking cups flew at his hand and pecked it.

"What just happened?"

"Oh, I suppose you were about to pick a bird. An eagle, from the looks of it," commented Dumbledore.

"But-the candy—isn't it Muggle?"

"Well yes, but see, I thought that just plain peanut butter in chocolate was a tad--boring. To liven things up a bit, I combined another Muggle treat with it."

"What?"

"Yes, well, I enchanted them to act like animal crackers," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "Keeps me on edge in the wee hours of the night. I always have to be on guard for the rare tiger..."

"Oh, well, I guess I'll pass on them, then," said Harry, not eager to have a finger bitten off.

"What's life without taken chances?" asked Dumbledore, tossing another peanut butter cup into his mouth.

"Well-I-it's safe, I guess," said Harry.

"It seems to me that Ms. Granger has finally had an effect on you."

"I guess you could say that."

"Hmmm, well, I'm here for you if you need to tell me anything. And remember, an ear of mine will always be with you," said Dumbledore, his blue eyes shining like a crisp, blue ocean on a sunny summer day.

"I'll-I'll keep that in mind. Good night, Professor!"

"Yes, good night, Harry. Pleasant dreams."

He'll tell me in good time.

A/N: The chapter from hell, that's what this is. But sadly, it needed to be done. All of it. But the next few chapters are so wonderful! You're going to love them, I know you will. Probably see you guys in a week. Same time, same place. Longer chappie, perhaps? We'll see. Reviewing always helps the writing process along.

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