Cho Must Die a Horrible, Painful Death

Chapter Two: Gay As Blazes

"Um, Hermione?" Harry questioned his friend hesitantly. It'd taken him a week to both get Hermione alone and to gather up the courage to approach her with his dilemma. Admitting to your best friend that you might be gay wasn't exactly the kind of thing you looked forward to.

Hermione glanced up from her study materials. "Yes, Harry?" She smiled sweetly, but her eyes indicated that, if it wasn't important, she would prefer to return to her studies.

"I, um," Harry glanced around the library apprehensively. It was mostly empty, but he wanted to keep his conversation with Hermione private, so he pulled up a chair next to her and scooted as close as he could without being invasive. "I need to talk to you."

Hermione cast him a bemused look, entertained by his statement of the blatantly obvious. "I'm all ears, Harry," she grinned.

Harry smiled sheepishly, trying to put himself at ease and think of how to phrase his problem. "Well, I think I like somebody, you see..."

A glint of interest danced in Hermione's eyes; she was no gossip, but she loved juicy bits of information about her nearest and dearest. She resisted the urge to coax him along with a soothing phrase, he'd probably get nervous and stop telling her altogether.

"But, it's not exactly the sort of person I've been attracted to before," Harry continued, "I, uh, I wanted to get your opinion on it."

"Go ahead, Harry," Hermione cajoled, "Who do you think you like?"

"Um," Harry averted his eyes from hers not about to blithely profess that it was Malfoy that held his interest, "it's a - a bloke, you see."

"Oh," Hermione's eyes widened in surprise, "well, that's okay Harry. There's nothing wrong with liking boys." She reached over and touched his hand reassuringly.

"I know that, Hermione. It's just... I'm not even sure if I am..." he hesitated, "gay," he finished, looking around to be sure no one was listening. He leaned in closer and spoke almost at a whisper. "I don't know if it's just this one boy I like or all boys. I thought you might... know things. Like books about it."

"Harry," she said quietly, "they don't really make books that can tell a person if they're gay."

"That's not what I meant, Hermione," he sighed, "I don't know very much about what being gay involves. How can I know if I'm gay if I don't even know what being gay means?"

"Oh," Hermione smiled weakly, mentally searching for the best way to handle the situation. "Well, I'm not exactly an expert on the subject, but I'm sure I could help you figure something out."

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry let out a weary sigh.

"Maybe we should talk somewhere a bit more... private," she suggested as she began collecting her things.

Harry nodded resolutely and rose to follow her out of the library.

**

Hermione led Harry outside to a grassy knoll by the lake. They both sat down and Harry gulped.

"Harry," Hermione began cautiously, "how long have you thought you might be gay?"

"Oh, I don't know," Harry picked at his cuticles distractedly, "a week or two?"

"A week or two?" Hermione looked at him, aghast. "So I really am the first person you've come to about this?"

"Well, yes Hermione," Harry answered. "I wasn't getting anywhere trying to figure it out by myself. How the hell should I know what all of this means?"

Hermione winced. He was getting angry, like he had in fifth year. "What is it that made you start thinking that you might be gay?"

Harry took a deep breath, attempting to quell the anger that was rising in his throat. "Well, I tried kissing girls, but it did absolutely nothing for me. And then when I was... um, you *know*," he made a gesture and Hermione wordlessly mouthed 'oh', her eyes widening in understanding, "I kinda started thinking about this bloke...."

He trailed off. Hermione peered at him expectantly. Obviously she needed more information, so he continued.

"And it seemed to really... you know, *work* when I thought about him, and ever since then it's been like 'all blokes, all the time' in my mind. I can't stop thinking about them, well *him* really."

Hermione reached over and gingerly touched her hand to his. "Can you tell me who it is, Harry?"

"I, uh," he choked, "um, I don't think so. It's a bit... embarrassing."

"Embarrassing?" she repeated. He nodded. "Oh. Then is it someone we know?" He nodded again, casting his eyes down on the ground.

"Oh, Harry," she scooted closer to him and asked at practically a whisper, "is it Ron?"
"Ugh!" he jumped back suddenly, startling her, "No! God, Hermione... do you really think I would fancy my best friend? That's just... wrong."

"What's wrong with fancying Ron?" Hermione demanded indignantly.

Harry chuckled slightly, "Absolutely nothing, Hermione - as long as it's you doing the fancying and not me."

"I, I..." she blushed ferociously, "alright, fine. You know, so now you get to tell me your secret crush."
"Your liking Ron was hardly a secret, Hermione," Harry answered her, smiling for the first time since their conversation began.

For a moment Hermione remained silent as she thought of all the boys of their acquaintance. A knowing look dawned on her face. "Harry, is it Neville?"

Harry looked like he would be sick. "Thanks, Herm. Now I'll never get those images out of my head."

"Oh," she sulked, visibly racking her brain for possibilities. "Um... Justin Finch-Fletchley?"

"Seriously, Hermione," Harry rolled his eyes, "You have no faith in my good taste, do you?"

She simply cast him a confused look.

"He has a weird... jaw thing," he answered with a shudder.

"Seamus?" He shook his head.

"Dean?" Another no.

"Um... Blaise Zabini?"

"You're kidding me, right? He's far too feminine for my tastes," Harry scoffed.

"A lot of girls - and boys - fancy Blaise Zabini," Hermione said defensively, and Harry suspected she might be one of those girls.

"Yes, Hermione, but he talks to himself. He's weird."

She huffed in annoyance. "Fine. You don't like feminine guys, so... Crabbe?"

Harry actually retched.

"Goyle?"
"Ugh!" he jumped up from his seat. "You're disgusting Hermione! Those two are just... revolting."

She continued, "Ernie Macmillan? Colin Creevey? Dennis Creevey?"

Harry began to look increasingly agitated.

"Oliver Wood? Fred & George Weasley? Professor Snape?"

Harry screwed his eyes shut and balled his fists together. "Malfoy!" he shot out, refusing to open his eyes to look at her.

"Excuse me?" she pondered, thinking she hadn't heard him correctly. "You'll have to say that again, Harry, 'cause I could have *sworn* you just said 'Malfoy'."

Harry's face felt hot and he was sure that he was blushing. He shuffled his feet. "I did."

For a moment Hermione was speechless. "Oh, wow. Wow," she paused. "*Malfoy*, Harry? Are you mad?"

He turned from embarrassment to indignation. "What? This from the girl who likes Ron and Blaise Zabini? Please!"

"What's *that* supposed to mean?" She jumped up to face him, her hands on her hips.

"Well," Harry mused, "at least my crush is hot."

"Ron is hot!" she stamped her foot.

"I don't think so," he answered, crossing his arms against his chest.

"Oh, please. If you think that fancying Malfoy amounts to having taste, then you can hardly comment on Ron."

Harry eyed her keenly, "Are you telling me that you don't think that Malfoy is attractive? I've seen the way you look at him, so don't lie."

Hermione opened her mouth, but didn't say anything for a moment. "I... can appreciate his aesthetic beauty," she continued carefully. "But that doesn't mean that I fancy him."

"Sure," Harry countered, "and all that fighting that goes on between you two doesn't get you all hot and bothered?"

"No!" she exclaimed, "I'd reckon that's more your reaction, Harry, if you're having masturbation fantasies about him."
"I..." Harry tried to protest, but she was right.

"So this is why you think you're gay?" she settled back down and motioned for him to sit as well.

"Well, yeah," he shifted uncomfortably as he sat down. "The first time I... thought about him in that way, I was trying to think about Cho and it just kinda... ended up that way."

Hermione nodded, urging him further.

"And now, since then, it's been like I'm suddenly attune to him, cause I notice him all the time... how he moves, his facial expressions, what he's wearing. And I think about him all the time, and at first it really scared me... but now it doesn't seem wrong. It feels... right."

Hermione sighed. "Well, Harry, it's like I said - there's nothing wrong with being gay. Mind you, the fact that it's Malfoy you fancy is a bit disturbing, but that's beside the point. Do you fancy other boys as well? Or is it just him?"

"I don't know, Hermione. I think it may just be him."

"Well, you said that you tried kissing other girls, right?" Hermione tried to rationalize the situation, per usual. Harry nodded his assent. "Maybe you should try kissing boys."

"I thought about that." Harry let out an exasperated sigh. "But the only person I can really see myself wanting to kiss is Malfoy."

"Then maybe you should," she stated simply.

"What?" Harry looked frightened all of a sudden.

"Kiss Malfoy, I mean," she continued. "It would certainly give you a clue as to whether you really fancy him."

"Hermione," he protested, "I can't just kiss Malfoy. What am I going to do, lock him in a room, snog the hell out of him, and memory charm him before he can say 'what?'?"

"Sounds like a plan," she answered.

"Ugh," he groaned as he buried his head in his hands. Why did she have to be so logical about everything?

**

Harry really wasn't keen on 'the plan.' In fact, he was rather convinced that none of his plans worked very well, and considering that this was the most difficult plan he'd ever come up with, it was bound to fail.

Still, he felt somewhat reassured by his chat with Hermione. She had gone on to tell him that her uncle was gay, and that he said that being homosexual was pretty much like being heterosexual, save a few physical details.

"It all boils down to attraction and love," she'd said. "And neither of those are gender specific."

She'd been understandably fuzzy on the physical specifics, but had promised to find a book to help him out, as she was sure there were some. If all else failed, she said her uncle would be more than happy to speak to him.

But now, as he sat in Transfiguration staring at the back of Malfoy's head, he wasn't sure he'd have the guts to do what he needed to. They were mortal enemies. You don't ask mortal enemies to step away for a chat with you in an empty classroom.

Moreover, would he actually have the courage to stick his tongue down Malfoy's throat? He was crap at snogging girls, so how on earth should he go about snogging Malfoy?

And say that he pulled it off, and snogged Malfoy. Then what? If he wasn't affected by him, then Harry would have a new problem: was he gay or was the Malfoy thing just a fluke? And if what he suspected would happen did, and Malfoy did it for him, he could hardly launch into a relationship with him. If he did everything right, Malfoy wouldn't even remember the snog.

In front of him, Malfoy let out a sigh and swept a piece of hair behind his ears. He really did have lovely hair; soft and wispy. Harry almost absentmindedly reached out to touch it, but stopped h imself as he felt Hermione jab him with her elbow. Now that she knew his problem, she was keeping an eye on him. If only she could arrange his little meeting with Malfoy. Alas, Harry knew he'd have to figure that part out for himself.

End Chapter Two