The Master Plan

Chapter 26: One Slytherin is Too Many, Two's a Crowd and Three, You're Dead

After classes, Harry snuck down to the Owlery, where he asked Hedwig to deliver a note he had prepared earlier. He'd worked on it almost all day. He didn't have much hope that it would do anything (it probably wouldn't even reach its intended receiver before the whole catastrophe was over) but Harry felt a strange need to do this. If nothing else, maybe he could keep it from being a total shock to Lupin when next he saw the Daily Prophet. He'd only revised the letter at least seven hundred times--in his head. He only actually wrote it down once. Truth be told, Harry was developing an acute paranoia of putting quill to parchment. It was hard to know what to tell Remus, and how much, or if he should try to explain himself, and it kept coming out all wrong. Finally, he decided a short, to the point note would be best. At least, it was as short as he could get it without leaving out anything he thought was important.

Dear Moony,

Hope you're doing well. I know I shouldn't contact you, but I wanted you to hear it from me. I'm gay. Sorry. It's just that Malfoy found out, and it'll probably be in the papers shortly, so it looks like I'm coming out of the closet whether I want to or not. He's trying to blackmail me, but I don't think it's something I could do. At the very least, I could never trust him not to tell, regardless. Still not sure how to handle things. And this probably won't reach you before it's happened, but I thought I should make the effort, at least. Like I said: I'm sorry. I hope you don't hate me now, but I won't blame you if you don't want to be friends anymore.

Your friend (if you still want to be)

Harry

"Here," he told the owl, as he tickled the wispy feathers framing her face, "please hurry with this one, if you can. It's important." Hedwig blinked reassuringly at him, before clicking her beak in a professional way. Harry watched her fly until she was a speck in the gathering dusk. He sighed heavily. Would the werewolf think he was unnatural? He couldn't even guess.

In detention that night, Snape was oddly civil. A complete stranger wouldn't have known there were any problems between the Potions Master and Harry. Except that, of course, he completely avoided Harry's eyes again. He was never unkind (which creeped Ron out far more than his most venomous insults) but he was also extremely distant. "Very good, Mister Potter," he told Harry in a clipped voice during Occlumency. "I do believe we may achieve better, though. Since you exhibited a marked improvement when you used that...meditative tool--the white room--I have been thinking visualization techniques might be of assistance. Now, the next time I attack, I want you to picture..."

Harry tried to be as mature about it as possible, and as calm and composed as Snape was. It was hard, very hard to deal with a Snape so drastically different. To Harry, this was not Severus Snape. This was a separate person, one whom Harry had never met. The man didn't even bring up the commotion of the night before. He gave sincere, if minor compliments. He never bothered to insult Harry when Harry did something stupid. He was controlled, and bland, and, and NICE. Harry detested him.

When Harry and his friends returned to the tower, they found Hedwig waiting. Harry was really surprised. Could she have found Remus and returned already? She was holding out her leg, hooting impatiently, and Harry hurried over. Apparently, she could, and did find Remus that quickly. "Wow," he told her genuinely, "that was bloody amazing! Next time I know who to go to when I have a rush message, don't I?" Hedwig fluffed her feathers and looked away, as though it was no big deal, but Harry could tell she was pleased, and feeling a little smug about the whole thing. "Go on down to the Owlery," he told her, "and I'll make sure the house elves fix you a special breakfast treat." Harry looked uncertainly at Ron before unfolding the paper with shaking fingers. "I'll just read it myself, first, all right? If you can stand five minutes of waiting..."

"Yeah, all right," Ron replied, puzzled, and he flopped down next to Hermione on a couch, and pretended to read. Hermione took the news more graciously, and tried to interest Ron in a discussion about the Skulking Spell Snape had introduced them to earlier. Ron nodded, and pretended to listen, but he was watching Harry out of the corner of his eye.

Dear Harry,

You have absolutely no reason to apologize for anything. I'm sorry you're having to go through this; it doesn't seem fair that, at your age, you have to shoulder so much. I feel I should tell you (it makes me uncomfortable, but, after all, you have been completely honest with me) that I would have no reason to judge you, as I am a homosexual myself.

I urge you not to comply with any blackmail requests; I hardly need tell you how foolish it would be. And do not trust Malfoy; he would certainly reveal your preference once he was through tormenting you with it. I am afraid you may just have to accept the idea that people will know, and tell the people who matter to you before he gets the chance. Also, please inform Dumbledore if Malfoy is attempting to persuade you to do something illegal. Perhaps it would be best if you told Dumbledore, in any case.

At any rate, as you may have guessed by Hedwig's speedy return, I am not far away. I have something I must do this evening, but I will come see you as quickly as I can-- probably early in the morning. Until then, dear boy, chin up. Remember; you are a person of strength and integrity, and no one can take that from you.

Ever your friend,

Moony

"Er," Harry said when he realized Ron was still checking his progress on the letter. "Remus says he'll probably be back tomorrow morning, and we'll talk then. And, you know, hang in there and all. The rest is...just kind of personal," he told them, slipping the note in his pocket. Suddenly he realized something. "A LITTLE BOOKWORM!" he crowed, causing both Ron and Hermione to jump. "I thought he was talking about Hermione, but I knew she wouldn't do that, so it didn't make any sense!"

"You all right, mate, or have you gone barmy on us again?" Ron interjected tactfully.

"That page from my journal! I'd wondered how he got hold of it! I'd put it in my pocket, and when we were looking for spells to find the REST of the journal, you needed a bookmark, remember? And I reached into my pocket, and--"

"Bloody idiot," Ron said fondly, and watched as Harry drew out Remus's note. Ron and Hermione exchanged a look before nearly tackling Harry and taking the paper away. "Nope! Sorry, mate," he said loudly over Harry's vociferous protests, "like giving you a pack of Fausto's Fire-Starters. You're just too dangerous."

"Right," agreed Hermione, taking the note from Ron despite his frown. "I'll keep hold of it, and I won't read it, and I won't let anyone else read it. All right Harry? I think it's time I went back to being the sensible one for a while. All these calamities are making my head spin a bit. Look; Harry, if Lupin will be here in the morning, then I think we ought to wait until you've spoken with him before deciding what to do next. And in the meantime, we should all try to get to sleep. I have a sinking feeling that tomorrow is going to be another one of those days."

Harry insisted that he would never be able to sleep, until Ron tried to put a calming charm on him, and drastically overdid it, causing Harry to fall down, half snoring, at their feet. Hermione tisked at Ron, and rolled her eyes when he gave a shurg and rueful smile. She had to help him carry the wizard up to his bed.

Rather late the next morning, Harry woke with a blurry vision of Neville's round, anxious face looking down at him. "Really, Harry, I think it's SERIOUS," Neville insisted. Harry groped for his glasses, and swung his feet out of the bed.

"Wazzit?" he muttered muzzily, trying to stretch some life back into his body.

"Ron said to come and WAKE YOU," Neville told him exasperatedly, with the air of one who has had to repeat himself more than once.

"Mngh. Oh. Merlin." He yawned hugely. "Did he say why?" Harry reached for his jeans and shoved a leg in, knowing that whatever it was, it was bad, and he should probably hurry. He stood up and had to make several tries before his aim was good enough to get the other leg started.

"It's the Slytherins. They're talking about you." Harry promptly fell over. "Are you all right?"

"Get Ron. Tell him to come up here, quickly. Er. Do you know what they're saying?" Harry struggled and flopped on the floor, desperately trying to become, well, pants-encased. He was blurrily aware that he probably looked like a green-eyed, disheveled-haired trout, wriggling about on the floor. It struck him that Severus would find it very funny, and he felt a sharp pang.

"No one knows," Neville said, as he paused in the doorway. "But Draco Malfoy said he's got something to show everyone, starting with the Slytherins. And it's about you." He gave Harry a commiserating nod as he ran off to get Ron.

Harry cursed, rolling around on the floor. He should have known Malfoy wasn't really going to give him time to think it over. He should have known that pale, perverted pain in the arse would go and pull something like this. It wasn't as though he was a man of his word.

Ron and Hermione arrived a short while later, Hermione trying to calm Harry down, while Ron did his best to calm himself down. Ron was not pleased. He looked at Harry grimly, as Harry stuttered, trying to find a way to explain. And Harry was taking his Goddamn time about it; that was for sure.

Harry wasn't sure he could do it. He fought with himself for a moment. He needed help. He needed to do something about Malfoy. And maybe...he needed to know if Ron was a good enough friend to accept him for the person he really was. "Look; I don't want to tell you this, but Malfoy. Malfoy's going to tell everybody anyway. Because he found that one page and...It's just that. It sort of has to do with. Er. About Snape. But more about me, really. It's. I'm gay. There. I said it. I'm-gay-I'm-gay-I'm-gay! I wrote about having a crush on Snape in my journal, and Malfoy found it."

Ron had his hands over his ears and was singing loudly. "A WIZARD'S STAFF HAS A KNOB ON THE END, A KNOB ON THE END, A KNOB--"Hermione grabbed hold of one of his elbows and yanked his hand away from his ear.

"Ronald Weasley! Take your hands away from your ears this instant!" He complied, glaring at Hermione as she continued her tirade. "You stop acting like a pig-ignorant pilchard! Harry's been a very good friend to you and you are just going to have to learn how to deal with this!"

"I AM dealing with this," he roared at her. "It's called denial and it's a very effective coping tool! And it's worked damn well up to now; I could completely ignore the fact that Harry has been a drooling, starry-eyed, lovesick GOAT who kept making a complete ass of himself over Snape! But NOW I CAN'T! So I have to move onto the next step! Which is anger! I'll be sure to let you know when I'm good and ready for the next one, shall I? Harry, could Snape have given you a potion or something? A love potion? He would be just that evil! Come on, Harry, think about it! I mean; it doesn't make any sense at all, otherwise! I mean; even Draco Malfoy is. Is. Less PHYSICALLY repulsive! So it must have been a potion, designed to make you humiliate yourself, right?"

"No, it most certainly was NOT!" Harry replied angrily, unconsciously adopting a Severus-sort-of-saying in a fit of offense that Ron would so blatantly call Severus unattractive. "It happened because he's funny and smart, and, in fact, he's a pretty decent kisser, as well, I'll have you know."

"AUUUGHHHH! Fine, you can have the denial, but did you have to take away my pitiful attempt at RATIONALIZATION, as well? It's completely heartless of you not to bargain with someone in the desperate throes of the third stage of grief!"

"That's ENOUGH, Ron," Hermione admonished him. "You're just going to have to suck it up. Be a man about it. The Slytherins are out there--up to something! And we have to present a united front!"

"I haven't even reached the fourth stage, yet!" Ron howled. His shoulders sagged. "Oh, very well. It's all hopeless, anyway. I could just cry." He gave a cough that sounded suspiciously like a sob. "Fourth stage," he added in a disheartened tone. "Well, at least we know what we're up against with the Slytherins."

"But I thought you said that page was completely innocuous, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed fretfully. "I never gave it a second thought, because you assured me it couldn't hurt anyone!"

"That's before I saw it through Draco Malfoy's eyes," Harry explained. "It didn't name any names, is all. And it didn't talk about the DADA stuff. Just that. Um. I'm not sure I completely remember. That I like someone--a guy--a Slytherin. So I think that's all they know."

"Whether or not they'll be able to infer it's Snape from that, we can only speculate," Hermione sighed. "We'll have to pray. And cross our fingers. And. Oh. I don't know. Hope for some magic or something? We'd better go and see what we can do about it all."

"Oh, shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," Harry whispered fretfully to himself, as he took the stairs two at a time. Ron and Hermione were practically running to keep up with him; well, no, Hermione was practically running, Ron was so tall he could more than match Harry stride for stride. The redhead glared at a Death Eater who was giving Harry an odd look as he passed. No not Death Eater; Slytherin, just a Slytherin...not necessarily a Death Eater, at any rate. Perhaps a mini Death Eater, a Death Eater in training. A Death Eater's apprentice. Son of Death Eater. Bride of Death Eater. Oh, God, why wouldn't these thoughts stop?

Because they were looking at him, Harry realized, as they entered the Great Hall. Not all of them, but a few. Enough. The Slytherins, giving him surprised, knowing, mocking or in a precious few cases, unbelieving looks. Oh, God. He'd already told some of them, 'course he did, the whole school should know by now--the whole school would know by the end of the day. But it hadn't said whom. That was what Harry kept grasping at; it had said him but never said whom. So, there was a chance. Not for Harry, obviously, because that bit was all too evident and anyway they'd all jump at the chance to believe something bad about him; all he could do was maybe influence the what.

"I'm going to tell them," he announced to Ron and Hermione as they marched into the Great Hall.

"Tell who? And, what, here?" Ron choked. A Death Eater--SLYTHERIN--snickered as he walked past the group. "You SHUT YOUR FILTHY BLACK-MAGIC-SPEWING GOB, you hear me?!" Ron exclaimed. "Or I'll. I'LL TELL FRED AND GEORGE YOU HAVE NAKED PICTURES OF THEM, AND JUST WAIT UNTIL THEY HEAR THAT! What?" He turned to Hermione, lowering his voice a little. "It doesn't matter if it's true," he insisted in a much quieter tone, "BECAUSE YOU WON'T BELIEVE THE KIND OF REVENGE THEY CAN DREAM UP!" The Slytherin--NOT Death Eater, Harry reminded himself--had long since scurried out of earshot. Even the Gryffindors were beginning to eye Ron dubiously.

"Oh, just stop it," Harry told him. He dragged them over to the Gryffindor table. "Look, you'll both stand by me, right?" They nodded hard. "Because I can take whatever happens as long as I have the both of you." Hermione looked all teary at this, and Ron rolled his eyes again.

"God, don't go getting HER going, now. I can't deal with BOTH of you having breakdowns at once!" Hermione slapped him on the arm, but was smiling a little. "Well. You just do what you have to do. Mind you, I haven't reached the fifth step, yet, so it might just be the despairing fatalism talking, but I say go ahead. We'll both be here, one to hex your detractors, and the other to lecture them on how to pronounce 'imperceptive ponce.'"

Harry tried to laugh, and shook his head a little. What would the rest of the Gryffindors think? What would the rest of the school think? He couldn't worry about that now. Taking a deep breath, he shoved his way between Ginny and Dean Thomas, and clambered up onto the Gryffindor table. After casting Sonorous, he looked about the room, and waited until everyone was staring. Better to do it all at once, right? Ha ha, right, of course. Ha. And beat Malfoy to the punch. Right. Malfoy. He'd just have to gird his loins (whatever the hell that meant) and tell the awful truth.

"I know you're all wondering what I'm doing. Well. I had to tell you. Erm." This was not a good way to start a speech. God, what he wouldn't give for Severus's talent with words. He was very careful not to look at the man as he continued. "It has come to my attention that Draco Malfoy has said he...um. Has said something about me, and that he has something to show you. Well. I don't care. Do you hear me? I don't care! Maybe you don't like it but you don't have to like it so if you don't like it sod you then! Um. Yeah. And it says something about a Slytherin and it says 'him' and. Wait." Harry was really losing the thread of the sermon here. "But anyway, I'm here to tell you that my sexual preference is probably different of yours, unless you're female. And you like boys," he clarified. Yes. Much better. "So, in conclusion, I am gay, and Draco Malfoy is a prick!" He saw Ron slap his hand to his head, and Harry paused to think over that last sentence more carefully.

'Oh, SHIT.' It occurred to Harry that he had just irrevocably linked his name to Draco Malfoy. He had been talking about his sexual preference. THIS WAS NOT GOOD. People were going to talk. And they were NOT going to be charitable.

This interesting little revelation led Harry to commit to ever greater heights of self-humiliation. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Lupin slipping into the room, and moving sinuously toward the staff table. He glanced at Snape, taking him as a weather vane. With temperatures reaching below zero, Harry felt a definite cold front coming on. "I mean, but. I wouldn't. With MALFOY. Because I don't care how good-looking he is, I wouldn't. Touch him! I mean; I can think of dozens of quicker, less painful way to end up dead! I mean!" Severus's cold front was now met by Harry's grasping desperation, coupled with strong overtones of idiocy, with a good likelihood of babbling like a muttonhead until he stuck a foot in his mouth. Harry tried desperately to undo the damage, and resplendently succeeded in doing more harm than he'd been trying to repair. "I'd never--I mean, a Slytherin! Well, I mean, no. I mean; yes! Blaise Zabini, sure, but he's hot, and it's. Not as though." Snape was glaring at him; he could feel it without even looking. He turned his head to see Lupin whisper something in Snape's ear, and Severus actually nodded and joined Lupin, leaving the table. "Um. So don't trust Draco Malfoy, and don't believe anything he has to say about me. Um. That's all, I guess," he finished lamely, and quickly got off the table.

Well. That hadn't been too bad, had it? Only the worst experience of his whole bloody, awful, rotten life. Harry slid into the seat beside Ginny, hiding his head in his arms. The laughter was, if not building a spirit of union between the houses, certainly doing a job at bridging the gap.

"That was bloody bril, Harry," Dean Thomas informed him, after he'd finished nearly choking on his toast. "When Seamus, here, came out, he wasn't half so funny!"

Harry sat bolt upright. "Seamus is gay?"

"Seamus is sitting right across from you," replied Seamus, "so you could just bloody well ask Seamus."

"Oh. Ah. Are you?" Harry was shocked. He didn't even know there were such things as gay wizards.

"Aye. But I'm sorry to have to inform you, I have my OWN Slytherin boy-toy, so I'm not at all interested in you, even if you are The Boy Who Lived to make a complete ass out of himself whilst coming out of the closet." He raised a glass of orange juice. "To Harry, the daftest, most mentally deficient queer ever to come out of Hogwarts," he toasted. This was taken up by the other Gryffindors with enthusiasm, making Harry's face flame as per usual. "Christ, Harry, did you think it was such a big deal?" Seamus asked him in his thick brogue. "You could've just asked someone about it."

Harry tried not to let his jaw drop. "You mean there are other. Other gays? Other people--like us?"

Seamus snorted, and was in dire pain when orange juice came out his nose. "God, Harry, there are gay EVERYTHINGS," Dean pointed out. "I've heard about gay dogs, and birds, and alligators! Hedgehogs!" He pounded the table. "What d'you reckon, Seamus, gay hedgehogs?" he wheezed. "Not! Not that there's anything wrong with that!" They broke down into whooping, hysterical laughter, while Ginny gazed on, clearly traumatized.

"Look, Harry, it's not that big a deal," Seamus informed him once he'd recovered a little, and cleaned up some of his mess. "I mean, sure to the Slytherins...well--there aren't any GAY Slytherins, outside of Zabini, even though most of them probably are gay. That's the thing, see; they're so big on pureblood, it's considered a huge waste or something when a wizard doesn't marry. So a Slytherin with have a boy or two on the side, if he likes, but he doesn't admit it, and he isn't 'actually gay,' right?"

Harry shook his head a little. "It's not fair!" Ginny suddenly burst out beside him. "All the good ones are taken or gay!" She got up, looking distressed.

"What am I?" Dean exclaimed, looking offended. "Chopped liver? Stewed slugs?" He got up and went after Ginny, and Hermione and Ron took their places on either side of Harry.

"I thought you were all freaked out about me being gay," Harry told Ron. "You acted like it was some big deal. Seamus says other wizards are gay."

Ron shrugged. "I still don't want to think about it, much, but, really Harry, it wasn't so much the queerness that bothered me in the first place." He leaned over and hissed in Harry's ear, "It's the small fact that it's Snape you went queer over. Snape! You thought I was going to be happy about THAT?"