(i)
"What have you been up to lately? Mate?" Ron asked him again.
Harry shrugged. He didn't know what to say. They were doing Herbology, on the first Monday of the winter term. They were supposed to be flattening the leaves of a Monraton between thin pieces of slate, which was a lot easier said then done, because the leaves curled into a ball whenever they were startled.
Hermione and Neville, who were working on the next plant, were doing much better, since they were both carefully stroking the plant's stem to keep it calm.
"Yes, Harry, this is very mysterious," Hermione said. "I don't know why you're lying to us."
"I'm not!" Harry said hotly, touching a leaf so suddenly that it curled tight around his finger.
Neville leant over and carefully extricated him.
"Then where have you been?" Ron said.
"You're definitely not researching, you're never in the library," Hermione said. "If you don't tell me soon, I'm going to stop helping you with your task!"
"Thanks Neville," Harry said, as Neville carefully flattened the leaf he had saved Harry from.
Hermione looked at him anxiously. "You're not doing something stupid, are you?"
"Maybe he's with Cho!" Ron said, suddenly, chortling.
Harry wondered if this excuse might work.
"She's still with Diggory as far as I know," said Hermione.
"Stupid pretty boy," said Ron vaguely. They were both still looking at Harry expectantly.
"I'll tell you … later," he said eventually, lowering his voice like there was a big secret, "not here."
(ii)
He studiously avoided Ron and Hermione that day. He talked to them during the classes, but only made vague comments about the students and the teachers. As soon as lessons were over, and they would be in most respects alone in the Great Hall, he disappeared upstairs on a pretext, and went to the Prefect's bathroom. It was always deserted, and where he and Cedric met most often.
His stomach gurgled, but he wasn't willing to go down to the Hall. He wanted to see Cedric, and then he thought he would know what to do. He couldn't stop worrying about Ron and Hermione. Cedric seemed to take hours to come. He paced the room nervously, trying to ignore the giggling mermaid, and one of the taps, which was dripping sweet-smelling bubbles the size of pumpkins.
When Cedric eventually appeared he had started wrestling with the tap, trying to make it stop. There were bubbles bouncing alone the edge of the bath.
"I didn't see you at dinner," said Cedric.
"Well it's not like we generally make moon-eyes at each other across the Ravenclaw table," Harry snapped.
"You okay?" Cedric asked.
Harry's stomach chose that moment to gurgle loudly.
"No," he said, and sat down on the edge of the bath, dangling his muddy shoes onto the scrupulously clean bottom.
Cedric waited. "There's still food down there," he said.
"I can go to the kitchens," Harry said shortly.
They were silent for a few more moments, scowling in opposite directions. Cedric relented.
"What's wrong, then?" he asked.
"Ron and Hermione want to know what I've been doing lately."
"Ah," said Cedric.
"Well? What should I do?"
"I told you," said Cedric. "That you were going to disappoint people."
"No you didn't! You just said you disappointed people! It doesn't mean I will! I'm not even gay!"
"You're not gay?" Cedric said, mildly.
"NO!" Harry shouted. The mermaid squealed.
"What are you, then?" he asked.
"I'm – I'm," Harry floundered, the anger leaving his system as suddenly as it had come. He didn't know whom, or what, he was angry with, but he knew it wasn't Cedric
"I'm hungry!" he said after a moment.
Cedric grinned. Harry stood up and shook his head, his hair flying into his face. He wondered why being with Cedric so often managed to make him feel thoroughly stupid.
"Will we go and scavenge some food for you?" Cedric asked.
Harry nodded. He'd barely eaten lunch; he'd felt nervous and worried all day. They walked down to the kitchen together, wordlessly taking a long route through corridors full of classrooms, to avoid meeting anyone.
"Have you been thinking about the second task?" Harry asked. Now that term had started, February felt extremely close.
"Yes, but less than I should," Cedric said.
Harry nodded. "I've looked through books, and no one even mentions breathing underwater."
"It's surprisingly unpopular," Cedric agreed.
They reached the kitchens, and Cedric tickled the pear.
"I thought no one knew about the kitchens," Harry said.
"All the Hufflepuffs do," Cedric said. "It's right beside our common room."
"That should make midnight snacking easy."
"Almost too easy."
"No wonder the more portly people are in Hufflepuff," Harry said.
"It's purely architectural reasons," said Cedric. "If we were at the top of the building, we'd be as slim as the Ravenclaws."
"The sorting hat probably sorts you by waistline alone," Harry said.
"Do you want food or not?" Cedric said, pushing open the door.
After lots of food and many squeaky bows had been plied on them, Harry and Cedric walked back towards the Charms corridor, Harry munching ham sandwiches; his pockets full of iced buns. Cedric had refused everything.
"How can you?" Harry asked. "It looks so delicious."
"I've got to keep my school-boy figure," Cedric said.
Harry laughed. "And I've been defending you when people call you a pretty boy!"
Cedric feigned an aghast expression. "They call me a pretty boy? Why ever should they?"
Harry grinned and traced Cedric's cheek. "Because you're so pretty?"
"That would explain it." He smiled and leant down to Harry.
"Don't kiss me, I'm eating!" Harry said, giggling against his mouth.
"What should I tell them?" Harry asked again, as they wandered farther down the corridor.
"You can tell them the truth, or you can lie," Cedric said.
Harry sighed. "I don't want to lie." But he didn't even know what he was lying about. He liked Cedric. He liked everything about him, from his grey eyes to his worried words about his father. He liked kissing him. But he didn't understand how to define what he felt.
"Then don't," Cedric said.
"They think you're going out with Cho," Harry said.
"I only went with her to the ball."
"I know," Harry said. He sighed, and crumpled the napkin that had held his sandwich. "I have homework," he said, slightly morosely.
Cedric nodded. "Don't we all."
They began to walk more purposefully downstairs. They usually went their separate ways in a corridor beside the Great Hall.
"What are you going to tell them?" Cedric said.
Nothing had become any clearer to Harry. He shrugged.
"I don't mind," Cedric said. He put his hands on Harry's shoulders, and Harry's body responded, leaning up into him. They kissed for longer than was wise in the corridor, bodies pressed together, wriggling against each other. Cedric pushed Harry into the wall, and Harry's tongue nervously reached out, and Cedric accepted it.
"That is not research," a voice, a familiar, bossy voice, said. Their lips came apart. Cedric didn't step aside, and Harry, heart pounding, was left staring at his chest. He wanted to bury his head in Cedric's black robes, and disappear.
"Hermione?" Harry squeaked eventually. Cedric stepped away from him. His face was uncharacteristically red.
"This corridor is beside the library," she said slowly. "Which is a silly place to have mysterious liaisons."
"I suppose it is," Cedric said.
"I didn't think," said Harry.
"Obviously," said Hermione, suddenly sounding very much like Professor McGonagall.
"I'd better go," Cedric said.
Harry nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said, trying to keep his voice defiant.
"Are you gay?" asked Hermione, looking at him thoughtfully.
"I don't know," said Harry.
"I understand why you didn't want to tell me," she said. "Let's go to the library."
She looked so calm that Harry felt a sudden rush of affection for her. His heart still hadn't slowed. He found himself wondering wildly if she was going to produce a book called 'Homosexuality for 20th Century Wizards', or something along those lines.
They sat at a desk far away from Madame Pince.
"You're lucky Ron didn't come with me," Hermione said.
Harry nodded.
"What are you going to tell him?"
"I don't know," Harry said.
"Do you like Cedric?"
"A lot more than Cho," Harry said after a time.
"Okay," Hermione said. She picked up a large, mouldy book. "You should probably write that essay on 'The Uses of Monratons' for Professor Sprout. I've done it. I'll research breathing underwater."
"Yeah," Harry said, feeling extremely confused. Hermione handed him a quill.
"Want an iced bun?" Harry asked.
"I was wondering why you weren't at dinner," she said, taking one from him.
"I don't know how I'm going to do this task," Harry said, biting into a bun. "Honestly, Hermione, I can't even swim."
"We'll figure it out," Hermione said, not very encouragingly, and turned another page.
They sat in silence for a while, Harry scratching out a few words about Monratons.
"I never thought you were gay," Hermione said.
"Neither did I," said Harry. Hermione kept reading, but Harry's pen was motionless as he replayed the conversation. So was he gay? Did he fancy boys?
"I'm not gay," Harry said slowly. "I just like Cedric."
Hermione nodded. "What are you going to tell Ron?"
"He hates Cedric," Harry said.
"He hates Viktor," Hermione said.
Harry smiled at her. He didn't like thinking that he was hiding something from Ron, however. It didn't feel normal. But he couldn't imagine telling Ron about Cedric. Part of him wished Hermione didn't know. He felt like he and Cedric's time was separate form everything else. Like nothing needed to be connected to them.
"Do you think my essay is long enough?" Harry asked.
Hermione picked it up. "It's only three paragraphs!" she said. She scanned it and said, "The main use of Monraton leaves is to drug sleeps, not in 'breathing difficulties'," she said, handing it back.
Harry scratched out the offending lines. "I'm going to bed, I think," he said after a few more minuets' work.
They walked back up to the common room, and Harry's heart pounded in his chest. Seeing Ron worried him. However, Ron was by the fire, playing exploding snap with Dean Thomas and barely looked up when he saw them.
"Library," said Hermione, to an unasked question, and pulled another book from her bag.
"Don't you ever read novels?" Ginny asked, sitting beside her.
"I like facts," Hermione said.
"But why do you care how many claws a kneazle has on its left foot?" she asked.
Harry, standing by the stairs leading up to his dormitory, stared at them all for a moment. They were all engaged in each other, talking, arguing, the fire burning merrily as cards exploded or someone crumpled their homework angrily. He didn't feel like they had anything to do with him. He felt like he was completely alone; he could do anything with impunity.
(iii)
Classes, conversations, The Tournament – it all became full of Cedric. Everything seemed to come back to him.
Harry sat in Charms, ignoring the hubbub as people tried to charm paint into flashing different colours, and scribbled a picture of a firebolt on a scrap of parchment. It looked like a twig with sticks attached, and he crumpled it up. Firebolts had a grace and beauty to them. He'd promised Cedric to let him try his firebolt that evening, and he thought Cedric would look excellent on it.
Hermione, who had mastered this charm in first year, and had finished helping Ron make a daub of blue paint twinkle, lent over his shoulder.
"Have you worked it out?" she asked.
Harry gestured to a smear of red paint in front of him, which gave off a faint glow when held up to the light.
"You could do better than that," she said.
Harry shrugged.
"You've hardly concentrated at all lately," Hermione said. "You're thinking about Cedric."
Harry looked nervously at Ron, but he was talking to Parvati Patil and gesticulating wildly.
"I haven't been doing any worse than usual," Harry said. "I'm nervous about the task."
February was now fast approaching.
"Well, I'm glad you're discovering you're sexuality, but I don't see why your work should suffer because of it," Hermione said. "I'm working as hard as ever, and I have Viktor."
"We're not all you, Hermione," Harry said testily, and thrust his wand and his paint. It suddenly shone so brightly that it lit up the area surrounding his desk.
"A little bit too enthusiastic there, Potter," Professor Flitwick said cheerfully, hurrying over.
When he was gone, Hermione sighed and said, "we'll find something soon. Has Cedric got anything?"
"He mentioned some charm or other," Harry said. "But I think it's advanced magic. He wasn't even sure he could do it."
"Tell him to let me know," Hermione said.
"Maybe you too should research together some time," Harry said, "you both really like it."
Hermione smiled. "Tonight?"
"Nah, we're going flying."
"Shouldn't you concentrate on your task?"
"Who's going flying?" Ron asked, suddenly.
"I am," Harry said.
"Can I come?"
"Have you got a broom?" Harry asked, surprising himself with his curt tone.
"I can use one of the school ones."
"You'll slow me down," Harry said.
Ron raised his eyebrows. "Why d'you need to be fast? There's no Quidditch."
"Well, I suppose you can come," Harry said, wondering wildly what he was going to do.
"Not if you don't want me to," Ron said hotly.
"Really, Ron, he needs to fly to relax for the task. Don't start," Hermione said.
Ron looked murderously at them both, and then turned around. Harry knew the only way to save the situation was to ask Ron to play Quidditch with him, but, somehow, he wanted to see Cedric more.
"You have to tell him soon," Hermione said. "I don't like lying to him."
Harry nodded. "Thanks for the save," he said.
"Research tomorrow," she said.
"Yeah," said Harry. He looked at Ron's back, watched as he talked to Seamus. Their friendship had suffered as soon as he started seeing Cedric. He didn't know how to explain his constant disappearances to Ron, and Ron was consequently seeping into the same space of confusion and jealousy as before the first task.
"I didn't ask for this," Harry said to the crumpled paper on his desk. It didn't have a useful response.
Feedback: Many, many thanks to all the kind people who have reviewed me. Sorry I took so long to update, I'll try to be quicker next time! Thanks again, and remember reviews mean happy writer, happy writer means more chapters!