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Harry is twenty three, a league-topping Seeker for the Tornadoes, and the boyfriend of Ginny Weasley, Holyhead Harpies' star player. He's a war hero, an okay cook, and a godfather. And he's bisexual. He never knows where to fit that part in.
It's been three years and a couple of months since he told Ginny that he’s bi and his mind felt a bit less cluttered. She had told him the same and it became something they knew about each other, another part of their identity, and Harry had been happy keeping it at that.
But the world doesn't want it that way. After the war it's a noticeably more tolerant place, despite the lingering animosity from both sides that sneaks down dark alleys. It's a place where people want to relish the life they fought for, to live the lives that others sacrificed themselves for, and so it's one where people are living their life truer than they might in the past.
Which is a good thing, of course, but it's also important to remember that unfortunately the world isn't perfect and that for some people being themselves leads to ugly negative pushback.
This is where Harry comes in. Harry gets The Daily Prophet delivered, The Quibbler, Which Broomstick?, and even, very occasionally, mostly Ginny teasing his award within its pages, Witch Weekly. All of these publications talk about the diversity of their part of Britain, of the rising numbers of halfbloods and Muggleborns, look how much things have changed from the Ministry leading their corrupt publications of purity, but Harry notices a distinct lack of representation of himself within their pages.
"There's never any mention of anyone's sexuality in these," Harry announces one morning to Ginny, his hand waving to the pile of evidence on their kitchen table.
"Because their sexuality is none of anyone's business," Ginny replies, which is true, but --
"Yeah, but what about kids reading these? Not seeing people like them?"
Ginny pulls The Quibbler towards her, reads it with a critical gaze. “There’s an article here about how love is love,” she says, but she’s frowning, agrees that it’s not enough. “You’re right,” she decides, and with that an idea settles in Harry’s chest, and because Ginny knows him so well, she adds, “So what are you going to do about it?”
He taps his fingers on the table, quick quick quick, until Ginny puts her hand on his. “I could become the person on the pages. I could be the role model.”
“Harry, you’ve already given so much of yourself to them.” Them being the public who have flip-flopped between adoring him and vilifying him for most of his childhood and who are currently singing his praises whenever he catches the Snitch and cursing his sacking whenever he fumbles. “You don’t have to do this.”
But for something that caused him so much confusion and heartbreak when he was younger, for something that he was comfortable telling Ginny and only Ginny, this is something he now wants to do. If he can help one kid who felt anywhere near as lost as he did at twelve, thirteen, nineteen, then it’ll be worth whatever else happens.
Ginny gets out of her seat, comes to stand beside him, wrapping her arms around his head and holding him against her stomach. “There are different types of bravery and you clearly want to hog every one.”
“If I don’t, my head’ll get too big and I won’t be able to fit through the door,” he mumbles into her top.
“I’ll make you a shed,” she whispers back, hand soft in his hair. “Promise me you’ll think about this, okay? Don’t go owling the Prophet immediately. And maybe tell Ron and Hermione first, you know, the extensions of your limbs.”
“You’re the extension of my limb,” which doesn’t sound nearly as romantic as it maybe did in his head.
“When you tell the country about your love life, leave that bit out,” Ginny says, which, as always, is very good advice.
.
Even though it’s a word he’s come to terms with gradually since he was sixteen, a word that sits in his head, rearing up whenever he notices an attractive person, whatever their gender may be, although he’s happy with the term for his attraction, it still gets stuck behind his ribs when he tries to tell Ron and Hermione.
“What is it, mate?” Ron asks, his concern obvious in the way his hand is fluttering nervously across his knees, almost reaching out to Harry, moving back to clasp Hermione’s, a physical show of moral support.
And this is ridiculous, it’s just a word, it’s another part of his identity and he’s okay with it, so why is his heart beating like this? “I’m bi,” he says, and hey, the ground stays where it is and Ron and Hermione smile at him, and see? That was fine.
“Thank you for telling us, Harry,” Hermione says, smiles, and Harry wonders if she’s ever read any books about this or if she ever spied any of the ones Harry snuck from the library into his dorm. “Have you known for long?”
“It’s been a while,” he tells them, that same open-chested feeling he got when he told Ginny returning. “A long while.”
Hermione looks at him for a long moment; Harry can practically see her running over the past, zeroing in on anything to adds to the information she now has. “David Beckham doesn’t have anything to do with this, does he?”
Harry grins. “Among others.”
“Who’s David Beckham again?” Ron asks, moving onto his next question without an answer. “Why are you telling us now, Harry? Not that I’m not supportive, I was just wondering after all this time.”
So Harry tells them his plan.
.
He chooses The Quibbler because of course.
Luna talks for a while about how sexuality is fluid and mentions a couple of things Harry didn’t know but accepts without question and then she copies down Harry’s very short and concise statement, telling him it’ll run in next month’s issue due to a Crumple-Horned Snorkack sighting.
Harry’s been around Luna long enough to be interested in that so he sticks around to watch Luna put the magazine together, content that whatever he has to say about his sexuality isn't as important as a possibly fictitious creature.
He takes a copy of the new issue home, shows Ginny who appreciates Luna’s hunts for the creature, and then they owl it to Hermione, both of them laughingly acting out her reaction. Hermione has become more open-minded with Luna’s eccentricities but there’s still a line.
It takes his mind off the words he’s pushed out into the world.
.
The issue comes out, the front page dedicated to an interview with The Monster Book of Monsters’ author Edwardus Lima. When Harry is sent his copy he has to rifle through most of the pages until he finds the half page article with a picture of him in his Tornado robes, and -- there it is, the b word he’d found when he was sixteen and drowning in a thousand different things, that one word a blinking salvation.
.
It takes a few days for word to get around that The Quibbler has published an article claiming Harry Potter is bisexual and then it takes another few for people to make up their minds if the magazine is telling the truth or if it’s the Stubby Boardman thing all over again. Yes, The Quibbler has gained a better reputation in recent years but it’s still a magazine that celebrates creatures the majority of the country doesn’t believe in. Forgive them for being hesitant.
.
“Are the rumors true?” Harry is asked at a press conference following the Tornadoes semi-final against the Montrose Magpies a full eight days after the article is published.
“Deverill gave me a very good offer and my old captain Oliver Wood is Keeper but no, I’m not moving to Puddlemere.”
“The other rumour,” someone calls out.
“I made a clear statement about it in The Quibbler,” Harry says. “I don’t see what needs clarifying.”
There’s a couple of mutters about The Quibbler and then someone bites the bullet. “Is it true, Mr Potter, that you’re not entirely straight?”
“That’s true,” he says. “I can go even more specific and say that I’m bisexual, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
Quick-Quotes Quills dance through the air, multiple stories forming as they speak.
"Are you not with Ginny Weasley?" A reporter asks, bolshy with their fact.
"Yeah," Harry replies, drawing an imaginary line in the depths of his personal life and what to discuss. “So?”
“And you’ve been with her for a long time,” the same reporter says.
“Uh-huh.” Harry plays dumb, draws out the stupid questions.
“So how do you --?” And here’s where they trail off, suddenly coy with the ins-and-outs of it all.
“How do I know? It’s just always made sense to me. It’s the word that fits me and it’ll be a word that it’ll fit a lot more people so that’s why I’ve done this -- to give people the reassurance that there are people like them out there and that there’s nothing wrong with them. For others, it might be a different word, or no word at all, but I hope the sentiment still stands.”
The reporter opens their mouth to ask another question but Harry cuts them off. “Enough of my personal life, does anyone want to ask about the match?”
.
Rita Skeeter decides he’s making it up for attention and writes half a dozen articles saying so, citing ‘anonymous’ sources from Hogwarts saying that Harry had somehow managed to get a couple of girlfriends and had half the girls in the school under a love potion and so there’s no way he can be into guys. See? This is why he wanted to say it, wanted to make it visible, to show that you can be with one gender but that doesn’t mean you’re straight or that you’re gay and that there are more options than you could know.
He waits to see if Terry Boot would ever speak up about that mostly nonexistent but still a vague mutual interest thing that happened in sixth year but nah, Terry’s too good for that.
“Maybe I should make a statement,” Ginny muses over dinner. “Give Rita the chance to question our relationship even more,” because those articles she’s been churning out have been wondering if Ginny’s the victim in all of this and Ginny can’t stand having Rita Skeeter pitying her. “Tell her that yeah, you’re into men, and I’m into women, and yet , we’re fully committed to each other. It’ll blow her mind trying to spin that into something evil.”
.
His plan, if he ever really had one, works. Sure, there’s a bit of backlash from the people who have always loved to whisper about him, but he’s endured a lot worse. The point is, for every letter the Tornadoes get saying they should sack Harry (“That’d be half the team gone, then,” Sam Grace, their Chaser, points out) there are twenty more from people across the country, most of them teenagers but not all, saying that seeing him come out, seeing the things he’s done, the life he’s leading, has been an enormous help to them.
He’s not the first sportsperson to come out, nor the first ‘celebrity,’ but he’s the person everyone knows, he’s Wizarding Britain’s savior, their hero, so whenever he says something it generally attracts a lot more attention than had it been said by someone else.
It’s brilliant, using his status for something good.
.
He paints a rainbow on the end of his broom, feels absurdly happy when he flies.
.
“I think I’m the same as you,” a boy about twelve whispers to Harry when he’s doing an impromptu signing after a match.
Harry tries not to grin, lest he scare the boy away, but he manages a smile, whispers back, “You’re bi?” And the boy blushes, nods, and Harry grins. “That’s great. It feels good, doesn’t it?”
“A little. It’s a bit --”
“Confusing? Don’t worry, you’ve got plenty of time to figure it all out.” The boy nods, blows out a breath, and Harry senses this conversation has become huge enough for him. He raises his voice so it’s just above a whisper. “Did you enjoy the match?”
“McKinnon’s goal in the final second before you caught the Snitch was amazing,” his eyes lighting up as he relives the throw Liam made. “And O’Neill’s control of the Bludger!"
“Do you think we’ve got a chance against the Harpies in the final?”
Now the boy furrows his brow, weighs up the pros and cons of each team. “It’s hard, you’re both my favourite teams. Ginny Weasley’s skills are incredible --” He realises who he’s talking to, blushes again, “Well, you know that.”
“She’s alright,” Harry laughs. “I’m always glad I’m not a Keeper when I watch her play.” He’s conscious of the crowds around them, that he should hurry it up. “You’ll be at the match -- sorry, I never asked your name --”
“Max.”
“You’ll be at the final, Max?”
An enthusiastic nod.
“Good. I hope you cheer for the winning team,” and then he winks, moves on, and tells Ginny all about it when he gets home.
.
Max is a kid amongst many.
.
“Harry Potter: The Bi Who Lived,” Ginny says, mouth a straight line until Harry raises an eyebrow and then she’s grinning and grinning and Harry lifts her up, throws her over his shoulder, and ignores her accusations of his lack of humour.
“That’s the worst thing you’ve ever said,” he says decisively, “and I’ve heard you during a Cup final.”
“You’re only angry you never thought of it first,” Ginny retorts, and when Harry cranes his neck to look at her upside down, she sticks her tongue out.
“I’m angry Luna never thought of it. I expected more from her.”
Ginny skates her fingers down Harry’s legs, digs her fingers into his calves. “Hey, Harry? There’s a lot of blood rushing to my head,” so he lets her up, and then she drapes her arms around his neck and kisses him. “I’m proud of what you’re doing and I love you, okay?”
“I’m not doing anything particularly brave,” he says, because, like he said, many others have come out before him, breaking the mould and the stigma, it just so happens he has a bigger platform. As a matter of fact, Ginny Weasley, top Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies also identifies as bisexual; she’s out in a casual way, her team knows and the people around her know, and that’s great. “I just had to go and make a song and dance about it.”
“You are being brave,” Ginny replies. “I’m glad you’re making something of it, more people should, if only to normalise different sexualities and the discussion around them.”
“It shouldn’t be this big a deal, who people are attracted to,” but for some reason, it is, and that’s why Harry’s glad he’s joined the others who have used their amplified voices to hopefully have some kind of positive effect on others in the same boat.
“We’ve done a lot of fixing this world,” Ginny says, plays up the dramatics. “Now it’s our turn to make a more socially conscious and aware society.”
“It’s exhausting being an idol,” Harry agrees. “We should definitely go to bed right away.”
Ginny allows herself to be lifted, wrapping her legs around Harry’s legs as he walks them through to the bedroom. She kisses his cheek. “You’re such a smooth talker, Potter. How is the whole world not in love with you?”
“Well, you know, I chose you,” and his face heats up, because yes he’s now a lot more comfortable talking about his sexuality in public but then there’s how he feels about Ginny and that always seems to make him speechless when he tries to put it into words. “And, miraculously, you chose me.”
“I have very good taste,” she says, and then she cups his face, kisses him. “And so do you.”
“Everyone does seem to agree David Beckham is attractive.”
“Please stop talking about David bloody Beckham.”
.
Harry is twenty three, a league-topping Seeker for the Tornadoes, and the boyfriend of Ginny Weasley, Holyhead Harpies' star player. He’s openly bisexual, a godfather, and a morning person. There are hundreds of other things you could say about him but these are the things he’s currently focusing on, especially the last one thanks to Birch’s tendency to start training at the crack of dawn.
For the next few weeks his face pops up as the poster boy for increasing conversation around different sexualities, various quotes spread across his face, most of them positive. He answers a couple more questions at post-match press conferences and magazine interviews, but a couple more people come out and the attention shifts accordingly.
His favourite part is when people approach him and tell him that he gave them the courage to do the same, that he made them feel less alone, and that having the most famous person in Wizarding Britain be proudly bisexual has made them feel more okay with feelings they were confused or ashamed by. He’s not naive, he knows this won’t immediately change everything, but he’s made a tiny bit of difference to some people’s lives, and that feels like a lot.
That’s when he knows it was all worth it.