Work Text:
Harry Potter, dimwitted and oblivious, hadn't noticed the boy trailing him for the past three months of school. For it being his fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you'd think he'd have become well acquainted with the skill of detecting when he was being followed. After all, there were people up his arse at a constant, trying to catch his attention in both good and bad ways. And if the boy wanted to become an Auror, he'd need that certain skill of awareness, something he seemed to lack.
Standing at the top of the stairs leading to Divination 101, Harry peered down the never-ending case, his head fogging up as students walked in circles, chatting about, voices echoing heavily. The floor swayed slightly, mind dreary and unknowing as a hand slipped around his wrist, stabilizing him.
"You're going to fall down the stairs if you don't stop staring, Harry." Warned Hermione, her naturally high voice breaking through the deep chatter. Her touch sent tingles up his spine, his skin electrified like the time he got struck by lightning during Quidditch. While no one really asked questions about such an event, forgetting about it within a week or two, Harry thought about it at a constant. Every time he stared at himself when bathing, he'd turn over his shoulder and stare at the scar on his back in the mirror. Lightning across his skin, a constant reminder of who he was. Front and back, up and down, the-boy-who-lived. Most days, he wished he hadn't lived.
"Right, sorry." he apologized quickly, moving a hand to run through his thick black hair. His calloused hands brushed against his thick wolf-like ears as he did so, tickling them so they flicked instinctively.
Hermione rolled her eyes, moving the books from her right to left hand. "Stop apologizing so much. You haven't a reason to do so." she told him quickly.
Harry chuckled nervously and nodded. "Sorry-," cutting himself off with a flush face, he spoke again. "Sorry for saying sorry. Shit!" he exclaimed beneath his breath, having apologized three times in total, excluding the first.
Hermione sighed with great disappointment and pinched the bridge of her hooked nose. "Honestly, Harry... what am I to ever do with you?" she asked rhetorically.
Harry shrugged and cleared his throat, eyes darting to the top step where he and Hermione began walking toward. They descended the many stairs, gratitude overcoming Harry when he had reached the final step. Most days, he felt as if he were on auto-pilot, as if he weren't himself. His body wasn't his— always empty and floating— never actually grounded. It was an odd feeling, one he wished he could escape, yet he couldn't. Ever since his second year he hadn't felt like himself. Of course, taunting from classmates hadn't helped, nor had favoritism from professors, which would only egg his bullies on. Of course, his bullies knew they'd never be able to outsmart, nor outbattle, him. Even so, they found joy in making fun of the boy for his lightning-ridden body and traumatic past.
Something Harry found to be rather interesting was his past. He didn't remember much. And even as he grew up, many memories he had made— many happy ones— faded. He didn't remember anything from the night of his birthday when Voldemort came to kill him, nor did he remember much of his time at the Dursley's. He could hardly remember what he ate at lunch the day prior (if he had even cared to eat), nor could he remember what he learned in Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Many things seemed to slip the boys mind. He often had to ask Hermione for help to remember things, such as what they learned in class the previous day, or when he had to be at Hagrid's hut.
Harry took in a steady breath, releasing it with a certain lightheadedness, latching on to Hermione to stable himself. She frowned and took his hand in hers. "Are you alright?" she asked, eyes dimly lit.
Harry nodded and looked forward, intent on getting to Potions. "Yeah. I'm fine." he lied.
Trudging through the halls, Hermione kept a firm grip on Harry. She didn't want any more incidents where he passed out or went dizzy or mad. Often times he'd let his anger get the better of him. Most days, it was because he ate too little, or didn't get enough sleep. Hermione felt he acted too much like a woman with his sassy retorts or longing gaze at upperclassmen who weren't exactly girls...
Of course, Harry denied all evidence of him staring at boys. He claimed to admire them for their strength or wits, something simple that all men admired and envied about each other. Still, Hermione saw through it all, and, on occasion, Ron would too. For example, Harry would acknowledge Cedric with more than just his attention— rather, his touch. Small touches of his clothing or glances at his arse. Then again, Cedric did have a nice arse. Even more than a nice arse, he had an excruciatingly nice tail, one any man would be jealous of.
Traveling through the cobble halls lit by candlelight (something Harry found to be funny considering electricity existed), he and Hermione soon approached Potions. Unfortunately, they had the ill-timed pleasure of meeting Malfoy and his goons outside the door. Actually— it wasn't his goons. Instead, it was a single lanky boy with a sad face and curly brown hair.
Malfoy stepped forward with a cold sneer, eyes meeting Harry's. "Why so glum, Potter?" he retorted, unknowingly showing a shred of care toward the-boy-who-lived when acknowledging his saddened state.
"Piss off, Malfoy." said Harry, leering at the blond.
Malfoy laughed and shook his head, arms crossing as he stepped to block the doorway. "Not a chance." he said firmly. "I know you cheated." Malfoy stared down at Harry, only an inch or two taller than the other.
Hermione scoffed, eyes rolling as she stood in front of Harry defensively. "And why exactly would he want to join in such a vile and crude game built on selfish desires and unnecessary pain when he could be relaxing and finally processing everything he's gone through?" asked Hermione, voice high with anger. "Honestly, Malfoy, you just don't understand, and I believe you never will."
Malfoy nocked his head, eyes falling to meet Hermione's. "Need a girl to protect you, do you, Potter?" his eyes flicked to Harry.
Harry's ears spiked up with immediate awareness, naturally green eyes stirring like a horrible poison made in Potions. "I said piss off!" exclaimed Harry.
Malfoy flinched slightly, stunned by Harry's sudden agitation. He had seen the boy growing increasingly angry as the school year progressed, but he hadn't expected him to be so quickly riled up. Malfoy swallowed thickly, backing up. Still, he refused to let any cowardice show. "Whatever, Potter. See you on the Quidditch field..." he sneered and entered the classroom.
Harry released a heavy breath. Hermione touched his sleeve gently, a small gasp escaping her typically pursed lips when he flinched and glared. "I'm fine. Stop getting so physical." Harry said rudely, eyes flicking to that of the lanky boy lingering outside the door.
Harry looked him up and down, noticing his pale skin, curly brown hair, ponderosa eyes, and sheepish, yet nonchalant stature. Where had he seen the boy from...? He couldn't remember. Still, Harry wasn't in the mood to be taunted by any more silly Slytherins.
"Looking to argue too, are you?" he practically barked.
The boy blinked slowly and moved from his place against the wall, walking into the class with arms weighing him down.
Harry huffed and shook his head, tail flicking with disdain. He and Hermione entered after the rabbit-like boy, Harry's eyes trailing on him. He noticed his catty appearance, tail and ears flat like he were ready to nap. Harry snorted at the thought of the lanky boy sprawled out like a cat on one of the Potions tables.
Harry took his seat at one of the many tables, relaxing as Ron hurried into the room and took his place beside him. "Oh man, you don't know how happy I am to see you mate." chuckled Ron, out of breath as he placed his books on the table.
Harry cocked his head, curious as to why Ron is so happy. Of course, Ron didn't even give the other time to inquire, seeing as he always delved into an explanation without giving time to question such anticipation. "So, I was down in the library— don't ask why— and I saw Cho there,"
Harry's interest was immediately piqued when Ron mentioned Cho. He found her rather attractive, but felt sad knowing she preferred Cedric over him. It was one of the many reasons he was jealous of the boy. Cedric was the guy everyone wanted to be. It saddened Harry to think about him, and at the same time, he felt envious. He'd talked to Hermione about it dozens of times, and she'd repeat the same thing each time. "Are you sure it's just envy, Harry? Have you ever considered that rather than wanting to be him, you may want to... date him?" It made Harry uncomfortable and angry to think about, yet he often found himself daydreaming about the boy. He blamed Hermione for that. She put the idea into his head and made him trick himself into thinking the ladder was attractive, right? That had to be it.
"And you're never going to guess who she was talking about." said Ron quickly.
Harry sighed gruffly and spoke. "Me?"
"You— wait... you know?" asked Ron, voice trailing off.
Harry shook his head, pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, Ron. Dimwitted idiot... it's kind of obvious she'd be talking about me. I'm all anyone talks about anymore." Harry explained dully.
Ron laughed sheepishly and nodded. "Yeah, I guess you're right." Guess? No. He was right on. Harry's publicity was unwanted and made him sick to his stomach. Most days he could barely get out of bed without thinking about who'd be the next to ridicule or compliment him.
Rather quickly, class was set into motion. Snape came in, his long cape trailing behind him as he very quickly began naming off ingredients for a potion, expecting everyone to very quickly grab them and cook up whatever he had intended for the day. He rambled on about this specific potions affects and how it could harm someone, asking if anyone had a clue what it could be. While Hermione answered her hand eagerly, Snape rolled his eyes, paying no mind to the girl and instead approaching the desk Draco sat at, hitting it with his hand.
The lanky boy beside Draco sat up tiredly, having been laying down for most of the class. "Mr. Nott," Snape scowled. "Care to tell me the name of this potion?" inquired Snape.
Nott yawned tiredly, clearly uninterested in Snape's heavy demand. "Draught of Living Death." he answered bluntly.
Snape grimaced and turned. "Don't expect to be right all of the time, Mr. Nott." he said.
Harry's eyes lingered on Nott even after Snape left the boy alone. Malfoy whispered to the other, motioning for him to help create the potion. Nott seemed horribly uninterested and tired, barely even picking up the Moondew to add in. Harry chuckled, finding his reluctance to partake in the class rather funny.
Ron nudged Harry, cocking an eye with oblivion written on his face. Why had Harry been giggling? Harry shook his head, trying to ignore Nott, redirecting his attention to the task at hand. He and Ron continued throughout the hour, making the deadly little potion, and when Snape eventually approached their table, he stared at the potion with disdain and evaporated it into thin air, claiming that it was horrible and needed to be redone.
Harry scowled, fluffy black hair hiding his angry eyes. His ears perked up when he heard stifled laughter two tables away. He looked up, eyes meeting Nott's as the brunette and blond stared back at Harry, giggling with their faces covered by their hands. Harry couldn't tell if they were laughing at a joke or him. Technically, Harry was the joke. Still, he almost felt angry when hearing Nott giggle over his failure.
{{}}
Harry stood on the old wooden bridge connecting to the forest, staring out at the lake before him. He was supposed to be meeting Cedric there. For some reason, Harry felt anxious, excited. Why was meeting Cedric so exhilarating? It's not like he liked the boy. It's not like he was dating him. So why was he so damned excited...?
Harry heard heavy footsteps and turned, heart racing when he saw Cedric. Cedric's pale cheeks were warmed by the cold of Autumn, Jack Frost nipping at his nose. Cedric approached with a certain anxiety, one that was rather apparent.
"Harry." greeted Cedric.
"Cedric." greeted Harry. They stood silently for a moment, both staring, both uneasy.
Finally, Cedric took in a deep breath and spoke. "Just... take your egg and mull things over in the hot water, yeah?" said Cedric, voice cracking.
Harry nodded, staring at the rickety wooden planks they both stood quietly on. When Cedric took his first step to walk away, Harry spoke quickly. "Cedric," he called almost distraughtly. Cedric glanced at him curiously. "I— thank you..." he muttered almost shyly.
Cedric frowned, knowing exactly how Harry was feeling. "Yeah..." he whispered in return. Cedric turned away from Harry and took a step forward, stopping for a rather long beat. Then, he turned around and took Harry by the arm, pulling him close, eyes falling to the excited green ones before him. "Don't— don't look at me with those eyes." said Cedric hastily, half distraught and half annoyed. "I know what you're feeling and it isn't real. Feel it for... feel it for someone who will feel it back." one too many times had boys discovered their sexualities due to Cedric. He wasn't going to have Harry realize his as well just from some friendly talk and quick glances.
A breathless gasp escaped Harry's lips. He cocked his head, shaking it slightly. "I don't—... Cedric, what are you on about?" asked Harry.
Cedric groaned and leaned forward, kissing Harry quickly before pulling back. "That." he quickly walked away, hands balled and shoved into his pockets.
Harry stood, shocked and more than uneasy. His heart was hammering, stomach twisting in knots. Did Cedric really just kiss him? Did Harry like it? Of course he did. That's what made him feel nauseas. Well— more nauseas than he normally did.
Harry swallowed thickly and released a shaky breath, eyes falling to the lake. "Holy shit..." he muttered softly.
{{}}
Theodore Nott had been trailing Harry Potter for three long months. He had seen everything there was to see of the boy, and even discovered a rather curious notion; the notion being that the-boy-who-lived, is also, the-boy-who-slayed, meaning, he was into men.
While Theodore found this to be a good thing, he quickly realized that Harry would never openly admit he liked men, nor would he ever consider going out with Theodore. It saddened Theodore to know this, yet he accepted his fate gracefully. Or, he thought he could.
He found Cedric Diggory to be a nuisance. He had seen the way Cedric looked at Harry, as well as the way Harry looked at Cedric. He was jealous. Theodore hated being jealous. Still, he could not deny this aching in his chest. It seemed to linger and stay no matter how ardently he tried to remove it.
Theodore would often watch Harry during Potions, mentally criticizing the boy for the way he messed up when adding in ingredients or mixing potions. Theodore even went as far as to leave notes at Harry's desk before class with advice on how to improve. He noticed Harry taking a liking to the notes, yet also an unhealthy amount of suspicion about who could be leaving them. Not to mention, Theodore had caught Harry staring at him countless times.
It had excited Theodore to know Harry was looking at him, a silly Slytherin with silly Death Eater parents. He was glad Harry didn't know his parents were Death Eaters. It would ruin Theodore if Harry knew about such a thing. He would let the entire world rip his family apart limb by limb, so long as Harry Potter was unaware of his Death Eater heritage.
As the days passed on, Theodore became increasingly incapable of hiding his feelings. It all came down to one fateful day...
Theodore stood at the top of the bell tower, leaning over the edge slightly, eyes meeting the ground. He swallowed thickly, wondering what it'd be like to simply fall, to hit the ground, and to die. Death was a thought he entertained far too often.
He let out a heavy breath, jumping when a voice rang out. "Nott?" the voice inquired, clearly unaware of the boy's name.
Theodore turned, heart hammering in his chest. "Potter..." he muttered softly, taken by surprise. Why had Harry approached him? Did he need something, or had he simply found him by accident?
Harry took a hesitant step forward. "What are you doing at the edge of the tower?" he asked.
Theodore snorted, trying to put on a cocky act, but Harry could see through it. "I could ask the same of you."
Harry shook his head and frowned. "Just step away, mate."
Reluctantly, Theodore did as told. "I wasn't going to jump, 'mate'." he muttered begrudgingly.
Harry shrugged and shoved his hands into the pocket of his jumper. "How was I supposed to know? No offense, but, you look like the type of bloke to do so..."
Theodore almost took it as a compliment seeing as it came from the one and only Harry Potter, but he told himself not to. He took in a heavy breath and shrugged, just as Harry did. Theodore stood awkwardly, not knowing what to say.
Harry stood as well, fiddling with himself in the pocket of his jumper.
A quick, stupid, thought, came to Theodore's head. Harry had kissed Cedric a week prior... why couldn't Theodore test his luck? Before doing so, he'd have to introduce the idea, right? "You, uhm—, I don't want to sound odd, Potter," began Theodore weakly. "But... have you ever, you know, thought about kissing... guys?" Fuck. That came out so horribly wrong. Harry was going to think he was weird now, wasn't he? He was going to call Theodore slurs or something. Actually, Harry didn't seem like the type of bloke to do so. Surely he'd be more gentle with Theodore, right?
Harry's breath hitched. He coughed a bit, tail flicking with unease. "Well, I... I mean— that's such a forward question, isn't it, mate?" he tried to avoid answering, but his ears always rustled his hair just a bit anytime he lied. It was a small, almost unnoticeable habit Harry had.
Theodore shrugged and tried to play it off cool. "I guess, but, I'm just curious." he answered calmly.
Harry stood for a moment, eyes glued to the floor of the bell tower. He sucked in the chilly Autumn air and sighed. "Well... if you must know, I have kissed a guy before. But only once!" he said defensively. "It was— I don't even think it counts, really..."
Theodore felt jealous, remembering the day he was walking out near the bridge (only last week, might he add) and saw Cedric kiss Harry. "Right. Definitely doesn't count." he let out a shaky breath and stepped toward Harry. "Do you— do you mind if I maybe... kiss you?" he asked.
Harry was taken aback. Did he find Theodore attractive? Yes. Did he want to kiss the boy? Maybe. Was he willing to actually do it? No. No way. It wasn't right. He shouldn't want to kiss another boy. It's all messed up. The person he should be wanting to kiss is Cho. Then again, when he really thought deeply on the matter, Cho was more boyish than he expected. Really, he only ever talked to her during Quidditch, and even then, he saw her as more masculine because of her position on the field. During Quidditch, she was just another guy.
Harry was suddenly uncomfortable, but not because of Theodore's question. No. Really, he was uncomfortable because he knew he'd have to come to terms with the fact that he might actually like guys as well as girls. He knew most certainly he liked girls. He got easily flustered and attracted to them rather quickly, but guys... they were something else entirely. He wasn't exactly willing to accept it just yet, but he was willing to find out if he liked them. He wasn't really sure. Well— he liked kissing Cedric a lot more than anticipated, and that should've been evidence enough, but Harry wasn't entirely convinced. So, he stepped forward and nodded.
"Sure, yeah. You can... if you want, you can—," Harry struggled with saying Theodore could kiss him. Still, the other boy got the message and leaned forward, left hand moving to cup Harry's chin as his right ran through the boy's thick black hair, petting his wolfish ears.
Theodore's lips met Harry's, and suddenly, everything made sense. Theodore's kiss was soft and slow compared to Cedric's quick and rough kiss. It was like he was drinking Felix Felicis, dazed and happy.
Harry could feel a throb in his pants, tail flicking with excitement as Theodore's curled around him. He smiled into the kiss, relaxing entirely against the other. Something about this was just so right. So perfect. Still, there was that little voice in the back of his head yelling at him. Stop. This isn't right. Don't kiss him.
Harry shut that voice out, hands moving to Theodore's forearms, squeezing them with excitement. Theodore chuckled, finally feeling more like himself with Harry. He let his hands slide around Harry's waist, one moving to squeeze the other's thigh. Harry gasped softly, pulling back, eyes dazed with a kind of lust he had never once experienced.
"Nott, I—,"
"Theodore," the other interrupted. "It's Theodore. Or— better yet, Theo."
Harry swallowed and nodded. "Theo, I— I don't know how right this is. I mean, morally, it's all wrong, isn't it?" asked Harry, scared and unsure of what he was doing. Seriously. Had he just kissed another boy?
Theodore shook his head, eyes rolling as he did so. "If you like kissing boys, kiss them. If you like kissing girls, kiss them. Really, the only immoral thing is you holding yourself back from enjoying life." noted Theodore with a sense of pride.
Harry chuckled nervously and nodded. "Yeah... yeah, okay." he stared at Theodore before leaning in once more, kissing him with a new kind of excitement. Theodore returned the kiss with an equal amount, grinding against the other boy. Harry let out a low and guttural moan, not having expected such a bold move. Still, it was welcomed openly, seeing as Harry moved his hands to squeeze Theodore's pecks as the boy continued to grind and kiss him roughly.
Theodore was the one to pull back this time, taking a moment to breathe. "Gods, Harry. You really are an eager kisser." he chuckled.
Harry shrugged and took a step back, rubbing his neck nervously. "So? I don't think—," he cut himself off, realizing he hadn't any need to respond. "Sorry..." muttered Harry.
"Don't apologize." said Theodore, taking Harry's hand in his. "Really, it's stupid how much you Gryffindor's apologize."
Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes. "At least I'm not a slithy Slytherin."
"Is that a reference to The Jabberwock?" asked Theodore.
"The Jabber-what?" questioned Harry. Theodore seemed almost taken aback by Harry's ignorance of The Jabberwock.
"You've really never heard of The Jabberwock by Lewis Carrol?" Theodore practically gasped. "Gods, how foolish..."
Harry chuckled and shrugged, now entirely relaxed with the other boy. "No. Tell me about it. What is it?" he asked.
Theodore seemed almost ecstatic to be able to tell Harry about The Jabberwock, very quickly delving into the topic. "Well, it's this poem a Muggle wrote for his siblings. It starts like this: Twas brillig and the slithy toves, did gyre and gimble in the wabe..."