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Flower Crowns For Crying Boy s
He was gorgeous, he thought.
He had long wavy black hair, which fell just to his collarbone with rich coffee-coloured skin and warm chocolate brown. He looked like an Indian prince, and Harry was in love.
Harry lay out on the bed, propped up on his elbows, watching as his lover came closer and closer. He watched, admiring as the moonlight filtered into the room through the window and reflected perfectly across his lover’s naked body. Highlighting all the toned muscles of his upper chest and arms.
“Harry, I want you.” His lover spoke in a deep sultry voice. His eyes were filled with lust as he looked down at Harry and began to touch himself. His large hand was moving leisurely up and down his stiff prick.
Harry let out a small chuckle before his eyes darted to where his lover’s hand was. “Hey, don’t do that! You’re supposed to wait for me. Come here!” Harry then gestured for the other man to come over. He didn't want him to start anything without him.
Harry awoke with a start.
His heart was racing, and his breathing was ragged as he sat up abruptly in his four-poster bed. His eyes darted around the dorm room, where his two roommates were still fast asleep. Harry sighed in relief, collapsing back down into the pillows and closed his eyes, willing his morning wood to go away.
Harry had had the same dream almost every night since he’d met...no, not met but seen that hot Indian guy across the street at Diagon Alley one day during the summer. Since then, his subconscious had made it his living hell to fantasize about the guy almost every night. Before then, it had been a small yet very fit Latino guy that Harry sometimes saw at the muggle gym he had frequented during the long stretch of days falling after at the end of the war. And for a long time before then, it had been Jake, a character from one of his Aunt’s soap operas. There had been others, of course, in between, sometimes like classmates. But Jake had been his main man of fantasy for at least three years.
Harry, in his young teens, hadn't known what it all meant. Hogwarts not having any sort of sex ed course, he was left to his own devices when learning any information on sex and the confusing feelings he was having. He’d thought about going to Hermione and asking, but the mere thought of it broke him out into a cold sweat. So he just did what he did best and compressed his feelings and thoughts deep down inside of himself.
Harry, of course, knew the bare minimum of sex and what it entailed. But he wasn’t interested in girls. He wanted to know what sex was like between two men. Of course, he didn’t do anything about finding out, though, despite how curious he was. Harry couldn’t very much look it up in the school's library.
Plus, Harry knew what he was feeling towards other boys was wrong. He’d always been told, well not told, Uncle Veron would more likely spit vulgar remarks about gay people and how unnatural and utterly disgusting it was for two people of the same sex to be together was. And, of course, those words had stuck with Harry. He cared very little what the Durselys thought of him. However, he did care about what the rest of the world did, both muggle and wizarding. Homophobia was everywhere he turned. For a boy who just cared to be normal for once hated himself even more for his feelings towards men. Harry didn't want to be gay.
So he made it his mission, you guess he could say to make himself like girls and find himself a girlfriend. That’s where Cho Chang had come in. He’d thought she was pretty and a good quidditch player. And he really believed that he did fancy Cho at the time. However, Cho made him think of Cedric, which made all those unnatural feelings come back to the surface. It also didn’t help that he’d witness Cedric’s death.
Then there had been Ginny. He’d thought for sure this time what he was feeling for his best friend’s kid sister was real. And maybe for a little while, he’d liked her. They had always gotten along and had common interests with each other. Like everyone in the Weasley family, she was easy to be around. However, there was one moment that changed everything yet again for Harry. It had happened just a few days before Harry had gone off with Dumbledore to the cave. They’d been making out in an alcove, and Harry had let his mind wander a bit. One minute he was kissing Ginny, marvelling at how good she tasted, and then next, he was wondering if this was what it would be like to kiss Charlie. The immediate thought of the older Weasley made him have a hard-on, something making out with either Cho or Ginny had ever caused.
And then everything changed. Dumbledore was dead, and Harry had to fight. When he had broken up with Ginny after the funeral, what he’d told her was true. That those last couple of weeks with her had been like something out of someone else's life, Harry knew deep down, no matter how hard he had tried to convince himself that Ginny was the one, that it was all just an act. That he didn’t love her, not in the way that he wanted to and not in the way that Ginny deserved. Harry had used Voldemort as the reason at the time for their break up. And he’d been right; if Voldemort had known Ginny was his girlfriend, he would’ve used her again to get to Harry. However, looking back, Harry knew the real reason he had ended it with Ginny when he did was also that he would be the one to hurt and use her in the end.
Ginny had wanted to get back together after the war. Everyone had thought they would too. But Harry has much as he wished and hoped he could, he couldn’t. He was a mess after the war and didn’t want to continue to live a lie. He was tired of putting others first and doing what was expected of him. As much as it terrified him, he wanted to be free and his true self for once.
But first, to do that, Harry had to come out to himself. Something he was still struggling to do, even months after shouting it from the rooftop of Grimmauld Place.
Harry had returned home from a long day at the Ministry. It was the middle of the long stretch of trials for the convicted death eaters. He had felt numb and raw after hearing the long list of charges, which ultimately made him relive the battle at Hogwarts. He had come home and wanted to forget everything. He’d gone straight over to the makeshift bar, which was just an old bar cart. He’d grabbed a bottle of Firewhiskey, not bothering with a glass as he drank straight from the bottle. Usually, when he was feeling this down, he would firecall Hermione and Ron. They knew what he was going through. However, the couple at the moment was in Australia, trying to hunt down Hermione’s parents. As he drank, he thought about going to the Burrow. The Weasley's, despite their grief, would welcome him with open arms. However, he hadn’t been back there since Fred’s funeral. And he didn’t know when or if he could ever go back. It was hard enough being around the family as they grieve a son, a brother, a twin. Seeing them like that made Harry blame himself for what happened with Fred. No, he couldn’t face that guilt tonight. Or ever. And then there was also what had happened with Ginny.
Harry had tried to come out to Ginny the night before the funeral. She’d been hinting at getting back together and wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“Look, Ginny. I can’t be with you.”
“Why not?” she pressed.
“I-” Harry began to speak, but Ginny cut him off.
“You said last year we couldn’t be no more because of him.” She still couldn’t say his name, even though he was dead. Like many people still in the Wizarding World, they wouldn’t dare to speak his name.
“Voldemort.”
“What?”
“Voldemort. We broke up because I was protecting you from Voldemort.”
“Whatever!” Ginny spat, waving a dismissive hand in the air. “I don’t care what his name is.”
“You shouldn’t let the name scare you anymore. He’s dead.”
“I know he’s dead. That’s the point. He’s dead, Harry!” Ginny explained with slight rage that Harry still wasn’t getting the point she was trying to make. “He’s fucking dead! There is no threat anymore. We can be together!”
Harry just looked at her for a second before sighing in frustration. He raked a hand through his hair, looking off at something in the distance before turning to her again. “Ginny,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. “We can’t be together. Ever. I’m sorry.”
“Why not?”
“Because...because...because I’m gay.” The words hung still in the muggy night air. Harry didn’t dare to look at Ginny. He couldn’t. Saying the words out loud was nerve-wracking enough. Looking over at the disgusted look which was probably plastered to her face would surely pull him over the edge. His heart was racing as thoughts of self double swirled in his head, the silence stretching on.
Harry had first thought that Ginny had left. However, her laughter broke the silence.
“That’s a fucking good one, Harry.”
“What?” he asked, spinning around on his heel to glare at Ginny in surprise.
“That’s a good one. 'I’m gay.” Ginny deepened her voice, mimicking Harry.
“It’s not a joke,” he spat in a harsh whisper. “I’m gay, Ginny.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me, Harry. I get it. You don’t want to be with me. I get it now, but don’t makeup fucking disgusting lies like that.” The redhead just glared at him before storming back towards the Burrow.
Harry watched her leave before bawling his right hand into a fist. He made a move like he would hit the nearby tree, instead though he brought his fist down onto himself. He was hitting himself in the stomach. Tears sprang into his eyes as a wave of shame washed over him. He continued to hit himself until a broken sob escaped from his lips, and he fell to his knees, no longer able to stand.
After drinking himself into intoxication, Harry stood on the rooftop terrace, alone. He was deep in thought, thinking about his life and everything that had lead up to his moment. He knew he’d been gay for a while, but he’d never spoken the words out loud, other than that time with Ginny. He had vowed never to repeat those words and take them to his grave. However, in his drunken state, Harry needed release.
“I’m gay,” he whispered into the stillness of the night. He held his breath for a second or two as if expecting a blow of some sort to happen. As if confessing he was gay, the world would blow up or something. However, Harry did no damage. The world remained the same.
“I’m gay!” he spoke again, this time with more volume.
“I’m gay!” He repeated, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a grin.
“I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gay!” He repeated each time, getting louder and more comfortable with the words. Harry couldn’t help but giggle at how silly it all was. “I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gay.”
He giggled again before rising to his feet and leaning over the iron rail that ran along the terrace. “I’M GAY!” He shouted over the rooftops of the neighbouring houses.
“I’M GAY! I HARRY POTTER AM GAY!”
A sudden bubble of laughter erupted from him as relief ran through him. He felt like a weight had been lifted off of him, and for once, he could breathe. However, it didn’t last for long. Harry laughed until his stomach ached, and tears began to roll down his cheeks. It didn’t take long before his joyful laughter turned to body-shaking sobs as his brain betrayed him and reminded him that he should feel ashamed of himself.
“I’m gay!” he sobbed as he turned away from London and sank to the floor. He brought his knees up to his chest and began to rock back and forth. Every homophobic slur and act he’d ever witnessed played out in his mind finishing with the look of disgust Ginny had given him when he’d confessed. Harry felt dirty and shameful all at once, like he’d cheated or something.
In the present, Harry lay in his dorm bed, willing his erection to go away. He often woke up like this. Most of the time, he could get the unwanted erection away. However, all his usual tricks weren’t working this morning. His erection continued to throb painfully against the strain of his boxers. He let out a sigh before once again looking around at his roommates, who were still fast asleep.
The Headmistress had assigned the returning 8th-year class to their own dormitory on the Northside of the castle. It was to promote inter-house relations and such. They had their own school colours too of orange and teal. Some people were upset about this and didn’t understand why they couldn’t just return to their old house dormitories. Harry hadn’t cared, though, which had not only surprised himself but for others too. Harry had always been a proud Gryffindor. And he still was to a certain point. But Harry was no longer that skinny kid anymore. He was changed, no longer caring about stupid house points and rivalries. He didn’t care about school either. But he had nothing else to do. He no longer cared about becoming an Auror as he initially planned to do back in his fifth and sixth years. So when the owl had first arrived during the summer with the school letter attached and Hermione’s constant pushing, he’d agreed to come. He couldn’t figure out a good enough excuse to give.
The other boys in the room with Harry were a Ravenclaw that Harry had never remembered seeing before until he first stepped into the dorm room. When he’d complained about this later to Hermione and Ron at the feast, it had been pointed out to him that he'd had a lot going on in the years previous, so it made sense that he would remember everybody from their school year. The other boy was a Hufflepuff that he did remember, Justin Finch-Fletchley.
Harry debated his opinions; he could quickly draw the curtains around his bed and cast a silencing charm. Something he would’ve thought twice of doing back in Gryffindor. However, he wasn’t a teenager anymore. Well, technically, he was still a teenager by age. He was only eighteen. He just didn’t feel like one. He felt older. It didn’t feel right to jerk off anymore in a dorm room with other guys around. He much rather takes care of his needs in private. So with his erection still making itself known, Harry quickly and quietly rose to his feet, grabbing a towel and his toiletry bag off of the top of his trunk and heading out into the hallway. He didn’t bother with his glasses, leaving them on the nightstand beside the bed. He then headed to the shared boy's bathroom at the end of the hallway.
It was the early morning hours, so he luckily didn’t run into a soul as he made the long awkward walk towards the bathroom. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, Harry quickly made his way to a shower stall at the far end of the room. He hung his towel on the small hook beside the stall before shoving his boxers down and stepping out of them. He couldn’t help but moan slightly as his erection sprung free from its prison. Harry then stepped into the shower stall with his toiletry bag in hand and closed the curtain behind him.
He placed the bag onto the footstool, in the stall corner, before turning on the shower. A small moan of pleasure escaped from his lips as the hot spray of water hit his back, and his hand immediately went to his cock. He didn’t waste any time as he gripped his shaft and twisted his hand upwards. He squeezed his eyes shut and allowed for the image of the Indian prince to return.
XXX
It was Friday night.
And like on most Friday night’s there was a party going on in the 8th Year common room. Since most of them were over eighteen, the Headmistress let some things slide for the older students and turn the other way, pretending not to notice what was going on behind the closed doors of the 8th year dormitory, e.g. parties and drinking. The 8th year already had 24 hour access to the castle and Hogsmeade. No curfew was set in place for the older students. The Headmistress thought they’d already been through enough in the last few years of their young lives and had earned the right to be treated like adults. And with being an adult came with the benefit of freedom and certain liberties.
So on that first Friday of the school year, Seamus had broken open a bottle of Firewhiskey and, hence, the first party's start.
It was now mid-October, and the parties were now somewhat legendary around Hogwarts. Students of other years begged to be let in; some of them lined up outside the dorm entrance, seeing if they could be allowed in. Only a few were ever selected to be let in. It was a common thought amongst the 8th years that they didn’t want to overcrowd and automatically had to be held responsible if anything were to happen to the younger students. Even the seventh year argued that they were only a year younger and had experienced the war. Nevertheless, it only remained 8th years at the parties except for a handful of lower classmen.
Those lucky classmates were Luna Lovegood at tonight's party, who had tagged along with Ginny, who Dean Thomas had invited. Ginny had been present at most of the parties since she and Dean were dating again. Since that night at the Burrow, Harry made sure to keep his distance from Ginny and Dean. Since returning to Hogwarts, he’d half been expecting Ginny to spread the news that he was gay. He was always on edge those first few days back. However, no one said a word to him about it, not even Ron. It seemed like Ginny had believed that he was joking about the whole being gay thing. As for his friendship with Dean, it was no more. Not that there had been anything there beforehand. Sure they had shared some laughs and good times earlier; however, those carefree days were gone. Harry wasn’t sad about this. He would rather be alone most days if he were being honest, which was hard enough as it was in the saviour of the wizarding world and all.
There were only two other younger classmates, two Hufflepuffs that Harry didn’t know.
Harry sat off in the far corner of the common room on one of his favourite swishy armchairs, nursing a butterbeer. Neville was seated in the chair adjourned to his. Like Harry, Neville instead sits on the outskirts observing everyone else make drunken fools of themselves than participate. Neville tried to make conversation with Harry; however, Harry wasn’t into it. It’s not that Harry didn’t like Neville or want to talk. He did. He considered Neville to be one of his good friends. It was just that he was distracted tonight.
All his attention was on Draco Malfoy.
You could say that Harry had always had a little thing for Draco. An obsession of sorts. One that he had masked over the years with pretending to loathe him. They said there was a fine line between love and hate, which was very valid for Harry and Draco.
Just like everything else, Harry was coming to terms with his attraction to the posh blond grit as much as he’d loathed him in their youth. All that was gone now and left with a raw appeal. Harry, who was still discovering himself and figuring out what he liked in terms of men, wasn’t sure what it was actually about Draco that he was drawn to. Was it his blond hair which he now wore loose, no longer slicked back with gel to his scalp? Was it his tall narrow frame and legs for days? Was it his stormy grey eyes and pale skin? Harry wasn’t sure. At the moment, Harry seemed to be attracted to all sorts and types of men. He wasn’t sure if he had a real type, considering his fantasies at the moment were the complete opposite of Draco Malfoy. Harry, however, did know one little thing, that he liked hot men. And Draco was the utter definition of hot.
Harry took a long sip from his beer, his eyes never leaving Draco, watching as he came into the common room with Pansy on his arm. Like the rest of the 8th year, Draco had discarded their school uniforms and robes for casual muggle clothing. People sometimes dressed up a little for the parties. Most of the time, though, people dressed casually in jeans and jumpers. However, Draco and all the former Slytherins, except for Greg, seemed to go that little utter step to dress up. Harry always secretly looked forward to seeing what Draco would wear each week. Draco did not disappoint tonight either.
The blond wore a fitted navy blue muggle suit, blazer, and all. He wore a white button-up shirt underneath. It was barely done up, though, showing off a pale strip of the chest. Draco looked like he’d just walked off the photoshoot or something. He looked sexy as hell, and it was making Harry’s mouth water. Harry shifted a little in his seat as he felt himself get a semi-hard on. He immediately placed his now empty butterbeer bottle onto his lap, covering himself. He knew that no one could probably notice, but it still sent a wave of embarrassment and shame through him. He shouldn’t be getting hard over any man, let alone Draco. He felt his cheeks flush, but he hoped that Neville didn’t notice as he tore his eyes away from the blond and over at him, instead.
Neville met Harry’s eye and raised an eyebrow, gesturing to his lap.
Harry, for a moment, thought that Neville was calling him out on his hard-on. However, he quickly realized that Neville was asking if he wanted another butterbeer.
“Oh yeah. Yes. Another would be good. Thanks, Nev,” Harry said in a rush of words. He gave Neville a tight smile before looking away and to something in the distance.
XXX
It was a few hours later, and Harry was adequately drunk. Along with most of everyone else at the party. The common room was pulsing with the beat of the music. Someone had dimmed the candles on the walls, giving the entire room a moody feel to it. Everyone seemed to be up and dancing at this point in the party. All the heavy furniture had been moved to the sides of the room, making room for a makeshift dance floor.
Alcohol coursed through Harry’s bloodstream, making him feel utterly relaxed and not having a care in the world. It seemed he only felt like this on Friday nights as he danced and laughed with his friends. He was not caring for once if he looked like an idiot. Somber Harry hated dancing. He never really knew how to move his body or what to do with his hands. But drunk Harry, that was a different story. He was a confident drunk and loved to feel the vibrations of the music take over him. He loved the feel of other’s bodies pressed up against his own, moving all as one like one giant being or something. He had been dancing in a circle of friends with Ron on one side of him and Hermione on the other. Neville was dancing beside Hermione’s other side. Next to Neville was Luna, then Seamus, then Ron. There was laughter and giggles as they all let loose and threw their hands up in the air.
It was then, when the song switched over, that things changed. Ron immediately reached out and pulled Hermione to him, ultimately breaking up the circle. Seamus then began to dance with Luna. Neville told Harry over the music that he was going to get some air. Harry just nodded and watched as Neville went. He debated on what to do next as he danced alone, watching as his friends danced together. He couldn’t help but feel jealous at how openly Hermione and Ron were at the moment with their physical affection. He was happy for them. He just couldn’t help but feel left out at times. He didn’t think he could ever kiss and dance so openly with someone like they were doing currently, maybe if he got another girlfriend. But never with a boyfriend. He then abruptly turned his back to them. He awkwardly moved his hips to the beat of the music, closing his eyes as he did so. He would wait until the next song before breaking up with his friends again. Hermione and Ron were only handsy for a song or two before Hermione broke it up.
Harry opened his eyes to find Draco in front of him. The other boy just smirked at Harry in acknowledgment but didn’t utter a word. Harry swallowed nervously and just nodded his head back. This wasn’t the first time he had encountered Draco in the middle of the dance floor. It had happened a few times now since these parties had started. The first time it had happened, it had been awkward as hell. Harry only danced for a few seconds before making a quick escape. The next time it had happened, he’d stayed a bit longer.
The music pounded around them as they continued to dance. Harry tried to keep some distance between him and Draco. However, the sea of people dancing around them was making it fucking hard to maintain. After a second or two of fighting it, Harry gave up. Deciding he could just blame it on the sweaty dancing bodies that enveloped them if someone asked why he was dancing so close to his former enemy.
Their eyes bore into each other as their bodies slowly began to move as one on the dance floor. Their hips are gently bumping into one another every so often as they moved to the beat of the music.
Draco, wearing only the crisp button-up now, which was only being held closed by a button or two, having shed the blazer sometime ago, had his arms raised high above his head. His grey eyes bore intensely into Harry’s green ones.
Harry could feel himself becoming aroused as Draco continued to press innocently into him.
Harry, himself had his arms out to the sides, but now and then, he would bring them in and innocently touch Draco ever so briefly on his hips. His fingers softly brushing up against his sides before pulling shyly away.
From afar, it might not look like much, but anyone close to them and paying any attention would know it wasn’t all that innocent.
Harry licked his lips as he continued to allow the music to take over him. He desperately wanted to kiss Draco but knew he couldn’t give in. He didn’t know if Draco was gay. He didn’t know anyone at Hogwarts who was. For all he knew, he was the only one. Plus, he didn’t want his first proper kiss with a fucking guy to be a drunken one in front of everyone to see.
Time seemed to stand still for Harry. He didn’t know how long he had been dancing with Draco for? A minute? An hour? He wasn’t sure, and it didn’t matter. Draco didn’t seem to mind either.
They continued to dance. Their hot and slightly sweaty bodies continued to press against each other to the beat of the music. Harry’s heart was racing with excitement and arousal as he continued to get lost in Draco’s eyes. He wondered if Draco was feeling the same. Or was it just him who was hyperventilating slightly?
Harry chewed on his bottom lip as he continued to scan Draco’s face. He couldn't believe how close they were at the moment. This was the closest they had ever been before. This was also the longest they’d danced together too.
Harry didn’t know if it the pounding of the beats from the music or the alcohol coursing through his veins or the beautiful grey eyes pouring into him or a mixture of the three, but he was suddenly overwhelmed with the need for more. Dancing was fun, but he wanted more of Draco. He wanted to feel his hands on his waist, roaming down his back to his ass. He wanted to feel those lips on his, sucking all the air from his lungs. He wanted to melt into Draco.
As his eyes continued to search Draco’s face, he found he couldn't take it any longer. Despite not wanting his first kiss with a man to be a drunken mistake. The need to kiss Draco was too overpowering. The need to find out what kissing a man would feel like. Would it be like kissing a girl, soft and wet? Or would it be rough and hard? He needed to know.
He needed to kiss Draco this very instant.
Harry found his hands immediately going to Draco’s face. They cupped the sides of his cheeks, pulling him close to him.
Draco cocked an eyebrow at this in confusion. Both boys had stopped dancing and were staring intensely at each other.
Their classmates had also stopped dancing at this point too, as all attention was drawn to the two boys in the middle of the dance floor.
Harry’s heart was racing as he stared into Draco’s eyes for a second before gathering up all his Gryffindor bravery within him and kissing the other boy on the lips.
There were gasps and a few wolf cries from their classmates as they witnessed this exchange.
He immediately regretted his decision to kiss the other boy as Draco just stood there. The blonde did not kiss Harry back. Harry had made a mistake. He’d read Draco wrong, he thought. Embarrassment and shame washed over him as Draco suddenly placed his hands on Harry’s forearms and pushed him away.
“What the fuck, Potter?” spat Draco, his grey eyes dark with irritation as he looked on at Harry.
Harry, who had been the boy to walk to his death, ran from the room in utter shame, not daring to look at anyone as he fled.
XXX
Harry didn’t know why he’d done it. He hadn’t been thinking. That was the problem. He hadn’t been thinking. He’d just let his body work on its own accord, not stopping to think about the fucking consequences of his actions. He loathed himself even more than he’d previously.
He didn’t know how he would be able to face everybody after tonight. He didn’t know how he would be able to face himself either. He’d made a stupid drunken fucking mistake.
How could he have gone and kissed a boy in front of everyone like that? How could he have gone and kissed not only a boy but Draco fucking Malfoy of all people?
“You’re a fucking idiot, Harry. That’s why,” he thought bitterly to himself. “ARGH!” He cried out in frustration as a new set of tears stung his eyes. He pushed his glasses off of his face and into his hair before pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. He began to sob uncontrollably as he relieved one of the worst moments of his life, over and over again.
After his very public kiss with Draco Malfoy on the dance floor in front of all their peers, Harry had bolted like a jackrabbit out of the 8th Year common room and into an abandoned classroom. He hadn’t noticed if anyone had followed him, but he prayed that no one had. He wanted to be alone. He wished he had his invisibility cloak with him. He was desperate just to disappear and not having to face anyone ever again.
“Harry?”
“Go away!” called out Harry, not bothering to look up to see who it was. He hoped that his voice held enough edge in it to scare whoever it was away. A deadly silence followed, and for a split second, Harry thought he’d succeeded in making the person go away. However, he was wrong as he lifted his head from his knees a moment later and looked up to see Luna appearing down at him.
“Go away, Luna,” he spat, but there was no bite to his words. It was as if seeing Luna had broken something inside of him. He could never be angry or cross with Luna. She never treated him like the others did. He held the girl’s gaze for a second before looking away as another wave of emotion washed through him. He then violently wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, biting down hard on his lower lip, preventing a sob from escaping. He didn’t want to cry anymore.
“It’s okay, Harry,” spoke Luna softly as she crossed her legs and sat down in front of Harry. She reached out and took his right hand and squeezed it.
Harry, who was taken off guard by this small and intimate gesture, just stared at Luna in bewilderment before trying to pull away. However, despite her airy appearance, Luna was quite strong and held onto Harry’s hand, not letting him go. Harry tried to pull away a second time before giving up. He let out a sound which was a mixture of a sob and sigh, before pressing his forehead into his knees. He allowed Luna to continue to hold his hand, but he didn’t dare to look at her.
“It’s okay, Harry,” Luna whispered again after a second. She scooted herself closer to Harry so that they were now pressed side to side, shoulder to hip. She only let go of his hand for a brief second before taking it once again into her own. She rested their intertwined hands on her knee while the fingers of her other hand traced circles along Harry’s knuckles and wrist. “I know it’s hard. But people will come around. There were tons of gay people in the world. It’s not a big deal.”
Harry made a little strained noise at this before lifting his head and pulling away from Luna’s grasp. This time she let him go. “How do you know...about...about me being gay. Did Ginny tell you?”
“Ginny didn’t tell me anything.”
“Then how?”
“I don’t know,” Luna said with a shrug. “I just sense it.”
“Just sensed it?" repeated Harry, trying to make sense of the words. How could you just sense if someone was gay? He didn't understand. But again, it was Luna. Luna always seemed to have some hidden power to see things that weren't there in everyone else's eyes. She would good at reading people.
“Why aren’t you more disgusted? Why are you treating me so nicely?” pressed on Harry in annoyance. He didn't deserve Luna's kindness, he thought. She should be disgust and appalled by him as Ginny had been. Like how everyone will be after they found out the truth.
“Why would I be disgusted?” asked Luna softly. She titled her head to the side and locked eyes with Harry.
“Because-- Because I’m gay.”
“Being gay isn’t anything to be disgusted or ashamed of, Harry," spoke Luna. She smiled fondly at Harry, reaching out and adjusted the flower crown on top of her head.
“But it’s not normal," argued Harry.
“I think it’s actually perfectly normal to be gay.”
Harry was quiet. He just stared at Luna in disbelief. He was used to her saying strange things. But this was on an entirely new level, even for her.
“I, myself, am pansexual," announced Luna proudly.
“What does that mean?” asked Harry in quiet curiosity. He’d never heard that term before.
“It means I like girls and boys and everyone in between,” explained Luna in her signature dreamy way. A small smile appeared on her face as she added with little pride, “I like people.”
Harry didn’t know what to make of this information. He’d never heard of the term pansexual before. He’d never heard anyone describe themselves as one as Luna had. He’d never heard anyone say that they are simple like everyone, no matter their gender. It made sense to him to hear Luna describe herself as this. But it still didn’t comfort him in the slightest that he was gay. Luna was used to being different and having people talk about her behind her back. Harry wasn’t. Well, he was used to people looking at him and talking about him. However, he wasn’t used to people talking badly about him or judging him. Unless you count most of the fourth year and a little of the fifth year. Being gay only drew more attention to himself, something he didn’t want.
“But don’t you wish to be normal?" pressed on Harry, not understanding Luna's desire to be different, not understanding at all her easy acceptance of being different.
“No, not really. Being normal is perfectly dull. Don’t you think?”
Harry let out a sad bark of a laugh at this. “I don’t know. I’ve never been normal.” He rubbed at the side of his face before running his hands through his hair. Forgetting that his glasses were perched there, he knocked them askew and flew across the room. Harry blushed embarrassedly as both he and Luna looked towards the glasses, where they lay in the middle of a row of desks, just a few feet away.
Luna didn’t say a word as she rose to her feet and went to retrieve the glasses.
“Thanks,” whispered Harry, not quite being able to meet Luna’s eye as he took the glasses from her outstretched hand and shoved them back onto his face.
“Shall we go back?” she asked, holding out her hand for Harry to take.
Harry shook his head as, just as the mere image of facing everyone sent a cold sweat down his spine. “I can’t,” he whispered, his voice cracking on the last note. He could feel a panic attack coming on again as he wrapped his arms around his legs and buried his face into his knees. He knew it was stupid of him, the boy who had faced death numerous times, who had met one of the darkest wizards in all of history to panic overseeing his peers. He knew it was stupid, but he couldn’t help but be afraid. At this instant, he much rather has to face Voldemort again than to have to walk back into that common room with everybody staring at him. When it came down to it, Harry Potter was still a kid deep down inside despite all he had been through. A kid like everyone else who was afraid of the judgment of their peers and who just wanted to fit in for once.
“It’s okay,” spoke Luna as she once again sat down across from Harry. “It’s much more enjoyable here.”
Harry couldn’t help but snort in amusement at this remark. He didn’t know if that was true, but knowing Luna, she probably meant it. He ran a hand through his hair as he looked back at a smiling Luna.
“What?” asked Harry, self consciously.
“You are rather beautiful, Harry Potter.”
Harry immediately felt the heat in the cheeks as he turned a deep crimson in embarrassment. Never before had he been called beautiful.
“You are, Harry,” insisted Luna, her face taking on a serious matter.
“Thanks, I guess,” replied Harry in bemusement. He didn’t know how to take this compliment that Luna had just thrown his way.
Luna continued to look at him for a second longer before her face broke out into a bright grin as a sudden brilliant idea struck her.
Harry then watched in confusion as Luna’s hands reached up for the brightly coloured flower crown on top of her head, taking it off before leaning forward and placing it on his head. He felt himself blush again at this gesture, which felt powerfully intimate.
A silence then stretched on for a second or two as Luna continued to look at Harry with a goofy smile on her face. She looked at him like someone who looks at a kitten—something that is so utterly adorable it makes you want to cry.
“You are beautiful, Harry. Any boy would be lucky to have you.” Luna then leaned forward and touched the side of Harry’s face, cradling it gently.